The London Prodigal.

214

Flow. What's thy name, Kester ?

Fath. I, Sir.

Flow. Well, provide thy self : Uncle, farewell till anon.

[Exit Flowerdale.

Unc. Brother, how do you like your Son ?
Fath. I'faith Brother, like a mad unbridled Colt,

Or as a Hawk, that never ftooth'd to lure :

The one muft be tamed with an Iron bit,

The other muft be watch'd, or still thefe is wild,

Such is my Son, a while let him be so ;

For counsel fill is follies deadly Foe.

I'll serve his youth, for youth muft have his courfe,

For being refrain'd, it makes him ten times worfe :

His pride, his riot, all that may be nam'd,

Time may recal, and all his madneſs tam'd.

Enter Sir Lancelot, Maſter Weathercock, Daffidill,

Artichoak, Luce, and Frank.

Lanc. Sirrah Artichoak, get you home before,

And as you proved your self a Calf in buying,

Drive home your fellow Calves that you have bought.

Art. Yes forfooth, ſhall not my Fellow Daffidill go
along with me.

Lanc. No, Sir, no, I muſt have one to wait on me.

Art. Daffidill, farewell, good fellow Daffidill,

You may fee, Miftrels, I am ſet up by the halves,

Inſtead of waiting on you, I am ſent to drive home Calves.

Lanc. I'faith Frank, I muſt turn away this Daffidill,
He's grown a very fooliſh fawcy Fellow.

Fran. Indeed-law, Father, he was ſo ſince I had him :
Before he was wife enough for a fooliſh Serving-man.

Wea. But what ſay you to me, Sir Lancelot ?

Lanc. O, about my Daughters, well, I will go forward,
Here's two of them, God fave them : but the third,
O ſhe's a ſtranger in her courſe of life,
She hath refuſed you, Maſter Weathercock.

Wea. I by the Rood, Sir Lancelot, that ſhe hath,
but had ſhe try'd me, ſhe ſhould have found a man of me in-
deed.

Lanc. Nay be not angry, Sir, at her denial, ſhe hath
refus'd ſeven of the worſhipfull'ſt and worthie Houſe-
Keepers this day in Kent: Indeed ſhe will not marry I
fuppofe.

Wea. The more Fool ſhe.

Lanc. What is it folly to love Charity ?

Wea. No, miſtake me not, Sir Lancelot,

But 'tis an old Proverb, and you know it well,

That Women dying Maids, lead Apes in Hell.

Lanc. That's a fooliſh Proverb and a falſe.

Wea. By the Maſs, I think it be, and therefore let it go :

But who ſhall marry with Miftrels Frances ?

Franc. By my troth they are talking of marrying me,
Sifter.

Luce. Peace, let them talk :

Fools may have leave to prattle as they walk.

Daff. Senteſſes fill, ſweet Miftrels,

You have a Wit, and it were your Alablaſter.

Luce. I'faith and thy tongue trips trench-more.

Lanc. No of my Knighthood, not a futer yet :

Alas God help her, ſilly Girl, a Fool, a very Fool :

But there's the other black-brows a ſhrew'd Girl,

She hath wit at will, and futers two or three :

Sir Arthur Greenſhield one, a gallant Knight,

A valiant Souldier, but his power but poor.

Then there's young Oliver, the Devonshire Lad,

A wary Fellow, marry full of wit,

And rich by the Rood, but there's a third all air,

Light as a Feather, changing as the wind :

Young Flowerdale.

Wea. O he, Sir, he's a desperate Dick indeed.

Bar him your Houſe,

Lanc. Fie, not ſo, he's of good Parentage.

Wea. By my fay and ſo he is, and a proper man.

Lane. I proper enough, had he good qualities.

Wea. I marry, there's the point, Sir Lancelot :

For there's an old faying,

Be he rich, or be he poor,

Be he high, or be he low :

Be he born in Barn or Hall,

'Tis manners makes the man and all.

Lane. You are in the right, Maſter Weathercock.

Enter Monsieur Civet.

Civet. Soul, I think I am fure croſſed, or witcht with
an Owl, I have haunted them, Inn after Inn, Booth after
Booth, yet cannot find them ; ha, yonder they are, that's
ſhe, I hope to God 'tis ſhe, nay I know 'tis ſhe now, for
the treads her Shoe a little awry.

Civet. Where is this Inn ? we are paſt it, Daffidill.

Daff. The good ſign is here, Sir, but the black Gate is
before.

Civet. Save you, Sir, I pray may I borrow a piece of
a word with you ?

Daff. No pieces, Sir.

Civ. Why then the whole.

I pray, Sir, what may yonder Gentlewomen be ?

Daff. They may be Ladieſ, Sir, if the deſlinnes and
mortality work.

Civ. What's her name, Sir.

Daff. Miftrels Frances Spurcock, Sir Lancelot Spurcock's
Daughter.

Civ. Is ſhe a Maid, Sir ?

Daff. You may ask Pluto, and Dame Proſerpine that:
I would be loth to be ridel, Sir.

Civ. Is ſhe married I mean, Sir ?

Daff. The Fates know not yet what ſhoe-maker ſhall
make her Wedding Shoes.

Civ. I pray where Inn you Sir ? I would be very glad
to beſlow the Wine of that Gentlewoman,

Daff. At the George, Sir,

Civ. God fave you, Sir.

Daff. I pray your Name, Sir ?

Civ. My Name is Maſter Civet, Sir.

Daff. A ſweet Name, God be with you, good Maſler
Civet. [Exit Civet.

Lanc. A, have we ſpi'd you ſtout St George ?
For all your Dragon, you had beſt ſell's good Wine :

That needs no Ivy-buſh : well, we'll not ſit by it,

As you do on your Horſe, this room ſhall ſerve :

Drawer, let me have Sack for us old men :

For theſe Girls and Knaves ſmall VVines are beſt.

A Pint of Sack, no more.

Draw. A Quart of Sack in the three Tuns,

Lanc. A Pint, draw but a Pint, Daffidill,

Call for VVine to make your ſelves drink.

Fran. And a Cup of ſmall Beer, and a Cake, good
Daffidill.

Enter young Flowerdale.

Flow. How now, ſie, fit in the open Room, now good
Sir Lancelot, and my kind Friend, worſhipful Maſter
Weathercock. VVhat at your Pint, a Quart for ſhame.

Lanc. Nay Royſler, by your leave we will away.

Flow. Come, give's ſome Mufick, we'll go Dance,
Be gone, Sir Lancelot, what, and fair day too?

Lanc. 'Twere foully done, to dance within the Fair.

Flow. Nay if you ſay ſo, faireſt of all Fairs, then I'll
not dance, a Pox upon my Taylor, he hath ſpoil'd me a
Peach.colour Sattin Sute, cut upon Cloth of Silver, but
if ever the Raſcal ſerve me ſuch another trick, I'll give
him leave, i'faith, to put me in the Calender of Fools,
and you, and you, Sir Lancelot; and Maſter Weathercock,
my Goldſmith too on t'other ſide, I beſpoke thee, Lue,
a Carkenet of gold, and thought thou ſhould't a had
it for a Fairing, and the Rogue puts me in r器ages
for

The London Prodigal.

215

for Orient Pearl: but thou shalt have it by Sunday
Night, VVench.

Enter the Drawer.

Draw. Sir, here is one that hath sent you a Bottle of
Rhenish Wine, brewed with Rove-Water.

Flow. To me?

Draw. No, Sir, to the Knight; and defies his more
acquaintance.

Lanc. To me? what's that he proves so kind?

Daff. I have a trick to know his name, Sir, he hath a months mind here to Miftres's Frances, his name is Master Civet.

Lanc. Call him in, Daffidill.

Flow. O, I know him, Sir, he is a Fool, but reasonable rich, his Father was one of thefe Leafe-mongers, thefe Corn-mongers, thefe Money-mongers, but he never had the wit to be a Whore-monger.

Enter Mafter Civet.

Lanc. I promife you, Sir, you are at too much charge.

Civ. The charge is small charge, Sir, I thank God my Father left me wherewithal, if it pleafe you, Sir, I have a great mind to this Gentlewoman here, in the way of marriage.

Lanc. I thank you, Sir: please you to come to Lewsome, to my poor House, you shall be kindly welcome: I knew your Father, he was a wary Husband: to pay here, Drawer.

Draw. All is paid, Sir: this Gentleman hath paid all.

Lanc. I'faith you do us wrong,

But we shall live to make amends ere long:

Mafter Flowerdale, is that your Man ?

Flow. Yes Faith, a good old Knave.

Lanc. Nay then I think you will turn wife,
Now you take much a Servant:
Come, you'll ride with us to Lewsome, let's away,

'Tis scarce two hours to the end of day.

[Exeunt.]

Enter Sir Arthur Greenwood, Oliver, Lieutenant and Souldiers.

Arth. Lieutenant, lead your Souldiers to the Ships,
There let them have their Coats, at their arrival
They shall have pay: farewel, look to your charge.

Soul. I, we are now sent away, and cannot so much as
speak with our Friends.

Oli. No man what ere he used a zutch a fashion, thick
you cannot take your leave of your vreens.

Arth. Fellow, no more, Lieutenant lead them off.

Soul. Well, if I have not my pay and my Cloaths,
I'll venture a running away, though I hang for't.

Arth. Away firrah, charm your tongue.

[Exeunt Souldiers.

Oli. Bin you a preſſer, Sir?

Arth. I am a Commander, Sir, under the King.

Oli. Sboot man, and you be here: zutch a Commander,
Shud a spoke with my vreens before I chid a gone, so
flud.

Arth. Content your ſelf man, my Authority will
ſtretch to preſs so good a man as you.

Oli. Preſs me? I deny, preſs Scoundrels, and thy
Meffels: preſs me, chee ſcorns thee I'faith: For ſeel thee,
here's a worſhipful Knight knows, cham not to be preſſed
by thee.

Enter Sir Lancelot, Weathercock, young Flowerdale, old Flowerdale, Luce, Frank.

Lanc. Sir Arthur, welcome to Lewsome, welcome by
my troth, What's the matter man, why are you vext?

Oli. Why man he would preſs me.

Lanc. O fie, Sir Arthur, preſs him?

He is a man of reckoning.

Wea. I that he is, Sir Arthur, he hath the nobles,
The golden ruddocks he.

Arth. The fitter for the Wars:

And were he not in favour

With your Worſhips, he ſhould fee,

That I have power to preſſ so good as he.

Oli. Chill ſland to the trial, so chill.

Flow. I marry ſhall he, preſſ Cloth and Karfy,

White-Pot and drowſen Broth: tut, tut, he cannot.

Oli. Well, Sir, though you fee vlouten Cloth and Karfy,
chee a zeen zutch a Karſy-Coat wear out the Town ſick a
zilken Jacket, as thick a one you wear.

Flow. Well fed vlitan vlattan.

Oli. A and well fed Cocknell, and Boe-Bell too: what
doeſt think cham aveard of thy Zilken-Coat, no fer vere
thce.

Lanc. Nay come no more, be all Lovers and Friends.

Wea. I'tis beſt so, good Mafter Oliver.

Flow. Is your name Mafter Oliver, I pray you ?

Oli. What tit and be tit, and grieve you.

Flow. No, but I'd gladly know if a man might not have
a Foolliſh Plot out of Mafter Oliver to work upon.

Oli. Work thy Plots upon me, ſtand a ſide, work thy
Foolliſh Plots upon me, chill ſo uſe thee, thou wert never
ſo uſed ſince thy Dam bound thy Head, work upon me?

Flow. Let him come, let him come.

Oli. Zyrrha, Zyrrha, if it were not for ſhame, chee
would a given thee zutch a whifter poop under the Ear,
chee would have made thee a vanged another at my ſeet:
ſtand a ſide let me loofe, cham all of a vlaming Fire-brand:
ſtand afide.

Flow. Well I forbear you for your Friends ſake.

Oli. A vig for all my vreens, doſt thou tell me of my
vreens?

Oli. No more, good Mafter Oliver, no more, Sir Arthur.
And Maiden, here in the fight of all your Suters,
every man of worth, I'll tell you whom I faineſt would
prefer to the hard bargain of your Marriage Bed: ſhall I
be plain among you, Gentlemen?

Arth. I, Sir, 'tis beſt.

Lanc. Then, Sir, firſt to you, I do confes you a moſt
gallant Knight, a worthy Souldier, and honest man:
but honeſty maintains a French-hood, goes very ſeldome
in a Chain of Gold, keeps a ſmall train of Servants: hath
few Friends: and for this wild Oats here, young Flower-
dale, I will not judge, God can work Miracles, but he
were better make a hundred new, than thee a thrifty, and an honest one.

Wea. Believe me he hath hit you there, he hath touched
you to the quick, that he hath.

Flow. Woodcock a my ſide, why, Mafter Weathercock,
you know I am honest, howſoever trifles.

Wea. Now by my troth, I know no otherwife,
O, your old Mother was a Dame indeed:

Heaven hath her Soul, and my VVives too, I truſt:

And your good Father, honest Gentleman,

He is gone a journey as I hear, far hence.

Flow. I God be praſed, he is far enough,

He is gone a Pilgrimage to Paradife.

And left me to cut a Caper againſt care,

Luce look on me that am as light air.

Luce. I'faith I like not ſhadows, bubbles, broth,
I hate a light a love, as I hate death.

Lanc. Girl, hold thee there:

Look on this Devonshire Lad :

Fat, fair, and lovely, both in purſe and perſon.

Oli. WWell, Sir, cham as the Lord hath made me,
You know me well ivin, cha have three ſcore pack of
Karſay, and Blackem Hall, and chief credit beſide, and
my Fortunes may be ſo good as an others, zo it may.

Lance. 'Tis you I love, whatsoever others ſay.

Arth.

The London Prodigal.

216

Arth. Thanks, faireft.

Flow. VVhat, would'ft thou have me quarrel with him ?

Fath. Do but fay he fhall hear from you.

Lan. Yet, Gentlem:n, howfoever I prefer this Devon-
shire Suitor, I'll enforce no love, my Daughter fhall have
her liberty to choofe whom the likes beſt: In your Love-
ſuit proceed. Not all of you but only one muſt ſpeed.

Wea. You have faid well: Indeed right well.

Enter Artichoak.

Arti. Miftrefs, here's one would ſpeak with you, my
fellow Daffidill hath him in the Cellar already he knows
him, he met him at Croydon Fair.

Lance. O I remember, a little Man.

Arti. I, a very little Man.

Lance. And yet a proper Man.

Arti. A very proper, very little Man.

Lance. His name is Monfieur Civer.

Arti. The fame, Sir.

Lance. Come, Gentlemen, if other Suitors come,
My foolish Daughter will be fitted too:

But Delia my Saint, no Man dare move,

[Exeunt all but Young Flowerdale and Oliver,
and Old Flowerdale.

Flow. Hark you, Sir, a word.

Oli. What ha an you ſay to me now?

Flow. Ye ſhall hear from me, and that very ſhortly.

Oli. Is that all, vare thee well, chee vere thee not a vig-

[Exit Oliver.

Flow. What if he ſhould come more ? I am fairly dreſt.

Fath. I do not mean that you ſhall meet with him,

But prefently we'll go and draw a Will:

Where we'll fet down Land, that we never ſaw,
And we will have it of ſo large a Sum,
Sir Lancelot ſhall intreat you take his Daughter :

This being formed, give it Maſter Weathercock,
And make Sir Lancelot's Daughter Heir of all:

And make him ſwear never to ſhew the Will
To any one, until that you be dead.

This done, the foolish Changling Weathercock,
Will ſtraight difcourſe unto Sir Lancelot,
The Form and Tenor of your Teſtament,

Nor ſtand to paufe of it, be rul'd by me:

What will enſue, that ſhall you quickly ſee.

Flow. Come let's about it; if that a Will, ſweet Kit,
Can get the Wench, I ſhall renown thy Wit.

[Exeunt.

Enter Daffidil.

Daff. Miftrefs, ſtill froward ?

No kind looks unto your Daffidil, now by the gods.

Luce. Away my foolish Knave, let my hand go.

Daff. There's your hand, but this ſhall go with me:

My heart is thine, this is my True Loves Fee.

Luce. I'll have your Coat ſtript o're your Ears for this,
You fawcy Rafcal.

Enter Lancelot and Weathercock.

Lance. How now, Maid, what is the news with you ?

Luce. Your Man is ſomething fawcy.

[Exit Luce.

Lance. Go to, Sirrah, I'll talk with you anon.

Daff. Sir, I am a Man to be talked withal,

I am no Horſe, I trow:

I know my ſtrength then no more than ſo.

Wea. A by the matkins, good Sir Lancelot, I ſaw him
the other day hold up the Bucklers, like an Hercules,
I faith God-a-mercy, Lad, I like thee well.

La. I, I, like him well, go Sirrah, fetch me a cup of wine,
That e're I part with Maſter Weathercock,

We may drink down our farewel in French Wine.

Wea. I thank you, Sir, I thank you, friendly Knight,
I'll come and visit you, by the Mouſe-foot I will:

In the mean time, take heed of cutting Flowerdale.
He is a deſperate Dick, I warrant you.

Lance. He is, he is: Fill, Daffidil, fill me fome wine,
Ha, what wears he on his arm?

My Daughter Luces Bracelet, I, 'tis the fame:

Ha to you, Maſter Weathercock,

Wea. I thank you, Sir: Here, Daffidil, an honest fel-
low and a tall thou art: Well: I'll take my leave, good
night, and I hope to have you and all your Daughters at
my poor houſe, in good foot h I muſt.

Lance. Thanks, Maſter Weathercock, I ſhall be bold
to trouble you be ſure.

Wea. And welcome, heartily farewell.

[Exit Weath.

Lance. Sirrah, I ſaw my Daughters wrong, and with-
al her Bracelet on your arm; off with it: and with it my
Livery too: have I care to ſee my Daughter matched with
men of worſhip, and are you grown so bold? Go, Sirrah,
from my houſe, or I'll whip you hence.

Daff. I'll not be whipt, Sir, there's your Livery,
This is a Serving mans reward, what care I,
I have means to truſt to, I ſcorn ſervice I.

[Exit Daffidil.

Lance. I a lufty Knave, but I muſt let him go.
Our Servants muſt be taught what they ſhould know.

Enter Sir Arthur and Luce.

Luce. Sir, as I am a Maid, I do affect you above any
Suitor that I have, although that Souldiers ſcare not
how to love.

Arth. I am a Souldier, and a Gentleman
Knows what belongs to VVar, what to a Lady:
What man offends me, that my Sword ſhall right:
What woman loves me, I am her faithful Knight.

Luce. I neither doubt your Valour nor your Love, but
there be fome that bear a Souldiers form, that ſwear by
him they never think upon, go fwoaggering up and down
from houſe to houſe, crying, God pays: And—

Arth. I faith, Lady, I'll defcry you ſuch a man,
Of them there be many which you have ſpoke of,
That bear the name and ſhape of Souldiers,
Yet, God knows, very ſeldome ſaw the War:
That haunt your Taverns and your Ordinaries,
Your Ale-houſes ſometimes, for all a-like
To uphold the bruitifti humour of their minds,
Being marked down, for the bondmen of deſpair :
Their mirth begins in wine, but ends in bloud,
Their drink is clear, but their conceits are mud.

Luce. Yet theſe are great Gentlemen Souldiers.

Arth. No they are wretched flaves,

Whofe deſperate lives doth bring them timeſle graves.

Luce. Both for your ſelf, and for your form of life,
If I may chooſe, I'll be a Souldiers Wife.

Enter Sir Lancelot and Oliver.

Oli. And tut truſt to it, ſo then.

Lance. Affure your ſelf,

You ſhall be married with all ſpeed we may:
One day ſhall ſerve for Frances and for Luce.

Oli. Why che wood vain know the time, for providing
VWedding Raiments.

Lance. VVhy no more but this, firſt get your affurance
made touching my Daughters Joynture, that diſpatched,
we will in two days make provifion.

Oli. Why man, chil have the writings made by to morrow.

Lance. To morrow be it then, let's meet at the King's
Head in Fifth street.

Oli. No, ſie man, no, let's meet at the Rofe at Temple
Bar, that will be nearer your Counſellor and mine.

Lance. At the Rofe be it then, the hour nine,

He that comes laſt forfeits a Pint of wine.

Oli. A Pint is no payment,

Let it be a whole Quart, or nothing.

Enter

218

The London Prodigal.

Lanc. We'll ride to London, or it shall not need,
We'll crost to Dedford strand, and take a Boat:
Where be these Knaves? what Artichoak, what Fop?

Enter Artichoak.

Art. Here be the very Knaves, but not the merry Knaves.

Lanc. Here take my Cloak, I'll have a walk to Dedford.

Art. Sir, we have been scouring of our Swords and Bucklers for your defence.

Lanc. Defence me no defence, let your words ruff,
I'll have no fighting: I, let blows alone, bid Delia see
all things be in readin' against the Wedding, we'll
have two at once, and that will fave charges, Mafter Weathercock.

Art. Well we will do it, Sir.

[Exeunt.]

Enter Civet, Frank, and Delia.

Civ. By my troth this is good luck, I thank God for this. In good foot I have even my hearts define: Sifter Delia, now I may boldly call you so, for your Father hath frank and freely given me his Daughter Franck.

Fran. I by my troth, Tom, thou haft my good will too,
for I thank God I longed for a Husband, and would I
might never flir, for one his name was Tom.

Delia. Why, Sifter, now you have your wifh.

Civ. You say very true, Sifter Delia, and I prethee
call me nothing but Tom: and I'll call thee sweet heart,
and Frank: will it not do well, Sifter Delia?

Delia. It will do very well with both of you.

Fran. But Tom, muft I go as I do now when I am married?

Civ. No Franck, I'll have thee go like a Citizen
In a garded Gown, and a French-Hood.

Fran. By my troth that will be excellent indeed.

Delia. Brother, maintain your Wife to your Eftate,
Apparel you your felf like to your Father:
And let her go like to your ancient Mother,
He ſparing got his wealth, left it to you,
Brother take heed of Pride, ſome bids thrift adieu.

Civ. So as my Father and my Mother went, that's a
left indeed, why ſhe went in a fringed Gown, a single
Ruff, and a white Cap. And my Father in a Mocado
Coat, a pair of red Sattin Sleeves, and a Canvis back.

Delia. And yet his wealth was all as much as yours.

Civ. My Eſtate, my Eſtate, I thank God, is forty
pound a year in good Leaſes and Tenements, beſides
twenty mark a year at Cuckolds-Haven, and that comes
to us all by inheritance.

Delia. That may indeed, 'tis very fitly plied,
I know not how it comes, but ſo it falls out
That those whole Fathers have died wondrous rich,
And took no pleafure but to gather wealth,
Thinking of little that they leave behind:

For them they hope, will be of their like mind,
But falls out contrary, forty years ſparing
Is ſcarce three ſeven years ſpending, never caring
What will enfue, when all their Coin is gone,
And all too late, then Thrift is thought upon :

Oft have I heard, that Pride and Riot kiff,
And then repentance cries, for had I wift.

Civ. You ſay well, Sifter Delia, you ſay well: but I
mean to live within my bounds: for look you, I have ſet
down my reſt thus far, but to maintain my Wife in her
French Hood, and her Coach, keep a couple of Geldings,
and a brace of Gray-hounds, and this is all I'll do.

Delia. And you'll do this with forty pound a year?

Civ. I, and a better penny, Sifter.

Fran. Sifter, you forget that at Cuckolds Haven,

Civ. By my troth well remembred, Franck,

I'll give thee that to buy thee Pine.

Delia. Keep you the reſt for points, alas the day,

Fools shall have wealth, though all the World ſay nay:
Come, Brother, will you in, Dinner flays for us.

Civ. I, good Sifter, with all my heart.

Fran. I by my troth, Tom, for I have a good ſtomach.

Civ. And I the like, Sifter Franck, no Sifter,

Do not think I'll go beyond my bounds.

Delia. God grant you may not.

[Exeunt.]

Enter young Flowerdale and his Father, with
fools in their hands.

Flow. Sirrah Kit, tarry thou there, I have spied Sir
Lancelot, and old Weathercock coming this way, they are
hard at hand, I will by no means be ſpoken withal.

Fath. I'll warrant you, go get you in.

Lanc. Now, my honest Friend, thou doſt belong to
Maſter Flowerdale?

Fath. I do, Sir.

Lanc. Is he within, my good Fellow?

Fath. No, Sir, he is not within.

Lanc. I prethee if he be within, let me ſpeak with him.

Fath. Sir, to tell you true, my Maſter is within, but
indeed would not be ſpoke withal: there be ſome terms
that ſtands upon his reputation, therefore he will not ad-
mit any conference till he hath ſhooch them off.

Lanc. I prithie tell him his very good Friend Sir Lancelot Spurrock, intreats to ſpeak with him.

Fath. By my troth, Sir, if you come to take up the
matter between my Maſter and the Devonshire man, you
can but beguile your hopes, and loſe your labour.

Lanc. Honest Friend, I have not any ſuch thing to him,
I come to ſpeak with him about other matters.

Fath. For my Maſter, Sir, hath ſet down his reſolu-
tion, either to redeem his honour, or leave his life be-
hind him.

Lanc. My Friend, I do not know any quarrel touching
thy Maſter or any other perſon, my buſinels is of a diffi-
rent nature to him, and I prithee ſo tell him.

Fath. For howfeever the Devonshire man is,
My Maſters mind is bloody: that's a round O,
And therefore, Sir, intreaties are but vain:

Lanc. I have no ſuch thing to him, I tell thee once
again.

Fath. I will then ſo ſignify to him.

[Exit Father.]

Lanc. A Sirrah, I fee this matter is hotly carried.
But I'll labour to diffwade him from it.

Enter Flowerdale.

Good morrow Maſter Flowerdale.

Flow. Good morrow, good Sir Lancelot,

Good morrow, Maſter Weathercock,

By my troth, Gentlemen, I have been reading over
Nick Machiavel, I find him

Good to be known, not to be followed:
A peſtilent humane Fellow, I have made
Certain Annotations of him ſuch as they be:
And how is't, Sir Lancelot? ha? how is't?
A mad World, men cannot live quiet in it.

Lanc. Maſter Flowerdale, I do undereſtand there is ſome
jar between the Devonshire man and you.

Fath. They, Sir? they are good Friends as can be,

Flow. Who Maſter Oliver and I? as good Friends as
can be.

Lanc. It is a kind of safety in you to deny it, and a ge-
nerous ſilence, which too few are indued withal: But, Sir,
ſuch a thing I hear, and I could with it otherwife.

Flow. No ſuch thing, Sir Lancelot, a my reputation, as
I am an honest man.

Lanc. Now I do believe you then, if you do
Ingage your reputation there is none.

Flow.

The London Prodigal.

219

Flow. Nay I do not ingage my reputation there is not,
You shall not bind me to any condition of hardneſs:
But if there be any thing between us, then there is,
If there be not, then there is not: be, or be not, all is one.

Lance. I do perceive by this, that there is ſomething be-
tween you, and I am very forry for it.

Flow. You may be deceived, Sir Lancelot, the Italian
Hath a pretty ſaying, Que/ſo? I have forgot it too,
'Tis out of my head, but in my translation
Iſt hold thus, thou haſt a friend, keep him; Iſ a ſoe trip him.
Lan. Come, I do ſee by this there is ſomewhat between
And before God I could with it otherwife.

(you,
Flow. Well what is between us, can hardly be altered:
Sir Lancelot, I am to ride forth to morrow,
That way which I muſt ride, no man muſt deny
Me the sun, I would not by any particular man,
Be denied common and general paſſage. If any one

Saith, Flow, rade, thou poffeſt not this way:
My anſwer is, I muſt either on or return,
But return is not my word, I muſt on:
If I cannot, then make my way, nature
Hath done the laſt for me, and there's the fine.

Lan. Mr. Flowerdale, every man hath one tongue,
And two Ears, nature in my building,
Is a moſt curious work-maſter.

Flow. That is as much as to ſay, a man ſhould hear more
Than he ſhould ſpeak.

Lan. You ſay true, and indeed I have heard more,
Than at this time I will ſpeak.

Flow. You ſay well,

Lan. Slanders are more common then troths Maſter
Flowerdale, but proof is the rule for both.

Flow. You ſay true, what do you call him

Hath it there in his third canton ?

Lan. I have heard you have been wild : I have believ'd it.

Flow. 'Twas fit, 'twas neceſſary.

Lance. But I have ſeen ſomewhat of late in you,
That hath confirmed in me an opinion of
Goodneſs toward you.

Flow. 'I Faith Sir, I am ſure I never did you harm :

Some good I have done, either to you or yours,

I am ſure you know not, neither is it my will you ſhould,

Lan. I, your Will, Sir.

Flow. I my will, Sir: 'sfoot do you know ſought of my
Begod and you do, Sir, I am abufed.

Lan. Go, Mr. Flowerdale, what I know, I know:

And know you thus much out of my knowledge,

That I truly love you. For my Daughter,

She's yours. And if you like a marriage better

Than a brawl, all quirks of reputation fet afide, go with me
prefently: And where you ſhould fight a bloody battle,
you ſhall be married to a lovely Lady.

Flow. Nay but, Sir Lancelot?

Lan. If you will not imbrace my offer, yet ſufflure your
ſelf thus much, I will have order to hinder your encounter.

Flow. Nay but hear me, Sir Lancelot.

Lance. Nay ſand not you upon imputative honor,

'Tis merely unfound, unprofitable, and idle

Inferences: your buſineſs is to wed my Daughter, therefore give me your preſent word to do it, I'll go and provide the maid, therefore give me your preſent revolution, either now or never.

Flow. Will you ſo put me to it ?

Luce. I a fore God, either take me now, or take me never.

Elſe what I thought ſhould be our match, ſhall be our part-
So fare you well for ever.

Flow. Stay: fall out, what may fall, my love

Is above all: I will come.

Lance. I expeſt you, and ſo fare you well.

[Exit Sir Lancelot.

Fath. Now, Sir, how ſhall we do for wedding apparel ?

Flow. By the Maſs that's true: now help Kit,

The marriage ended, we'll make amends for all.

Fath. Well, no more, prepare you for your Bride,
We will not want for cloaths, what ſo ere betide.

Flow. And then that ſee, when once I have my Dower,
In mirth we'll ſpend,
Full many a merry hour:

As for this wench, I not regard a pin,
It is her gold muſt bring my pleatures in.

Fath. Is't poſſible, he hath his ſecond living,
Forfaking God, uimſelf to the Devil giving :

But that I knew his Mother firm and chaſt,
My heart would ſay, my head he had diſgrac't :

Elſe would I ſwear, he never was my Son,
But her fair mind ſo foul a deed did jhun.

Enter Uncle.

Unc. How, now, Brother, how do you find your Son?

Fath. O Brother, heedleſs as a libertine,

Even grown a Maſter in the School of Vice,
One that doth nothing, but invent deceit:

For all the day he humours up and down,

How he the next day might deceive his friend,
He thinks of nothing but the preſent time:

For one groat ready down, he'll pay a thilling,

But then the lender muſt needs ſlay for it.

When I was young, I had the ſcope of youth,
Both wild, and wanton, careleſs and desperate:

But ſuch mad ſtrains, as he's poſſeſt withal,
I thought it wonder for to dream upon.

Unc. I told you ſo, but you would not believe it.

Fath. Well I have found it, but one thing comforts me ;
Brother, to morrow he's to be married

To beauteous Luce, Sir Lancelot Sparcocks Daughter.

Unc. Is't poſſible ?

Fath. 'Tis true, and thus I mean to curb him,
This day, Brother, I will you ſhall arreſt him:

If any thing will tame him, it muſt be that,

For he is rank in miſchief, chained to a life,

That will increafe his ſhame, and kill his wife.

Unc. What arreſt him on his wedding day?

That were unchriflian, and an unhumane part:

How many couple even for that very day,
Have purchaſt ſeven years ſorrow afterward?

Forbear him then to day, do it to morrow,

And this day mangle not his joy with ſorrow.

Fath. Brother, I'le have it done this very day,

And in the view of all, as he comes from Church:

Do but obſerve the courſe that he will take,

Upon my life he will forſwear the debt:

And for we'll have the ſumm shall not be ſlight,

Say that he owes you near three thouſand pound :

Good Brother, let it be done immediately.

Unc. Well, feeing you will have it ſo,

Brother I'le do't, and I'traight provide the ſheriff.

Fath. So Brother, by this means ſhall we perceive

What Sir Lancelot in this pinch will do:

And how his wife doth ſtand affected to him,

Her love will then be tried to the uttermoſt:

And all the reſt of them. Brother, what I will do,

Shall harm him much, and much avail him too.

[Exit.

Oli. Cham affuſured thick be the place, that the ſcoundrel
Appointed to meet me, if a come, zo: if a come not, zo,

And che war avife, he would make a Coyſtrel an us,
Ched veſe him, and che vang him in hand, che would
Hoyſt him, and give it him too and again, zo chud :

Who been a there, Sir Arthur, chil ſlay afide.

Ar. I have dog'd the Devon-ſhire man into the field,

For fear of any harm that ſhould beſal him:

I had an inckling of that yelſternight,

That Flowerdale and he ſhould meet this morning:

Though of my Soul, Oliver fears him not,

Yet for I'd fee fair play on either ſide,

Made me to come, to fee their valours tri'd.

Good morrow to Maſter Oliver.

T t t a

Oli.

The London Prodigal.

220

Oli. God and good morrow.

Arth. What, Maſter Oliver, are you angry ?

Oli. What an it be, tyt an griee you ?

Arth. Not me at all, Sir, but I imagine

By your being here thus armed,

You fly for fome that you should fight withal.

Oli. Why and he do, che would not dezire you to take his part.

Arth. No by my troth, I think you need it not,

For he you look for, I think means not to come.

Oli. No, and che war afure of that, ched aveſe him in another place.

Enter Daffidil.

Daff. O, Sir Arthur, Maſter Oliver, aye me,

Your Love, and yours, and mine, sweet Miftrefs Luce

This morning is married to young Flowerdale.

Arth. Married to Flowerdale ! 'tis impossible.

Oli. Married, man ? che hope thou doſt but jeſt:

To make an a volowten merriment of it.

Daff. O'tis too true, here comes his Uncle.

Enter Flowerdale, Sheriff, Officers.

Unc. Good morrow, Sir Arthur, good morrow, Maſter Oliver.

Oli. God and good morn, Mr. Flowerdale, Ipray tellen us, is your Scoundrel Kinfman married ?

Ar. Mr. Oliver, call him what you will, but he is married To Sir Lancelot's Daughter here.

Unc. Sir Arthur, unto her ?

Oli. I, ha the old yellow zerved me thick a trick ?

Why man, he was a promife, chil chud a had her,

Is a zitch a vox, chill look to his water che vor him.

Unc. The mutick plays; they are coming from the Church.

Sheriff, do your office : Fellows, ſtand floutly to it.

Enter all to the Wedding.

Oli. God give you joy, as the old zaid Proverb is, and fome sorrow among. You met us well, did you not ?

Lance. Nay, be not angry, Sir, the fault is in me, I have done all the wrong, kept him from coming to the field to you, as I might, Sir, for I am a Juſtice, and ſworn to keep the peace.

Wea. I marry is he, Sir, a very Juſtice, and ſworn to keep the peace, you muſt not diſturb the Weddings.

Lance. Nay, never frown nor ſtorm, Sir, if you do, I'll have an order taken for you.

Oli. Well, well, chill be quiet.

Wea. Mr. Flowerdale, Sir Lancelot, look you, who here is?

M. Flowerdale.

Lance. M. Flowerdale, welcome with all my heart.

Flow. Uncle, this is the i'faith: Maſter Under-ſheriff, Arreſt me ? At whoſe ſuit ? Draw, Kit.

Unc. At my Suit, Sir.

Lan. Why, what's the matter, Mr. Flowerdale ?

Unc. This is the matter, Sir, this unthrift here, Hath cozend you, and hath had of me,

In ſeveral Summs three thouſand pound.

Flow. Why, Uncle, Uncle.

Unc. Couſin, Couſin, you have Uncled me,

And if you be not ſtaid, you'll prove A Cozener unto all that know you.

Lance. Why, Sir, ſuppofe he be to you in debt Ten thouſand pound, his State to me appears, To be at leaſt three thouſand by the year.

Unc. O, Sir, I was too late informed of that plot, How that he went about to cozen you :

And form'd a Will, and ſent it to your good Friend there, Maſter Weathercock, in which was Nothing true, but brags and lies.

Lane. Ha, hath he not ſuch Lordships,

Lands, and Ships ?

Unc. Not worth a Groat, not worth a Half-penny he.

Lance. I pray tell us true, be plain, young Flowerdale.

Flow. My Uncle here's mad,

And diſpoled to do me wrong,

But here's my man an honest Fellow

By the Lord, and of good credit, knows all is true.

Fath. Not I, Sir, I am too old to lie, I rather know You forg'd a Will, where every line you writ,

You ſtudied where to quote your Lands might lie.

Wea. And I prithee where be thy honest Friends ?

Fath. I faith no where, Sir, for he hath none at all.

Wea. Benedicity, we are o're-reach'd, I believe.

Lanc. I am cozen'd, and my hopeful! ſt Child undone.

Flow. You are not cozen'd, nor is he undone,

They flander me, by this Light, they flander me :

Look you, my Uncle here's an Uſurer, & would undo me, But I'll ſtand in Law, do you but bail me, you ſhall do no more:

You Brother Civet, and Maſter Weathercock, do but

Bayl me, and let me have my marriage money

Paid me, and we'll ride down,

And there your own Eyes ſhall fee,

How my poor Tenants there will welcome me.

You ſhall but bayl me, you ſhall do no more,

And you, greedy Gnat, their bayl will ſerve.

Unc. I, Sir, I'll ask no better bayl.

Lan. No, Sir, you ſhall not take my bayl, nor his, Nor my Son Crevts, I'll not be cheated, I,

Sheriff, take your prifoner, I'll not deal with him :

Let's Uncle make false Dice with his false bones,

I will not have to do with him :

Mock'd, gull'd, and wrong'd.

Come, Girl, though it be late, it falls out well,

Thou ſhalt not live with him in Beggars Hell.

Luc. He is my Husband, and high Heaven doth know, With what unwillingneſs I went to Church, But you enforced me, you compelled me to it:

The holy Church-man pronounc'd theſe words but now,

I muſt not leave my Husband in diſtrefs :

Now I muſt comfort him, not go with you.

Lan. Comfort a Cozener ? On my curſe forſake him?

Lu. This day you cauſed me on your curſe to take him: Do not, I pray, my grieved Soul oppreſſ,

God knows my heart doth bleed at his diſtrefs.

Lan. O Maſter Weathercock, I muſt confes I forſe'd her to this match. Led with opinion his false Will was true.

Wea. Ah, he hath over-reached me too.

Lan. She might have liv'd like Delia, in a happy Virgins ſtate.

Delia. Father, be patient, ſorrow comes too late.

Lance. And on her Knees the begg'd and did intreat, If the muſt needs tafe a ſad marriage life,

Arth. You have done her and me the greater wrong,

Lanc. O take her yet.

Arth. Not I.

Lanc. Or, Maſter Oliver, accept my Child, and half my wealth is yours.

Oli. No, Sir, chill break no Laws.

Luce. Never fear, he will not trouble you.

Delia. Yet, Sifter, in this paffion do not run headlong to confusion. You may affect him, though not follow him.

Frank. Do, Sifter, hang him, let him go.

Wea. Do faith, Miftrefs Luce, leave him.

Luce. You are three grosſs fools, let me alone,

I ſwear, I'll live with him in all moan.

Oli. But an he have his legs at liberty, Cham aveard he will never live with you.

Arth. I, but he is now in Huckſtters handling for running away.

Lanc. Hufwife, you hear how you and I am wrong'd,

And

The London Prodigal.

221

And if you will redreſs it yet you may:
But if you ſtand on terms to follow him,
Never come near my fight, nor look on me,
Call me not Father, look not for a Groat,
For all the Portion I will this day give
Unto thy Sifter Frances.

Fran. How ſay you to that, Tom ?

I ſhall have a good deal,
Besides I'll be a good Wife, and a good Wife
Is a good thing I can tell.

Cru. Peace, Franck, I would be forry to fee thy Sifter
Caſt away, as I am a Gentleman.

Lane. What, are you yet reſolved ?

Luce. Yes, I am reſolved.

Lane. Come then away, or now, or never come.

Luce. This way I turn, go you unto your Feaſt,
And I to weep, that am with grief oppreſt.

Lane. For ever fly my fight: come, Gentlemen,
Let's in, I'll help you to far better Wives than her.

Delia, upon my bleſſing talk not to her,
Bafe Baggage, in ſuch haſte to Beggery ?

One. Sheriſſ, take your Priſoner to your charge.

Flow. Uncle, Be-gad you have us'd me very hardly,
By my troth, upon my Wedding-Day.

Exeunt all: Young Flowerdale, his Father, Uncle,
Sheriff, and Officers.

Luce. O, Maſter Flowerdale, but hear me speak,
Stay but a little while, good Maſter Sheriff,

If not for him, for my fake pitty him:
Good Sir, ſtop not your Ears at my complaint,
My Voice grows weak, for Womens words are faint.

Flow. Look you, he kneels to you.

One. Fair Maid, for you, I love you with my heart,
And grieve, sweet Soul, thy Fortune is ſo bad,
That thou ſhould't match with such a graceleſs Youth,
Go to thy Father, think not upon him,

Whom Hell hath mark'd to be the Son of ſhame.

Luce. Impute my wildneſs, Sir, unto his youth,
And think that now is the time he doth repent:

Alas, what good or gain can you receive,
To impriſon him that nothing hath to pay ?
And where nought is, the King doth loſe his due,

O pitty you, as God ſhall pitty you.

One. Lady, I know his humours all too well,

But nothing in the World can do him good,
And miſery it ſelf to chain him with.

Luce. Say that your Debts were paid, then is he free?
One, I, Virgin, that being anſwered, I have done.

But to him that is all as impoſſible,
As I to ſcale the high Piramidies.

Sheriff, take your Pricemon, Maiden, fare thee well.

Luce. O go not yet, good Maſter Flowerdale :

Take my word for the Debt, my word, my Bond.

Flow. I, by God, Uncle, and my Bond too.

One. Alas, I ne're ought nothing but I paid it ;

And I can work, alas, he can do nothing :
I have ſome Friends perhaps will pitty me,
His chieſeſt Friends do ſeek his miſery.

All that I can, or beg, get, or receive,

Shall be for you: O do not turn away :

Me thinks within a Face ſo reverent,
So well experienced in this tottering World,
Should have ſome feeling of a Maidens grief:
For my fake, his Fathers and your Brothers ſake,
I, for your Souls ſake that doth hope for joy,
Pitty my ſtate, do not two Souls destroy.

One. Fair Maid, I ſtand up, not in regard of him,
But in pitty of thy hapleſs choice,

I do reſeafe him : Maſter Sheriff, I thank you :
And Officers, there is for you to drink.

Here, Maid, take this money, there is a hundred Angels;
And for I will be ſure he ſhall not have it,

Here, Keſter, take it you, and uſe it sparingly,
But let not her have any want at all.

Dry your Eyes, Niece, do not too much lament

For him, whose Life hath been in riot ſpent :

If well he uſeth thee, he gets him Friends,

If Iſ, a ſhameful end on him depends.

[Exit Uncle.

Flow. A Plague go with you for an old Fornicator :
Come, Kit, the money, come, houſe! Kit.

Fath. Nay by my Faith, Sir, you ſhall pardon me.

Flow. And why, Sir, pardon you ? give me the money,
you old Raſcal, or I ſhall make you.

Luce. Pray hold your hands, give it me houſe! Friend.

Fath. If you be ſo content, withal my heart.

Flow. Content, Sir, 'sblood the ſhall be content

Whether ſhe will or no. A rattle-baby come to follow me?

Go, get you gone to the greaſy chuff your Father,
Bring me your Dowry, or never look on me.

Fath. Sir, ſhe hath forſook her Father, and all her
Friends for you.

Flow. Hang thee, her Friends and Father altogether.

Fath. Yet part with ſomething to provide her Lodging.

Flow. Yes, I mean to part with her and you, but if I
part with one Angel, hang me at a Poſt. I'll rather
throw them at a caſt of Dice, as I have done a thouſand
of their fellows.

Fath. Nay then I will be plain, degenerate Boy,
Thou hadst a Father would have been aſhamed.

Flow. My Father was an Aſs, an old Aſs.

Fath. Thy Father ? proud licentiouſ Villain :

What are you at your foils ? I'll foil with you.

Luce. Good Sir, forbear you.

Flow. Did not this whining Woman hang on me,

I'd teach thee what it was to abufe thy Father :

Go hang, beg, ſtare, Dice, Game, that when all is gone,
Thou may't after deſpair and hang thy ſelf.

Luce. O do not Curſe him.

Flow. I do not Curſe him, and to pray for him were vain,
It grieves me that he bears his Father's name.

Flow. Well, you old Raſcal, I ſhall meet with you :
Sirraſ, get you gone, I will not ſtrip the Livery

Over your Ears, becauſe you paid for it :

But do not uſe my name, Sirraſ,

Do you hear ? Look you do not

Uſe my name, you were beſt.

Flow. Pay me the twenty pound then that I lent you,
Or give me ſecurity when I may have it.

Flow. I'll pay thee not a penny,

And for ſecurity, I'll give thee none.

Minckins, look you do not follow me, look you do not :
If you do, Beggar, I ſhall flit your noſe.

Luce. Alas, what ſhall I do ?

Flow. Why turn Whore, that's a good trade,
And ſo perhaps I'll fee the thee now and then.

[Exit Flowerdale.

Luce. Alas—the-day that ever I was born.

Fath. Sweet Miftreſs, do not weep, I'll ſtick to you.

Flow. My Father, I know not what to do,

My Father and my Friends, they have deſpifed me :

And I a wretched Maid, thus caſt away,
Knows neither where to go, nor what to ſay.

Fath. It grieves me at the Soul, to fee her tears

Thus ſtain the Crimſon Roſes of her Cheeks :

Lady, take comfort, do not mourn in vain,

I have a little living in this Town,

The which I think comes to a hundred pound,
All that and more ſhall be at your diſpote :

I'll ſtrait go help you to ſome ſtrange diſguſe,
And place you in a ſervice in this Town :

Where you ſhall know all, yet your ſelf unknown :

Come grieve no more, where no help can be had,

Weep not for him, that is more worſe than bad.

Luce. I thank you, Sir.

Ttt 3

Enter

The London Prodigal.

Enter Sir Lancelot, Master Weathercock and them.

Oli. Well, cha a bin zerved many a fluttiftrick,
But such a lerripoop as thick yoh was ne're a farved.

Lance. Son, ivst, Daughter Frances, bear with me,
You fee how I am presſed down with inward grief,
About that luckles Girl, your Sifter Luce.
But 'tis faln out with me, as with many families beſide,
They are moſt unhappy, that are moſt beloved.

Civ. Father, 'tis fo, 'tis even faln out fo,
But what remedy? fet hand to your heart, and let it paſſ,
Here is your Daughter Frances and I, and we'll not fay,
We'll bring forth as witty Children, but as pretty
Children as ever the was: tho the had the prick
And praife for a pretty wench: But Father, done is
The mouſe, you'll come?

Lance. I, Son Civet, I'll come.

Civ. And you, Maſter Oliver?

Oli. I, for che a vext out this veaſt, chil fee if a gan
Make a better veaſt there.

Civ. And you, Sir Arthur?

Ar. I, Sir, although my heart be full,

I'le be a partner at your wedding feaſt.

Civ. And welcom all indeed, and welcom, come, Franck,
are you ready?

Fran. Jeſhue, how haſt ye theſe Husbands are, I pray,
Father, pray to God to bleſs me.

Lance. God bleſs thee, and I do: God make thee wife,
ſend you both joy, I with it with wet Eyes.

Fran. But, Father, ſhall not my Sifter Delia go along
with us? She is excellent good at Cookery, and ſuch
things.

Lance. Yes marry ſhall the: Delia, make you ready.

Deli. I am ready, Sir, I will firſt go to Greenwich,

From thence to my Couſin Cheſterfield, and ſo to Lon-
don.

Civ. It ſhall ſuffice, good Sifter Delia, it ſhall ſuffice,
but fail us not, good Sifter, give order to Cooks, and o-
thers, for I would not have my fweet Frank to foil her
fingers.

Fran. No by my troth not I, a Gentlewoman, and a
married Gentlewoman too, to be companion to Cooks,
And Kitchin-boys, not I, i'Faith, I ſeorn that.

Civ. Why, I do not mean thou ſhalt, ſweet heart, thou
ſeelt. I do not go about it: well, farewel too: You God
pitty Mr. Weathercock, we ſhall have your company too?

Wea. Withal my heart, for I love good cheer.

Civ. Well, God be with you all, come, Frank.

Fra. God be with you, Father, God be with you, Sir
Arthur, Maſter Oliver, and Maſter Weathercock, Sifter,
God be with you all: God be with you, Father, God be
with you every one.

Wea. Why, how now, Sir Arthur, all a mort, Maſter
Oliver, how now, man?

Cheerly, Sir Lancelot, and merrily ſay,

Who can hold that will away.

Lance. I, ſhe is gone indeed, poor Girl, undone,
But when theſe be ſelwilled, Children muſt ſmart.

Ar. But, Sir, that ſhe is wronged, you are the chiefeſt
caufe, therefore 'tis reaſon you redreſs her wrong.

Wea. Indeed you muſt, Sir Lancelot, you muſt.

Lance. Muſt? who can compel me, Mr. Weathercock?
I hope I may do what I lift.

Wea. I grant you may, you may do what you lift.

Oli. Nay, but and you be well eviſen, it were not good,
By this vrampolneſs, and virowardneſs, to caſt away
As pretty a dowſlabel, as am should chance to fee

In a ſummers day: chil tell you what chall do,
Chil go ſpy up and down the Town, and fee if I

Can hear any tale or tidings of her,

And take her away from thick a meſſel, vor cham
Aſhured, heel but bring her to the ſpoil,

And ſo var you well, we ſhall meet at your Son Civets.

Lance. I thank you, Sir, I take it very kindly.

Arti. To find her out, I'll ſpend my deareſt blood.

[Exeunt both.

So well I loved her, to affect her good.

Lance. O Maſter Weathercock,

What nap had I, to force my Daughter.

From Maſter Oliver, and this good Knight,

To one that hath no goodneſs in his thought?

Wea. Ill luck, but what remedy?

Lance. Yes, I have almoſt deſived a remedy,

Young Flowerdale is ſhure a Prifoner.

Wea. Shure, nothing more ſhure.

Lance. And yet perhaps his Unkle hath releſed him.

Wea. It may be very like, no doubt he hath.

Lance. Well if he be in Prifon, I'le have warrants

To tache my Daughter till the law be tried,

For I will ſhue him upon cozenage.

Wea. Marry may you, and overthrow him too.

Lance. Nay, that's not ſo; I may chance be ſcoſt,
And ſentence paſſ with him.

Wea. Believe me, ſo he may, therefore take heed.

Lance. Well howcoſer, yet I will have warrants,

In Prifon, or at Liberty, all's one:

You will help to ſerve them, Maſter Weathercock?

[Exeunt omnes.

Enter Flowerdale.

Flo. A plague of the Devil, the Devil take the dice.
The dice, and the Devil, and his dam go together:

Of all my hundred golden angels,

I have not left me one denier:

A pox of eome a five, what ſhall I do?

I can borrow no more of my credit:

There's not any of my acquaintance, man, nor boy,

But I have borrowed more or leſſ of:

I would I knew where to take a good purſe,

And go clear away, by this light I'le venture for it,

Gods lid my Sifter Delia,

I'le rob her, by this hand.

Enter Delia and Artichoak.

Delia. I prethee, Artichoak, go not ſo falſ,

The weather is hot, and I am ſomethine weary.

Art. Nay I warrant you, miſſrels Delia, I'le not tire you
With leading, we'll go an extream moderate pace.

Flow. Stand, deliver your purſe.

Art. O Lord, thieves, thieves. [Exit Artichoak.

Flow. Come, come, your purſe, Lady, your purſe.

Delia. That voice I have heard often before this time,

What, Brother Flowerdale become a thief?

Flow. I, a plague on't, I thank your Father;

But Sifter, come, your money, come:

What the world muſt find me, I am born to live,
'Tis not a fin to ſveal, when none will give.

Delia. O God, is all grace banift from thy heart,
Think of the ſhame that doth attend this fact?

Flow. Shame me no ſhames, come give me your purſe,
I'le bind you, Sifter, left I fare the worſe.

Delia. No, bind me not, hold, there is all I have,
And would that money would redeem thy ſhame.

Enter Oliver, Sir Arthur, and Artichoak.

Arti. Thieves, thieves, thieves.

Oli. Thieves, where man ? why how now, miſſrels Delia,
Ha you a liked to be a robbed?

Delia. No, Maſter Oliver, 'tis Maſter Flowerdale, he did
but jeſt with me.

Oliv. How, Flowerdale, that ſcoundrel? firrah, you
meten us well, vang the that.

Flow. Well, Sir, I'le not meddle with you, becaufe I
have a charge.

Delia.

The London Prodigal.

Delia. Here Brother Flowerdale, I'll lend you this fame money.

Flow. I thank you, Sifter.

Oliv. I wad you were yfplit, and you let the mezel have a penny; but since you cannot keep it, chil keep it my self.

Art. 'Tis pity to relieve him in this fort, Who makes a triumphant life his daily sport.

Delia. Brother, you fee how all men censure you, Farewell, and I pray God amend your life.

Oliv. Come, chil bring you along, and you safe enough From twenty fuch foundrells as thick an one is, Farewell and be hanged, zyrrah, as I think so thou Wilt be shortly, come, Sir Arthur.

[Exeunt all but Flowerdale.

Flow. A plague go with you for a karfe rafcal: This Devonshire man I think is made all of Pork, His hands made only for to heave up packs: His heart as fat and big as his face, As differing far from all brave gallant minds,

As I to serve the Hoggs, and drink with Hinds, As I am very near now : well what remedy, When money, means, and friends, do grow so fimal, Then farewel life, and there's an end of all.

[Exeunt omnes.

Enter Father, Luce like a Dutch Frow, Civet, and his wife Miftrefes Frances.

Civ. By my troth God a mercy for this, good Christopher, I thank thee for my maid, like her very well, how doft thou like her, Frances ?

Fran. In good adnefs, Tom, very well, excellent well, She ſpeaks ſo prettily, I pray what's your name?

Luce. My name, forfooth, be called Tankin.

Fran. By my troth a fine name: O Tankin, you are excellent for drelling ones head a new fashion.

Luce. Me fall do every ting about da head.

Fath. What Country woman is she, Kefster ?

Fath. A Dutch woman, Sir.

Civ. Why then ſhe is outlandifh, is ſhe not?

Fath. I, Sir, ſhe is.

Fran. O then thou canſt tell how to help me to cheeks and Ears?

Luce. Yes, miftrefes, very well.

Fath. Cheeks and ears, why, miftrefes Frances, want you cheeks and ears ? methinks you have very fair ones.

Fran. Thou art a Fool indeed, Tom, thou knoweſt what I mean.

Cv. I, I, Kefster, 'tis ſuch as they wear a their heads, I prethee, Kit, will her in, and ſhow her my house.

Fath. I will, Sir, come Tankin.

Fran. O Tom, you have not buſed me to day, Tem.

Civ. No Frances, we muſt not kifs afore folks, God ſave my Franck,

Enter Delia, and Artichoak.

See yonder, my Sifter Delia is come, welcome, good Sifter.

Fran. Welcome, good Sifter, how do you like the tire of my head?

Delia. Very well, Sifter.

Civ. I am glad you're come, Sifter Delia, to give order for Supper, they will be here foon.

Arti. I, but if good luck had not ſerved, ſhe had

Not been here now, filching Flowerdale had like

To pepper'd us, but for maſter Oliver, we had been robbed.

Delia. Peace, firrah, no more.

Arti. Robbed ! by whom ?

Arti. Marry by none but by Flowerdale, he is turned thief.

Cv. By my faith, but that is not well, but God be praifed For your eſcape, will you draw near, Sifter ?

Fath. Sitrah, come hither, would Flowerdale, he that

was my maſter, a robbed you, I prethee tell me true ?

Arti. Yes i'Faith, even that Flowerdale, that was thy maſter.

Fath. Hold thee, there is a French Crown, and ſpeak no more of this.

Arti. Not i, not a word, now do I finell knavery : In every purſe Flowerdale takes, he is half:

And gives me this to keep couniel, not a word I.

Fath. Why God a Mercy.

Fran. Sifter, look here, I have a new Dutch maid, And the ſpeaks ſo fine, it would do your heart good.

Cv. How do you like her, Sifter ?

Del. I like your maid well.

Cv. Well, dear Sifter, will you draw near, and give directions for ſupper, gueſts will be here prefently.

Del. Yes, Brotner, lead the way, I'll follow you.

[Exeunt all but Delia and Luce.

Hark you, Dutch Frow, a word.

Luce. Vat is your vill wit me?

Del. Sifter Luce, 'tis not your broken language, Nor this fame habit, can diſuſe your face.

From I that know you, pray tell me, what means this ?

Luce. Sifter, I fee you know me, yet be ſecret :

This borrowed ſhape that I have tane upon me, Is but to keep my ſelf a ſpace unknown,

Both from my Father, and my neareſt friends :

Until I fee how time will bring to paſs,

The deſperate course of Maſter Flowerdale.

Del. O he is worſe than bad, I prithee leave him, And let not once thy heart to think on him.

Luce. Do not perfuſe me once to ſuch a thought,

Imagine yet, that he is worſe than nought:

Yet one lovers time may all that ill undo,

That all his former life did run into.

Therefore, kind Sifter, do not diſcloſe my eſtate, If he're his heart doth turn, 'tis ne're too late.

Del. Well, feeing no noſtein can remove your mind, I'll not diſcloſe you, that art wilful blind.

Luce. Delia. I thank you, I now muſt pleafe her Eyes, My Sifter Frances, neither fair nor wife.

[Exeunt.

Enter Flowerdale Solus.

Flow. On goes he that knows no end of his journey,

I have paffed the very utmoſt bounds of shifting,

I have no courſe now but to hang my ſelf :

I have lived ſince yefterday two a clock, of a

Spice-cake I had at a burial : and for drink,

I got it at an Ale-houſe among Porters, ſuch as

I mean out of their companies, for they are men Of good carriage. Who comes here?

The two Cony-catchers, that won all my mony of me. I'll try if they'll lend me any.

Enter Dick and Rafe.

What Mr. Richard, how do you ?

How doſt thou, Rafe ? By God, gentlemen, the world

Grows bare with me, will you do as much as lend

Me an Angel between you both, you know you

Won a hundred of me the other day.

Rafe. How, an Angel ? God damn us if we loft not every Penny within an hour after thou wert gone.

Fl. O, I prithee lend me ſo much as will pay for my ſupper, I'll pay you again, as I am a Gentleman.

Rafe. I'Faith, we have not a farthing, not a mite:

I wonder at it, Mr. Flowerdale,

You will ſo careſely undo your ſelf :

Why you will loſe more money in an hour,

Than any hoffet man ſpends in a year ;

For ſhame betake you to ſome hoffeſt Trade,

And live not thus ſo like a Vagabond.

[Exeunt both.

Flow. A Vagabond indeed, more villains you :

They

The London Prodigal.

They gave me counsel that firſt cozen'd me:
Thofe Devils firſt brought me to this I am,
And being thus, the firſt that do me wrong.
Well, yet I have one Friend left in ſtore.
Not far from hence there dwells a Cokatrice,
One that I firſt put in a Sattin gown,
And not a tooth that dwells within her head,
But ſtands me at the leaſt in twenty pound :
Her will I viſit now my Coyn is gone,
And as I take it here dwells the Gentlewoman.
What ho, is Miſtris Apricock within?

Enter Ruffin.

Ruff. What ſawcy Raſcal is that which knocks ſo bold,
O, is it you, old ſpend. thrift? are you here?
One that is turned Cozener about the town :
My Miſtris ſaw you, and ſends this word by me,
Either be packing quickly from the door,
Or you ſhall have ſuch a greeting ſent you ſtraight,
As you will little like on, you had beſt be gone.

Flow. Why fo, this is as it ſhould be, being poor,
Thus art thou ſerved by a vile painted whole.
Well, ſince thy damned crew do ſo abufe thee,
I'le try of honest men, how they will uſe me.

Enter an ancient Citizen.

Sir, I beſeech you to take compaſſion of a man ;
One whole Fortunes have been better than at this inſant
they ſeem to be : but if I might crave of you ſo much little
portion, as would bring me to my friends, I would reſt
thankful, until I had requited ſo great a curſeſe.

Citiz. Fie, ſie, young man, this course is very bad,
Too many ſuch have we about this City ;
Yet for I have not ſeen you in this ſort,
Nor noted you to be a common beggar,
Hold, there's an Angel to bear your charges
Down, go to your friends, do not on this depend,
Such bad beginnings oft have worſer ends.

Flow. Worſer ends: nay, if it fall out
No worſe than in old Angels I care not,
Nay, now I have had ſuch a fortunate beginning,
I'le not let a fix-penny purſe eſcape me :
By the Mafs, here comes another.

[Exit Cit.

Enter a Citizens wife with a Torch before her.

God bleſs you, fair Miſtris.
Now would it please you, Gentlewoman, to look into the
wants of a poor Gentleman, a younger Brother, I doubt
not but God will treble ſoreſt it back again, one that
never before this time demanded penny, half-penny, nor
farthing.

Citi. Wife. Stay, Alexander, now by my troth a very pro-
per man, and 'tis great pity: hold, my friend, there's all
the money I have about me, a couple a ſhillings, and God
bleſſes thee.

Flow. Now God thank you, ſweet Lady: if you have
any Friend, or Garden-houſe, where you may imploy a
poor Gentleman as your friend, I am yours to command in
all ſecreſt ſervice.

Citi. Wife. I thank you, good friend, I prithee let me fee
that again I gave thee, there is one of them a braſs ſhilling,
give me them, and here is half a Crown in gold.

[He gives it her.

Now out upon thee, Raſcal, ſecreſt ſervice: what doſt thou
make of me ? it were a good deed to have thee whipt :
now I have my money again, I'le fee thee hanged before I
give thee a penny: ſecreſt ſervice: on, good Alexander.

[Exeunt both.

Flow. This is villainous luck, I perceive diſhonneſty
Will not thrive: here comes more, God forgive me,
Sir Arthur, and Mr. Oliver, aforegod, I'le ſpeak to them,

God fave you, Sir Arthur: God fave you, Mr. Oliver.

Oli. Been you there, zirrah, come will you take your
ſelf to your tools, Coyſtrel ?

Flow. Nay, Mr. Oliver, I'le not fight with you,
Alas, Sir, you know it was not my doings,
It was only a Plot to get Sir Lancelot's Daughter :
By God I never meant you harm.

Oli. And whore is the Gentlewoman thy wife, Mezel?
Whore is ſhe, Zirrah, ha ?

Flow. By my troth, Mr. Oliver, ſick, very ſick;
And God is my Judge, I know not what means to make
for her, good Gentlewoman.

Oli. Tell me true, is the ſick ? tell me true, itch ? wife thee,

Flow. Yes Faith, I tell you true: Mr. Oliver, if you would
do me the small kindneſs, but to lend me forty hillings: So
God help me, I will pay you to ſoon as my ability ſhall make
me able, as I am a Gentleman.

Oli. Well thou zaſt thy wife is zick: hold there's vor-
ty hillings, give it to thy wife, look thou give it her, or
I ſhall no veze thee, thou wert not no vezed this zeven year,
look to it.

Arth. I'faith, Mr. Oliver, it is in vain
To give to him that never thinks of her.

Oli. Well, would che could yvind it.
Flow. I tell you true, Sir Arthur, as I am a gentleman.

Oli. Well, farewel zirrah: come, Sir Arthur.

[Exeunt both.

Flow. By the Lord, this is excellent.
Five golden Angels compaſſ in an hour,
If this trade hold, I'le never feek a new.
Welcom, ſweet gold, and beggery adieu.

Enter Uncle and Father.

Unc. See, Keſter, if you can find the Houſe.

Flow. Who's here, my Uncle, and my man Keſter ?
By the Mafs 'tis they.

How do you, Uncle, how doſt thou, Keſter?

By my troth, Uncle, you muſt needs lend

Me ſome money, the poor Gentlewoman

My wife, fo God help me, is very ſick,

I was rob'd of the hundred Angels

You gave me, they are gone.

Unc. I, they are gone indeed, come, Keſter, away.

Flow. Nay, Uncle, do you hear ? good Uncle.

Unc. Out Hypocrite, I will not hear thee ſpeak,
Come, leave him, Keſter.

Flow. Keſter, honest Keſter.

Fath. Sir, I have nought to ſay to you,
Open the door to my kin, thou had'ſt beſt
Lockt ſaſt, for there's a ſalſe knave without.

Flow. You are an old lying Raſcal,
So you are.

[Exeunt both.

Enter Luce.

Luce. Vat is de matter, Vat be you, yonker ?

Flow. By this light a Dutch Frow, they ſay they are
call'd kind, by this light I'le try her.

Luce. Vat be you, yonker, why do you not ſpeak ?

Flow. By my troth, ſweet heart, a poor Gentleman that
would deſire of you, if it ſtand with your liking, the bounty
of your purſe.

Enter Father.

Luce. O here God, so young an Armine.

Flow. Armine, ſweet-heart, I know not what you mean
by that, but I am almost a beggar.

Luce. Are you not a married man, vere been your Vife ?
Here are all I have, take dis.

Flow. What gold, young Frow ? this is brave.

Fath. If he have any grace, he'll now repent.

Luce. Why ſpeak you not, vere be your vife ?

Flow.

The London Prodigal.

225

Flow. Dead, dead, she's dead, 'tis she hath undone me? Spent me all I had, and kept Rafcals under my Nofe to brave me.

Luce. Did you ufe her vell?

Flow. Ufe her, there's never a Gentlewoman in England could be better ufed than I did her; I could but Coach her; her Diet flood me in forty pound a month, but she is dead and in her Grave, my cares are buried.

Luce. Indeed dat vas not fone.

Fath. He is turned more Devil than he was before.

Flow. Thou do'st belong to Maſter Civer here, do'st thou not?

Luce. Yes, me do.

Flow. Why there's it, there's not a handful of Plate
But belongs to me, God's my Judge;

If I had fuch a Wench as thou art,

There's never a man in England would make more
Of her, than I would do, to ſhe had any ſtock.

[They call within.

O why Tanikin.

Luce. Stay, one doth call, I shall come by and by again.

Flow. By this hand, this Dutch wench is in love with me, Were it not admiral to make her ſteal

All Civer's Plate, and run away.

Fath. 'Twere beaſuly. O Maſter Flowerdale,

Have you no fear of God, nor Conſience?

What do you mean, by this vile courſe you take?

Flow. What do I mean ? why, to live, that I mean.

Fath. To live in this fort, ſie upon the courſe,

Your Life doth flow, you are a very Coward.

Flow. A Coward, I pray in what?

Fath. Why you will borrow fix pence of a Boy.

Flow. 'S nails, is there ſuch a Cowardice in that? I dare borrow it for a Man, I, and of the tallest Man in England, if he will lend it me: Let me borrow it how I can, and let them come by it how they dare. And it is well known, I might ride out a hundred times if I would, to ſo I might.

Fath. It was not want of will, but Cowardice.

There is none that lends to you, but know they gain:

And what is that but only ſtealth in you?

Delia might hang you now, did not her heart

Take pitty of you for her Sifters ſake.

Go get you hence, left lingering here you ſlay,
You fall into their hands you look not for.

Flow. I'll tarry here, till the Dutch Frow

Comes, if all the Devils in Hell were here. [Exit Father.

Enter Sir Lancelot, Maſter Weathercock,
and Artichboak.

Lanc. Where is the Door ? are we not paſt it, Artichook?

Art. By th' Maſs here's one,

I'll ask him, do you hear, Sir?

What, are you ſo proud ? do you hear, which is the way

To Maſter Civer's Houſe ? what, will you not ſpeak ?

O me, this is ſilching Flowerdale.

Lanc. O wonderful, is this lewd Villain here?

O you cheating Rogue, you Cut-Purſe, Cony-Catcher,

What Ditch, you Villain, is my Daughters Grave?

A cozening Rafcal, that muſt make a Will,

Take on him that ftrict habit, very that:

When he ſhould turn to Angel, a dying grace,

I'll Father-in Law you, Sir, I'll make a Will:

Speak, Villain, where's my Daughter?

Poyfoned, I warrant you, or knocked a head the

And to abufe good Maſter Weathercock, with

His forged Will, and Maſter Weathercock,

To make my grounded refolution,

Then to abufe the Devonhire Gentleman:

Go, away with him to Prifon.

Flow. Wherefore to Prifon? Sir, I will not go.

Enter Maſter Civer, his Wife, Oliver, Sir Arthur,
Father, Uncle, and Delia.

Lanc. O here's his Uncle,

Welcome, Gentlemen, welcome all:

Such a Cozener, Gentlemen, a Murderer too

For any thing I know, my Daughter is mifling,

Hath been looked for, cannot be found, a vild upon thee.

Onc. He is my Kinfman, although his life be vile,

Therefore, in Gods name, do with him what you will.

Lanc. Marry to Prifon.

Flow. Wherefore to Prifon, ſuick-up ? I owe you nothing.

Lanc. Bring forth my Daughter then, away with him.

Flow. Go seek your Daughter, what do you lay to my charge?

Lanc. Sufpition of murder, go, away with him.

Flow. Murder your Dogs, I murder your Daughter?

Onc. Not I, were there no more,

Than I the Jaylor, thou the Prifoner.

Lanc. Go, away with him.

Enter Luce like a Frow.

Luce. O my Life, where will you ha de Man?

Vat ha de yonker done?

Wea. Woman, he hath kill'd his Wife.

Luce. His Wife, dat is not good, dat is not ſeen.

Lanc. Hang not upon him, Hufwife, if you do I'll lay you by him.

Luce. Have me no, and or way do you have him,
He tell me dat he love me heartily.

Fran. Lead away my Maid to Prifon, why, Tom, will you ſuffer that?

Civ. No, by your leave, Father, ſhe is no Vragant:

She is my Wives Chamber-maid, and as true as the
Skin between any mans Brows here.

Lanc. Go to, you'r both Fools:

Son Civet, of my Life this is a Plot,

Some ſtragling counterfeit profer'd to you:

No doubt to rob you of your Plate and Jewels:

I'll have you led away to Prifon, Trull.

Luce, I am no Trull, neither Outlandiſh Frow,

Nor he, nor I ſhall to the Prifon go :

Know you me now ? nay never ſtand amazed.

Father, I know I have offended you,

And though that duty wills me bend my Knees

To you in duty and obedience;

Yet this wayes do I turn, and to him yield

My love, my duty, and my humbleneſis.

Lanc. Baſtard in nature, kneel to ſuch a Slave?

Luce. O Maſter Flowerdale, if too much grief

Have not ſlopt up the Organs of your Voice,

Then ſpeak to her that is thy faithful Wife,

Or doth contempt of me thus tie thy tongue:

Turn not away, I am no Æthiop,

No wanton Creſſed, nor a changing Hellen:

But rather one made wretched by thy loſs,

What turn'ſt thou ſtill from me? O then

Iguſes the wofull'ſt among hapleſs men.

Flow. I am indeed, Wife, wonder among Wives!•

Thy Chaſtity and Vertue hath infuſed

Another Soul in me, red with defame,

For in my blushing Cheeks is ſeen my ſhame.

Lanc. Out Hypocrite, I charge thee truſt him not.

Luce. Not truſt him, by the hopes after blifs,
I know no forrow can be compar'd to his.

Lanc. Well, ſince thou wert ordain'd to Beggery,
Follow thy Fortune, I defy thee.

Oli. Ywood che were ſo well ydouſſed as was ever white
Cloth in rocking mill, an che ha not made me weep.

Fath. If he hath any grace he'll now repent.

Arth.

The London Prodigal.

Arth. It moves my heart.
Wea. By my troth I must weep, I cannot choose.
Unc. None but a beast would such a maid mifuse.
Flow. Content thy self, I hope to win his favour,
And to redeem my reputation loft:
And, Gentlemen, believe me, I befeech you,
I hope your Eyes shall behold such change,
As shall deceive your expectation.
Oli. I would che were split now, but che believe him.
Lanc. How, believe him.
Wea. By the Matkins, I do.
Lan. What do you think that e're he will have grace?
Wea. By my Faith it will go hard.
Oli. Well, che vor ye he is changed : and, Mr. Flowerdale,
in hope you been fo, hold there's vorty pound toward your
zetting up : what be not affhamed, yang it man, yang it, be
a good Husband, loven to your Wife : and you shall not
want for vorty more, I che vor thee.
Arth. My means are little, but if you'll follow me,
I will instruct you in my ablest power:
But to your Wife I give this Diamond,
And prove true Diamond fair in all your life.
Flow. Thanks, good Sir Arthur : Mr. Oliver,
You being my Enemy, and grown so kind,
Binds me in all endeavour to restore.
Oli. What, restore me no restorings, man,
I have vorty pound more here, yang it :
Zouth chil devie London elfe: what, do not think me
A Mezel or a Scoundrel, to throw away my Money ?
che have an hundred pound more to pace of any good
fotation : I hope your under and your Uncle will vollow
my zamples.
Unc. You have guest right of me, if he leave off this
course of life, he shall be mine Heir.
Lan. But he shall never get a groat of me;
A Cozener, a Deceiver, one that kill'd his painful
Father, honest Gentleman, that paffed the fearful
Danger of the Sea, to get him living and maintain him
brave.
Wea. What hath he kill'd his Father?
Lance. I, Sir, with conceit of his vile courtes.
Fath. Sir, you are misinformed.
Lan. Why, thou old knave, thou told'st me so thy self.
Fath. I wrong'd him then :
And toward my Mafter's Stock,
There's twenty Nobles for to make amends.
Flow. No Kester, I have troubled thee, and wrong'd
thee more,
What thou in love gives, I in love restore.
Fran. Ha, ha, Sifter, there you plaid bopeep with
Tom, what shall I give her toward household ?
Sifter Delia, shall I give her my Fan ?
Del. You were best ask your Husband.
Fra. Shall I, Tom ?
Civ. I, do, Frank, I'le buy thee a new one, with a longer
handle.
Fran. A ruffet one, Tom.
Civ. I with ruffet Feathers.
Fran. Here, Sifter, there's my Fan toward household, to
keep you warm,
Luce. I thank you, Sifter.
Weath. Why this is well, and toward fair Luces Stock,
here's forty fillings: and forty good fillings more,
Ple give her, marry. Come Sir Lancelot, I must have
you Friends.
Lance. Not I, all this is counterfeit,
He will confume it, were it a Million.

Fath. Sir, what is your Daughters dower worth ?
Lance. Had she been married to an honest man,
it had been better than a thousand pound.
Fath. Pay it him, and I'le give you my bond,
To make her joynture better worth than three.
Lanc. Your bond, Sir ! why what are you ?
Fath. One whole word in London though I say it,
Will paff there for as much as yours.
Lan. Wert not thou late that unthrifts ferving-man ?
Fath. Look on me better, now my fear is off:
Nere mule man at this metamorphofe.
Lance. Maiter Flowerdale.
Flow. My Father, O I fhame to look on him.
Pardon, dear Father, the follies that are paff.
Fath. Son, Son, I do, and joy at this thy change,
And applaud thy Fortune in this vertuous Maid,
Whom Heaven hath ſent to thee to fave thy Soul.
Luce. This addeth joy to joy, high Heaven be prais'd.
Weat. Mr. Flowerdale, welcom from Death, good Mr.
Flowerdale.
'Twas faid fo here, 'twas faid fo here good Faith.
Fath. I caus'd that rumour to be spread my ſelf,
Because I'd fee the humours of my Son,
Which to relate the circumſtance is needleſ:
And Sirrah, fee you run no more in to that fame diſeafe:
For he that's once cured of that maladie,
Of Riot, Swearing, Drunkennefs, and Pride,
And falls again into the like diſtreſs,
That fever is deadly, doth till Death endure:
Such men die mad as of a calenture.
Flow. Heaven helping me, I'le hate the courſe as Hell.
Unc. Say it, and do it Cousin, all is well.
Lan. Well, being in hope you'll prove an honest man,
I take you to my favour. Brother Flowerdale,
Welcom with all my heart: I fee your care
Hath brought thefe acts to this conclusion,
And I am glad of it, come let's in and feaſt.
Oli. Nay zoft you a while, you promised to make
Sir Arthur and me amends, here is your wifeſt
Daughter, fee which an's ſhe'll have.
Lan. A God's name, you have my good will, get herers.
Oli. How ſay you then Damſel, tyers hate ?
Deli. I, Sir, am yours.
Oli. Why, then ſend for a Vicar, and chil have it
Difpatched in a trice, fo chil.
Del. Pardon me, Sir, I mean I am yours,
In Love, in Duty, and affection.
But not to love as Wife, ſhall nere be faid,
Delia was buried, married, but a Maid.
Arth. Do not condemn your ſelf for ever,
Vertuous fair, you were born to love.
Oliver. Why you ſay true, Sir Arthur, ſhe was ybore
to it,
So well as her Mother: but I pray you ſhow us
Some zamples or reaſons why you will not marry ?
Del. No that I do condemn a married life,
For 'tis no doubt a ſanctimonious thing:
But for the care and croſſes of a Wife,
The trouble in this World that Children bring,
My vow is in Heaven in Earth to live alone,
Husbands howſoever good, I will have none.
Oli. Why then, chil live a Batchelor too,
Che zet not a vig by a Wife, if a Wife zet not a vig
By me: Come, shall's go to dinner ?
Fath. To morrow I crave your companies in Mark-lane :
To night we'll frolick in Mr.Guer's Houſe,
And to each health drink down a full Carouſe

THE

THE
HISTORY
OF THE
LIFE and DEATH
OF
THOMAS Lord CROMWELL.

## The Actors Names.

OLD Cromwell, a Blacksmith of Putney.
Young Thomas Cromwell his Son.

Hodge, Will and Tom, old Cromwell's Servants.

Earl of Bedford and his Holf.

Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk.

Sir Chriftopher Hales.

Cardinal Wolsey.

Sir Thomas Moor.

Gardiner Bishop of Winchefter.

Sir Ralph Sadler.

Maſter Bouſer a Merchant.

Banifter, a broken Merchant and his Wife.

Bagot, a cruel covetous Broker.

Friskiball, a Florentine Merchant.

The Governours of the English House at Antwerp.

States and Officers of Bononia.

Goodman Seely and his Wife Joan.

Chorus.

A Poſt.

Meffengers.

Uſhers and Servants.

Lieutenant of the Tower.

Two Citizens.

Two Merchants.

Enter three Smiths, Hodge, and two other,
old Cromwell's men.

Hodge.

Come, Maſters, I think it be papt five a
Clock, Is it not time we were at work ?
My old Maſter he'll be flirring anon.

1. I cannot tell whether my old Maſter
will be flirring or no: but I am sure I can hardly take my
Afternoons nap, for my young Maſter Thomas, he keeps
fuch a quile in his ſtudy, with the Sun, and the Moon,
and the feven Stars, that I do verily think he'll read out
his Wits.

Hodge. He skill of the Stars ?

There's Goodman Car of Fulham,

He that carried us to the strong Ale, where Goody Trundel

Had her Maid got with Child : O, he knows the Stars,

He'll tickle you Charles's Wain in nine degrees:

That fame man will tell Goody Trundel.

When her Ale shall miſcarry, only by the Stars.

2. I, that's a great Virtue indeed, I think Thomas

Be no Body in comparifon to him.

1. Well, Maſters, come, ſhall we to our Hammers ?

Hodge. I, content; firſt let's take our Mornings
Draught, and then to work roundly.

2. I, agreed, go in, Hodge.

Exeunt omnes.

Enter young Cromwell.

Crom. Good Morrow, Morn, I do salute thy brightneſs,

The night ſeems tedious to my troubled Soul:
Whofe black obſcurity binds in my mind
A thouſand fundry cogitations :

At now Aurora with a lively die,

Adds comfort to my ſpirit that mounts on high.

Too high indeed, my ſlate being so mean :

My ſtudy like a mineral of Gold,

Makes my heart proud, wherein my hope's inroll'd;

My Books are all the wealth I do poffeſs,

And unto them I have ingag'd my heart ;

O, Learning, how divine thou ſeem'st to me !

Within whole Arms is all felicity.

Peace with your Hammers, leave your knocking there,

You do dilſturb my ſtudy and my ſelf ;

Leave off, I ſay, you mad me with the noife.

Enter

The Life and Death

Enter Hodge, and the two Men.

Hodge. Why, how now, Maſter Thomas, how now;
Will you not let us work for you ?
Crom. You fret my heart, with making of this noife.
Hodge. How, fret your heart? I but, Thomas, you'll
Fret your Fathers Purſe if you lett us from working.
2. 1, this'tis for him to make him a Gentleman :
Shall we leave work for your mufing ? that's well I'faith;
But here comes my old Maſter now.

Enter old Cromwell.

Old Crom. You idle Knaves,
What are you loytring now?
No Hammers walking, and my work to do?
What, not a heat among your work to day?
Hodge. Marry, Sir, your Son Thomas will not let us
work at all.
Old Crom. Why Knave I fay,
Have I thus cark'd and car'd,
And all to keep thee like a Gentleman,
And doft thou lett my Servants at their work;
That fweat for thee, Knave ? labour thus for thee?
Crom. Father, their Hammers do offend my Study.
Old Crom. Out of my Doors, Knave, if thou lik'ſt it not:
I cry you mercy, are your Ears ſo fine?
I tell thee, Knave, theſe get when I do ſleep;
I will not have my Anvil ſtand for thee.
Crom. There's money, Father, I will pay your men.

[He throws Money among them.

Old Crom. Have I thus brought thee up unto my coſt,
In hope that one day thou would'ſt relieve my Age,
And art thou now ſo lavifh of thy Coin,
To ſcatter it among theſe idle Knaves?
Crom. Father, be patient, and content your ſelf,
The time will come I ſhall hold gold as traffic :
And here I ſpeak with a prefaging Soul,
To build a Palace where now this Cottage ſtands,
As fine as is King Henry's Houſe at Sheen.

Old Crom. You build a Houſe ?

You Knave, you'll be a Beggar;
Now afore God all is but caſt away.
That is beſtowed upon this thriftleſs Lad,
Well, had I bound him to ſome honeſt Trade,
This had not been; but it was his Mother's doing,
To ſend him to the University :
How ? build a Houſe where now this Cottage ſtands,
As fair as that at Sheen ? I ſhall not hear me,
A good Boy Tom, I con thee thank, Tom,
Well ſaid Tom, Grammaries Tom :
In to your work, Knaves; hence fancy Boy.
[Exeunt all but young Cromwell.

Crom. Why ſhould my Birth
Keep down my mounting ſpirit ?

Are not all Creatures ſubject unto time ?
To time, who doth abuse the World,
And fills it full of hodge podge Baſtardy;
There's Legions now of Beggars on the Earth,
That their original did ſpring from Kings,
And many Monarchs now, whoſe Fathers were
The rilſ-raff of their Age; for time and fortune
Wears out a noble train to Beggery;
And from the Dunghill minions do advance
To ſtate: and mark, in this admiring World
This is but course, which in the name of Fate
Is ſeen as often as it whirls about :
The River Thames that by our Door doth pafs,
His firſt beginning is but ſmall and ſhallow,
Yet keeping on his course grows to a Sea.
And likewife Wolſey, the wonder of our Age,
His Birth as mean as mine, a Butchers Son;
Now who within this Land a greater man ?

Then, Cromwell, cheer thee up, and tell thy Soul,
That thou may'ſt live to flourifh and controul.

Enter old Cromwell.

Old Crom. Tom Cromwell, what Tom I fay.

Crom. Do you call, Sir ?

Old Crom. Here is Maſter Bowſer come to know if you
diſpatch'd his Petition for the Lords of the Council,
or no.

Crom. Father, I have, pleafe you to call him in.

Old Crom. That's well ſaid, Tom, a good Lad, Tom.

Enter Maſter Bowſer.

Bow. Now, Maſter Cromwell, have you diſpatch'd this
Petition ?

Crom. I have, Sir, here it is, pleafe you perſue it.

Bow. It ſhall not need, we'll read it as we go by Water.
And, Maſter Cromwell, I have made a motion
May do you good, and if you like of it.
Our Secretary at Antwerp, Sir, is dead,
And the Merchants there have ſent to me,
For to provide a man fit for the place:
Now I do know none firſter than your ſelf,
If with your liking it ſtand, Maſter Cromwell.

Crom. With all my heart, Sir, and I much am bound,
In love and duty for your kindneſs ſhown.

Old Crom. Body of me, Tom,
Make haſte, left ſome Body
Get between thee and home, Tom.
I thank you, good Maſter Bowſer,
I thank you for my Boy,
I thank you always, I thank you moſt heartily, Sir:
Ho, a Cup of Beer here for Maſter Bowſer.
Bow. It ſhall not need, Sir: Maſter Cromwell, will
you go ?
Crom. I will attend you, Sir.
Old Crom. Farewell, Tom, God bleſs thee, Tom,
God ſpeed thee, good Tom.

[Exeunt omnes,

Enter Bagot a Broker ſolus.

Bag. I hope this day is fatal unto ſome,
And by their loſs muſt Bagot ſeek to gain.
This is the Lodging of Maſter Friskiball,
A liberal Merchant, and a Florentine,
To whom Banifter owes a thouſand pound,
A Merchant-Bankrupt, whoſe Father was my Maſter.
What do I care for pity or regard,
He once was wealthy, but he now is ſal,
And this morning have I got him arreſted
At the fruit of Maſter Friskiball,
And by this means ſhall I be ſure of Coin,
For doing this fame good to him unknown:
And in good time, ſee where the Merchant comes.

Enter Friskiball.

Good Morrow to kind Maſter Friskiball.

Friskiball. Good Morrow to your ſelf, good Maſter Baget,
And what's the news your are ſo early flirring?
It is for gain, I make no doubt of that.

Bag. It is for the love, Sir, that I bear to you.
When did you fee your Debtor Banifter ?

Friskiball. I promife you, I have not ſeen the man
This two months day, his poverty is ſuch,
As I do think he ſhames to fee his Friends.
Bag. Why then affure your ſelf to fee him ſtraight,
For at your Suit I have arreſted him,
And here they will be with him prefently.

Friskiball. Arreſt him at my Suit ? you were to blame,
I know the mans misfortunes to be ſuch,
As he's not able for to pay the Debt,

And

["of the Lord Cromwell.", "229", "And were it known to fome, he were undone.", "Bag. This is your pitiful heart to think it so,", "But you are much deceiv'd in Banifter :", "Why, such as he will break for fathion fake,", "And unto thofe they owe a thoufand pound,", "Pay ſcarce a hundred : O, Sir, beware of him,", "The man is lewdly given to Dice and Drabs,", "Spends all he hath in Harlots companies,", "It is no mercy for to pity him :", "I ſpeak the truth of him, for nothing eſſe,", "But for the kindneſs that I bear to you.", "Frif. If it be ſo, he hath deceiv'd me much,", "And to deal ftrictly with ſuch a one as he,", "Better ſevere than too much lenity :", "But here is Maſter Banifter himſelf,", "And with him, as I take't, the Officers.", "Enter Banifter, his Wife, and two Officers.", "Ban. O Maſter Friskibal, you have undone me :", "My ſtate was well nigh overthrown before,", "Now altogether down-caſt by your means.", "Mrs. Ban. O, Mr. Friskibal", "Pity my Husband's caſe,", "He is a man hath liv'd as well as any,", "Till envious Fortune, and the ravenous Sea", "Did rob, diſrobe, and ſpoil us of our own.", "Frif. Miftrſes Banifter, I envy not your Husband,", "Nor willingly would I have us'd him thus :", "But that I hear he is ſo lewdly given,", "Haunts wicked Company, and hath enough", "To pay his debts, yet will not be known thereof.", "Ban. This is that damned Broker, that fame Bagot,", "Whom I have often for to ſe me thus.", "Bag. What I have faid to him is nought but truth,", "Mrs. Ban. What thou haſt faid", "Springs from an envious heart.", "A Cannibal that doth eat men alive :", "But here upon my knee believe me, Sir,", "And what I ſpeak, ſo help me God, is true,", "We ſcarce have meat to feed our little Babes :", "Moft of our Plate is in that Broker's hand,", "Which had we money to defray our debts,", "O think, we would not bide that penury :", "Be merciful, kind Maſter Friskibal,", "My Husband, Children, and my ſelf will eat", "But one meal a day, the other will we keep and ſell.", "Frif. Go to, I ſee thou art an envious man :", "Good Miftris Banifter, kneel not to me,", "I pray rife up, you ſhall have your deſire.", "Hold officers ; be gone, there's for your pains,", "You know you owe to me a thouſand pound,", "Here take my hand, if e're God make you able,", "And place you in your former ſtate again,", "Pay me : but if I ſtill your Fortune frown,", "Upon my Faith Ile never ask you Crown :", "I never yet did wrong to men in thrall,", "For God doth know what to my ſelf may fall.", "Ban. This unexpected favour undeferv'd,", "Doth make my heart bleed inwardly with joy :", "Nere may ought proper with me is my own,", "If I forget this kindneſs you have ſhown.", "Mrs. Ban. My Children in their Prayers both night and", "For your good Fortune and ſucceſs ſhall pray. (day,", "Frif. I thank you both, I pray go dine with me,", "Within theſe three days, if God give me leave,", "I will to Florence to my native home.", "Bagot, hold, there's a Portage to drink,", "Although you ill deſerved it by my merit ;", "Give not ſuch cruel ſcope unto your heart ;", "Be ſure the ill you do will be requited :", "Remember what I ſay, Bagot, farewel.", "Come, Maſter Banifter, you ſhall with me,", "My fare's but ſimple, but welcome heartily.", "[Exeunt all but Bagot.", "Bag. A plague go with you,", "Would you had eat your laſt,", "Is this the thanks I have for all my pains ?", "Conſuſion light upon you all for me :", "Where he had want to give a ſcore of Crowns,", "Doth he now ſoſt me with a Portague :", "Well, I will be revenged upon this Banifter.", "Ile to his Creditors, buy all the debts he owes,", "As ſeeming that I do it for good will,", "I am ſure to have them at an eafe rate ;", "And when 'tis done, in Chriſtendom he ſtays not,", "But Ile make his heart t'ake with ſorrow,", "And if that Banifter become my debter,", "By Heaven and Earth Ile make his plague the greater.", "[Exit Bagot.", "Enter Chorus.", "Cho. Now Gentlemen imagine", "That young Cromwell is in Antwerp,", "Ledger for the Englifh Merchants :", "And Banifter to ſhun this Bagot hate,", "Hearing that he hath got ſome of his debts,", "Is ſled to Antwerp, with his Wife and Children,", "Which Bagot hearing, is gone after them :", "And thither fends his bills of debt before,", "To be revenged on wretched Banifter,", "What doth fall out, with patience fit and ſee,", "A juſt requital of ſalſe treacherie.", "[Exit.", "Enter Cromwell in his ſtudy, with bags of money before him, caſting of account.", "Crom. Thus far my reckoning doth go ſtraight and even,", "But, Cromwell, this fame plodding fits not thee ;", "Thy mind is altogether ſet on travel,", "And not to live thus cloyſtered, like a Nun ;", "It is not this fame trafſ, that I regard,", "Experience is the Jewel of my heart.", "Enter a Poſt.", "Poſt. I pray, Sir, are you ready to diſpatch me ?", "Crom. Yes, here's thatofe ſumms of money you muſt carry.", "You go ſo far as Frankford, do you not?", "Poſt. I do, Sir.", "Crom. Well, prithee make all the haſt thou can't,", "For there be certain Englifh Gentlemen", "Are bound for Venice, and may happily want,", "And if that you ſhould linger by the way :", "But in hope that you will make good ſpeed,", "There's two Angels to buy you ſpurs and wands.", "Poſt. I thank you, Sir, this will add wings indeed.", "Crom. Gold is of power to make an Eagles ſpeed.", "Enter Miftris Banifter.", "What Gentlewoman is this, that grieves ſo much?", "It feems the doth addrefs her ſelf to me.", "Mrs. Ban. God fave you, Sir, pray is your name Maſter", {"bbox": [560, 115

["The Life and Death", "And God of Heaven knows how he'll deal with him,\nNow, Sir, your heart is framed of milder temper,\nBe merciful to a diftrefled Soul,", "And God no doubt will treble blefs your gain.", "Crom. Good Miftris Banifter, what I can, I will,", "In any thing that lies within my power.", "Mrs. Ban. O speak to Bagot, that fame wicked wretch,", "An Angels voice may move a damned Devil.", "Crom. Why is he come to Antwerp, as you hear ?", "Mrs. Ban. I heard he landed fome two hours hence.", "Crom. Well, Miftris Banifter, affure your self,", "I'le speak to Bagot in your own behalf,", "And win him t'll all the pitty that I can :", "Mean time, to comfort you, in your diftrefs,", "Receive thefe Angels to relieve your need,", "And be affured, that what I can effect,", "To do you good, no way I will neglect. (heart)", "Mrs. Ban. That mighty God that knows each mortals\nKeep you from trouble, forrow, grief and fmart.", "[Exit Miftris Banifter.", "Crom. Thanks, courteous Woman,", "For thy hearty Prayer :", "It grieves my Soul to fee her misery,", "But we that live under the work of fate,", "May hope the beſt, yet know not to what flate", "Our flars and deſtinies have us align'd,", "Fickle is Fortune, and her face is blind.", "Enter Bagot Solus.", "Bag. So all goes well, it is as I would have it,", "Banifter, he is with the Governor :", "And shortly shall have gives upon his heels.", "It glads my heart to think upon the ſlave ;", "I hope to have his body rot in RIFon,", "And after here, his Wife to hang her self,", "And all his Children die for want of food.", "The Jewels I have brought to Antwerp,", "Are reckon'd to be worth five thouſand pound,", "Which ſcarcely ſtood me in three hundred pound ;", "I bought them at an eafe kind of rate,", "I care not which way they came by them", "That fold them me, it comes not near my heart ;", "And left they ſhould be ſoln, as ſure they are,", "I thought it meet to ſell them here in Antwerp,", "And ſo have left them in the Governour's hand,", "Who offers me within two hundred pound", "Of all my price: but now no more of that,", "I muſt go fee and if my Bills be ſafe,", "The which I ſent to Maſter Cromwell,", "That if the wind ſhould keep me on the Sea,", "He might arreſt him here before I came :", "And in good time, fee where he is: God fave you, Sir.", "Crom. And you, pray, pardon me, I know you not.", "Bag. It may be ſo, Sir, but my name is Bagot,", "The man that ſent to you the Bills of debt.", "Crom. O, the man that purfues Banifter,", "Here are the Bills of debt you ſent to me :", "As for the man, you know beſt where he is ;", "It is reported y'ave a ſtinſt heart,", "A mind that will not ſloop to any pitty ;", "An Eye that knows not how to ſhed a tear,", "A hand that's always open for reward :", "But, Maſter Bagot, would you be ruled by me,", "You ſhould turn all theſe to the contrary ;", "Your heart ſhould ſtill have feeling of remorſe,", "Your mind, according to your ſtate, be liberal", "To thoſe that ſtand in need, and in diſtrefs ;", "Your hand to help them that do ſtand in want,", "Rather than with your poſe to hold them down,", "For every ill turn ſhow your ſelf more kind,", "Thus ſhould I do, pardon, I speak my mind.", "Bag. I, Sir, you ſpeak to hear what I would ſay,\nBut you muſt live I know, as well as I:", "I know this place to be Extortion,", "And 'tis not for a man to keep ſafe here,", "But he muſt lye, cog, with his deareſt Friend ;", "And as for pitty, I ſcorn it, hate all Conſcience :", "But yet I do commend your wit in this,", "To make a ſhow, of what I hope you are not,", "But I commend you, and 'tis well done :", "This is the only way to bring your gain.", "Crom. My gain ? I had rather chain me to an Oar,", "And like a ſlave there toil out all my life,", "Before I'd live ſo ſafe a ſlave as thou,", "I, like an Hypocrite, to make a ſhow", "Of ſeeming virtue, and a Devil within ?", "No Bagot, if thy Conſcience were as clear,", "Poor Banifter ne're had been troubled here.", "Bag. Nay, good Maſter Cromwell, be not angry, Sir,\nI know full well that you are no ſuch man,\nBut if your Conſcience were as white as Snow,\nIt will be thought that you are otherwife.", "Crom. Will it be thought I am otherwife?", "Let them that think ſo, know they are deceiv'd ;", "Shall Cromwell live to have his Faith mifconſter'd?", "Antwerp, for all the wealth within thy Town,", "I will not ſlay here full two hours longer :", "As good luck ſerves, my accounts are all made even,", "Therefore I'le ſtraight unto the Treasurer :", "Bagot, I know you'll to the Governour,", "Commend me to him, ſay I am bound to travel,", "To fee the fruitful parts of Italy ;", "And as you ever bore a Chriſtian mind,", "Let Banifter ſome favour of you find.", "Bag. For your ſake, Sir, I'le help him all I can,", "To ſarve his heart out e're he gets a groat ;", "So, Maſter Cromwell, do I take my leave,", "For I muſt ſtraight unto the Governour.", "[Exit Bagot.", "Crom. Farewel, Sir, pray you remember what I ſaid :", "No, Cromwell, no, thy heart was ne're ſo ſafe,", "To live by ſalhood, or by brokery ;", "But 't falls out well, I little it repent,", "Hereafter, time in travel ſhall be ſpent.", "Enter Hodge, his Father's man.", "Hodge. Your Son Thomas, quoth you, I have been Thomasi;\nI had thought it had been no ſuch matter to a gone by wa-\nter ; for at Putney I'le go you to Paviſh-Garden for two\npence, fit as still as may be, without any wagging or joulting\nin my gutts, in a little Boat too : here we were ſcarc\nſome four mile in the great green Water, but I thinking\nto go to my afternoons unchines, as 'twas my manner at\nhome, but I felt a kind of riuſing in my gutts: at laſt one\na the Sailers ſpying of me, be a good cheer fayſe he, ſet\ndown thy viciuals, and up with it, thou haſt nothing but\nan Eel in thy belly: Well, to't went I, to my viciuals\nwent the Sailers, and thinking me to be a man of better ex-\nperience than any in the ſhip, asked me what Wood the\nſhip was made of: they all ſwere I told them as right as\nIf I had been acquainted with the Carpenter that made it;\nat laſt we grew near Land, and I grew villanous hungry,\nwent to my bagg, the Devil a bit there was, the Sailers had\ntickled me ; yet I cannot blame them, it was a part of\nkindneſs, for I in kindneſs told them what Wood the ſhip\nwas made of, and they in kindneſs eat up my viciuals, as\nindeed one good turn asketh another: well, would I, could\nI, find my Maſter Thomas in this Dutch Town, he might\nput ſome English Beer into my belly.\n(cone)", "Crom. What, Hodge, my Father's man, by my hand wel-\nHow doth my Father? what's the news at home?", "Hodge. Maſter Thomas, O God, Maſter Thomas, your\nhand, glove and all, this is to give you to

of the Lord Cromwell.

you a dozen of Points, and goodman Tell, of the Goat, a
pair of Mittons, my Self came in Person, and this is all
the news.

Crom. Gramarcy, good Hodge, and thou art welcom to me,
But in as ill a time thou comest as may be;
For I am travling into Italy,

What fay? It thou, Hodge, wilt thou bear me company ?

Hodge. Will I bear thee company, Tom ? what tell't me of Italy ? were it to the farthest part of Flanders, I would go with thee, Tom ; I am thine in all weal and woe, thy own to command ; what, Tom, I have pafl'd the rigorous waves of Neptune's blaf's, I tell you, Thomas, I have been in danger of the Flouds, and when I have seen Boreas begin to play the Ruffin with us, then would I down a my knees, and call upon Vulcan.

Crom. And why upon him ?

Hodge. Because, as this fame fellow Neptune is God of the Seas, so Vulcan is Lord over the Smiths, and therefore I being a Smith, thought his Godhead would have fome care yet of me.

Crom. A good conceit: but tell me, haft thou din'd yet ?

Hodge. Thomas, to fpeak the truth, not a bit yet, I.

Crom. Come, go with me, thou haft have cheer good flore:
And farewel, Antwerp, if I come no more.

Hodge. I follow thee, sweet Tom, I follow thee.

[Exeunt ambo.

Enter the Governour of the English House, Bagot,
Banifter, his Wife, and two Officers.

Gover. Is Cromwell gone then ? fay you, Mr. Bagot,
What diflike, I pray ? what was the caufe ?

Bag. To tell you true, a wild brain of his own,
Such youth as thou cannot fee when they are well:
He is all bent to travel, that's his reafon,
And doth not love to eat his Bread at home.

Gover. Well, good Fortune with him, if the man be gone.
We hardly fhaft find fuch a man as he,
To fit our turns, his dealings were fo honeſt.

But now, Sir, for your Jewels that I have,
What do you fay ? what, will you take my price ?

Bag. O, Sir, you offer too much under foot.

Gover. 'Tis but two hundred pound between us, man,
What's that in payment of five thoufand pound ?

Bag. Two hundred pound, birlady, Sir, 'tis great,
Before I got ſo much it made we weaſt.

Gover. Well, Maſter Bagot, I'le proffer you fairly,
You fee this Merchant, Maſter Banifter,
Is going now to Prifon at your ſute :

His fublance all is gone, what would you have ?

Yet in regard I knew the man of wealth,
Never diſhonelt dealing, but fuch miſhaps

Hath faln on him, may light on me or you :

There is two hundred pound between us,

We will divide the fame, I'le give you one,

On that condition you will let him free :

His ſtate is nothing, that you fee your ſelf,

And where nought is, the King muſt lobe his right.

Bag. Sir, you ſpeak out of your love,

'Tis foolſh love, Sir, ſure to pitty him :

Therefore content your ſelf, this is my mind,

To do him good I will not bait a penny.

Ban. This is my comfort, though thou doſt no good,
A mighty ebbe follows a mighty flood.

Mrs. Ban. O thou bafe wretch, whom we have foſtered,
Even as a Serpent for to poyon us,

If God did ever right a Womans wrong,

To that fame God I bend and bow my heart,

To let his heavy wath bend fall on thy head,

By whom my hopes and joyes are butchered.

Bag. Alas, fond woman, I prethee pray thy worſt.

The Fox fares better ſtill when he is curſt.

Enter Maſter Bowſer a Merchant.

Gov. Maſter Bowſer ! you're welcom, Sir, from England,
What's the beſt news? how do all our Friends?

Bow. They are all well, and do commend them to you:
There's Letters from your Brother and your Son :

So, fare you well, Sir, I muſt take my leave,

My haſſe and buſineſs doth require ſo,

Gov. Before you dine, Sir ? what, go you out of town ?

Bow. I'faith unless I hear ſome news in Town,

I muſt away, there is no remedy.

Gov. Maſter Bowſer, what is your buſineſs, may I know
it ?

Bow. You may, Sir, and ſo haſſ all the City.

The King of late hath had his treafury robb'd,

And of the choicest Jewels that he had:

The value of them was ſeven thouſand pounds,

The fellow that did feal theſe Jewels is hanged,

And did confefs that for three hundred pound,

He ſold them to one Bagot dwelling in London :

Now Bagot's ſled, and as we hear, to Antwerp,

And hither am I come to ſeek him out,

And they that firſt can tell me of his news,

Shall have a hundred pound for their reward.

Ban. How juſt is God to right the innocent ?

Gov. Maſter Bowſer, you come in happy time,

Here is the villain Bagot that you feek,

And all thatſe Jewels have I in my hands :

Officers, look to him, hold him faſt.

Bagot. The Devil ought me a ſhame, and now he hath
paid it.

Bow. Is this that Bagot ? fellows, bear him hence,

We will not now ſtand for his reply ;

Lade him with Irons, we will have him tri'd

In England where his villanies are known.

Bagot. Mifchief, conſuſion, light upon you all,

O hang me, drown me, let me kill my ſelf,

Let go my armes, let me run quick to Hell.

Bow. Away, bear him away, flop the flaves mouth.

[They carry him away.

Mrs. Ban. Thy works are infinite, great God of
Heaven.

Gov. I heard this Bagot was a wealthy fellow.

Bow. He was indeed, for when his goods were ſeized,

Of Jewels, Coyn, and Plate within his Houſe,

Was found the value of five thouſand pound,

His furniture fully worth half ſo much,

Which being all ſtrain'd for the King,

He Frankly gave it to the Antwerp Merchants,

And they again, out of their bounteous mind,

Have to a Brother of their Company,

A man decay'd by Fortune of the Seas,

Given Bagot's wealth, to ſet him up again,
And keep it for him, his name is Banifter.

Gov. Maſter Bowſer, with this happy news,

You have revived two from the gates of Death,

This is that Banifter, and this his Wife.

Bow. Sir, I am glad my Fortune is ſo good,

To bring ſuch tidings as may comfort you.

Ban. You have given life unto a man deem'd dead,

For by theſe news my life is newly bred.

Mrs. Ban. Thanks to my God, next to my Soveraign
King;

And laſt to you that theſe good news do bring,

Gov. The hundred pound I muſt receive, as due

For finding Bagot, I freely give to you.

Bow. And, Maſter Banifter, if ſo you pleaſe,

I'le bear you Company, when you croſs the Seas.

Ban. If it pleaſe you, Sir, my Company is but mean,

Stands with your liking, I'le wait on you.

Gov. I am glad that all things do accord ſo well :

Come, Maſter Bowſer, let us to dinner :

And, Miftrefes Banifter, be merry, Woman,

V v v 2

Come,

The Life and Death

Come, after forrow now let's cheer your Spirit,
Knaves have their due, and you but what you merit.

[Exeunt omnes.

Enter Cromwell and Hodge in their Shirts, and
without Hats.

Hodge. Call ye this feeing of fashions?
Marry would I had flaid at Putney full,
O, Maſter Thomas, we are ſpoiled, we are gone.

Crom. Content thee, man, this is but Fortune.

Hodge. Fortune, a plague of this Fortune, it makes me go
wet-flod, the Rogues would not leave me a flooce, to my
feet: for my Hofe, they corned them with their heels:
but for my Doublet and Hat, O Lord, they embraced me,
and unlaced me, and took away my cloaths, and so dif-
graced me.

Crom. Well, Hodge, what remedy?
What shift shall we make now?

Hodge. Nay I know not, for begging I am naught, for
ſtealing worſe: by my troth I muſt even fall to my old
trade, to the Hammer and the Horſe-heels again: but now
the worſt is, I am not acquainted with the humour of the
Horſes in this country; whether they are not colſtih, given
much to kicking, or no, for when I have one Leg in my
hand, if he should up and lay tother on me chops, I were
gone, there lay I, there lay Hodge.

Crom. Hodge, I believe thou muſt work for us both.

Hod. O, Maſter Thomas, have not I told you of this?
have not I many a time and often ſaid, Tom, or Maſter
Thomas, learn to make a Horſe-flooce, it will be your
another day: this was not regarded. Hark you, Thomas,
what do you call the ſellows that rob'd us?

Crom. The Bandetti.

Hod. The Bandetti, do you call them? I know not what
they are called here, but I am ſure we call them plain
Thieves in England: O, Tom, that we were now at Put-
ney, at the Ale there.

Crom. Content thee, man, here ſet up theſe two Bills,
And let us keep our ſtanding on the Bridge:
The ſashion of this Country is ſuch,
If any ſtranger be oppreſſed with want,
To write the manner of his miſery,
And ſuch as are diſpos'd to ſuccour him,
Will do it, what, haſt thou ſet them up?

Hod. I they're up, God ſend ſome to read them,
And not only to read them, but alſo to look on us:
And not altogether look on us,
But to relieve us, O cold, cold, cold.

[One stands at one end, and one at tother.

Enter Friskiball the Merchant, and
reads the Bills.

Frif. What's here? two Englishmen rob'd, by the
Bandetti,

One of them ſeems to be a Gentleman:
'Tis pitty that his Fortune was so hard,
To fall into the deſperate hands of thieves.
I'le question him, of what eſtate he is;
God faſe you, Sir, are you an Englishman?

Crom. I am, Sir, a diſtrefled Englishman.

Frif; And what are you, my friend.

Hodge. Who I, Sir, by my troth I do not know my ſelf,
what I am now, but, Sir, it was a. Smith, Sir, a poor
Farrier of Putney, that's my Maſter, Sir, yonder, I was
robbed for his ſake, Sir.

Frif. I fee you have been met by the Bandetti,
And therefore need not ask how you came thus:
But Friskiball, why don't thou question them
Of their eſtate, and not relieve their need?
Sir, the coyn I have about me is not much:
There's fixteen Ducks for to cloath your ſelves,
There's fixteen more to buy your diet with,

And there's fixteen to pay for your Horſe-hire:
'Tis all the wealth you fee, my purſe poffeffes;
But if you pleafe for to enquire me out,
You shall not want for ought that I can do,
My name is Friskiball, a Florence Merchant:
A man that always loved your Nation.

Crom. This unexpected favour at your hands,
Which God doth know, if ever I shall requite it,
Neceflity makes me to take your bounty,
And for your gold can yield you ought but thanks,
Your Charity hath help'd me from deſpair;
Your name shall ſtill be in my hearty Prayer.

Frif. It is not worth ſuch thanks, come to my houſe,
Your want shall better be relieve'd than thus.

Crom. I pray excufe me, this shall well ſuffice,
To bear my charges to Bononia,

Whereas a noble Earl is much diſtrefled:
An Englishman, Ruffel the Earl of Bedford
Is by the French King fold unto his Death,
It may fall out, that I may do him good:
To ſave his life, I'le hazard my heart Blood:
Therefore, kind Sir, thanks for your liberal gift,
I muſt be gone to aid him, there's no hift.

Frif. I'le be no hinderer to ſo good an aſ,
Heaven proper you, in that you go about:
If Fortune bring you this way back again,
Pray let me fee you: ſo I take my leave,
All good a man can wifh, I do bequeath.

[Exit Friskib.

Crom. All good that God doth ſend, light on your head,
There's few ſuch men within our Climate bred.

How ſay you now, Hodge, is not this good Fortune?

Hod. How ſay you, I'le tell you what, Maſter Thomas,
If all men be of this Gentlemans mind,
Let's keep our ſtandings upon this Bridge,
We shall get more here, with begging in one day,
Than I shall with making Horſe-flooce in a whole year.

Crom. No, Hodge, we muſt be gone unto Bononia,
There to relieve the noble Earl of Bedford:

Where if I fall not in my policy,
I ſhall deceive their ſubſute treacheries.

Hodge. Nay, I'le follow you, God bleſſe us from the thieving Bandetti again.

[Exeunt.

Enter Bedford and his Holf.

Bed. Am I betray'd, was Bedford born to die,
By ſuch bafe flaves, in ſuch a place as this?
Have I eſcap'd ſo many times in France,
So many Battels have I over-paffed,
And made the French ſir, when they heard my name:
And am I now betraid into my Death?
Some of their hearts blood first ſhall pay for it.

Holf. They do defire, my Lord, to ſpeak with you.
Bed. The traitors do defire to have my blood,
But by my Birth, my Honour, and my Name;
By all my hopes, my Life shall coſſ them dear.
Open the door, I'le venture out upon them,
And if I muſt die, then I'le die with Honour.

Holf. Alas, my Lord, that is a deſperate courſe,
They have begirt you, round about the Houſe :
Their meaning is to take you Prifoner,
And to ſend your body unto France.

Bed. First ſhall the Ocean be as dry as sand,
Before alive they ſend me unto France :
I'le have my body first bored like a Sieve,
And die as Heſtor, 'gainſt the Mermydons,
E're France first boaf't, Bedford's their Prifoner,
Treacherous France, that 'gainſt the Law of Arms,
Hath here betraid thy Enemy to Death :
But be affured, my blood shall be revenged
Upon the beſt lives that remain in France :
Stand back, or eſſe thou run ſt upon thy Death.

Enter

of the Lord Cromwell.

Enter Servant.

Mef. Pardon, my Lord, I come to tell your honour,
That they have hired a Neapolitan,
Who by his Oratory, hath promised them

Without the fledding of one drop of Blood,
Into their hands, faſt to deliver you,

And therefore craves, none but himſelf may enter;
And a poor ſwain that attends on him.

Bed. A Neapolitan ? bid him come in,
Were he as cunning in his Eloquence,

As Cicero the famous man of Rome,

His words would be as chaff againſt the wind.

Sweet tongue'd Uſſes, that made Ajax mad,
Were he and his tongue in this ſpeaker's head,
Alive he wins me not; then 'tis no conqueſt.

Enter Cromwell like a Neapolitan, and Hodge with him.

Crom. Sir, are you the Maſter of the Houſe ?

Hof. I am, Sir.

Crom. By this fame token you muſt leave this place,
And leave none but the Earl and I together,

And this my Peafant here to tend on us.

Hof. With all my heart, God grant you do ſome
good.

Bed. Now, Sir, what's your will with me ?
Crom. Intends your Honour not to yield your ſelf?

Bed. No good man gooſe, not while my ſword doth laſt;

Is this your eloquence for to perfwade me ?
Crom. My Lord, my eloquence is for to ſave you ;
I am not, as you judge, a Neapolitan,

But Cromwell your ſervant, and an Englishman.

Bed. How? Cromwell? not my Farrier's Son ?

Crom. The fame, Sir, and am come to ſuccour you.

Hodge. Yes, faith, fir, and I am Hodge, your poor Smith;

Many a time and oft have I ſnooſed your Dapper Gray.

Bed. And what avails it me, that thou art here ?

Crom. It may avail, if you'll be rul'd by me ;

My Lord, you know the men of Mantua,

And thefe Bononians are at deadly ſtrife,

And they, my Lord, both love and honour you ;
Could you but get out of the Mantua port,
Then were you ſafe, deſpight of all their force.

Bed. Tut, man, thou talk'st of things impoffible ;

Do't thou not fee, that we are round beſet,

How then is't poſſible we should eſcape ?

Crom. By force we cannot, but by policie :

Put on the apparel here that Hodge doth wear,

And give him yours: the States they know you not,
For as I think, they never ſaw your face,
And at a watch-word muſt I call them in,

And will deſire, that we two ſaſe may paſ

To Mantua, where I'le fay my buſineſs lies ;

How doth your honour like of this advice ?

Bed. O wondrous good: But wilt thou venture, Hodge,

Hod. Will I? O noble Lord, I do accord, in any thing I can ;

And do agree, to ſet thee free, do Fortune what ſhe can.

Bed. Come then, let's change our apparel ſtraight.

Crom. Go, Hodge, make haſte, left they chance to call.

Hod. I warrant you I'le fit him with a Sute.

Crom. Heavens grant this policy doth take ſucceſſes,
And that the Earl may faſely ſcape away.

And yet it grieves me for this ſimple wretch,
For fear they ſhould offer him violence;

But of two Evils 'tis beſt to ſun the greatest,
And better is it that he live in thrall,

Than ſuch a noble Earl as he ſhould fall.

Their ſturbubn hearts, it may be will relent ;
Since he is gone; to whom their hate is bent.

My Lord, have you diſpatched ?

Enter Bedford like the Clown, and Hodge in his
Cloak and his Hat.

Bed. How doſt thou like us, Cromwell, is it well ?

Crom. O, my good Lord, excellent, Hodge, how doſt
feel thy ſelf ?

Hodge. How do I feel my ſelf? why, as a Noble man
thou do.
O how I feel Honour come creeping on,

My Nobility is wonderful melancholy :

Is it not moſt Gentleman like to be melancholy ?

Crom. Yes, Hodge ; now go fit down in thy ſtudy,

And take ſtate upon thee.

Hodge. I warrant you, my Lord, let me alone to take
ſtate upon me: but hark, my Lord, do you feel nothing
bite about you?

Bed. No, truſt me, Hodge.

Hod. I, they know they want their old pafture; 'tis a
ſtrange thing of this vermin, they dare not meddle with
Nobility.

Crom. Go take thy place, Hodge, I will call them in.

Hodge fits in the study, and Cromwell calls in the States.

All is done, enter and if you pleafe.

Enter the States, and Officers with Halberts.

Gov. What, have you won him ? will he yield himſelf?

Crom. I have, an't pleafe you, and the quiet Earl

Doth yield himſelf to be diſpoſed by you.

Gov. Give him the money that we promis'd him :

So let him go, whither he pleafe himſelf.

Crom. My buſineſs, Sir, lies unto Mantua ;

Pleafe you to give me ſafe conduct thereto.

Gov. Go, and conduct him to the Mantua Port,

And fee him ſafe delivered prefently.

Cromwell, and Bedford,
Go draw the curtains, let us fee the Earl :

O, he is writing, ſtand apart a while.

Hod. Fellow William, I am not as I have been ; I went
from you a Smith, I write to you as a Lord: I am at this
prefent writing, among the Polonian Caſiſes. I do commend
my Lordſhip to Raphe and to Roger, to Bridget and to Dority,
and to all the youth of Putney.

Gov. Sure there are the names of English Noblemen,

Some of his ſpecial Friends, to whom he writes :
But ſtay, he doth addreſs himſelf to ſing.

Here he ſings a Song.

My Lord, I am glad you are ſo Frolick and ſo blithe ;

Believe me, Noble Lord, if you knew all,

You'd change your merry vein to ſudden forrow.

Hodge. I change my merry vein ? no, thou Bononian, no;

I am a Lord, and therefore let me go;
And do deſie thee and thy Caſiſes :

Therefore ſtand off, and come not near my Honour.

Gov. My Lord, this jeſting cannot ſerve your turn.

Hodge. Do'ſt think, thou black Bononian beaſt,

That I do ſlout, do gibe, or jeſt :

No, no, thou Bear-pot, know that I,

A Noble Earl, a Lord par. dy.

Gov. What means this Trumpet's found ?

A Trumpet ſounds Enter a Meſtenger.

Cit. One come from the States of Mantua.
Gov. What, would you with us, ſpeak, thou man of Mantua?

Mef. Men of Bononia, this my meſſage is,

To let you know the Noble Earl of Bedford

Is ſafe within the Town of Mantua,

And wills you ſend the peafant that you have,

vvv

Who

["The Life and Death", "234", "Who hath deceived your expectation;\nOr else the States of Mantua have vowed,\nThey will recall the truce that they have made,\nAnd not a man shall flit from forth your Town,\nThat shall return unless you lend him back.", "Gov. O this misfortune, how it mads my heart ?\nThe *Neopolitan* hath beguiled us all.", "Hence with this Fool, what shall we do with him,\nThe Earl being gone? a plague upon it all.", "Hod. No I'le allure you, I am no Earl, but a Smith, Sir,\nOne Hodge, a Smith at Putney, Sir :\nOne that hath gulled you, that hath bored you, Sir.", "Gov. Away with him, take hence the Fool you came for.", "Hod. I, Sir, and I'le leave the greater Fool with you.", "Mcf. Farewell, Bononians. Come, Friend, along\nwith me.", "Hod. My Friend, afore, my Lordship will follow thee.", "[Exit.]", "Gov. Well, Mantua, fince by thee the Earl is loft,", "Within few dayes I hope to see thee croft.", "[Ex. om.]", "Enter Chorus.", "Cho. Thus far you fee how Cromwell's fortune paffed.", "The Earl of Bedford being fafe in Mantua,", "Defires Cromwell's company into France,", "To make requital for his courtesie :", "But Cromwell doth deny the Earl his fuit,", "And tells him that thofe parts he meant to fee,", "He had not yet feet footing on the Land,", "And fo directly takes his way to Spain :", "The Earl to France, and fo they both do part.", "Now let your thoughts as fwift as is the wind,", "Skip fome few years, that Cromwell ſpent in travel :", "And now imagine him to be in England,", "Servant unto the Maſter of the Rolls :", "Where in ſhort time he there began to flourifh,", "An hour ſhall ſhow you what few years did cherchſh.", "[Exit.]", "The Mufick plays, they bring out the banquet. Enter Sir Christopher Hales, Cromwell, and two Servants.", "Hales. Come, Sirs, be careful of your Maſters credit,", "And as our bounty now exceeds the figure", "Of common entertainment, so do you", "With looks as free as is your Maſters Soul,", "Give formal welcom to the thronged tables,", "That shall receive the Cardinals followers,", "And the attendants of the great Lord Chancellor.", "But all my care, Cromwell, depends on thee :", "Thou art a man differing from vulgar form,", "And by how much thy Spirit is rankt 'bove theſe,", "In rules of Art, by ſo much it ſhines brighter by travel,", "Whoſe obſervance pleads his merit,", "In a moſt learned, yet unaſſeeting Spirit.", "Good Cromwell, caſt an Eye of fair regard", "'Bout all my Houſe, and what this ruder fleſh,", "Through ignorance, or wine, do miſcreate,", "Salve thou with courtesie: if welcom want,", "Full bowles, and ample banquets will ſeem ſcant.", "Crom. Sir, whatsoever lies in me,", "Allure you I will ſhow my utmoſt duty.", "[Exit]", "Hales. About it then, the Lords will ſtraight be here :", "Cromwell, thou haſt thofe parts would rather ſuſe", "The ſervice of the ſtate than of my Houſe :", "I look upon thee with a loving Eye,", "That one day will prefer thy deſtiny.", "Enter Messanger.", "Meff. Sir, the Lords be at hand.", "Hales. They are welcom, bid Cromwell ſtraight at-\ntend us,", "And look you all thing be in perfect readineſs.", "The Mufick playes. Enter Cardinal Wolſey, Sir Thomas Moore and Gardiner.", "Wol. O, Sir Chriſtopher, you are too liberal: what, a\nbanquet too?", "Hales. My Lords, if words could ſhow the ample wel-\ncome, that my free heart affords you, I could then become\na prater: but I now muſt deal like a feaſt Politician with\nyour Lordſhips, defer your welcom till the banquet end, that\nit may then falve our defect of fare:", "Yet welcom now, and all that tend on you.", "Wol. Thanks to the kind Maſter of the Rolls.", "Come and fit down, lit down, Sir Thomas Moore :", "'Tis ſtrange, how that we and the Spaniard differ,", "Their dinner is our banquet, after dinner,", "And they are men of active diſpoſition :", "This I gather, that by their ſparing Meat,", "Their bodies are more fitter for the Wars :", "And if that famine chance to pinch their maws,", "Being us'd to ſal, it breeds leſs pain.", "Hal. Fill me fome wine: I'le anſwer Cardinal Wolſey:", "My Lord, we English-men are of more freer Souls,", "Than hunger. Starv'd, and ill-complexion'd 'Spaniard;", "They that are rich in Spain, ſpare belly food,", "To deck their backs with an Italian hood,", "And Silks of Civil: and the pooreſt Snake,", "That feeds on Lemmons, Pilchers, and ne're heated", "His pallet with ſwet Fleſh, will bear a cafe", "More fat and gallant than his ſtarved face :", "Pride, the Inſuſition, and this belly-evil,", "Are in my judgement Spains three headed Devil.", "Mo. Indeed it is a plague unto their Nation,", "Who ſagger after in blind imitation.", "Hal. My Lords, with welcom, I prefent your Lord-\nships a ſolemn health.", "Mo. I love health well, but when as healths do bring", "Pain to the head, and bodies ſurfeiting :", "Then ceaſe I healths: may ſpil not, Friend,", "For though the drops be ſmall,", "Yet have they force, to force men to the wall.", "Wol. Sir Chriſtopher, is that your man?", "(gniff.)", "Hal. And like your Grace, he is a Scholar, and a Lin-\nOne that hath travelled many parts of Chriſtendom, my", "Lord.", "Wol. My Friend, come nearer, have you been a travel-\ner?", "Crom. My Lord, I have added to my knowledge, the\nLow Countries,", "France, Spain, Germany, and Italy :", "And though I small gain of profit I did find,", "Yet did it pleafe my Eye, content my mind.", "Wol. What do you think of the ſeveral States ;", "And Princes Courts as you have travelled?", "Crom. My Lord, no Court with England may compare,\nNeither for State, nor civil Government:", "Luſt dwells in France, in Italy, and Spain,", "From the poor peafant, to the Princes train,", "In Germany, and Holland, Riot ſerves,", "And he that moſt can drink, moſt he deferves :", "England I praſe not: for I here was born,", "But that the laugheth the others unto ſcorn.", "Wol. My Lord, there dwells within that Spirit,\nMore than can be diſcern'd by outward Eye ;", "Sir Chriſtopher, will you part with your man ?", "Sir Christopher, will you part with your man ?", "Hal. I have fought to proffer him to your Lordship,\nAnd now I fee he hath prefert'd himself ?", "Wel. What is thy name ?", "Crom. Cromwell, my Lord.", {"bbox": [707

of the Lord Cromwell.

235

Moor. My Lord, you are a royal Winner,
Hath got a man, besides your bounteous Dinner,
Well, Knight, pray we come no more:
If we come often, then maſt flut thy Door.

Wol. Sir Christopher, had it thou given me
Half thy Lands, thou couldst not have pleafed me
So much as with this man of thine,
My infant thoughts do ſpell:
Shortly his Fortune ſhall be lifted higher,
True industry doth kindle Honours fire,
And fo, kind Maſter of the Rolls, farewell.
Hal. Cromwell, farewell.
Crom. Cromwell takes his leave of you

That ne're will leave to love, and honour you. [Exeunt.

Enter Chorus.

[The Masick plays as they go out,
Cho. Now Cromwells higheft Fortunes do begin.

Wolſey that lov'd him, as he did his life:
Committed all his treſture to his hands,
Wolſey is dead, and Gardiner his man
Is now Created Bifhop of Winchelſter :
Pardon if we omit all Wolſey's Life,
Becaue his Play depends on Cromwells Death,
Now fit and fee his higheſt ſtate of all;
His height of riling and his ſudden fall:
Pardon the errors are already palt,
And live in hope the beſt doth come at laſt:
My hope upon your favour doth depend,
And look to have your liking ere the end.

[Exit.]

Enter Gardiner Bifhop of Winchelſter, the Dukes of Nor-
folk, and of Suffolk, Sir Thomas Moor, Sir Chris-
pher Hales, and Cromwell.

Nor. Maſter Cromwell, ſince Cardinal Wolſey's Death,
His Maſely is given to understand,
There's certain Bills and Writings in your hand,
That much concern the ſtate of England:
My Lord of Winchelſter, is it not fo?

Gur. My Lord of Norſolk, we two were whilome Fellows,
And Maſter Cromwell, though our Maſters love,
Did bind us, while his love was to the King,
It is no boot now to deny thofe things,
Which may be prejudicial to the State:
And though that God hath rais'd my fortune higher,
Than any way I looked for, or deferv'd,
Yet my life, no longer with me dwell,
Than I prove true unto my Sovereign.

Suff. What say you, Maſter Cromwell? have you thofe
Writings, I, or no?

Crom. Here are the Writings, and upon my Knees,
I give them up unto the worthy Dukes,
Of Suffolk, and of Norſolk: he was my Maſter,
And each vertuous part
That lived in him, I tender'd with my heart,
But what his head complotted 'gainſt the State,
My Countries love, commands me that to hate.
His ſudden Death, I grieve for, not his fall,
Becanſe he fought to work my Countries thrall.
Suff. Cromwell, the King shall hear of this thy duty;
Whom I allure my ſelf, will well reward thee:
My Lord, let's go onto his Maſely,
And how thofe Writings which he longs to fee.

[Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk.

Enter Bedford haſtily.

Bed. How now, whoſe this, Cromwell?
By my Soul, welcome to England:
Thou once didt I fave my life, didt thou not, Cromwell?

Crom. If I did fo, 'tis greater glory
For me that you remember it,

than for my ſelf vainly to report it.

Bed. Well, Cromwell, now is the time,
I ſhall commend thee to my Sovereign:
Cheer up thy ſelf, for I will raife thy State,
A Ruffel yet was never found ingrate.

Hal. O how uncertain is the wheel of State,
Who lately greater than the Cardinal,
For fear, and love: and now who lower lies?
Gay honours are but Fortunes flatteries,
And whom this day, Pride and Promotion ſwells,
To Morrow Envy and Ambition quells.

Moor. Who fees the Cob-web intangle the poor Fly,
May boldly ſay the wretche's Death is nigh.

Gar. I know his ſtate, and proud ambition,
Were too too violent to laſt over-long.

Hal. Who foars too near the Sun, with golden VVings,
Melts them, to ruine his own fortune brings.

Enter the Duke of Suffolk.

Suf. Cromwell, kneel down in King Henry's name,
Arise, Sir Thomas Cromwell, thus begins thy fame.

Enter the Duke of Norfolk.

Norf. Cromwell, The Maſely of England,
For the good liking, he conceives of thee,
Makes thee Maſter of the Jewel Houſe,
Chief Secretary to himſelf, and withal,
Creates thee one of his Highneſs's Privy Council.

Enter the Earl of Bedford.

Bed. VVhere is Sir Thomas Cromwell? is he Knighted?

Suff. He is, my Lord.

Bed. Then, to add Honour to his Name,
The King creates him Lord Keeper of his Privy Seal,
And Maſter of the Rolls;

VWhich you, Sir Christopher, do now enjoy;
The King determines higher place for you.

Crom. My Lords, theſe honours are too high for my
defert.

Moor. O content thee, man, who would not chufe it?
Yet thou art wife, in feeming to reſufe it.

Gard. Here's Honours, Titles and Promotions;
I fear this climbing, will have a ſudden fall.

Nerſ. Then come, my Lords, let's altogether bring
This new-made Counſellor to England's King.

[Exeunt all but Gardiner.

Gard. But Gardiner means his glory ſhall be dim'd:
Shall Cromwell live a greater man than I?
My Envy with his Honour now is bred,
I hope to ſhorten Cromwell by the Head.

[Exit.]

Enter Friskiball very poor.

Fris. O Friskiball, what ſhall become of thee?
VWhere ſhalt thou go, or which way ſhalt thou turn?
Fortune that turns her too unconſtant VVheel,
Hath turn'd thy wealth and riches in the Sea,
All parts abroad where-ever I have been,
Grows weary of me, and denies me ſuccour;
My Debtors they, that ſhould relieve my want,
Forſwear my money, ſay they owe me none:
They know my ſtate too mean, to bear out Law;
And here in London, where I oft have been,
And have done good to many a wretched man,
And now moſt wretched here, defpis'd my ſelf;
In vain it is more of their hearts to try;
Be patient therefore, lay thee down and die.

[He lies down.

Enter

The Life and Death

Enter Goodman Seely, and his Wife Joan.

Seely. Come Joan, come, let's see what he'll do for us now? I wis we have done for him, when many a time and often he might have gone a hungry to Bed.

Wife. Alas man, now he is made a Lord, he'll never look upon us; he'll fulfill the old Proverb, Set Beggars a Horse-back, and they'll ride: a, well a day for my Cow; fuch as he hath made us come behind hand, we had never pawn'd our Cow elfe to pay our Rent.

Seely. Well Joan, he'll come this way: and by God's Dickers I'll tell him roundly of it, and if he were ten Lords: a fhall know that I had not my Cheefe and my Bacon for nothing.

Wife. Do you remember Husband, how he would mouch upon my Cheefe-Cakes, he hath forgot this now, but now we'll remember him.

Seely, I, we fhall have now three flaps with a Fox Tail: but itFaith I'll gibber a joint, but I'll tell him his own: ſtay, who comes here? O, ſtand up, here he comes, ſtand up.

Enter Hodge very fine, with a Tip-staff, Cromwell, the Mace carried before him; Norfolk, and Suffolk, and Attendants.

Hodge. Come, away with theſe Beggars here, Rife up, Sirrah; Come out, good people; Run before there ho.

Friskiball rifeſh, and stands a far-off.

Seely. I, we are kicked away now, we come for our own; the time hath been, he would a looked more Friendly upon us: And you, Hodge, we know you well enough, though you are ſo fine.

Crom. Come hither, Sirrah: ſtay, what men are theſe? My honest Hoſt of Hounſow, and his Wife; I owe thee money, Father, do I not?

Seely. I, by the body of me, doſt thou; would thou wouldſt pay me, good four pound it is, I have a the Poſt at home.

Crom. I know 'tis true; Sirrah, give him ten Angels, And look your Wife and do ſtay to Dinner: And while you live, I freely give to you, Four pound a Year, for the four pound I ought you.

Seely. Art not changed, art old Tom ſtill? Now God bleſſes thee, good Lord Tom: Home Joan, home; I'll dine with my Lord Tom to day, And thou ſhalt come next Week.

Fetch my Cow; home Joan, home.

Wife. Now God bleſſes thee, my good Lord Tom; I'll fetch my Cow prefently.

Enter Gardiner.

Crom. Sirrah, go to you ſtranger, tell him I desire him ſtay to Dinner: I muſt ſpeak with him.

Gard. My Lord of Norfolk, fee you this fame Bubble? That fame puff; but mark the end, my Lord, mark the end.

Ner. I promife you, I like not ſomething he hath done; But let that pafs: the King doth love him well.

Crom. Good Morrow to my Lord of Wincheſter: I know you bear me hard, about the Abbey Lands.

Gard. Have I not reaſon, when Religion is wronged? You had no colour for what you have done.

Crom. Yes, the aboliſhing of Antichriſt, And of his Popiſh order for our Realm: I am no Enemy to Religion,

But what is done, it is for England's good: What did they ſerve for, but to feed a fort Of lazy Abbots, and of full-fed Fryers? They neither plow, nor ſow, and yet they reap The fat of all the Land, and fuck the poor:

Look what was theirs, is in King Henry's hands,
His wealth before lay in the Abbey Lands.

Gard. Indeed theſe things you have alledg'd, my Lord, When, God doth know, the infant yet unborn, Will Curſe the time, the Abbies were pull'd down: I pray now where is Hofpitality?

Where now may poor diſtrefſed people go,
For to relieve their need, or reſt their bones,
When weary travel doth oppreſſ their limbs ?

And where religious men ſhould take them in,
Shall now be kept back by a Maſtive Dog:

And thouſand thouſand —

Nor. O my Lord, no more: things paſt redreſſ,
'Tis bootleſs to complain.

Crom. What ſhall we to the Convocation-Houſe?

Ner. We'll follow you, my Lord, pray lead the way.

Enter old Cromwell, like a Farmer.

Old Crom. How? one Cromwell

Made Lord Keeper ſince I left Putney,
And dwelt in Yorkſhire? I never heard better news: I'll fee that Cromwell, or it ſhall go hard.

Crom. My aged Father! ſtate ſet adſe:
Father, on my Knee I crave your bleſſing:
One of my Servants go and have him in,
At better lifeſure will we talk with him.

Old Crom. Now if I die, how happy were the day,
To fee this comfort rains forth ſhowers of joy.

Exit old Cromwell.

Nor. This duty in him ſhows a kind of grace.
Crom. Go on before, for time draws on apace.

Exeunt all but Friskiball.

Fris. I wonder what this Lord would have with me,
His man ſo ſtrictly gave me charge to ſtay:
I never did offend him to my knowledge:
Well, good or bad, I mean to bide it all,
Worſe than I am, now never can beſal.

Enter Banifter and his Wife.

Ban. Come, Wife, I take it be almoſt Dinner time,
For Mr. Newton, and Mr. Crosby ſent to me
Laſt Night, they would come Dine with me,
And take their Bond in: I pray thee hie thee home,
And fee that all things be in readineſs.

Mrs. Ban. They ſhall be welcom, Husband, I'll go before,
But is not that man Maſter Friskiball?

She runs and embraces him.

Ban. O Heavens ! it is kind Maſter Friskiball:
Say, Sir, what hap hath brought you to this paſ?

Fris. The fame that brought you to your miſery.
Ban. Why would you not acquaint me with your ſtate?
Is Banifter your poor Friend forgot?

Whofe goods, whofe love, whofe life and all is yours.

Fris. I thought your uſage would be as the reſ,
That had more kindneſs at my hands than you,
Yet look'd ſaſcance when as they ſaw me poor.

Mrs. Ban. If Banifter would bear ſo bafe a heart,
I never would look my Husband in the Face,
But hate him as I would a Cockatrice.

Ban. And well thou mightest, ſhould Banifter deal ſo,
Since that I ſaw you, Sir, my ſtate is mended:
And for the thouſand pound I owe to you,
I have it ready for you, Sir, at home:

And though I grieve your fortune is ſo bad:
Yet that my hap's to help you makes me glad:
And now, Sir, will it pite you walk with me.

Fris. Not yet I cannot, for the Lord Chancellor,
Hath here commanded me to wait on him,
For what I know not, pray God it be for good.

Ban. Never make doubt of that, I'll warrant you,
He is as kind a noble Gentleman,
As ever did poffeſs the place he hath.

Mrs.

of the Lord Cromwell.

237

Mrs. Ban. Sir, my Brother is his Steward, if you plea, We'll go along and bear you Company :

I know we shall not want for welcome there?

Frif. Withal my heart : but what's become of Bagot ?

Ban. He is hanged for buying Jewels of the Kings.

Frif. A just reward for one so impious,

The time draws on, Sir, will you go along.

Ban. I'll follow you, kind Master Friskiball.

[Exeunt omnes.

Enter two Merchants.

1. Now, Master Crosby, I see you have a care
To keep your word, in payment of your money.

2. By my Faith I have reason upon a Bond,
Three thousand pounds is too much to forfeit,
Yet I doubt not, Mafter Banifter.

1. By my faith your fumm is more than mine,
And yet I am not much behind you too,
Confidering that to day I paid at Court.

2. Maſſe, and well remembred :
What's the reafon the Lord Cromwell's men
Wear fuch long Skirts upon their Coats ?
They reach down to their very Hams.

1. I will refolve you, Sir, and thus it is :

The Bifhop of Wincheste, that loves not Cromwell,
As great men are envied as well as lefs,
A while go there was a jar between them,
And it was brought to my Lord Cromwell's Ear,
That Bifhop Gardiner would fit on his Skirts,
Upon which word he made his men long blue Coats,
And in the Court were one of them himſelf :
And meeting with the Bifhop, quoth he, my Lord,
Here's Skirts enough now for your Grace to fit on :
Which vexed the Bifhop to the very heart ;
This is the reaſon why they wear long Coats.

2. 'Tis always feen, and mark it for a rule,
That one great man will envy ſtill another :
But 'tis a thing that nothing concerns me :
What, shall we now to Maſſer Banifter's?

1. I, come, we'll pay him royalty for our Dinner. [Ex.

Enter the Uſher and the Shewer, the meat goes
over the Stage.

Uſher. Uncover there, Gentlemen.

Enter Cromwell, Bedford, Suffolk, Old Cromwell,
Friskiball, Goodman Seely, and Attendants.

Crom. My noble Lords of Suffolk and Bedford,
Your Honours welcome to poor Cromwell's House :
Where is my Father ? nay, be covered, Father,
Although that duty to thefe noble men doth challenge it,
Yet I'll make bold with them.
Your Head doth bear the Calender of care :
What ? Cromwell covered, and his Father bare ?
It muſt not be. Now, Sir, to you :
Is not your name Friskiball ? and a Florentine.
Frif. My name was Friskiball, till cruel fate,
Did rob me of my name, and of my flate.

Crom. What Fortune brought you to this Country
now ?

Frif. All other parts hath left me fuccourleſs,
Save only this, becauſe of Debts I have
I hope to gain, for to relieve my want.
Crom. Did you not once upon your Florence Bridge,
Help a diſtrefled man, robb'd by the Bandettis,
His name was Cromwell ?

Frif. I never made my brain
A Calender of any good I did,
I always lov'd this Nation with my heart.

Crom. I am that Cromwell that you there relieſd,
Sixteen Ducks you gave me for to cloath me,

Sixteen to bear my charges by the way,
And fixteen more I had for my Horſe hire;
There be thofe ſeveral fums juſtly return'd :
Yet it injuſtice were, that ſerving at my need,
For to repay them without intereſt :
Therefore receive of me theſe four ſeveral Bags ;
In each of them there is four hundred Mark,
And bring to me the names of all your Debtors,
And if they will not fee you paid, I will.
O God forbid, that I should fee him fall,
That helpt me in my greateſt need of all :
Here flands my Father that firſt gave me life,
Alas, what duty is too much for him ?
This man in time of need did fave my Life,
And therefore cannot do too much for him.
By this old man I oftentimes was fed,
Elie might I have gone ſupperleſs to Bed.
Such kindneſs have I had of theſe three men,
That Cromwell no way can repay agen,
Now in to Dinner, for we ſlay too long,
And to good ſlomachis is no greater wrong.

[Exeunt omnes.

Enter Gardiner in his Stady, and his man.

Gard. Sirrah, where be thofe men I cauſd to ſlay ?
Ser. They do attend your pleasure, Sir, within.
Gard. Bid them come hither, and ſlay you without,
For by thofe men the Fox of this fame Land,
That makes a Goofe of better than himself,
Muſt worried be unto his lateſt home,
Or Gardiner will fail in his intent.
As for the Dukes of Suffolk and of Norfolk,
Whom I have ſent for to come ſpeak with me,
How ſever outwardly they ſhadow it,
Yet in their hearts I know they love him not ;
As for the Earl of Bedford, he is but one,
And dares not gain-ſay what we do ſet down.

Enter the two Witneſſes.

Now, my friends, you know I fav'd your lives,
When by the Law you had deferde Death ;
And then you promised me upon your Oaths,
To venture both your lives to do me good.

Both Wit. We ſware no more than that we will per-
form.

Gard. I take your words, and that which you muſt do,
Is ſervice for your God, and for your King;
To root a Rebel from this flourishing Land,
One that's an Enemy unto the Church :
And therefore muſt you take your ſolemne Oaths,
That you heard Cromwell, the Lord Chancellor,
Did with a Dagger at King Henry's Heart :
Fear not to ſwear it, for I heard him ſpeak it :
Therefore we'll ſhield you from enfuſing harms.

2. Wt. If you will warrant us the deed is good,
We'll undertake it.

Gard. Kneel down, and I will here abſolve you both ;
This Crucifix I lay upon your Heads,

And ſprinkle Holy-water on your brows :
The deed is meritorious that you do,
And by it ſhall you purchase Grace from Heaven.

1. Now Sir we'll undertake it, by our Souls.

2. For Cromwell never loved none of our fort.

Gard. I know you doth not, and for both of you,
I will prefer you to fome place of worth :
Now get you in, until I call for you;
For preſently the Dukes mean to be here. [Exeunt Wit.
Cromwell, fit ſal, thy time's not long to reign;
The Abbies that were pull'd down by thy means,
Is now a mean for me to pull thee down :
Thy pride also thy own head lights upon,

Enter

The Life and Death

For thou art he hath chang'd Religion :
But now no more, for here the Dukes are come.

*Enter Suffolk, Norfolk, and the Earl of Bedford.*

*Suff.* Good even to my Lord Bishop.
*Norf.* How fares my Lord ? what, are you all alone?
*Gard.* No, not alone, my Lords, my mind is troubled:
I know your honours mule wherefore I fent,
And in fuch haſte: What came you from the King?

*Norf.* We did, and left none but Lord Cromwell with him.

*Gard.* O what a dangerous time is this we live in?
There's Thomas *Wolſey*, he's already gone,
And Thomas *Moor*, he followed after him:

Another Thomas yet there doth remain,
That is far worſe than either of thofe twain;
And if with ſpeed, my Lords, we not purſue it,
I fear the King and all the Land will rue it.

*Bed.* Another Thomas ? pray God it be not Cromwell.

*Gard.* My Lord of *Bedford*, it is that Traytor Cromwell.

*Bed.* Is Cromwell false? my heart will never think it.

*Suff.* My Lord of *Winchesteſer*, what likelihood,

Or proof have you of this his treachery.

*Gard.* My Lord, too much, call in the men within.

*Enter the Witneſſes.*

Theſe men, my Lord, upon their Oaths affirmit,
That they did hear Lord *Cromwell* in his Garden,
Wifhed a Daguer ſlicking at the Heart

Of our King *Henry*, what is this but *Treaſon*?

*Bed.* If it be so, my heart doth bleed with ſorrow.

*Suff.* How ſay you, Friends, what, did you hear theſe
words?

1. *Wit.* We did, an't like your grace.

*Norf.* In what place was Lord Cromwell when he ſpake them?

2. *Wit.* In his Garden; where we did attend a Suit,
Which we had waited for two years and more.

*Suff.* How long is't ſince you heard him ſpeak theſe
words?

2. *Wit.* Some half a year ſince.

*Bed.* How chance that you conceal'd it all this time?

1. *Wit.* His Greatneſs made us ſear, that was the cauſe.

*Gard.* I, I, his Greatneſs, that's the cauſe indeed;
And to make his Treaſon here more manifeſt,

He calls his Servants to him round about,
Tells them of *Wolſey*'s Life, and of his fall,

Sayes that himſelf hath many Enemies,

And gives to ſome of them a Park, or Mannor,

To others Leafes, Lands to other ſome:

What need he do this in his prime of life,
An if he were not ſeafuſ of his death?

*Suff.* My Lord, theſe likelihoods are very great.

*Bed.* Pardon me, Lords, for I muſt needs depart;

Their proofs are great, but greater is my heart.

*[Exit] Bedford.*

*Norf.* My Friends, take heed

Of that which you have ſaid;

Your Souls muſt anſwer what your tongues report:
Therefore take heed, be wary what you do.

2. *Wit.* My Lord, we ſpeak no more but truth.

*Norf.* Let them depart, my Lord of *Winchesteſer*;

Let theſe men be cloſe kept

Until the day of tryal.

*Gard.* They ſhall, my Lord; ho, take in theſe two men.

*[Exeunt] Witneſſes.*

My Lords, if *Cromwell* have a publick Tryal,
That which we do, is void, by his denial;

You know the King will credit none but him.

*Norf.* 'Tis true, he rules the King even as he pleafes.

*Suff.* How ſhall we do for to attach him then?

*Gard.* Marry, my Lords, thus,

By an Act he made himſelf,

With an intent to intrap ſome of our lives,

And this it is: If any Counſellor

Be convicted of High Treaſon,

He ſhall be executed without a publick Tryal.

This Act, my Lords, he caus'd the King to make,

*Suff.* A did indeed, and I remember it,

And now it is like to fall upon himſelf.

*Norf.* Let us not ſlack it, 'tis for *Englands* good,
We muſt be wary, else he'll go beyond us.

*Gar.* Well hath your Grace ſaid, my Lord of *Norſolk*,
Therefore, let us prefently to *Lambeth*,

Thither comes *Cromwell*, from the Court to night,
Let us arreſt him, ſend him to the Tower.

And in the Morning, cut off the Traytors Head.

*Norf.* Come then about it, let us guard the Town,
This is the day that *Cromwell* muſt go down.

*Gar.* Along my Lords, well, *Cromwell* is half dead,
He ſhak'd my heart, but I will have his Head.

*[Exeunt]*

*Enter Bedford ſolus.*

*Bed.* My Soul is like a Water troubled,

And Gardiner is the man that makes it ſo;

O *Cromwell*, I do fear thy end is near:

Yet I'll prevent their malice if I can,

And in good time, fee where the man doth come,

Who little knows how near's his day of doom.

*Enter Cromwell with his Train, Bedford makes as though he would ſpeak to him: he goes on.*

*Crom.* You'r well enſountred, my good Lord of *Bedford*,
Pray Pardon me, I am ſent for to th' King,

And do not know the buſineſs yet my ſelf,

So fare you well, for I muſt needs be gone.

*[Exit] all the Train.*

*Bed.* You muſt, well, what remedy?

I fear too ſoon you muſt be gone indeed,

The King hath buſineſs, but little doſt thou know,

Whose buſe for thy life: thou think'st not so.

*Enter Cromwell and the Train again.*

*Crom.* The ſecond time well met my Lord of *Bedford*:
I am very ſorRY that my haſte is ſuch,

Lord Marqueſs *Dorſet* being ſick to Death,

I muſt receive of him the Privy Seal

*At Lambeth*, ſoon my Lord, we'll talk our fill.

*[Exit the Train.*

*Bed.* How ſmooth and eaſie is the way to Death.

*Enter a Meſſenger.*

*Mef.* My Lord, the Dukes of *Norſolk* and of *Suffolk*,
Accompanied with the Bishop of *Winchesteſer*,
Intreats you to come prefently to *Lambeth*,
On earneſt matters that concerns the State.

*Bed.* To *Lambeth*, ſo: go fetch me Pen and Ink,
I and Lord *Cromwell* there ſhall talk enough:

I, and our laſt, I fear, and if he come.

*[He writes a Letter.*

Here, take this Letter, and bear it to Lord *Cromwell*,
Bid him read it, ſay it concerns him near,
Away, be gone, make all the haſte you can,
To *Lambeth* do I go, a woful man.

*[Exit.]*

*Enter Cromwell and his Train.*

*Crom.* Is the Barge ready? I will ſtraight to *Lambeth*,
And if this one dayes buſineſs, once were paſt,
I'd

of the Lord Cromwell.

I'd take my cafe to morrow after trouble,
How now my Friend, would it thou speak with me?

[The Melfenger brings the Letter,
he puts it in his pocket.

Mef. Sir, here's a Letter from my Lord of Bedford.

Crom. O good my Friend, commend me to thy Lord,
Hold, take those Angels, drink them for thy pains.

Mef. He doth deign your Grace to read it,

Because he fayes it doth concern you near.

Crom. Bid him affure himself of that, farewell,
To morrow, tell him, he shall hear from me,
Set on before there, and away to Lambeth.

[Exeunt omnes.

Enter Winchefter, Suffolk, Bedford, Serjeant at Arms, the Herald, and Halberts.

Gar. Halberts fland close unto the Water fide,
Serjeant at Arms, be bold in your Office,
Herald, deliver your Proclamation.

Her. This is to give notice to all the Kings Subjefts,
The late Lord Cromwell, Lord Chancellor of England,
Vicar general over the Realm,

Him to hold and eftearn as a Traitor,
Againft the Crown and dignity of England.
So God fave the King.

Gar. Amen.

Bed. Amen, and root thee from the Land,
For wail it thou liveft, truth cannot fand.

Nor. Make a lane there, the Traitor is at hand,
Keep back Cromwell's men:

Drown them if they come on. Serjeant, your Office?

Enter Cromwell, they make a lane with their
Halberts.

Crom. What means my Lord of Norfolk by these words?
Sirs, come along.

Gar. Kill them, if they come on.

Ser. Lord Cromwell, in King Henries name,
I do arreft your honour of high Treaſon.

Crom. Serjeant, me of Treaſon?

[Cromwell's men offer to draw.

Suff. Kill them, if they draw a Sword.

Crom. Hold, I charge you, as you love me, draw not a Sword,

Who dares accufe Cromwell of Treaſon now?

Gar. This is no place to reckon up your crime,

Your Dove-like looks were view'd with Serpents Eyes.

Crom. With serpents Eyes indeed, by thine they were,
But, Gardiner, do thy worſt, I fear thee not,
My Faith compar'd with thine, as much as ſhall pafs,

As doth the Diamond excellent the glaſs:
Attach'd of Treaſon, no accufers by,

Indeed what tongue dares ſpeak fo foul a lie?

Nor. My Lord, my Lord, matters are too well known,
And is it time the King had note thereof.

Crom. The King, let me go to him face to face,

No better Trial I defire than that,

Let him but fay, that Cromwell's Faith was feign'd,
Then let my Honour, and my Name be ſtain'd;

If ever my heart againſt the King was fet,

O let my Soul in judgement anſwer it:

Then if my Faith's confirmed with his reaſon,

'Gainſt whom hath Cromwell then committed treaſon?
Suf. My Lord, your matter ſhall be tried,
Mean time with patience content your ſelf.

Crom. Perforce I muſt with patience be content:
O dear Friend Bedford, doſt thou ſland ſo near?

Cromwell rejoyceth, one friend fhsed a tear:

And whither is't? which way muſt Cromwell now?

Gar. My Lord, you muſt unto the Tower:

Lieutenant, take him to your charge.

Crom. Well, where you pleafe, yet before I part,

Let me confer a little with my men.

Gar. As you go by Water fo you ſhall.

Crom. I have ſome buſineſs prefent to impart.

Nor. You may not ſlay, Lieutenant, take your charge.

Crom. Well, well, my Lord, you ſeconſ Gardiners text.
Norfolk, farewel, thy turn will be the next.

[Exit Cromwell and the Lieutenant.

Gar. His guilty confidence makes him rave, my Lord.

Nor. I, let him talk, his time is ſhort enough.

Gar. My Lord of Bedford, come, you weep for him,
That would not ſhed a tear for you.

Bed. It grieves me for to fee his ſudden fall,

Gar. Such ſuccesſs with I unto Traitors all.

[Exeunt.

Enter two Citizens.

1. Why? can this news be true? is't poffible?
The great Lord Cromwell arreſted upon high Treaſon,
I hardly will believe it can be ſo.

2. It is too true, Sir, would it were otherwife,
Condition I ſpent half the wealth I have;
I was at Lambeth, faw him there arreſted,
And afterward committed to the Tower.

1. What was't for Treaſon that he was committed?

2. Kind Noble Gentleman: I may rue the time;
All that I have, I did enjoy by him,

And if he die, then all my ſtate is gone.

1. It may be hoped that he ſhall not die,
Because the King did favour him ſo much.

2. O Sir, you are deceived in thinking ſo:

The grace and favour he had with the King,
Hath cauſ'd him have ſo many Enemies:

He that in Court ſecure will keep himſelf,

Muſt not be great, for then he is envied at.

The Shrub is ſafe, when as the Cedar flakes,

For where the King doth love above compare,

Of others they as much more envied are.

1. 'Tis pity that this noble man ſhould fall,

He did ſo many charitable deeds.

2. 'Tis true, and yet you fee in each ſtate,
There's none ſo good, but ſome one doth him hate,

And they before would ſmile him in the face,

Will be the formoft to do him diſgrace:

What, will you go along unto the Court?

1. I care not if I do, and hear the news,

How men will judge what ſhall become of him.

2. Some men will ſpeak hardly, ſome will ſpeak in pity,
Go you to the Court. Ple go into the City,
There I am ſure to hear more news than you.

1. Why then ſoon will we meet again.

[Exeunt.

Enter Cromwell in the Tower.

Crom. Now, Cromwell, haſt thou time to meditate,
And think upon thy ſtate, and of the time:

Thy honours came ſunſought, I, and unlook'd for,

They fall as ſudden, and unlook'd for too:

What glory was in England that I had not?

Who in this Land commanded more than Cromwell?

Except the King, who greater than my ſelf?

But now I fee what after ages ſhall,

The greater men, more ſudden is their fall.

And now I do remember, the Earl of Bedford

Was very defirous for to ſpeak to me:

And afterward ſent unto me a Letter,

The which I think I have ſtill in my Pocket,

Now may I read it, for I now have leifure,

And this I take it is.

[He reads the Letter.

My Lord, come not this night to Lambeth,
For if you do, your ſtate is overgrown.

And much I doubt your life, and if you come:

Then if you love your ſelf, ſay where you are.

O God,

The Life and Death

O God, had I but read this Letter,
Then had I been free from the Lions Paw:
Deferring this to read until to Morrow,
I fpubn't at joy, and did embrace my forrow.

*Enter the Lieutenant of the Tower and Officers.*

Now, Mafter Lieutenant, when's this day of Death?

*Lie*. Alas, my Lord, would I might never fee it :
Here are the Dukes of Suffolk and of Norfolk,
Wincheſter, Bedford, and Sir Richard Ratcliff,
With others, but why they come I know not.
*Crom.* No matter wherefore, Cromwell is prepar'd,
For Gardiner has my life and ſtate inſnar'd :
Bid them come in, or you shall do them wrong,
For here ſlands he, whom ſome think lives too long,
Learning kills Learning, and, inſtead of Ink
To dip his Pen, Cromwell's heart blood doth drink.

*Enter all the Nobles.*

*Norf.* Good morrow, Cromwell, what, alone ſo fad ?
*Crom.* One good among you, none of you are bad :
For my part, it beſt fits me be alone,
Sadneſs with me, not I with any one.

What, is the King acquainted with my caufe ?

*Norf.* We have, and he hath anſwered us, my Lord.
*Crom.* How ſhall I come to ſpeak with him my ſelf.
*Gard.* The King is ſo advertiſed of your guilt,

He will by no means admit you to his preſence.
*Crom.* No way admit me, am I ſo ſoon forgot ?

Did he but yeſterday embrace my neck,
And faid that Cromwell was even half himſelf,
And are his Princely ears ſomuch bewitched
With ſcandalous ignominy, and ſlanderous ſpeeches,
That now he doth deny to look on me ?
Well, my Lord of Wincheſter, no doubt but you
Are much in favour with his Maſejty,

Will you bear a Letter from me to his Grace?

*Gar.* Pardon me, I'le bear no Traitors Letters.
*Crom.* Ha, will you do this kindneſs then?

Tell him by word of mouth what I ſhall ſay to you.

*Gard.* That will I.

*Crom.* But on your honour will you ?

*Gard.* I, on my honour.

*Crom.* Bear witneſs, Lords.

Tell him, when he hath known you,
And try'd your Faith but half ſo much as mine,
He'll find you to be the falſeſt hearted man
In England : Pray tell him this.

*Bid.* Be patient, good my Lord, in theſe extremities.
*Crom.* My kind and honourable Lord of Bedford,
I know your honour always lov'd me well,
But, pardon me, this ſtill ſhall be my theam,
*Gardiner* is the cauſe makes Cromwell ſo extream :
*Sir Ralph Sadler*, pray a word with you ;
You were my man, and all that you poffeſs
Came by my means, to requite all this,
Will you take this Letter here of me,
And give it with your own hands to the King.

*Sad.* And give it with your own hands to the King.
*E're to the King this be delivered.*

*[Exit Sadler.]*

*Crom.* Why yet Cromwell hath one Friend in ſtore.
*Gard.* But all the haſte he makes ſhall be but vain;
Here's a diſcharge for your Prifoner,

Here's a diſcharge for your Prifoner,
To fee him executed preſently :

My Lord, you hear the tenor of your life.

*Crom.* I do embrace it, welcome my laſt date,
And of this glittering world I take laſt leave ;
And, Noble Lords, I take my leave of you :
As willingly I go to meet with Death,
As Gardiner did pronounce it with his breath ;
From Treafon is my heart as white as Snow,
My Death only procur'd by my Foe :

I pray commend me to my Soveraign King,
And tell him in what ſort his Cromwell dy'd;
To loſe his Head before his cauſe was try'd :
But let his Grace, when he ſhall hear my name,
Say only this, Gardiner procur'd the fame.

*Enter young Cromwell.*

*Lie.* Here is your Son come to take his leave.

*Crom.* To take his leave ?

*Come hither, Harry Cromwell ;*
Mark, Boy, the laſt words that I ſpeak to thee ;
Flatter not Fortune, neither fawn upon her ;
Gape not for ſtate, yet loſe no ſpark of honour ;
Ambition, like the plague ſee thou eſchew it ;
I die for Treafon, Boy, and never knew it ;
Yet let thy Faith as ſpotleſs be as mine,
And Cromwell's virtues in thy face ſhall ſhine :

Come, go along and fee me leave my breath,
And I'le leave thee upon the floor of Death.

*Son.* O Father, I ſhall die to fee that wound,
Your blood being ſpilt will make my heart to found.
*Crom.* How, Boy, not look upon the Axe ?

How ſhall I do then to have my head ſtrook off ?

Come on, my Child, and fee the end of all,

And after ſay that Gardiner was my fall.

*Gard.* My Lord, you ſpeak it of an envious heart,
I have done no more than Law and Equity.

*Ed.* O, my good Lord of Wincheſter, forbear;
It would better feemed you to beent abent,
Than with your words diſturb a dying man.

*Crom.* Who me, my Lord ? no : he diſturbs not me,
My mind he ſtirs not, though his mighty ſtock
Hath brought moe Peers heads down to the block.

Farewell, my Boy, all Cromwell can bequeath,

My hearty bleſſing, ſo I take my leave.

*Hang.* I am your death's man, pray my Lord, forgiſe me.

*Crom.* Even with my Soul, why man thou art my Doctor,
And bring't me precious Phyſick for my Soul ;

My Lord of Bedford, I defile of you,

Before my Death a corporal embrace.

*[Bedford comes to him, Cromwell embraces him. Farewell, great Lord, my Iove I do commend.*

My heart to you, my Soul to Heaven I ſend ;

This is my joy, that e're my body ſleet,

Your honour'd arms is my true winding ſleet ;

Farewell, dear Bedford, my peace is made in Heaven ;

Thus falls great Cromwell a poor eſell in length,

To rife to unmeaſur'd height, wing'd with new ſtrength.

The lands of Worms, which dying men diſcover.

My Soul is ſhrin'd with heaven's celeſtial cover.

*[Exeunt Cromwell and the Officers, and others. Bed.* Well, Farewell Cromwell, the trueſt Friend That ever Bedford ſhall poffeſs again,
Well, Lords, I fear when this man is Dead,
You'll with in vain that Cromwell had a head.

*Enter one with Cromwell's Head.*

*Offi.* Here is the Head of the deceaſed Cromwell.

*Bed.* Pray thee go hence, and bear his head away,
Unto his Body, inter them both in Clay.

*Enter Sir Ralph Sadler.*

*Sad.* How now my Lords, what is Lord Cromwell dead ?
*Bed.* Lord Cromwell's body now doth want a head.

*Sad.* O God, a little ſpeed had fav'd his life,
Here is a kind Reprieve come from the King,
To bring him ſtraight unto his Maſejty.

*Suff.* I, I, Sir Ralph, Reprieves come now too late.
*Gar.* My confience now tells me this deed was ill,
Would Chriſt that Cromwell were alive again.

*Nor.* Come let us to the King, whom well I know,
Will grieve for Cromwell, that his Death was ſo.

*[Exeunt omnes. THE*

The History of Sir John Oldcaftle,

A valiant Martyr, and a vertuous Peer,
In whose true Faith and Loyalty expreſſ
Unto his Sovereign, and his Countries weal :
We strive to pay that tribute of our love
Your favours merit: Let fair truth be grae'd,
Since forg'd invention former time defac'd.

Sheriff. M
Y Lords I charge ye in his Highneſs name,
to keep the Peace, you and your fol-
lowers.

Her. Good Maſter Sheriſſ, look unto your ſelf.

Pow. Do so, for we have other buſineſs.

[Proffer to fight again.

Sher. Will ye diſturb the Judges, and the Aſſize ?

Hear the King's Proclamation, ye were beſt.

Pow. Hold then, let's hear it.

Her. But be brief, ye were beſt.

Bail. O yes.

Davy. Coſſone, make ſhorter O, or ſhall mar your Yes.

Bail. O yes.

Owen. What, has her nothing to ſay, but O yes?

Bail. O yes.

Davy. O nay, py coſs plut, down with her, down
with her. A Powis, a Powis.

Gough. A Herbert, a Herbert, and down with Powis.

[Helter skelter again.

Sher. Hold in the King's name, hold.

Owen. Down with a Kanaves name, down.

[In this fight the Bailiſſ is knock'd down, and the
Sheriff and the other run away.

Her. Powis, I think thy well ſt and thou do ſmarrt.

Pow. Herbert, I think my Sword came near thy heart.

Her. Thy hearts beſt bloud ſhall pay the loſs of mine
Gough. A Herbert, a Herbert.

Davy. A Powis, a Powis.

As they are fighting, Enter the Mayor of Hereford, his
Officers and Townſmen with Clubs.

May. My Lords, as you are Liegemen to the Crown,
True Noblemen, and Subjects to the King,
Attend his Highneſs Proclamation,
Commanded by the Judges of Aſſize,
For keeping Peace at this Aſſembly.

Her. Good Maſter Mayor of Hereford, be brief.

May. Serjeant, without the Ceremonies of O yes,
Pronounce aloud the Proclamation.

Ser. The Kings Juſtices, perceiving what publick miſ-
chief may enfue this private quarrel : in his Majetieſ
name, do ſtraightly charge and command all perſons, of
what degree ſoever, to depart this City of Hereford, ex-
cept ſuch as are bound to give attendance at this Aſſize,
and that no man prefume to wear any Weapon, eſpecially
Welſh-Hooks, Forreſt Bills.

Owen. Haw? No pill nor Wells hoog? ha?

May. Peace, and hear the Proclamation.

Ser. And that the Lord Powis do prefently diſperſe
and diſcharge his Retinuer, and depart the City in the Kings
Peace, he and his Followers, on pain of Imprisonment.

Davy. Haw ? pud her Lord Powis in Prifon? A Powis
A Powis. Coſſoon, her will live and tye with her
Lord.

Gough. A Herbert, a Herbert.

In this fight the Lord Herbert is wounded, and falls to the
ground, the Mayor and his Company cry for Clubs: Powis
runs away, Gough and Herberts Faſſion are busy about
him. Enter the two Judges, the Sheriff, and his Bailiſſ
afore them, &c.

1. Jud. Where's the Lord Herbert ? Is he hurt or ſlain?

Sher. He's here, my Lord.

2. Jud. How fares his Lordship, Friends?

Gough. Mortally wounded, ſpeechleſſ, he cannot live.
1. Jud. Convey him hence, let not his wounds take air,
And get him dreſt with expedition.

[Exit L. Herbert and Gough.
Maſter Mayor of Hereford, Maſter Sheriff o' th' Shire,
Commit Lord Powis toafe Cúftody,
To anſwer the diſturbance of the Peace,
Lord Herberts peril, and his high contempt
Of us, and you the Kings Commiſſioners,
See it be done with care and diligence.

Sher. Pleafe it your Lordship, my Lord Powis is gone
paſt all recovery.

2. Jud. Yet let ſearch be made,
To apprehend his Followers that are left.

Sher. There are ſome of them: Sirs, lay hold of
them.

Owen. Of us ? and why ? what has her done I pray
you?

Sher. Diſarm them, Bailiſſs.

May. Officers'affaſſ.

Davy. Hear you, Lord Shudge, what reſon for
this?

Owen. Coſſoon, pe pufe for fighting for our Lord?

1. Jud. Away with them.

Davy. Harg you, my Lord.

Owen. Gough, my Lord Herberts man's a ſhitten
Kanavæ.

Davy. Ice live and tye in good quarrel.

Owen. Pray you do ſhuffice, let awl be Prifon.

Davy. Prifon, no,

Lord Shudge, I wool give you Pale, good Surety.

2. Jud. What Bail ? what Sureties?

Davy. Her Cozen ap Rice, ap Evan, ap Morice, ap
Morgan, ap Luuelyn, ap Madoc, ap Meredith, ap Griffin,
ap Davy, ap Owen, ap Shinken Shones.

2. Jud. Two of the moſt ſufficient are enow.

Sher. And't pleafe your Lordship theſe are all but
one.

1. Jud. To Jayl with them, and the Lord Herberts men,
We'll talk with them, when the Aſſize is done. [Exeunt.
Riotous, audacious, and unruly Grooms,
Muſ we be forced to come from the Bench,
To quiet Brawls, which every Conſtable
In other civil places can ſuppreſſ?

2. Jud. What was the quarrel that cauſ'd all this
ſit?

Sher. About Religion as I heard, my Lord.

Lord Powis's detracted from the power of Rome,
Aſſirming Wickliff's Doſtine to be true,

And Romes erroneous: hot report was made

By the Lord Herbert, they were Traytors all
That would maintain it. Powis anſwered,
They were as true, as noble, and as wife

As he, that would defend it with their lives,
He nam'd for instance Sir John Oldcaſſle

The Lord Cobham: Herbert replied again,
He, thou, and all are Traytors that to hold.

The lye was given, the ſeveral Faſtions drawn,
And to enag'd, that we could not appeaſe it.

1. Jud. This caſe concerns the Kings Prerogative,
And 'tis dangerous to the State and Common-wealth.

Gentlemen, Juſtices, Maſter Mayor, and Maſter Sheriſſ,
It doth behoove us all, and each of us
In general and particular, to have care

For the ſuppreſſing of all mutinies,
And all Anſemblies, except ſouldlers muſters,

For

the good Lord Cobham.

For the Kings preparation into France.
We hear of secret Conventicles made,
And there is doubt of fome Confpiracies,
Which may break out into rebellious arms
When the King's gone, perchance before he go:
Note as an inflance, this one perillous tray,
What Factions might have grown on either part,
To the deftruction of the King and Realm:
Yet, in my Conſcience, Sir John Oldcaſſle's
Innocent of it, only his name was us'd.

We therefore from his Highneſts give this charge:
You Maſter Mayor, look to your Citizens,
You Maſter ſheriff, unto your ſhire, and you
As Juſtices in every ones preſent.

There be no meetings. When the vulgar fort
Sit on their Ale-Bench, with their Cups and Cans,
Matters of State be not their common talk,
Nor pure Religion by their Lips prophan'd.
Let us return unto the Bench again,
And there examine further of this fray.

*Enter a Bailiff and a Serjeant.*

Sher. Sirs, have ye taken the Lord Powis yet?

Bail. No, nor heard of him.

Sir. No, he's gone far enough.

2. Judg. They that are left behind, ſhall anſwer all.

[Exeunt.]

Enter Suffolk, Bifhop of Rochester, Maſter Butler,
Sir John the Parſon of Wrotham.

Suf. Now, my Lord Bifhop, take free liberty
To ſpeak your mind; What is your ſuit to us?

Bifh. My noble Lord, no more than what you know,

And have been oftentimes inſeuited with :
Grievous complaints have paſt between the Lips
Of envious perſons to upbraid the Clergy,
Some carping at the livings which we have;
And others ſpuruing at the Ceremonies
That are of ancient cuſtom in the Church.
Amongſt the which, Lord Cobham is a chief:
What inconvenience may proceed hereof,
Both to the King, and to the Common-wealth,
May easily be diſcern'd, when like a frenfy
This innovation ſhall poſſeſs their minds.
Theſe upſtarts will have followers to uphold
Their damn'd opinion, more than Harry ſhall,
To undergo his quarrel's gainſt the French.

Suf. What proof is there againſt them to be had,
That what you ſay the Law may juſtifie?

Bifh. They give themſelves the names of Proteſtants,
And meet in Fields and ſolitary Groves.

Sir John. Was ever heard (my Lord) the like till now?
That Thieves and Rebels, 'sbloud Hereticks,
Plain Hereticks, I'll ſtand to't to their teeth,
Should have to colour their ſive practices,
A Title of ſuch worth, as Proteſtant?

*Enter one with a Letter.*

Suf. O but you muſt not ſwear, it ill becomes
One of your Coat, to rap out bloudy Oaths.

Bifh. Pardon him, good my Lord, it is his zeal,
An honest Country Prelate, who laments
To fee ſuch foul disorder in the Church.

Sir John. There's one they call him Sir John Oldcaſſle.
He doth not his name for nought: for like a Caſſle
Doth he encompaſſs them within his Walls,
But till that Caſſle be ſubverted quite,
We ne're ſhall be at quiet in the Realm.

Bifh. This is our Suſ (my Lord) that he be tane
And brought in queſtion for his Hereſie:
Before, two Letters brought me out of Wales,

Wherein my Lord Hertford writes to me,
What tumult and ſedition was begun,
About the Lord Cobham, at the Sizes there,
For they had much ado to calm the rage,
And that the valiant Herbert is there flain.

Suf. A fire that muſt be quencht. Well, ſay no more,
The King anon goes to the Council Chamber,
There to debate of matters touching France,
As he doth pals by, I'll inform his Grace.
Concerning your Petition. Maſter Butler,
If I forget, do you remember me.

But. I will my Lord.

Bifh. Not as a Recompence,

But as a Token of our love to you.

By me (my Lords) the Clergy doth preſent
This Purſe, and in it full a thousandth Angels,
Praying your Lordship to accept their gift.

Suf. I thank them, my Lord Bifhop, for their love,
But will not take their money, if you pleafe
To give it to this Gentleman, you may.

Bifh. Sir, then we crave your furtherance herein.

But. The beſt I can, my Lord of Rochefouſe.

Bifh. Nay, pray take it, truſt me you ſhall.

Sir John. Were ye all three upon New-Market Heath,
You should not need ſtrain curſ'lie who ſhould ha't,
Sir John would quickly rid ye of that care.

Suf. The King is coming: Fear ye not, my Lord,
The very firſt thing I will break with him
Shall be about your matter.

*Enter King Harry and Huntington in talk.*

Har. My Lord of Suffolk,

Was it not faſd the Clergy did ſeſute

To lend us Money toward our Wars in France?

Suf. It was my Lord, but very wrongfully.

Har. I know it was: for Huntington here tells me
They have been very bountiful of late.

Suf. And ſtill they vow, my gracious Lord, to be ſo,
Hoping your Majety will think on them

As of your loving ſubjeſts, and ſuppreſſs

All ſuch malicious errors as begin

To ſpot their calling, and diſturb the Church.

Har. God eſſe forbid: why, Suffolk,

Is there any new rupture to diſquie them?

Suf. No new my Lord, the old is great enough,
And ſo increaſing, as if not cut down,
Will breed a ſcandal to your Royal State,
And fet your Kingdom quickly in an uproar.

The Kentiſh Knight, Lord Cobham in diſpight
Of any Law, or ſpiritual Difeſcipline.

Maintains this upſtart new Religion ſtill,

And divers great Aſſembliés by his means

And private quarrels are commen'd abroad,

As by this Letter more at large, my Liege, is made apparent.

Har. We do find it here,

There was in Wales a certain ſray of late

Between two Noblemen. But what of this?

Follow it ſtraight Lord Cobham muſt be he

Did cauſe the fame ? I dare be ſworn (good Knight)

He never dreamt of any ſuch contention.

Bifh. But in his name the quarrel did begin,
About the opinion which he held, my Liege.

Har. What if it did? was either he in place
To take part with them? or abett them in it?
If brabling fellows, whoſe enkindled bloud
Seeths in their fiery Veins, will needs go fight,
Making their quarrels of ſome words that paſt
Either of you, or you, amongſt their Cups,
Is the fault yours? or are they guilty of it?

Suf. With pardon of your Highneſts, my dread Lord,
Such little ſparks neglected, may in time
Grow to a mighty flame. But that's not all,
He doth beſide maintain a ſtrange Religion,

X X X 2

And

The History of Sir John Oldcastle,

And will not be compell'd to come to Mafs.

*Bishop.* We do befeech you therefore, gracious Prince,
Without offence unto your Majety,
We may be bold to ufe Authority.

*Har.* As how?

*Bishop.* To fammon him unto the Arches,
Where fuch offences have their punifhment.

*Har.* To anwer perfonally, is that your meaning?

*Bishop.* It is, my Lord.

*Har.* How if he appeal?

*Bishop.* My Lord, he cannot in fuch a cafe as this.

*Suf.* Not where Religion is the plea, my Lord.

*Har.* I took it always, that our felf ftood on't
As a sufficient refuge: unto whom
Not any but might lawfully appeal.

But we'll not argue now upon that point.

For Sir John Oldcaſtle whom you accufe,
Let me intreat you to difpence a while
With your high Title of preeminence.

Report did never yet condemn him fo,
But he hath always been reputed loyal:

And in my knowledge I can fay thus much,
That he is vertuous, wife, and honourable.

If any way his Conſeience be feduc'd

To waver in his Faith, I'le fend for him,
And ſchool him privately: If that ſerve not,
Then afterward you may proceed againſt him.

*Butler.* Be you the Mellenger for us,

And will him prefently repair to Court.

[Exemn.]

*S. John.* How now my Lord ? why ſtand you diſcontent ?
Uſtooth (methinks) the King hath well decreed,

*Bishop.* I, 1, Sir *John*, if he would keep his word :

But I perceive he favours him ſo much

As this will be to ſmall effect, I fear.

*S. John.* Why then I'le tell you what y'are beſt to do:

If you ſuſpect the King will be but cold

In reprehending him, ſend you a Proceſs too.

To ſerve upon him, ſo ye may be ſure

To make him anſwer't, howſoever it fall,

*Bishop.* And well ſemembred, I will have it ſo,

A Sumner ſhall be ſent about it ſtraight.

[Exit.]

*S. John.* Yea, do ſo. In the mean ſpace this remains

For kind Sir *John* of *Wrotham*, honest Jack,

Methinks the purſe of Gold the Biſhop gave

Made a good ſhew, it had a tempting look :

Befrew me, but my fingers ends do itch

To be upon thate golden ruddocks. Well'tis thus ;

I am not as the world doth take me for :

If ever Wolf were cloathed in fleeps coat,
Then I am he; old huddle and twang 'ifaith :

A Priſt in ſhew, but (in plain terms) a Thieſt :

Yet let me tell you too, an honſt Thieſt;
One that will take it where it may be ſpar'd,
And ſpend it freely in good ſellowſhip.

I have as many ſhapes as *Proteus* had,
That ſtill when any villany is done,

There may none ſuſpect it was Sir *John*.

Befides, to comfort me (for what's this life,
Except the crabbed bitternets thereof
Be sweetned now and then with Letchery ? )

I have my *Doll*, my Concubine as 'twere,
To frolick with, a luſty bouncing girle.

But whil't I loyter here, the Gold may ſcape,
And that muſt not be ſo: It is mine own.

Therefore I'le meet him on his way to Court,
And thrive him of it, there will be the ſport.

[Exit.]

Enter four poor People, ſome Souldiers, ſome Old men.

1. God help, God help, there's Law for puniſhing,
But there's no Law for our necellity :

There be more ſtocks to ſet poor ſouldiers in,
Than there be Houſes to relieve them at.

*Oldman.* 1, Houſe-keeping decays in every place,

Even as S. Peter writ, till worſe and worſe.

2. After *Mayor of Rochefouſer* has given command, That none ſhall go abroad out of the Pariah, and has ſet down an Order forſoorth, what every poor houſholder muſt give for our relief: where there be ſome ſelſed (I may ſay to you) had almost as much need to beg as we.

1. It is a hard world the while.

*Old m.* If a poor man ask at door for God's ſake, they ask him for a licence or a certificate from a Juitce.

2. Faith we have none, but what we bear upon our bodies, our maim'd limbs, God help us.

4. And yet as lame as I am, Ple with the King into France, if I can but crawl a ſhip board, I had rather be flain in France, than ſtarve in England.

*Old m.* Ha, were I but as luſty as I was at Shrewsbury
battle, I would not do as I do: but we are now come to
the good Lord *Cobham's* house, the beſt man to the poor in
all Kent.

4. God bleſs him, there be but few ſuch.

Enter Lord Cobham with Harpool.

*Cob.* Thou peevish froward man, what wouldſt thou have?

*Har.* This pride, this pride, brings all to beggary,
I ſerv'd my Father, and your Grandfather,
Shew me ſuch two men now: No, no,
Your backs, your backs; the Devil and pride
Has cut the throat of all good Hounſe-keeping,
They were the beſt Yeomen Maſters that
Ever were in England.

*Cob.* Yea, except thou have a crew of filthy knaves
And flurdy Rogues ſtill feeding at my Gate,
There is no hoffitality with thee.

*Har.* They may ſit at the gate well enough, but the devil of any thing you give them, except they'll eat ſtones.

*Cob.* 'Tis long then of ſuch hungry Knaves as you :
Yea, Sir, here's your retinue, your gueſts be come,
They know their hours, I warrant you.

*Old m.* God bleſſs your honour, God ſave the good Lord Cobham, and all his Houſe.

*Soul.* Good your honour, beſtow your bleſſed almes Upon poor men.

*Cob.* Now, Sir, here be your alms Knights:
Now are you as ſafe as the *Emperour*.

*Har.* My alms Knights? Nay th'are yours:
It is a ſhame for you, and I'le ſtand to't,
Your fooliſh alms maintains more Vagabonds
Than all the Noblemen in Kent beſide.

Out you Rogues, you Knaves, work for your living.
Alas poor men, they may beg their hearts out,
There's no more Charity among men

Than amongſt ſo many Maſtive Dogs.
What make you here, you needy knaves ?
Away, away, you Villains.

2. *Soul.* I beſeech you, Sir, be good.

*Cob.* Nay, nay, they know thee well enough, I think that all the beggers in this Land are thy acquaintance: go beſtow your alms, none will controll you, Sir.

*Har.* What ſhould I give them ? you are grown ſo beg.
garly, that you can ſcarce give a bit of Bread at your door :
you talk of your Religion ſo long, that you have baniſhed
Charity from you: a man may make a Flax-flop in your
Kitchin Chimnies, for any fire there is ſtirring.

*Cob.* If thou wilt give them nothing, ſend them hence :
Let them not ſtand here ſtaring in the cold.

*Har.* Who, I drive them hence? If I drive poor men from the door, I'le be hang'd: I know not what I may come to my ſelf: God help ye poor knaves, ye fee the World. Well, you had a Mother: O God be with thee good Lady, thy Soul's at reſ: he gave more in ſhirts and mlocks to poor Children, than you ſpend in your Houſe, and yet you live a beggar too.

*Cob.*

the good Lord Cobham.

245

Cob. Even the worst deed that ever my Mother did,
was in relieving such a Fool as thou.

Har. I, I am a Fool still: with all your Wit you'll die
a Beggar, go too.

Cob. Go, you old Fool, give the poor people some-
thing: Go in poor men into the inner Court, and take
such Alms as there is to be had.

Soul. God blefs your Honour.

Har. Hang you Rogues, hang you, there's nothing but
mifery amongst you, you fear no Law, you.

Oldm. God blefs you good Maſter Rafe, God ſave
your Life, you are good to the poor ſill.

Enter the Lord Powis diſuſuſed.

Cob. What Fellow's yonder comes along the Grove?
Few Paffengers there be that know this way :

Me thinks he flows as though he ſtaid for me,
And meant to throw'd himſelf among the Buſhes,
I know the Clergy hates me to the Death,
And my Religion gets me many foes :

And this may be ſome deferpe Rogue

Suborn'd to work me miſchief: as it pleafeth God.

If he come toward me, Iure I ſlay his coming,

Be he but one man, whatſtore he be. [Lord Powis comes on.
I have been well acquafed with that face.

Pow. Well met, my honourable Lord and Friend.

Cob. You are welcome, Sir, what ere you be ;

But of this fudden, Sir, I do not know you.

Pow. I am one that wifeth well unto your Honour,

My name is Powis, an old Friend of yours.

Cob. My honourable Lord, and worthy Friend,

What makes your Lordship thus alone in Kent,
And thus diſuſuſed in this strange attire ?

Pow. My Lord, an unexpected accident
Hath at this time enſor'd me to thefe parts,
And thus it hapt. Not yet full five days ſince,
Now at the laſt affize at Hereford,

It chanc'd that the Lord Herbert and my ſelf,
'Mongt other things diſcourſing at the Table,
To fall in ſpeech about ſome certain points
Of Wickliff's DoCTRine 'gainſt the Papacie,

And the Religion Catholick maintain'd

Through the moſt part of Europe at this day

This wilful ſtley Lord ſtuck not to ſay,

That Wickliff was a Knave, a ſcſimatick,

His DoCTRine devililſh and Heretical :

And whatſeever he was maintain'd the fame,
Was Traitor both to God, and to his Country.

Being moved at his peremptory ſpeech

I told him, ſome maintain'd thofe opinions,

Men, and truer Subjeſts than Lord Herbert was:

And he replying in comparisons,

Your name was urg'd, my Lord, againſt this challenge,
To be a perſect favourer of the truth.

And to be ſhort, from words we ſell to blows,

Our Servants, and our Tenants taking parts.

Many on both ſides hurt: and for an hour

The broil by no means could be pacified,

Until the Judges riling from the bench,

Were in their perſons for'd to part the fray.

Cob. I hope no man was violently flain.

Pow. Faith none I truſt, but the Lord Herberts ſelf,

Who is in truth ſo dangerously hurt,

As it is doubted he can hardly ſcape.

Cob. I am forry, my good Lord, of theſe ill news.

To ſhroud my ſelf with you ſo good a Friend,

Until I hear how things do ſpeed at home.

Cob. Your Lordship is moſt welcome unto Cobham :

But I am very forry, my good Lord,

My name was brought in queſtion in this matter,

Confidering I have many Enemies,

That threaten malice, and do lye in wait

To take the vantage of the ſmallest thing.

But you are welcome, and repofe your Lordship,

And keep your ſelf here ſecret in my Houſe,

Until we hear how the Lord Herbert ſpeeds.

Enter Harpool.

Here comes my man : Sirrah, what news ?

Har. Yonder's one Mr. Butler of the privie Chamber,
is ſent unto you from the King.

Pow. Pray God the Lord Herbert be not dead, and the
King hearing whither I am gone, hath ſent for me.

Cob. Comfort your ſelf, my Lord, I warrant you.

Har. Fellow, what ails thee? do it thou quake? do it
thou ſhake? do it thou tremble? ha?

Cob. Peace, you old fool : Sirrah, convey this Gentleman
in the back way, and bring the other into the walk.

Har. Come, Sir, y'are welcome, if you love my Lord.

Pow. Gramercy, gentle Friend.

Cob. I thought as much, that it would not be long before
I heard of ſomething from the King, about this matter.

Enter Harpool with Maſter Butler.

Har. Sir, yonder my Lord walks, you fee him ;

I'll have your men into the ſeller the while.

Cob. Welcome, good Maſter Butler.

But. Thanks, my good Lord : his Maſeſty doth com-
mend his love unto your Lordship, and wills you to repair
unto the Court.

Cob. God bleſs his highneſs, and confound his Enemies,
I hope his Maſeſty is well ?

But. In good health, my Lord.

Cob. God long continue it: me thinks you look as
though you were not well, what ails ye, Sir ?

But. Faith I have had a fooliſh odde miſchance, that
angers me: coming over Shooters bill, there came one to
me like a Sailor, and askt me money; and whiſt I ſtaid
my Horſe to draw my purſe, he takes th' advantage of a
little bank, and leaps behind me, whips my purſe away,
and with a ſudden jerk, I know not how, threw me at leaſt
three yar ds out of my Saddle; I never was to rob'd in all
my life.

Cob. I am very forry, Sir, for your miſchance; we will
fend our warrant forth, to ſlay ſuch ſuſpicious perſons as
ſhall be found, then Mr. Butler we'll attend you.

But. I humbly thank your Lordship, I will attend you.

Enter the Sumner.

Sum. I have the Law to warrant what I do, and though
the Lord Cobham be a Nobleman, that diſpenſes not with
Law, I dare ſerve a Proceſs were he ſive Noble men, though
we Summers make ſometimes a mad ſlip in a corner with
a pretty wench, a Sumner muſt not go always by feeing:
a man may be content to hide his Eyes where he may feel
his profit. Well, this is Lord Cobham's Houſe, if I can-
not ſpeak with him, I'e clap my Citation upon's door,
ſo my Lord of Rochefour bad me; but me thinks here
comes one of his men.

Har. Welcome good fellow, welcome, who would it
thou ſpeak with ?

Sum. With my Lord Cobham I would ſpeak, if thou be
one of his men.

Har. Yes, I am one of his men, but thou canſt not ſpeak
with my Lord.

Sum. May I ſend to him then ?

Har. I'e tell thee that, when I know thy errand,

Sum. I will not tell my errand to thee.

Har. Then keep it to thy ſelf, and walk like a Knave
as thou canſeſt.

Sum. I tell thee, my Lord keeps no knaves, Sirrah.

Har. Then thou ſerveſt him not, I believe. What
Lord is thy Maſter ?

Xxx 3

Sum.

Sum. My Lord of Rochefort.

Har. In good time: and what would'st thou have with my Lord Cobham ?

Sum. I come by vertue of a Procefs, to cite him to appear before my Lord in the Court at Rochefort.

Har. afide. Well, God grant me patience, I could eat this Counger. My Lord is not at home, therefore it were good, Summer, you carried your Procefs back.

Sum. Why, if he will not be f spoken withal, then will I leave it here, and fee that he take knowledge of it.

Har. 'Zounds you flave, do you fet up your bills here: go too, take it down again. Do't thou know what thou do't? Do't thou know on whom thou fervelt a Procefs ?

Sum. Yes marry do I, on Sir John Oldcaftle, Lord Cobham.

Har. I am glad thou knoweſt him yet: and Sirrah, do't not know that the Lord Cobham is a brave Lord, that keeps good Beef and Beer in his Houſe, and every day feeds a hundred poor people at's Gate, and keeps a hundred tall fellows ?

Sum. What's that to my Proceſs ?

Har. Marry this, Sir, is this proceſs parchment ?

Sum. Yes marry is it.

Har. And this Seal wax ?

Sum. It is ſo.

Har. If this be parchment, and this wax, eat you this parchment and this wax, or I will make parchment of your skin, and beat your brains into wax. Sirrah, Summer, dif-patch, devour, Sirrah, devour.

Sum. I am my Lord of Rochefort's Summer, I came to do my office, and thou haſt anſwer it.

Har. Sirrah, no railing; but betake your ſelf to your teeth, thou haſt eat no worie than thou bring'st with thee, thou bring'st it for my Lord, and wilt thou bring my Lord worſe than thou wilt eat thy ſelf ?

Sum. Sir, I brought it not my Lord to eat.

Har. O do you Sir me now; all's one for that, I'll make you eat it, for bringing it.

Sum. I cannot eat it.

Har. Can you not? 'sbloud I'll beat you till you have a Stomach. [Beats him.

Sum. O hold, hold, good Mr. Servingman, I will eat it.

Har. Be champing, be chawing, Sir, or I'le chaw you, you Rogue, the pureſt of the Honey.

Sum. Tough wax is the pureſt Hony.

Har. O Lord, Sir, oh, oh,

Feed, feed, 'tis wholſome, Rogue, wholſome.

Cannot you like an honest Summer, walk with the Devil your Brother, to fetch in your Bailiff's rents; but you muſt come to a Noble man's houſe with proceſs ? If thy Seal were as broad as the Lead that covers Rochefort Church, thou should'ſt eat it.

Sum. O, I am almost choaked, I am almost choaked.

Har. Who's within there ? will you ſhame my Lord, is there no Beer in the Houſe ? Butler I lay.

Enter Butler.

But. Here, here.

Har. Give him Beer.

[He drinks.

There: tough old ſheepkins, bare dry meat.

Sum. O Sir, let me go no further, I'le eat my word.

Har. Yea marry, Sir, I mean ye ſhall eat more than your own word, for I'le make you eat all the words in the proceſs. Why you drab monger, cannot the ſecrets of all the wenches in a Shire ferve your turn, but you muſt come hither with a Citation with a pox? I'le cite you.

A Cup of Sack for the Summer.

But. Here, Sir, here.

Har. Here, flave, I drink to thee.

Sum. I thank you, Sir.

Har. Now if thou find'st thy Stomach well, because thou haſt fee my Lord keeps meat in's houſe, if thou wilt go in thou haſt have a piece of Beef to thy break-faſt.

Sum. No I am very well, good Maſter Servingman, I thank you, very well, Sir.

Har. I am glad on't, then be walking towards Rochefort to keep your Stomach warm. And Summer, if I do know you diſturb a good wench within this Dioceſs, if I do not make thee eat her petticoat, if there were four yards of Kentiſh cloth in't, I am a villain.

Sum. God be w'ye, Maſter Servingman.

[Exit.]

Har. Farewell, Summer.

Enter Conſtable.

Con. Save you, Maſter Harpool.

Har. Welcome Conſtable, welcome Conſtable, what news with thee?

Con. And't pleafe you, Maſter Harpool, I am to make hue and cry for a fellow with one Eye, that has rob'd two Clothiers, and am to crave your hindrance to ſearch all ſuſpect'd places; and they ſay there was a Woman in the Company.

Har. Haſt thou been at the Ale-houſe? haſt thou ſought there?

Con. I durſt not ſearch in my Lord Cobham's liberty, except I had ſome of his Servants for my warrant.

Har. An honest Conſtable, call forth him that keeps the Ale-houſe there.

Con. Ho, who's within there?

Ale-man. Who calls there? Oh is't you, Mr. Conſtable, and Mr. Harpool? y'are welcome with all my heart, what make you here ſo early this morning?

Har. Sirrah, what ſtrangers do you lodge? there is a robbery done this morning, and we are to ſearch for all ſuſpect'd ſonſons.

Ale-man. Gods bores, I am forry for't. I'faith, Sir, I lodge no body, but a good honest Prieſt, call'd Sir John a Wrotham, and a handſome Woman that is his Neece, that he faſes he has ſome ſuit in Law for, and as they go up and down to London, ſometimes they lye at my Houſe.

Har. What, is he here in thy Houſe now?

Ale-man. She is, Sir: I promife you, Sir, he is a quiet man, and because he will not trouble too many rooms, he makes the woman lye every night at his beds ſeet.

Har. Bring her forth, Conſtable, bring her forth, let's fee her, let's fee her.

Ale-man. Dorothy, you muſt come down to Maſter Conſtable.

Doll. Anon forſooth.

[She enters.]

Har. Welcome, ſweet Lafs, welcome.

Doll. I thank you, good Sir, and Maſter Conſtable alio.

Har. A plump gire by the Mafs, a plump gire: ha, Doll, ha. Wilt thou forſake the Prieſt, and go with me, Doll?

Con. Ah! well faſed, Maſter Harpool, you are a merry old man I'faith; you will never be old now by the mack, a pretty wench indeed.

Har. Ye old mad merry Conſtable, art thou advis'd of that? Ha, well faſed Doll, fill ſome Ale here.

Doll afide. Oh if I wift this old Prieſt would not ſlick to me, by Jove I would ingle this old ſerving-man.

Har. Oh you old mad colt, i'faith I'le ſerk you: fill all the pots in the Houſe there.

Con. Oh! well faſed, Maſter Harpool, you are heart of oak when all's done.

Har. Ha Doll, thou haſt a ſweet pair of lips by the Mafs.

Doll. Truly you are a moſt ſweet old man, as ever I faw; by my troth, you have a face able to make any Woman in love with you.

Har. Fill, ſweet Doll, I'le drink to thee.

Doll. I pledge you, Sir, and thank you therefore, and I pray you let it come.

Har. [Imbracing her] Doll, canſt thou love me? a mad merry Lafs, would to God I had never seen thee.

Doll. I warrant you, you will not out of my thoughts this twelvemonth,

the good Lord Cobham.

247

twelvemonth, truly you are as full of favour, as any man
may be. Ah thefe wweet gray locks, by my troth, they
are moft lovely.

Con. Cuds bores, Maſter Harpool, I'le have one buſ
too.

Har. No licking for you, Conſtable, hand off', hand off.

Con. Berlady I love killing as well as you.

Doll. Oh you are an odd boy, you have a wanton Eye of
your own: ah you wweet sugar-lipt wanton, you will win
as many Womens hearts as come in your Company.

Enter Prieſt.

Prieſt. Doll, come hither.

Har. Prieſt, ſhe ſhall not.

Doll. Ple come anon, wweet love.

Prieſt. Hand off', old fornicator.

Har. Vicar, Prie ſit here in ipſight of thee, is this fluff for
a Prieſt to carry up and down with him ?

Prieſt. Sirrah, do'ft you not, know that a good fellow
parfon may have a chappel of eafe, where his parſith Church
is far off?

Har. You Whorſon ſlon't Vicar.

Prieſt. You old ſtale Ruffin, you Lion of Cotſol.

Har. 'Zounds, Vicar, I'le geld you.

Flies upon him.

Con. Keep the Kings peace.

Doll. Murder, murder, murder !

Ale-man. Hold, as you are men, hold ; for Gods ſake be
quiet: put up your weapons, you draw not in my Houſe.

Har. You Whorſon bawd y Prieſt.

Prieſt. You old mutton-monger.

Con. Hold, Sir John, hold.

Doll. I pray thee, wweet heart, be quiet, I was but ſitting
to drink a pot of Ale with him, even as kind a man as ever
I met with.

Har. Thou art a Thieſt, I warrant thee.

Prieſt. Then I am but as thou haſt been in thy dayes,
let's not be affamed of our Trade, the King has been a
Thieſt himself.

Doll. Come, be quiet, haſt thou ſped ?

Prieſt. I have, wench, here be crowns i'faith.

Doll. Come, let's be all Friends then.

Con. Well faid Miftriffs Dorothy.

Har. Thou art the maſdeſt Prieſt that ever I met with.

Prieſt. Give me thy hand, thou art as good a fellow :

I am a finger, a drinker, a bencher, a wencher ; I can ſay
a Maſs, and kifs a Laſ: Faith, I have a Parſonage, and
because I would not be at too much charges, this wench
ferveth me for a Sexton.

Har. Well faid, mad Prieſt, we'll in and be Friends.

Exeunt.

Enter Sir Roger Acton, Maſter Bourn, Maſter
Beverley, and William Murley the
Brewer of Dunſtable,

Acton. Now Maſter Murley, I am well affur'd
You know our errant, and do like the cauſe,
Being a man affected as we are.

Mur. Marry God, did ye dainty my dear: No Ma-
ſter, good Sir Roger Acton, Maſter Bourn, and Maſter
Beverley, Gentlemen and Juitices of the Peace, no Maſter,
I, but plain William Murley the Brewer of Dunſtable,
your honeſt neighbour and your Friend, if ye be men of
my profession.

Bev. Profell'd Friends to Wielkliſt, foes to Rome.

Mur. Hold by me, Lad, lean upon that ſtaff, good
Maſter Beverley, all of a Houſe, ſay your mind, ſay your
mind.

Acton. You know our ſaction now is grown ſo great
Throughout the Realm, that it begins to ſmoak
Into the Clergies Eyes, and the King's ears ;
High time it is that we were drawn to head,

Our General and Officers appointed.

And wars ye wot, will ask great ſtore of Coyn,
Able to ſtrengthen our action with your purſe,
You are elected for a Colonel
Over a Regiment of fifteen Bands.

Mur. Fue, paltry, paltry, in and out, to and fro,
be it more or leſs upon occafion, Lord have mercy upon us,
what a World is this ! Sir Roger Acton, I am but a Dunſtable
man, a plain Brewer, ye know: will luſy caveliering Cap-
tains (Gentlemen) come at my calling, go at my bidding ?
Dainty my dear, they'll do a Dog of wax, a Horſe of
cheeſe, a prick and a pudding; no, no, ye muſt appoint
fome Lord or Knight at leaſt, to that place.

Bour. Why, Maſter Murley, you ſhall be a Knight :
Were you not in election to be ſheriff ?
Have ye not paſt all Offices but that ?
Have ye not wealth to make your Wife a Lady ?
I warrant you, my Lord, our General
Beflaws that honour on you, at first fight.

Mur. Marry God, did ye dainty my dear:
But tell me, who ſhall be our General,
Where's the Lord Cobham, Sir John Old caſſle,
That noble alms-giver, Houſe-keeper, virtuous,
Religious Gentleman ? Come to me there, boyes,
Come to me there.

Acton. Why, who but he ſhall be our General?

Alton. And shall he Knight me, and make me Colonel ?

Alton. My word for that, Sir William Murley Knight.

Mur. Fellow Sir Roger Acton Knight, all ſeffels I mean
in Armes, how ſtrong are we? how many partners? Our
Enemies beſide the King are mighty, be it more or leſs up-
on occafion, reckon our force.

Act. There are of us our Friends and followers,
Three thouſand and three hundred at the leaſt:
Of Northern lads thouſand, beſide horſe,
From Kent there comes with Sir John Oldcaſſle
Seven thouſand : then from London ill ſue out,
Of Maſters, Servants, Strangers, Prentices,
Forty odd thouſand into Ficket field,
Where we appoint our ſpecial Randevouz.

Mur. Fue, paltry, paltry, in and out, to and fro, Lord
have mercy upon us, what a World is this ! Where's that
Ficket field, Sir Roger ?

Alton. Behind S. Giles in the field, near Holborn.

Mur. Newgale, up Holborn, S. Giles in the field, and to
Tyburn, an old ſay. For the day, for the day.

Alton. On Friday next, the fourteenth day of January.

Mur. Tilly vally, truſt me never if I have any liking of
that day. Fue, paltry, platry, Friday quoth a diſmal day,
Childermas day this year was Friday.

Bev. Nay Maſter Murley, if you obſerve ſuch dayes,
We make ſome queſtion of your conſtance,
All dayes are alike to men reſolv'd in right.

Mur. Say Amen, and ſay no more, but ſay and hold Ma-
ſter Beverley: Friday next, and Ficket field, and William
Murley and his merry men ſhall be all one : I have half a
ſore jades that draw my Beer Carts, and every jade ſhall
bear a knaſe, and every knaſe ſhall wear a jack, and every
jack ſhall have a ſcully, and every ſcull ſhall ſhow a ſpear,
and every ſpear ſhall kill a ſoe at Ficket field, at Ficket field:
John and Tom, Dick, and Hodge, Rafe and Robbin, William
and George, and all my knaſes ſhall fight like men, at Fic-
ket field, on Friday next.

Bour. What ſumm of money mean you to disburſe?

Mar. It may be modetly, decently, and ſoberly, and
handſomely I may bring five hundred pound.

Act. Five hundred, man ? five thouſand's not enough,
A hundred thouſand will not pay our men
Two month's together, either come prepa'd
Like a brave Knight, and martial Colonel,
In glittering gold, and gallant Furniture,
Bringing in Coin, a Cart-load at leaſt,
And all your followers mounted on good Horſe,
Or never come difgraceful to us all.

Bev.

Brev. Perchance you may be chosen Treasurer,
Ten thousand pound's the least that you can bring.

Mar. Paltry, paltry, in and out, to and fro: upon occasion I have ten thousand pound to spend, and ten too. And rather than the Bishop shall have his will of me for my Conscience, it shall all go. Flame and flax, flax and flame. It was got with Water and Malt, and it shall fly with fire and Gun-powder. Sir Reger, a Cart-load of money till the Axletree crack; my felt and my men in Ficket field on Friday next: remember my Knight hood and my place: there's my hand I'll be there.

Aet. See what ambition may periwade men to,
In hope of honour he will spend himself.

Bour. I never thought a Brewer half so rich.

Bev. Was never bankrupt Brewer yet but one,
With using too much Malt, too little Water.

Allt. That's no fault in Brewers now ayades:

Come, away about our buinefs.

Enter King Harry, Suffolk, Mafter Butler, Old-cattle kneeling to the King.

King. 'Tis not enough, Lord Cobham, to submit,
You must for sake your grofs opinion;
The Bishops find themfelves much injured,
And though for fome good ſervice you have done,
We for our part are pleas'd to pardon you,
Yet they will not be loon be satisfied.

Cob. My gracions Lord, unto your Majeſtly,
Next unto my God, I owe my life;
And what is mine, either by Natures gift,
Or Fortunes bounty, all is at your ſervice.
But for Obedience to the Pope of Rome,
Iowe him none; nor ſhall his shaveling Prieſts
That are in England, alter my belief.
If out of holy ſcripture they can prove
That I am in an error, I will yield,
And gladly take inſtruction at their hands:
But otherwife, I do beſeeth your Grace,
My Conſcience may not be incoroach'd upon.

King. We would be loth to preſs our ſubjects bodies,
Much leſs their Souls, the dear redeemed part
Of him that is the Ruler of us all:

Yet let me Counſel you, that might command;
Do not preſume to tempt them with ill words,
Nor ſuffer any meetings to be had

Within your Houſe, but to the uttermoſt

Difperſe the flocks of this new gathering ſect.

Cob. My Liege, if any breath that dares come forth,
And ſay, my life in any of theſe points

Deſerves th'attainder of ignoble thoughts:
Here I land I, craving no remorſe at all,
But even the uttermoſt rigour may be ſhown.

King. Let it ſuſſice we know your Loyalty,
What have you there?

Cob. A Deed of Clemency,

Your highneſs pardon for Lord Powis life,

Which I did beg, and you my Noble Lord,
Of gracious favour did vouchſafe to grant.

King. But yet it is not ſigned with our hand.

Cob. Not yet, my Liege.

King. The fact you ſay was done

Not of pretenſed malice, but by chance.

Cob. Upon mine Honour ſo, no otherwife.

King. There is his pardon, bid him make amends,

And cleanſe his Soul to God for his offence,
What we remit, is but the bodies I ſcourge.

How now, Lord Bifhop?

Enter Bifhop.

Bifhop. Jوſtice, dread Soveraign,

As thou art King, ſo granted I may have Jوſtice.

King. What means this exclamation? Let us know.

Bifhop. Ah, my good Lord, the State's abus'd,
And our Decrees moſt ſhamefully prophan'd.

King. How? Or by whom?

Bifhop. Even by this Heretick,
This ſew, this Traitor to your Majeſtly.

Cob. Prelate, thou lyeſt, even in thy greaſe maw,
Or whoſeever twit's me with the name
Of either Traitor, or of Heretick.

King. Forbear I ſay: and Bifhop, ſhew the cauſe
From whence this late abufe hath been deriv'd.

Bifhop. Thus, mighty King: by general ſentment
A meſlenger was ſent to cite this Lord
To make appearance in the Conſiſtory:

And coming to his Houſe, a Ruffian ſlave,
One of his daily followers, met the man,
Who knowing him to be a Parator
Aſſaults him firſt, and after in contempt

Of us, and our proceedings, makes him eat

The written Proceſs, parchment, Seal and all:
Whereby this matter neither was brought forth,
Nor we but ſeorn'd for our Authority.

King. When was this done?

Bifhop. At fix a clock this Morning.

King. And when came you to Court?

Cob. Laſt Night, my Liege.

King. By this it ſeems he is not guilty of it,
And you have done him wrong t' accufe him ſo.

Bifhop. But it was done, my Lord, by his appointment,
Or elſe his man durſt not have been ſo bold.

King. Or elſe you durſt be bold to interrupt
And fill our ears with frivolous complaints.

Is this the Duty you do bear to us?

Was't not ſufficient we did paſs our word

To ſend for him, but you mifdoubting it,
Or which is worſe, intending to foreſtal

Our Regal power, muſt likewife ſummon him?

This favours of Ambition, not of zeal,

And rather proves you malice his eſtate,
Than any way that he offends the Law.

Go too, we like it not: and he your Officer
Had his defert for being inſolent,

Enter Huntington.

That was imployed ſo much amifs herein.

So Cobham when you pleaſe, you may depart.

Cob. I humbly bid farewel unto my Liege.

King. Farewell; what's the news by Huntington?

Hun. Sir Roger Aſſon, and a crew (my Lord)

Of bold ſeditious Rebels, are in Arms,

Intending reformation of Religion.

And with their Army they intend to pitch
In Ficket field, unless they be repuls't.

King. So near our preſence? Dare they be ſo bold?

And will proud War and eager thirſt of blood,

Whom we had thought to entertain far off,

Prefs forth upon us in our Native bounds?

Muſt we be ſore'd to hanſel our ſhard blades

In England here, which we prepar'd for France?

Well, a Gods name be it. What's their Number, ſay.

Or who's the chief Commander of this Row?

Hun. Their number is not known, as yet my Lord,
But 'tis reported, Sir John Oldcaſſle.

Is the chief man, on whom they do depend.

King. How? the Lord Cobham?

Hun. Yes, my gracious Lord.

Bifhop. I could have told your Majeſtly as much
Before he went, but that I ſaw your Grace
Was too much blinded by his flattery.

Suff. Send poſt, my Lord, to fetch him back again.

But. Traitor unto his Country; how he ſmooth'd
And feem'd as innocent as Truth it ſelf?

King. I cannot think it yet he would be falſe:
But if he be, no matter, let him go,

We'll

250

Held as a recreant, and purfu'd to Death,
This will defend you from your Enemies,
And stablish your Religion through the Land.

Cob. Notorious Treafon ! yet I will conceal
My secret thoughts to found the depth of it,
My Lord of Cambridge, I do fee your claim,
And what good may redound unto the Land,
By prosecuting of this enterprize.

But where are men ? where's power and furniture
To order such an action ? we are weak,
Harry, you know's a mighty Potentate.

[Afield.

Cam. Tut, we are strong enough ; you are belov'd,
And many will be glad to follow you,

We are the like, and fome will follow us :
Nay, there is hope from France : here's an Amhaflador
That promifeth both men and money too.

The Commons likewife (as we hear) pretend
A sudden tumult, we will join with them.

Cob. Some likelyhood, I muft confefs to speed :

But how shall I believe this in plain truth ?

You are (my Lords) fuch men as live in Court,
And have been highly favoured of the King,

Especially Lord Scroop, whom oftentimes
He maketh choice for his Bed-fellow.

And you, Lord Gray, are of his Privy-Council :

Is not this a train laid to intrap my Life ?

Cam. Then perifh may my Soul: what, think you fo ?

Scr. We'll fwear to you.

Gray Or take the Sacrament.

Cob. Nay you are Noblemen, and I imagine,
As you are honourable by Birth, and Bloud,
So you will be in heart, in thought, in word,

I crave no other teſtimony but this:

That you would all subſcribe, and fet your hands
Unto this writing which you gave to me.

Cam. With all our hearts: Who hath any Pen and
Ink?

Scr. My pocket ſhould have one; O, here it is.

Cam. Give it me, Lord Scroop. There is my name.

Scr. And there is my name.

Gray. And mine.

Cob. Sir, let me crave that you would likewife write
your name with theirs, for confirmation of your Mafters
words the King of France.

Char. That will I, noble Lord.

Cob. So, now this action is well knit together,
And I am for you ; where's our meeting, Lords ?

Cam. Here, if you pleafe, the tenth of July next.

Cob. In Kent ? agreed. Now let us in to Supper,
I hope your honours will not away to night.

Cam. Yes prefently, for I have far to ride,
About soliciting of other Friends.

Scr. And we would not be abſtent from the Court,
Left thereby grow ſupſition in the King.

Cob. Yet taſte a Cup of Wine before ye go.

Cam. Not now, my Lord, we thank you: ſo fare-
wel. [Exit.

Cob. Farewell, my Noble Lords. My Noble Lords ?
My noble Villains, bafe Confpirators,
How can they look his Highneſs in the Face,
Whom they ſo cloſely ſtudy to betray ?

But I'll not fleep until I make it known,
This Head ſhall not be burthen'd with ſuch thoughts,

Nor in this heart wll I conceal a Deed
Of ſuch impiety againſt my King.

Madam, how now ?

Enter Harpool, and the refk.

La. Cob. Y' are welcome home, my Lord :
Why feem ye ſo unquiet in your looks ?

What hath befain you that diſturbs your mind ?

La. Pow. Bad news I am afraid touching my Husband.

Cob. Madam, not ſo: there is your Husband's pardon ;

Long may ye live, each joy unto the other.

La. Pow. So great a kindneſs, as I know not how to
reply, my ſenſe is quite confounded.

Cob. Let that alone: and Madam ſay me not,
For I muſt back unto the Court again,

With all the ſpeed I can : Harpool, my Horſe.

La. Cob. So soon my Lord ? what will you ride all
night?

Cob. All night or day, it muſt be ſo ſweet Wifc;
Urge me not why, or what my buſineſs is,

But get you in : Lord Powis, bear with me.

And Madam, think your welcome ne're the worſe,
My Houſe is at your uſe. Harpool, away.

Har. Shall I attend your Lordship to the Court?

La. Pow. Amen, that hath ſo highly us beſted.
Cob. Come Madam and my Lord, we'll hope the beſt,
You ſhall not into Wales till he return.

La. Cob. I prithee Harpool look unto thy Lord,
I do not like this sudden poſing back.

Pow. Some earneſt buſineſs is a-foot beliſe,

What ere it be, pray God be his good guide.

La. Cob. Come Madam and my Lord, we'll hope the beſt,
You ſhall not into Wales till he return.

Pow. Though great occafion be we ſhould depart, yet,
Madam, will we ſlay to be reſolv'd of this unloopt for
doubtful accident.

[Exeunt.]

Enter Murley and his men, prepared in ſome filthy Order for War.

Mur. Come my hearts of flint, modedſtly, decently,
berobly, and handfomly ; no man afore his Leader: fol-
low your Maſter, your Captain, your Knight that ſhall
be, for the honour of Meal-men, Millers, and Malt-men,
Dun is the Mouſe : Dick and Tom for the credit of Dun-
ſtable, ding down the Enemy to Morrow. Ye ſhall not
come into the Field like Beggars. Where be Leonard and
Lawrence my two Loaders ? Lord have mercy upon us,
what a World is this ? I would give a couple of ſhillinges
for a dozen of good Feathers for ye, and forty pence for as
many Scarſs to fet you out withal. Froſt and Snow, a
man has no heart to fight till he be brave.

Dick. Maſter, we are no Babes, our Town Foot-Balls
can bear witneſs: this little ſparrel we have ſhall off, and
we'll fight naked before we run away.

Tom. Nay, I'm of Lawrence mind for that, for he
means to leave his life behind him, he and Leonard, your
two Loaders are making their Wills becauſe they have
Wives, now we Batchelors bid my friends ſ for our
Goods if we dye: but Maſter, pray let me ride
upon Cut.

Mur. Meal and Salt, Wheat and Malt, Fire and Tow,
Froſt and Snow, why Tom thou ſhalt. Let me fee, here
are you, William and George are with my Cart, and Robbin
and Hodge holding my own two Horſes; proper men,
handſome men, tall men, true men.

Dick. But Maſter, Maſter, me thinks you are mad
to hazard your own Perſon, and a Cart-Load of Money
too.

Tom. Yea, and Maſter there's a worſe matter in't; if
it be as I heard ſay, we go fight againſt all the learned
Bifhops, that ſhould give us their bleſſing, and if they
Curſe us, we ſhall ſpeed ne're the better.

Dick. Nay Birlady, ſome ſay the King takes their part,
and Maſter dare you fight againſt the King ?

Mur. Fie paltry, paltry, in and out, to and fro upon
occafion, if the King be ſo unwife to come there, we'll
fight with him too.

Tom. What if ye ſhould kill the King ?

Mur. Then we'll make another.

Dick. Is that all ? do ye not ſpeak Treafon ?

Mur. If we do, who dare trip us ? We come to fight
for our Conſcience, and for honour: little know you what
is in my Bofome, look here mad Knaves, a pair of gile
Spurs.

Tom.

the good Lord Cobham.

Tom. A pair of Golden Spurs? Why do you not put them on your heels? Your bofome's no place for Spurs.

Mur. Be't more or less upon occasion, Lord have mercy upon us, Tom thou'rt a fool, and thou speak'st treason to Knight-hood: Dare any wear gold, or silver spurs, till he be a Knight? No, I shall be Knighted to morrow, and then they shall on: Sirs, was it ever read in the Church-book of Dunstable, that ever Malt-Man was made Knight?

Tom. No, but you are more: You are Meal-man, Maltman, Miller, Corn-matter, and all.

Dick. Yea, and half a Brewer too, and the Devil and all for wealth: You bring more money with you than all the reft.

Mur. The more's my honour, I shall be a Knight to morrow. Let me 'spoke my men, Tom upon Cut, Dick upon Hob, Hodge upon Ball, Ralph upon Sorrel, and Robin upon the Fore-horne.

Enter Acton, Bourn and Beverley.

Tom. Stand, who comes there?

Act. All Friends, good fellow.

Mur. Friends and Fellows indeed, Sir Roger.

Act. Why, thus you flew your self a Gentleman, To keep your day, and come to well prepar'd. Your Cart stands yonder guarded by your men, VVho tell me it is loaded well with Coin, VVhat Summ is there?

Mur. Ten thousand pound, Sir Roger, and modelly, decently, soberly, and handsomely, see what I have here against I be Knighted.

Act. Gilt Spurs? 'Tis well.

Mur. VVhere's our Army, Sir?

Act. Differ't in fundry villages about; Some here with us in High-gate, fome at Finchley, Tornam, Enfield, Edmunton, Newington, Ilington, Hogsdone, Pancrenge, Kenzington, Some nearer, Thames, Rateliff, Blackwall, and Bow: But our chief strength must be the Londoners, VVhich, e're the Sun to morrow fhine, VVill be near fifty thousand in the field.

Mur. Marry, God dild ye, dainty my dear, but upon occasion, Sir Roger Acton, doth not the King know of it, and gather his power against us?

Act. No, he's fecure at Elston.

Mur. VVhat do the Clergy?

Act. Fear extendly, yet prepare no force.

Mur. In and out, to and fro, bully my boykin, we shall carry the world afore us, I vow, by my worfhip, when I am Knighted, we'll take the King napping, if he fand on their part.

Act. This night we few in High-gate will repofe, VVith the firft Cock we'll rife and arm our felves, To be in Ficket-field by break of day, And there expect our General.

Mur. Sir John Oldcaſtle, what if he comes not?

Bourn. Yet our action stands,

Sir Roger Acton may fupply his place.

Mur. True, Mr. Bourn, but who shall make me Knight?

Bever. He that hath power to be our General.

Act. Talk not of trifles, come let us away,

Our friends of London long 'till it be day.

[Exeunt.]

Enter Prieſt and Doll.

Doll. By my troth, thou art as jealous a man as lives.

Prieſt. Canst thou blame me, Doll, thou art my Lands, my Goods, my Jewels, my Wealth, my Purſe, none walks within forty miles of London, but a plies thee as truly, as the Parifh does the poor man's Box.

Doll. I am as true to thee, as the ſtone is in the wall, and thou know'ft well enough, I was in as good doing, when I came to thee, as any Wench need to be: and

therefore thou haſt tried me that thou haſt: and I will not be kept as I ha'bin, that I will not.

Prieſt. Doll, if this blade hold, there's not a Pedler walks with a pack, but thou haſt as boldly choofe of his Wares, as with thy ready money in a Merchants Shop, we'll have as good filver as the King Coins any.

Doll. What is all the Gold ſpent you took the laſt day from the Courtier?

Prieſt. 'Tis gone Doll, 'eis flown; merrily come, merrily gone; he comes a Horſeback that muſt pay for all; we'll have as good meat as money can get, and as good Gowns as can be bought for gold, be merry Wench, the Malt-man comes on Monday.

Doll. You might have left me at Cobham, until you had been better provided for.

Prieſt. No, fweet Doll, no, I like not that, you old Ruffian is not for the Prieſt: I do not like a new Clerk ſhould come in the old Belfrey.

Doll. Thou art a mad Prieſt if faith.

Prieſt. Come Doll, I'll fee thee faſe at fome Ale houſe here at Cray, and the next Sheep that comes shall leave behind his Fleece.

[Exeunt.]

Enter the King, Suffolk, and Butler.

K. in great haſt. My Lord of Suffolk, poſt away for life, And let our Forces of ſuch Horſe and Foot, As can be gathered up by any means, Make ſpeedy Randevouz in Tuttle-fields, It muſt be done this Evening my Lord, This night the Rebels mean to draw to Head Near Ilington, which if your ſpeed prevent not, If once they ſhould unite their ſeveral Forces, Their power is almost thought invincible, Away, my Lord, I will be with you ſoon.

Suff. I go, my Sovereign, with all happy ſpeed. [Exit.]

King. Make haſt, my Lord of Suffolk, as you love us.

Butler, poſt you to London with all ſpeed:
Command the Mayor and Sheriffs on their Allegiance,
The City Gates be preſently flut up,
And guarded with a ſtrong ſufficient Watch,
And not a man be ſuffered to pafs,
Without a ſpecial Warrant from our ſelf.
Command the Poſtern by the Tower be kept,
And Proclamation on the pain of Death,
That not a Citizen flir from his Doors,
Except ſuch as the Mayor and Sheriffs ſhall chooſe
For their own Guard, and ſafetey of their perſons:
Butler away, have care unto my charge.

But. I go, my Sovereign.

King. Butler.

But. My Lord.

King. Go down by Greenwitch, and command a Boat,
At the Fryars-Bridge attend my coming down.

But. I will, my Lord.

[Exit Butler.]

King. It's time I think to look unto Rebellion, When Acton doth expect unto his aid, No leſs than fifty thousand Londoners. Well, I'll to Westminſter in this diſguife, To hear what news is flitting in theſe Brawls.

Enter Prieſt.

Prieſt. Stand true man, fayes a Thief.

King. Stand Thief fayes a true man: how if a Thief?

Prieſt. Stand Thief too.

King. Then Thief or True-man, I muſt ſtand I fee, however the VWorld wags, the trade of thieving yet will never down. VVhat art thou?

Prieſt. A good Fellow.

King. So I am to, I fee thou doth know me.

Prieſt. If thou be a good Fellow, play the good Fellows part, deliver thy Purſe without more ado.

King. I have no money.

Prieſt.

Prieſt. I muſt make you find ſome before we part, if you have no money you ſhall have ware, as many found blows as your skin can carry.

King. Is that the plain truth?

Prieſt. Sirrah, no more ado; come, come, give me the money you have. Dilpatch, I cannot ſtand all day.

King. Well, if thou wilt needs have it, there it is: juſt the Proverb, one Thief robs another. Where the Devil are all my old Thieves? Faltaffe that Villain is to fat, he cannot get on's Horſe, but methinks Poins and Peto ſhould be ſirriling hereabouts.

Prieſt. How much is there on't of thy word ?

King. A hundred pound in Angels, on my word. The time has been I would have done as much For thet, if thou hadt paf't this way, as I have now.

Prieſt. Sirrah, what art thou ? thou ſeem'st a Gentleman ?

King. I am no leſs, yet a poor one now, for thou haſt all my money.

Prieſt. From whence cam'ſt thou ?

King. From the Court at Eltham.

Prieſt. Art thou one of the King's Servants?

King. Yes that I am, and one of his Chamber.

Prieſt. I am glad th'art no worſe: thou may'ſt the better ſpare thy money, and think thou might'ſt get a poor Thief his pardon if he ſhould have need.

King. Yes that I can.

Prieſt. Wilt thou do ſo much for me, when I ſhall have occasion?

King. Yes faith will I, ſo it be for no murther.

Prieſt. Nay, I am a pittiful Thief, all the hurt I do a man, I take but his Purſe, I'll kill no man.

King. Then of my word I'll do't.

Prieſt. Give me thy hand of the fame.

King. There 'tis.

Prieſt. Me thinks the King ſhould be good to Thieves, because he has bin a Thief himſelf, although I think now he be turned a True-man.

King. Faith I have heard indeed h'as had an ill name that way in's youth : but how canſt thou tell that he has been a Thief?

Prieſt. How ? becauſe he once robb'd me before I ſell to the Trade my ſelf, when that foul Villanous Guts, that led him to all that Roguery, was in's Company there, that Faltaffe.

King asſide. Well, if he did rob thee then, thou art but even with him now I'll be ſworn: Thou knoweſt not the King now I think, if thou faweſt him?

Prieſt. Not I, I'faith.

King. asſide. So it ſhould ſeem.

Prieſt. Well, if old King Harry had liv'd, this King that is now, had made thieving the beſt trade in England.

King. Why ſo?

Prieſt. Becauſe he was the chief Warden of our Com- pany, it's pitty that e're he ſhould have been a King, he was ſo brave a Thief. But Sirrah, wilt remember my Pardon if need be?

King. Yes Faith will I.

Prieſt. Wilt thou ? well then, becauſe thou ſhalt go faſe, for thou may'ſt hap (being ſo early) be met with again, before thou come to Southwark, if any man when he ſhould bid thee good morrow, bid thee ſtand, ſay thou but Sir John, and they will let thee pafs.

King. Is that the word ? then let me alone.

Prieſt. Nay Sirrah, becauſe I think indeed I ſhall have ſome occasion to uſe thee, and as thou com'ſt oft this way, I may light on thee another time not knowing thee, here I'll break this Angel, take thou half of it, this is a token betwixt thee and me.

King. God a mercy: farewel.

[Exit.]

Prieſt. O my fine golden Slaves, here's for thee, Wench, i'faith. Now, Doll, we will revel in our Bever, this is a Tyth Pig of my Vicarage. God a mercy, Neighbour Shooters Hill, you ha paid your Tyth honeſtly. Well, I

hear there is a Company of Rebels up againſt the King, got together in Ficket field near Holborn, and as it is thought, here in Kent, the King will be there to night in's own perſon: well, I'll to the Kings Camp, and it ſhall go hard, if there be any doings but I'll make ſome good boot among them.

[Exit.]

Enter King Henry, Suffolk, Huntington, and two with Lights.

King. My Lords of Suffolk and of Huntington, Who ſcouts it now ? or who ſtand Sentinels?

What men of worth ? what Lords do walk the round?

Suf. May't pleafe your Highneſs.

King. Peace, no more of that,

The King's aſleep, wake not his Majefty, With terms nor Titles; he's at reſt in Bed, Kings do not uſe to watch themſelves, they ſleep, And let Rebellion and Confipiracy Revel and havock in the Commonwealth.

Is London look'd unto ?

Hun. It is, my Lord.

Your noble Uncle Exeter is there.

Your Brother Glouceſter, and my Lord of Warwick, Who with the Mayor and the Aldermen Do guard the Gates, and keep good rule within.

The Earl of Cambridge, and Sir Thomas Gray Do walk the round, Lord Scroop and Butler ſcout, So though it pleafe your Majefty to jeſt.

Were you in Bed, well might you take your reſt.

King. I thank ye Lords: but you do know of old, That I have been a perfect Night-walker :

London, you ſay, is safely lookt unto,

Alas, poor Rebels, there your aid muſt fail,

And the Lord Cobham Sir John Oldcaſtle,

Quiet in Kent, Acton, you are deceiv'd:

Reckon again, you count without your Hoſt.

To morrow you ſhall give account to us,

Till when, my Friends, this long cold Winters night

How can we ſpend ? King Harry is aſleep,

And all his Lords, theſe Garments tell us to:

All Friends at Foot-Ball, Fellows all in Field, Harry, and Dick, and George, bring us a Drum, Give us ſquare Dice, we'll keep this Court of Guard, For all good Fellows Companies that come.

Where's that mad Prieſt ye told me was in Arms To fight, as well as pray, if need required.

Suf. He's in the Camp, and if he knew of this, I undertake he would not be long hence.

King. Trip Dick, trip George.

Hun. I muſt have the Dice: what do we play at ?

Suf. Paſſage if ye pleafe.

Hun. Set round then: ſo, at all.

Har. George, you are out.

Give me the Dice, I paſs for twenty pound,

Here's to our lucky paſſage into France.

Hunt. Harry, you paſs indeed, for you ſweep all.

Suf. A ſign King Harry ſhall ſweep all in France.

Enter Prieſt.

Prieſt. Edge ye good Fellows, take a freſh Gameſter in.

Har. Maſter Parfon, we play nothing but gold ?

Prieſt. And, fellow, I tell thee that the Prieſt hath gold, gold: what ? ye are but Beggarly Souldiers to me, I think I have more gold than all you three.

Hunt. It may be ſo, but we believe it not.

Har. Set, Prieſt, ſet, I paſſ for all that gold.

Prieſt. Ye paſſ indeed.

Har. Prieſt, haſt any more ?

Prieſt. More ? what a queſtion's that ?
I tell thee I have more than all you three,
At theſe ten Angels.

Har. I wonder how thou com'ſt by all this gold,

How

the good Lord Cobham.

How many Benefices haſt thou, Prieſt?

Pri. Faith, but one, doſt wonder how I come by gold? I wonder rather how poor Soldiers ſhould have gold: for I'll tell thee, good fellow, we have every day Tythes, Oſt'ringes, Chriſtnings, Weddings, Burials: and you poor ſnakes come ſeldome to a booty. I'll ſpeak a proud word, I have but one Parfonage, Wrotham, 'tis better than the Biſhoprick of Rochefeuſe : there's ne'r a Hill, Heath, nor Down in all Kent, but 'tis in my Parifh, Barrham down, Cobham-down, Gads-bill, Wrotham hill, Black-heath, Cock-heath, Birchen wood, all pay me tythe, gold quoth a ? ye pafs not for that.

Suf. Harry, ye are out, now, Parfon, ſhake the Dice.

Pri. Set, fet, I'll cover ye, at all: A plague on't I am out; the Devil, and Dice, and a Wench, who will truſt them?

Suf. Say't thou fo, Prieſt? fet fair, at all for once.

Har. Out, fir, pay all.

Pri. Sir, pay me Angel gold,

I'll none of your crack'd French Crowns nor Pifolets,
Pay me fair Angel gold, as I pay you.

King. No crack'd French Crowns? I hope to fee more crack'd French Crowns e'r long.

Pri. Thou mean'dt of French-mens Crowns, when the King's in France.

Hun. Set round, at all.

Pri. Pay all : this is ſome luck.

King. Give me the Dice, 'tis I muſt ſhred the Prieſt:
At all, Sir John.

Pri. The Devil and all is yours: at that. 'sdeath, what caſting this?

Suf. Well thrown, Harry, I'faith.

King. I'll caſt better yet.

Pri. Then I'll be hang'd. Sirrah, haſt thou not given thy foul to the Devil for caſting?

Har. I pafs for all.

Pri. Thou paffeſt all that e'r I plaid withall :

Sirrah, doſt thou not cog, nor foift, nor flurſ?

King. Set, Parfon, fet, the Dice dye in my hand.

When, Parfon, when ? what, can ye find no more?

Already dry ? was't you bragg'd of your ſtore ?

Pri. All's gone but that.

Hun. What? half a broken Angel.

Pri. Why, fir ? 'tis gold.

King. Yea, and I'll cover it.

Pri. The Devil give ye good on't, I am blind, you have blown me up.

King. Nay, tarry, Prieſt, you ſhall not leave us yet,
Do not theſe pieces fit each other well?

Pri. What if they do?

King. Thereby begins a tale :

There was a Thieſt, in face much like Sir John,
But 'twas not he. That Thieſt was all in green,
Met me laſt day on Black-heath, near the Park,

With him a Woman. I was all alone

And weaponleſs, my boy had all my tools,

And was before providing me a Boat.

Short tale to make, Sir John, the Thieſt I mean,
Took a juſt hundredth Pound in gold from me.

I ſtorm'd at it, and ſwore to be reveng'd

If e'r we met, he like a Inſuly Thieſt,

Brake with his Teeth this Angel juſt in two,

To be a token at our meeting next,

Provided, I ſhould charge no Officer

To apprehend him, but at weapons point

Recover that, and what he had beſide.

Well met, Sir John, betake ye to your tools

By Torch-light, for, Maſler Parfon, you are he
That had my Gold.

Pri. Zounds I won't in play, in fair ſquare play, of the Keeper of Eltham-Park, and that I will maintain with this poor Whyniard: be you two hoffeſt men to ſtand and look upon's, and let's alone, and neither part.

King. Agreed, I charge ye do not budge a foot,
Sir John, have at ye.

Pri. Souldier, ware your ſconce.

As they proſer, enter Butler, and draws his
Sword to part them.

But. Hold, villain, hold : my Lords, what d'ye mean,
To fee a Traytor draw againſt the King.

Pri. The King? Gods will, I am in a proper pickle.

King. Butler, what news? why doſt thou trouble us?

But. Pleaſe your Majefly, it's break of day,

And as I ſcouted near to Ilſington,

The gray-ey'd morning gave me glimmering,

Of armed Men coming down Hygate-bill,

Who by their courſe are coaſtling hitherward.

King. Let us withdraw, my Lords, prepare our troops,
To charge the Rebels if there be ſuch cauſe :

For this lewd Prieſt, this devilifh Hypocrite,

That is a Thieſt, a Gameſter, and what not,

Let him be hang'd up for example ſake.

Pri. Not ſo, my gracious Soveraign, I confes I am a frail man, fleſh and blood as other are; but fet my im-
perfections afide, ye have not a taller man, nor a truer
Subject to the Crown and State, than Sir John of Wro-
tham is.

King. Will a true Subject rob his King?

Pri. Alas! 'twas ignorance and want, my gracious

Liege.

King. 'Twas want of grace. Why, you ſhould be as ſalt

To feaon others with good document,

Your lives as lamps to give the people light,

As Shepherds, not as Wolves to ſpoil the flock ?

Go hang him, Butler.

But. Did't thou not rob me?

Pri. I muſt confes I ſaw ſome of your gold, but, my dread Lord, I am in no humour for death: God will that finners live, do not you cauſe me to dye, once in their lives the beſt may go aſtray, and if the world ſay true, your ſelf (my Liege) have been a Thieſt.

King. I confes I have,

But I repent and have reclaim'd my ſelf.

Pri. So will I do if you will give me time.

King. Wilt thou? my Lords, will you be his ſureties?

Hun. That when he robs again he ſhall be hang'd.

Pri. I ask no more.

King. And we will grant thee that,

Live and repent, and prove an hoffeſt man,

Which when I hear, and ſafe return from France,

I'll give thee living. Till when, take thy Gold,

But I ſpend it better than at Cards or Wine,

For better virtues fit that Coat of thine.

Pri. Pivat Rex, & cœrat Lex. My Liege, if ye have cauſe of Battel, ye ſhall fee Sir John beſtir himſelf in your quarrel.

An Alarm. Enter King, Suffolk, Huntington, Sir John bringing forth Afton, Beverly, and Murly, Prisoners.

King. Bring in thofe Traitors, whoſe aſpiring minds
Thought to have triumph'd in our overthrown :

But now ye fee, bafe Villains, what ſuccesſes

Attends ill actions wrongfully attempted,

Sir Roger Aclon, thou retainſt the name

Of Knight, and ſhouſt be more diſcreetly temper'd

Than join with peazants, Gentry is divine,

But thou haſt made it more than popular.

All. Pardon, my Lord, my Conſcience urg'd me to it.

Kne. Thy Conſcience, then Conſcience is corrupt,

For in thy Conſcience thou art bound to us,

And in thy Conſcience thou ſhould'ſt love the Country,

Elfe what's the difference 'twixt a Chriſtian,

And the uncivil manners of the Turk ?

Yyy

Bev.

Bev. We meant no hurt unto your Majety,
But reformation of Religion.

King. Reform Religion ? was it that you fought ?
I pray who gave you that authority ?

Belike then we hold the Scepter up,
And fit within the Throne but for a Cipher.

Time was, good Subjects would make known their grief,
And pray amendment, not enforce the fame,
Unlesse their King were Tyrant, which I hope

You cannot juſtly ſay that Harry is,
What is that other ?

Suf. A Malt-man, my Lord,

And dwelling in Dunſt able as he fays.

King. Sirrah, what made you leave your Barley-broth,
To come in armour thus againſt your King ?

Mnr. Fie, paltry, paltry, to and fro, in and out upon occaſion, what a world is this ? Knighthood (my Liege) 'twas Knighthood brought me hither, they told me I had wealth enough to make my Wife a Lady.

King. And fo you brought theſe horſes which we saw
Trapt all in coſtly furniture, and meant

To wear theſe Spurs when you were Knighted once.

Mnr. In and out upon occaſion I did.

King. In and out upon occaſion, therefore you ſhall be
hang'd, and in the ſread of wearing theſe Spurs upon your
heels, about your neck they ſhall bewray your folly to the
world.

Tri. In and out upon occaſion, that goes hard.

Mnr. Fie, paltry, paltry, to and fro: good my Liege,
a pardon, I am forry for my fault.

King. That comes too late: but tell me, went there
none before Sir Roger Aſſon, upon whom
You did depend to be your Governour.

Mnr. None, my Lord, but Sir John Oldcaſſle.

### Enter Bifhop.

King. Bears he a part in this conspiracy.

Aſſ. We look'd, my Lord, that he would meet us here.

King. But did he promife that he would come.

Aſſ. Such Letters we received forth of Kent.

Bifh. Where is my Lord the King? health to your Grace.
Examining, my Lord, ſome of theſe Rebels,

It is a general voice among them all,
That they had never come into this place,
But to have met their valiant General,

The good Lord Cobham, as they title him :
Whereby, my Lord, your Grace may now perceive,
His Treaſon is apparent, which before
He fought to colour by his flattery.

King. Now by my Royalty I would have ſworn,
But for his Conſcience, which I bear withal,
There had not liv'd a more true hearted Subject.

Bifh. It is but counterfeit, my gracious Lord,
And therefore may it pleafe your Majety,
To fet your hand unto this Precept here,
By which we'll cauſe him forthwith to appear,
And anſwer this by order of the Law.

King. Not only that, but take Commiſſion
To ſearch, attach, imprifon, and condemn
This moſt notorious Traytor as you pleafe.

Bifh. It ſhall be done, my Lord, without delay :
So now I hold, Lord Cobham, in my hand,
That which ſhall finiſh thy diſdained life.

King. I think the Iron Age begins but now,
Which learned Poets have ſo often taught,
Wherein there is no credit to be given
To either words or looks, or ſolemn oaths :
For if he were, how often hath he ſworn,
How gently tun'd the muſick of his tongue,
And with what aimable face beheld he me,
When all, God knows, was but hypocriſe.

### Enter Cobham.

Cob. Long life and prosperous reign unto my Lord.

King. Ah, Villain, canſt thou with prosperity,
Whole heart includeth nought but treachery ?

I do arreſt thee here my ſelf, falſe Knight,
Of Treaſon capital againſt the ſlate.

Cob. Of Treaſon, mighty Prince ? your Grace miſtakes,
I hope it is but in the way of mirth.

King. Thy neck ſhall feel it is in earneſt ſhortly,
Dar'ſt thou intrude into our prefence, knowing
How hainouſly thou haſt offended us?

But this is thy accuſted deceit,

Now thou perceiv'st thy purpofe is in vain,
With ſome excuſe or other thou wilt come
To clear thy ſelf of this Rebellion.

Cob. Rebellion, good my Lord, I know of none,
King. If you deny it, here is evidence,

See you the ſe men ; you never confuſed,
Nor offered them alliſtance in their Wars ?

Cob. Speak, ſirs, not one but all, I crave no favour,
Have ever I been coverſant with you?

Or written Letters to incourage you ?

Or kindled but the leaſt or ſmalſſe part
Of this your late unnatural Rebellion ?

Speak, for I dare the utoomſt you can.

Mnr. In and out upon occaſion, I know you not.

King. No, didſt thou not ſay, that Sir John Oldcaſſle
Was one with whom you purpós'd to have met ?

Mnr. True, I did ſay ſo, but in what reſpect,
Because I heard it was reported ſo.

King. Was there no other argument but that ?
Aſſ. I muſt confefs we have no other ground

But only rumour to accuſe this Lord,
Which now I fee was greatly fabulous.

King. The more pernicious you to taint him then,
VWhom you know was not faulty, yea or no.

Cob. Let this, my Lord, which I prefent your Grace
Speak for my loyalty, read theſe Articles,
And then give ſentence of my life or death.

King. Earl Cambridge, Scroop, and Gray corrupted
VVith bribes from Charles of France, either to win
My Crown from me, or feretely contrive
My death by Treaſon ? Is't poffible ?

Cob. There is the platform, and their hands, my Lord,
Each feverely ſubſcribed to the fame.

Cob. Oh never heard of bafe ingratitude !

Even thatſe I hug within my boſome moſt,
Are readiſt evermore to ſting my heart.

Pardon me, Cobham, I have done thee wrong,
Hereafter I will live to make amends,

Is then their time of meeting ſo near hand ?

We'll meet with them but little for their eafe,
If God permit. Go take theſe Rebels hence,

Let them have Martial Law : but as for thee,
Friend to thy King and Country, ſtill be free.

Mnr. Be it more or leſs, what a world is this?

VVould I had continued ſtill of the order of knaves,
And ne'r fought Knight-hood, ſince it coſts

So dear: Sir Roger, I may thank you for all.

Aſſ. Now 'tis too late to have it remedied,
I prithee, Murley, do not urge me with it.

Hun. VVill you away, and make no more to do?

Mnr. Fie, paltry, paltry, to and fro, as occaſion ſerves,
If you be ſo haſtly, take my place.

Hun. No, good fir Knight, e'n tak't your ſelf.

Mnr. I could be glad to give my betters place. [Exeunt.

Enter Bifhop, Lord VVarden, Cromer the Sheriff,
Lady Cobham and Attendants.

Bifh. I tell ye, Lady, it's impoſſible

But you should know where he conveys himself,
And

the good Lord Cobham.

255

And you have hid him in fome secre place.

La. My Lord, believe me, as I have a Soul,
I know not where my Lord my Husband is.
Bifh. Go to, go, ye are an Heretick,
And will be forc'd by torture to confes,
If fair means will not serve to make you tell.

Lady. My Husband is a noble Gentleman,
And need not hide himself for any faſt.
That 'e're I heard of, therefore wrong him not.

Bifh. Your Husband is a dangerous Schifmatick,
Traitor to God, the King, and Commonwealth,
And therefore, Mr. Cromer, Sheriff of Kent,
I charge you take her to your cuſtody,
And feize the goods of Sir John Oldcaſtle
To the Kings uſe: let her go in no more,
To fetch ſo much as her apparel out,
There is your warrant from his Majeſtyle.

L. War. Good my Lord Bifhop, pacifie your wrath
Against the Lady.
Bifh. Then let her confes

Where Oldcaſtle her Husband is conceal'd.

L. War. I dare engage mine honour and my life,
Poor Gentlewoman, he is ignorant
And innocent of all his practices
If any Evil by him be præſtified.

Bifh. If, my Lord Warden? Nay then I charge you,
That all Cinque-ports whereof you are chief,
Be laid forthwith, that he eſcapes us not.

Shew him his Highneſs warrant, Mr. Sheriſſ.

L. War. I am forry for the Noble Gentleman.

Bifh. Peace, he comes here, now do your Office,

Enter Harpool and Oldcaſtle.

Cob. Harpool, what buſineſs have we here in hand?

What makes the Bifhop and the Sheriff here?

I fear my coming home is dangerous,

I would I had not made ſuch haſſe to Cobham.

Har. Be of good cheer, my Lord, if they be foes, we'll
framble ſhrewdly with them: if they be Friends they are
welcome.

Cro. Sir John Oldcaſſle Lord Cobham, in the Kings name,
I arreſt ye of high Treaſon.

Cob. Treaſon, Mr. Cromer?

Har. Treaſon, Mr. Sheriff, what Treaſon?

Cob. Harpool, I charge thee fir fl not, but be quiet.

Do ye arreſt me of Treaſon, Mr. Sheriſſ?

Bifh. Yea, of high Treaſon, Traitor, Heretick.

Cob. Deſiance in his face that calls me ſo,

I am as true a Loyal Gentleman

Unto his Highneſſs, as his proudeſt Enemy,

The King ſhall witneſs my late faithful ſervice,

For faſety of his ſacred Majeſty.

Bifh. What thou art, the Kings hand ſhall teſtifie,
Shew him, Lord Warden.

Cob. Jefu defend me,

Is't poffible your cunning could ſo temper

The princely diſpoffition of his mind,

To ſign the damage of a Royal Subject?

Well, the beſt is, it bears an antedate,

Procured by my abſence and your malice.

But I, ſince that, have ſhew'd my ſelf as true,

As any Church man that dare challenge me.

Let me be brought before his Majeſtyle,

If he acquit me not, then do your worſt.

Bifh. We are not bound to do kind offices,
For any Traitor, Schifmatick, nor Heretick:

The Kings hand is our warrant for our work,

Who is departed on his way for France,

And at Southampton doth repofe this Night.

Har. O that thou and I were within twenty miles of it,
on Salisbury plain! I would lole my head if thou brought it
thy Head nither again.

Cob. My Lord Warden o' th Cinque-ports, and Lord of

Rochefter, ye are joypint Commiſioners, favour me ſo much
on my expence, to bring me to the King.

Bifh. What, to Southampton?

Cob. Thither, my good Lord,
And if he do not clear me of all guilt,
And all ſuſpicion of conspiracy,

Pawning his Princely warrant for my truth :

I ask no favour, but extreamelt torture.

Bring me, or ſend me to him, good my Lord,

Good my Lord Warden, Mr. Sheriſſentreat.

[They both entreat for him.
Come hither, Lady, nay, ſweet wife, forbear

To heap one forrow on anothers neck :

'Tis grief enough falſely to be accus'd,

And not permitted to acquit my ſelf,

Do not thou with thy kind reſpective tears,

Torment thy Husbands heart that bleeds for thee:

But be of comfort, God hath help in ſtore

For thate that put auſſured truſt in him.

Dear Wife, if they commit me to the Tower,

Come up to London to your Sifters Houſe :

That being near me, you may comfort me.

One folace find I fetled in my Soul,

That I am free from Treaſon's very thought,

Only my Conſcience for the Gofpeſs ſake,

Is cauſe of all the troublés I ſuſtain.

Lady. O my dear Lord, what ſhall betide of us?

You to the Tower, and I turn'd out of Doors,

Our ſubſtance ſeiz'd unto his Highneſſs uſe,

Even to the garments longing to our backs.

Har. Patience, good Madam, things at worſt will mend,
And if they do not, yet our lives may meane.

Bifh. Urge it no more, for if an Angel ſpake,

I ſwear by ſweet S. Peter's bleſſed Keyes,

First goes he to the Tower, then to the ſtake.

Crom. But by your leave, this warrant doth not ſtretch
To imprifon her.

Bifh. No, turn her out of doors,

Even as ſhe is, and lead him to the Tower,

With guard enough, for fear of reſcuing.

Lady. O God requite thee blood-thrifty man.

Cob. May it not be, my Lord of Rochefter?

Wherein have I incur'd your hate ſo far,

That my appeal unto the King's deny'd.

Bifh. No hate of mine, but power of holy Church,

Forbids all favour to ſalſe Hereticks.

Cob. Your private malice more than publik power,

Strikes moſt at me, but with my life it ends.

Har. aſſide. O that I had the Bifhop in that fear
That once I had his Summer by our ſelves,

Cro. My Lord, yet grant one ſuit unto us all,

That this fame ancient ſervingman may wait

Upon my Lord his maſter in the Tower.

Bifh. This old iniquity, this Heretick?

That in contempt of our Church diſcipline,

Compel'd my Summer to devour his Proceſs?

Old Ruffian paſt-grace, upſtart Schifmatick,

Had not the King pray'd us to pardon ye,

Ye had fryed for't, ye grizeled Heretick.

Har. 'Sblood, my Lord Bifhop, ye wrong me, I am
neither Heretick nor Puritan, but of the old Church, I'le
ſwear, drink Ale, kifs a wench, go to Maſs, eat Fifh all
Lent, and ſaſt Frydays with Cakes and Wine, Fruit and
ſpicery, thrive me of my old Sins afore Aſter, and be-
gin new before Whitsuntide.

Cro. A merry mad conceited Knave, my Lord.

Har. That knave was ſimply put upon the Bifhop.

Bifh. Well, God forgive him, and I pardon him :
Let him attend his Maſter in the Tower,
For I in Charity with his Soul no hurt.

Cob. God bleſſs my Soul from ſuch cold Charity.

Bifh. To th' Tower with him, and when my leifure ſerves,
I will examine him of Articles;

Look, my Lord Warden, as you have in charge

Y y y 2

The

The Sheriff perform his Office.

War. I, my Lord.

Enter Sumner with Books.

Bifh. What bring't thou there? what books of herefie

Sum. Yea, my Lord, here's not a Latine Book,

No not so much as our Ladies Pfafter :

Here's the Bible, the Teftament, the Pfalms in meete,

The Sick-man's falve, the Treasure of Gladneſs,

All English, no not so much but the Almanack's English.

Bifh. Away with them, to th' fire with them, Clun,

Now ſie upon theſe upſatt Hereticks.

All English, burn them, burn them quickly, Clun.

Har. But do not, Summer, as you'll anſwer it, for I have there English Books, my Lord, that Ile not part withal for your Bifhoprick, Bevis of Hampton, Owleglaſs, The Fryer and the By, Ellen of R running, Robin-hood, and other ſuch godly Stories, which if you burn, by this Fleth Ile make ye drink their affhes in S. Marger's Ale.

[Exir.]

Enter the Bifhop of Rochefter, with his men
in Livery Coats.

1. Ser. Is it your honours pleafure we ſhall ſtay,
Or come back in the afternoon to fetch you.

Bifh. Now have ye brought me here unto the Tower,
You may go back unto the Porter's lodge,

Where if I have occafion to employ you,

I'le ſend ſome Officer to call you to me.

Into the City go not, I command you,

Perhaps I may have prefent need to uſe you.

2. We will attend your honour here without.

3. Come, we may have a quart of Wine at the Rofe at

Barking, and come back an hour before he'll go.

1. We muſt hie us then.

3. Let's away.

Bifh. Ho, Mr. Lieutenant,

Lieu. Who calls there ?

Bifh. A Friend of yours.

Lieu. My Lord of Rochefter ? your honour's welcome.

Bifh. Sir, here's my warrant from the Council,

For conference with Sir John Oldcaſſle,

Upon ſome matter of great conſequence.

Lieu. Ho, Sir John.

Har. Who calls there ?

Lieu. Harpool, tell Sir John, that my Lord of Rochefter

Comes from the Council to confer with him.

I think you may as ſafe without ſuſpicion

As any man in England as I hear,

For it was you moſt labour'd his commitment.

Bifh. I did, Sir, and nothing repent it I affure you.

Enter Sir John Oldcaſſle.

Mr. Lieutenant, I pray you give us leave,
I muſt confer here with Sir John a little.

Lieu. With all my heart, my Lord.

Har. aſide. My Lord, be rul'd by me, take this occafion
while it is offered, and on my life your Lordſhip will eſ-
cape.

Cob. No more I ſay, peace left he ſhould ſuſpect it.

Bifh. Sir John, I am come to you from the Lords of the
Council, to know if you do recant your errours.

Cob. My Lord of Rochefter, on good advice,

I fee my errour; but yet underſtand me,

I mean not errour in the Faith I hold,

But errour in ſubmitting to your pleafure,

Therefore your Lordſhip without more to do,

Muſt be a means to help me to eſcape.

Bifh. What means, thou Heretick?

Dar't thou but lift thy hand againſt my calling ?

Cob. No, not to hurt you for a thousand pound.

Har. Nothing but to borrow your upper garment a lit-
tle, not a word more, peace for waking the Children;
there, put on, diſpatch, my Lord, the window that goes out
into the Leads is ſure enough : as for you, I'le bind you
furely in the inner Room.

Cob. This is well begun, God ſend us happy ſpeed,
Hard shift you fee men make in time of need.

Enter Servingmen again.

1. I marvel that my Lord ſhould ſtay ſo long.

2. He hath ſent to ſee us I dare lay my life.

3. We come in good time, fee where he is coming.

Har. I beſeeth you, good my Lord of Rochefter, be
favourable to my Lord and Maſter.

Cob. The inner Rooms be very Hot and cloſe,
I do not like this Air here in the Tower.

Har. His cafe is hard, my Lord: you ſhall ſaſely get
out of the Tower, but I will down upon them: in which
time get you away. Hard under Ilſington wait you my
coming, I will bring my Lady ready with Horſes to get
hence.

Cob. Fellow, go back again unto my Lord, and coun-
fel him.

Har. Nay, my good Lord of Rochefter, I'le bring you to
S. Albons through the woods I warrant you.

Cob. Villain, away.

Har. Nay, ſince I am paſt the Towers Liberty,
You part not ſo.

[He draws.]

Bifh. Clubs, clubs, clubs.

1. Murther, murther, murther.

2. Down with him.

Har. Out you cowardly Rogues.

[Cobham eſcapes.]

Enter Lieutenant, and his men.

Lieu. Who is ſo bold as to dare to draw a Sword
So near unto the entrance of the Tower.

1. This Ruffian, ſervant to Sir John Oldcaſſle, was like
to have ſlain my Lord.

Lieu. Lay hold on him.

Har. Stand off if you love your puddings.

[Rochefter calls within.]

Help, help, help, Mr. Lieutenant, help.

Lieu. Who's that within? ſome Treason in the Tower,
on my life, look in, who's that which calls ?

Enter Rochefter bound.

Lieu. Without your cloak, my Lord of Rochefter ?

Har. There, now it works ; then let me ſpeed,

For now's the fittet time to eſcape away.

[Exit.]

Lieu. Why do you look ſo gaffly and aſtrighted?

Bifh. Oldcaſſle that Traitor and his man,
When you had left me to confer with him,
Took, bound, and ſtript me as you fee,
And left me lying in this inner Chamber,
And ſo departed, and I—

Lieu. And you ! Nere ſay that the Lord Cobham's man
Did here ſet on you like to murther you.

1. And ſo he did.

Bifh. It was upon his Maſter then he did,
That in the brawl the Traitor might eſcape.

Lieu. Where is this Harpool ?

2. Here he was even now.

Lieu. Where, can you tell ? They are both eſcap'd.
Since it ſo happens that he is eſcap'd,

I am glad you are a witneſs of the fame :

It might have eſſe been laid unto my charge,

That I had been confentng to the ſaſt.

Bifh. Come, ſearch I'ſhall be made for him with expedi-
tion, the Haven's laid that he ſhall not eſcape, and hue
and

the good Lord Cobham.

and cry continue through England, to find this damned,
dangerous Heretick.
[Exeunt.]

Enter Cambridge, Scroop, and Gray, as in a Chamber, and
fet down at a Table, confuting about their Treason,
King Harry and Suffolk living at the door.

Cam. In mine opinion, Scroop hath well advice'd,
Poifon will be the only aptefl mean,
And fiftet for our purpofe to difpatch him.

Gray. But yet there may be doubt in their delivery,
Harry is wife, therefore, Earl of Cambridge,
I judge that way not fo convenient.

Scr. What think ye then of this ? I am his bedfellow,
And unfulpected nightly fleep with him.
What if I venture in thofe filent hours,
When fleep hath fealed up all mortal Eyes,
To murther him in bed? how like ye that ?

Cam. Herein confits no safety for your felf,
And you diſclos'd, what ſhall become of us?

But this day (as ye know) he will aboard,
The wind's fo fair, and fet away for France,
If as he goes, or entering in the ſhip
It might be done, then were it excellent.

Gray. Why any of thefe, or if you will,
Ple caufe a prefent fitting of the Council,
Wherein I will pretend fome matter of ſuch weight,
As needs muſt have his Royal Company,
And to difpatch him in his Council Chamber.

Cam. Tuſh, yet I hear not any thing to purpofe;
I wonder that Lord Cobham ſtayes to long,
His Counſel in this cafe would much avail us.

[The King steps in upon them with his Lords.

Scr. What ſhall we rife thus, and determine nothing ?
King. That were a fame indeed : no, fit again,
And you ſhall have my Counſel in this cafe :

If you can find no way to kill the King,
Then you ſhall fee how I can furniſh ye ;
Scroop's way by poifon was indifferent,
But yet being bed-fellow to the King,
And unfulpected, fleeping in his boſom,
In mine opinion that's the likeliest way.

For ſuch ſalfe Friends are able to do much,
And ſilent Night is Treafon's fiftetfriend.

Now, Cambridge in his fetting hence for France,
Or by the way, or as he goes aboard
To do the deed, that was indifferent too,
But ſomewhat doubtful.

Marry Lord Gray came very near the point,
To have the King at Council, and there murder him,
As Cefar was among his deareſt Friends.

Tell me, oh tell me, you bright honour's ſtains,
For which of all my kindneſſes to you,
Are ye become thus Traitors to your King?

And France muſt have the ſpoil of Harrie's life.
All. Oh pardon us, dread Lord.

King. How, pardon ye ? that were a Sin indeed,
Drag them to Death, which juſtly they deferve :
And France ſhall dearly buy this villany,
So ſoon as we fet footing on her breast.

God have the praife for our deliverance,
And next our thanks, Lord Cobham, is to thee,
True perfect mirrour of Nobilitie.
[Exit.]

Enter the Hoſt, Lord Cobham, and Harpool.

Hoſt. Sir, y'are welcome to this houſe, to ſuch as is here
with all my heart: but I fear your lodging will be the
worſt. I have but two beds, and they are both in a chamber,
and the Carrier and his Daughter lies in the one, and you
and your Wife muſt lye in the other.

Cob. Faith, Sir, for my ſelf I do not greatly paſ,
My Wife is weary, and would be at reſt,
For we have travel'd very far to day,

We muſt be content with ſuch as you have.

Hoſt. But I cannot tell how to do with your man.

Har. What? haſt thou never an empty Room in thy
Houſe for me?

Hoſt. Not a Bed in troth. There came a poor Irifh-man,
and I lodg'd him in the barn, where he has ſair Sraw, al-
though he have nothing elfe.

Har. Well, mine Hoſt, I prithee help me to a pair of
clan fleets, and I'le go lodge with him.

Hoſt. By the Maſs that thou haſt, a good pair of hempen
fleets were nere layn in : come.
[Exeunt.]

Enter Conſt. bl., Mayor, and Watch.

May. What? have you fearcht the Town ?

Con. All the Town, Sir, we have not left a Houſe un-
ſearcht that uſes to lodge.

May. Surely, my Lord of Rocheſter was then deciv'd,
Or ill inform'd of Sir John Oldcaſſle ;

Or if he came this way, he's paſt the Town,
He could not elfe have ſcap'd you in the fearch.

Con. The privy watch hath been abroad all night,
And not a ſtranger lodgeth in the Town
But he is known; only a luſty Prieſt

VVe found in bed with a pretty wench,

That ſayes he is his VVife, yonder at the Shears :

But we have charg'd the hoſt with his forth coming
To morrow morning.

May. What think you beſt to do?

Con. Faith, Mr. Mayor, here's a few ſtragling Houſes
beyond the Bridge, and a little Inn where Carriers uſe
to lodge, although I think ſurely he would nere lodge there :
but we'll go fearch, and the rather, becauſe there came
notice to the Town the laſt Night of an Irifh man, that had
done a murther, whom we are to make fearch for.

May. Come I pray you, and be circumſpect.

Con. Firſt beſt the houſe, before you begin to fearch.

Offi. Content, every man take a ſeveral place.

[A noife within.
Keep, keep, ſtrike him down there, down with him.

Enter Conſt able with the Irifhman in Harpool's apparel.

Con. Come you villanous Heretick, tell us where your
Mafter is.

Irifh. Vat Mefter ?

May. Vat Mefter, you conſeAITer Rebel ? This ſhall not
ferve your turn.

Irifh. Be ſent Patrick I ha no Mefter.

Con. Where's the Lord Cobham, Sir John Oldcaſſle, that
lately eſcap'd out of the Tower ?

Irifh. Vat Lort Cobham ?

May. You conſeAITer, this ſhall not ferve you, we'll tor-
ture you, we'll make you conſefs where that arch heretick
is. Come bind him ſaſt.

Irifh. Ahone, ahone, ahone, a Cree.

Con. Ahone you crafty Raſcal?

[Exeunt.]

[Lord Cobham comes out ſtealing in his gown.

Cob. Harpool, Harpool, I hear a marvellous noife about
the Houſe, God warrant us, I fear we are purſued ; what,
Harpool?

Har. within. Who calls there?

Cob. 'Tis I, doſt thou not hear a noife about the Houſe ?

Har. Yes, marry do I, 'zounds I cannot find my hoſe ?
this Irifh Raſcal that lodg'd with me all night, hath ſtolen
my apparel, and has left me nothing but a lowlie mantle,
and a pair of broags. Get up, get up, and if the Carrier and
his wench be aſſlee, change you with him as he hath done
with me, and fee if we can ſcape.

Y y y 3

Noife

The Hiftory of Sir John Oldcaftle,

258

Noife heard about the Houſe a pretty while, then enter
the Conſtable meeting Harpool in the Irifh-
man's apparel.

Con. Stand close, here comes the Irifhman that did the
murther, by all tokens this is he.

May. And perceiving the Houſe beſet, would get away:
ſtand, Sirrah.

Har. What art thou that bid'ſt me ſtand ?

Con. I am the officer, and am come to ſearch for an Irifh
man, ſuch a villain as thy ſelf, thou haſt murther'd a man
this laſt night by the high way.

Har. 'Sbloud Conſtable art thou mad ? am I an Irifh-
man ?

May. Sirrah, we'll find you an Irifh-man before we part :
Lay hold upon him.

Con. Make him faſt, O thou bloody Rogue !

Enter Lord Cobham and his Lady, in the Carrier
and Wenches apparel.

Cob. What will theſe Oſtlers ſleep all day ?

Good morrow, good morrow, com: wench, come :
Saddle, Saddle, now afore God two fair dayes, ha ?

Con. Who goes there ?

May. O 'tis Lancaſhire Carrier, let them pafs.

Cob. What, will no body ope the gates here ?

Come, let's int'ſt able to look to our Capons.

[The Carrier calling.

Hof, why Oſtler ?

Zwooks here's ſuch abomination Company of Boyes :
A pox of this Pigſty at the Houſe end,
It ſills all the Houſe full of fleas, Oſtler, Oſtler.

Oſt. Who calls there ? what would you have ?

Club. Zwooks, do you rob your gueſts ?

Do you lodge Rogues, and flaves, and ſcoundrels, ha ?

They ha' Stoln our clothes here: why Oſtler ?

Oſt. A murren choak you, what a bawling you keep.

Hof. How now ? what would the Carrier have ?

Look up there.

Oſt. They ſay the man and the woman that lay by them,
have Stolen their clothes.

Hof. What, are the ſtrange folks up yet that came in
yefter night ?

Con. What mine Hof, up ſo early ?

Hof. What Mr. Mayor, and Mr. Conſtable ?

May. We are come to ſEEK for ſome ſuſpectèd perſons,
and ſuch as here we found have apprehended.

Enter Carrier and Kate in Cobham and Ladies apparel.

Con. Who comes here ?

Club. Who comes here? A plague found ome, you
bawl quoth a,ods hat I'le forewear your houſe: you logd'
a fellow and his wife by us, that ha' run away with our par-
cel, and left us ſuch gew-gaws here, come Kate, come to
me, thowſe dizeard y'faith.

Mayer. Mine hof, know you this man ?

Hof. Yes maſter Mayors, I'le give my word for him,
why neighbour Club, how comes this gear about ?

Kate. Now a ſoule on't, I cannot make this gew-gaw
ſtand on my head.

Con. How came this man and woman thus attired ?

Hofler. Here came a man and woman hither this laſt
night, which I did take for ſubſtantial people, and logd'
all in one Chamber by theſe folks: me thinks have been ſo
bold to change apparel, and gone away this morning ere
they roſe.

Mayor. That was that Traitor Oldcaſſle that thus ſeſcapt
us: make hue and cry after him, keep ſaſt that traitorous
Rebel his ſervant there: farewel, mine Hof.

Car. Come Kate Owdham, thou and Iſe trimly dizard.

Kate. I'faith neam Club, Iſe wot nere what to do, Iſe be
ſo ſlouted and ſo ſhouted at: but by th' Mefs Iſe cry.

[Exit.]

Enter Prieſt and Doll.

Prieſt. Come Doll, come, be merry, wench.

Farewell Kent, we are not for thee.

Be luſty my Lafs, come for Lancaſhire,
We muſt nip the Boung for theſe Crowns.

Doll. Why is all the gold ſpent already, that you had
the other day.

Prieſt. Gone, Doll, gone; ſ flown, ſpent, vaniſhed, the
Devil, drink, and dice, has devoured all.

Doll. You might have left me in Kent till you had been
better provided.

Prieſt. No, Doll, no, Kent's too hot, Doll, Kent's too
hot: the weathercock of Wrotham will crow no longer, we
have pluckt him, he has loſt his Feathers, I have prun'd him
bare, left him thrice, is moulted, is moulted, wench.

Doll. I might have gone to ſervice again, old Mr. Harpool
told me he would provide me a Miftris.

Prieſt. Peace, Doll, peace; come, mad wench, I'le make
thee an honest Woman, we'll into Lancaſhire to our Friends,
the troth is, I'le marry thee, we want but a little money,
and money we will have I warrant thee: ſtay, who comes
here ? fome Irifh Villain me thinks that has ſlain a man,
and now he is rilſing on him, ſtand close, Doll, we'll ſee
the end.

Enter the Irifhman with his dead Maſter, and
rifles him.

Irifh. Alas poe Maſter, Sir Richard Lee, be S. Patrick, is
rob and cut thy trote, for de ſhain, and dy mony, and dy
gold Ring, be me truly is love de well, but now dow be kill
de, be ſhitten Kanave.

Prieſt. Stand, Sirrah, what art thou ?

Irifh. Be S. Patrick Mefter, is poor Irifhman, is a leuſter.

Prieſt. Sirrah, Sirrah, y'are a damn'd Rogue, you have
kill'd a man here, and rilſed him of all that he has: 'sbloud
you Rogue deliver, or I'le not leave you ſo much as a hair
above your ſhoulders, you Whorfon Iris Dog.

[Robs him.

Irifh. We's me S. Patrick, Iſe kill my Mefter for ſhain
and my ring, and now's be rob of all, me's undo.

Prieſt. Avant you Raſcal, go Sirrah, be walking: come
Doll, the Devil laughs when one Thief robs another:
come wench, we'll to S. Albans, and revel in our bower,
my brave girle.

Doll. O thou art old Sir John when all's done i'faith.

Enter the Hof of the Houſe with the Irifhman.

Irifh. Be me tro Maſter is poor Irifhman, is want ludging,
is have no mony, is ſtarve and cold, good Maſter give her
fome meat, is famife and tye.

Hofler. Faith fellow I have no lodging, but what I keep
for my Gueſts: as for meat, thou haſt have as much as
there is, and if thou wilt lie in the barn, there's fair ſtraw,
and Room enough.

Irifh. Is tank my Maſter hertily.

Hofler. Ho, Robin.

Robin. Who calls ?

Hofler. Shew this poor Irifhman to the barn, go Sirrah.

Enter Carrier and Kate.

Club. Who's within here ? who looks to the Horſſes?
Ulds hat, here's ſine work, the Hens in the manger, and
the Hogs in the litter, a bots found you all, here's a Houſe
well lookt to i'faith.

Kate.

the good Lord Cobham.

Kate. Mas Goff Club, life very cadw.
Club. Get in, Kate, get into the fire and warm thee.
John Oſtler ?

Host. What, Gaffer Club, welcome to S. Albans,
How do's all our friends in Lancashire ?

Club. Well, God a mercy, John, how do's Tom ? where
is he ?

Oſt. Tom's gone from hence, he's at the three Horſe-
loaves at ſtony-Stratford : how do's old Dick Dun ?

Club. Uds hat, old Dun is moyr'd in a flough in Brick-
hill lane : a plague found it, yonders such abomination
weather as was never seen.

Oſt. Uds hat Thief, have one half peck of Peafe and
Oats more for that, as I am John Oſtler, he has been ever
as good a Jade as ever travelled.

Club. Faith well faid, old Jack, thou art the old Lad still.

Oſt. Come, Gaffer Club, unload, unload, and get to
fupper.

Enter Cobham and his Lady difpenſed.

Cob. Come, Madam, happily eſcapt, here let us fit,
This place is far remote from any path,
And here a while our weary limbs may reſt
To take reſrefhing, free from the purſuit
Of envious Rochefuſer.

Lady. But where, my Lord, shall we find reſt for our
difquiet minds ?
There dwell untamed thoughts that hardly ſtoop
To ſuch abafemment of diſdained rags :
We were not want to travel thus by night,
Eſpecially on foot.

Cob. No matter, love, extremities admit no better choice:
And were it not for thee, ſay ſroward time
Impos'd a greater task, I would eſtrem it
As lightly as the wind that blows upon us,
But in thy ſufferance I am doubly taskt,
Thou waſt not want to have the earth thy ſtool,
Nor the moſt dewy graſs thy pillow, nor
Thy chamber to be the wide Horizon.

Lady. How can it ſeem a trouble, having you
A partner with me, in the worſt I feel ?
No, gentle Lord, your prefence would give caſe
To death it ſelf, should he now ſeize upon me :

[Here's Bread and Cheeſe and a Bottle.

Behold what my foreſight hath undertake
For fear we faint, they are but homely Cates,
Yet ſaw'd with hunger, they may ſeem as ſweet
As greater dainties we were want to taſte.

Cob. Praife be to him, whoſe plenty ſends both this
And all things elfe our mortal bodies need :
Nor ſcorn us this poor feeding, nor the ſlate
We now are in, for what is it on earth,
Nay under heaven, continues at a ſtay ?
Ebbs not the Sea, when it hath overflown ?
Follows not darkneſs, when the day is gone ?
And see we not ſometime the eye of heaven
Dim'd with ore-flying clouds ? There's not that work
Of careful Nature, or of cunning Art,
(How ſtroug, how beanteous, or how rich it be)
But falls in time to ruine : here, gentle Madam,
In this one draught I waſh my forrow down.

[Drinks.

Lady. And I encourag'd with your chearful ſpeech,
Will do the like.

Cob. Pray God poor Harpool come,
If he ſhould fall into the Bihops hands,
Or not remember where we bad him meet us,
It were the thing of all things elfe, that now
Could breed revolt in this new peace of mind.

Lady. Fear not, my Lord, he's witty to devife,
And ſtrong to execute a prefent ſtift.

Cob. That power be ſtill his guide hath guided us.
My drowſie eyes wax heavy; early rıſing,
Together with the travel we have had,

Makes me that I could take a nap,
Were I perſwaded we might be ſecure.

Lady. Let that depend on me, whiſt thou do ſleep.
I'll watch that no misfortune happen us.

Cob. I ſhall, dear wife, be too much trouble to thee.

Lady. Urge not that,

My duty binds me, and your love commands,

I would I had the skill with tuned voice
To draw on ſleep with ſome ſweet melody.

But imperſection and unaptneſs too

Are both repugnant : fear inferts the one,
The other Nature hath denied me ſue.

But what talk I of means, to purchase that
Is freely happen'd ? Sleep with gentle hand,

Hath flut his eye-lids : O viſtorious labour,

How ſoon thy power can charm the bodies ſenſe ?
And now thou likewife climb't unto my brain,

Making my heavy temples ſtoop to thee,
Great God of heaven from danger keep us free.

[Fall aſleep.

Enter Sir Richard Lee and his Men.

Lee. A Murther cloſely done, and in my ground ?
Search carefully, if any where it were,
This obſcure thicket is the likeliest place.

Ser. Sir, I have found the body ſtiff with cold,
And mangled cruelly with many wounds.

Lee. Look if thou know't him, turn his body up:
Alack, it is my fon, my fon and heir,
Whom two years ſince, I ſent to Ireland,
To praſtife there the diſcipline of war,
And coming home, for so he wrote to me,

Some fавage heart, ſome bloody devililſh hand,
Either in hate, or thirſling for his coin,

Hath here fluc'd out his blood. Unhappy hour,

A curſed place, but moſt inſconſtant Fate,

That had't ſreferv'd him from the bullets fire,

And ſuffered him to ſcabe the wood-kerns fury.

Did'ft here ordain the treaſure of his life,

Even here within the arms of tender peace,

To be ſonum'd by treaſons waſtul hand ?

And which is moſt afflicting to my ſoul,
That this his death and murder ſhould be brought
Without the knowledge by whoſe means 'twas done.

2 Ser. Not fo, Sir, I have found the authors of it,
See where they fit, and in their bloody filts
The fatal instruments of death and ſin.

Lee. Juit judgment of that power, whoſe gracious eye,
Loathing the fight of ſuch a heinous faſt,
Dazling their ſenſes with benumming ſleep,
Till their unhallowed treachery was known.

Awake ye monſters, murt HERERS awake,
Tremble for horror, bluſh you cannot chufe,
Beholding this unhumane deed of yours.

Cob. What mean you, Sir, to trouble weary ſouſs,
And interrupt us of our quiet ſleep?

Lee. O devililſh ! can you boaſt unto your ſelſes
Of quiet ſleep, having within your hearts

The guilt of murder waking, that which cries

Deaſs the loud thunder, and ſolicites heaven

VVith more than Mandrakes ſhreeks for your offence ?

Lady. VVhat murther ? you upbraid us wrongfully.

Lee. Can you deny the fact ? See you not here

The body of my fon by you miſdone ?

Look on his wounds, look on his purple hue :

Do we not find you where the deed was done?

VVere not your knives faſt cloſed in your hands ?

Is not this cloth an argument before,

Thus ſtain'd and ſpotted with his innocent blood?

Theſe ſpeaking characters, were there nothing elfe

To plead againſt ye, would convict you both.

To Hartford with them, where the Sizes now are kept,

Their lives ſhall anſwer for my fon ſoſt life.

Cob.

["The History of Sir John Oldcaftle,", "260", "Cob. As we are innocent, so may we speed.", "Lee. As I am wrong'd, so may the Law proceed.", "Enter Rochester, Constable of S. Albans, with Prieſt, Doll, and the Irifhman in Harpool's Apparel.", "Bifh. What intricate conſuſion have we here ?", "Not two hours ſince, we apprehended one", "In habit Irifh, but in ſpeech not ſo;", "And now you bring another, that in ſpeech is Irifh,", "But in habit English: yea, and more than ſo,", "The ſervant of that heretick Lord Cobham.", "Irifh. Fait me be no ſervant of de Lort Cobham,", "Me be Mack Chane of Ulſter.", "Bifh. Otherwife call'd Harpool of Kent, go to, Sir,\nYou cannot blind us with your broken Irifh.", "Prieſt. Truſt me, faid Bifhop, whether Irifh or English.\nHarpool or not Harpool, that I leave to the trial :", "But ſure I am, this man by ſace and ſpeech,", "Is he that murdred young Sir Richard Lee :", "I met him prefently upon the ſaſt,", "And that he ſlew his Maſter for that Gold,", "Thofe Jewels, and that Chain I took from him.", "Bifh. Well, our affairs do call us back to London,", "So that we cannot ſubſecrate the cauſe", "As we defire to do, therefore we leave", "The charge with you, to ſee they be convey'd", "To Hartford Size : both this counterfeit,", "And you, Sir John of Wrotham, and your Wench,", "For you are culpable as well as they,", "Though not for marther, yet for ſelony.", "But ſince you are the means to bring to light", "This graceleſs marther, ye ſhall bear with you", "Our Letters to the Judges of the Bench,", "To be your friends in what they lawful may.", "Prieſt. I thank your Lordship.", "Enter Gaoler, bringing forth Oldcaſtle.", "Gaol. Bring forth the Prifoners, fee the Court prepar'd,\nThe Juſtices are coming to the Bench:", "So, let him ſtand, away and fetch the reſt.", "[Exeunt.]", "Cob. O give me patience to endure this ſcourge,", "Thou that art fountain of that vertuous ſtream,", "And though contempt of witneſs, and reproach", "Hang on theſe iron gives, to preſs my life", "As low as earth, yet ſtrengthen me with faith,", "That I may mount in ſpirit above the clouds.", "Enter Gaoler, bringing in Lady Cobham and Harpool.", "Here comes my Lady, forrow 'tis for her.", "Thy wound is grievous, elſe I ſcoff at thee.", "What and poor Harpool ! art thou i'th'bryars too?", "Har. Iſaith, my Lord, I am in, get out how I can.", "Lady. Say (gentle Lord) for now we are alone,", "And may conſer, ſhall we confels in brief,", "Of whence, and what we are, and ſo prevent", "The accuſation is commenc'd againſt us?", "Cob. What will that help us ? Being known, ſweet love,", "We ſhall for hereſie be put to death,", "For ſo they term the Religion we profefs.", "No, if we dye, let this our comfort be,", "That of the guilt impos'd our ſouls are free,", "Har. I, I, my Lord, Harpool is ſo refolv'd,", "I wreak of death the ſeſs in that I dye,", "Not by the ſentence of that envious Prieſt.", "Lady. Well, be it then according as heavens please.", "Enter L. Judge, Juſtices, Mayor of S. Albans, Lord Powis and his Lady. old Sir Richard Lee: the Judge and Juſtices take their places.", "JUDG. Now, Mr. Mayor, what Gentleman is that", "You bring with you before us to the Bench ?", "May. The Lord Powis, if it like your honour,", "And this his Lady travelling toward Wales ;", "Who, for they lodg'd laſt night within my houſe,", "And my Lord Bifhop did lay wait for ſuch,", "Were very willing to come on with me,", "Left for their fakes, ſufpicion we might wrong.", "JUDG. We cry your honout mercry, good my Lord,\nWilt pleafe you take your place. Madam, your Ladiship\nMay here, or where you will repofe your ſelſ,\nUntil this buſineſs now in hand be paſt.", "La. Pow. I will withdraw into ſome other room,\nSo that your Lordship and the reſt be pleas'd.", "JUDG. With all our hearts : attend the Lady there.", "Pow. Wife, I have ey'd you pris'ners all this while,\nAnd my conceit doth tell me, 'tis our friend", "The Noble Cobham, and his virtuous Lady.", "La. Pow. I think no ſeſs, are they ſuſpeſted for this", "Pow. What it means (murther ?", "I cannot tell, but we ſhall know anon :", "Mean time as you paſs by them, ask the question,", "But do it ſecretly you be not ſeen,", "And make ſome ſign, that I may know your mind.", "[As the paſſes over the Stage by them.", "La. Pow. My Lord Cobham ? Madam ?", "Cob. No Cobham now, nor Madam, as you love us,", "But John of Lancashire, and Joan his wife.", "La. Pow. O tell, what is it that our love can do", "To pleafure you, for we are bound to you ?", "Cob. Nothing but this, that you conceal our names ;", "So, gentle Lady, paſs for being ſpied.", "La. Pow. My heart I leave, to bear part of your grief.", "[Exit.]", "JUDG. Call the Prifoners to the Bar : Sir Richard Lee,\nWhat evidence can you bring againſt the ſeople,\nTo prove them guilty of the marther done?", "Lee. This bloody Towel, and theſe naked Knives !", "Befide, we found them ſitting by the place,", "Where the dead body lay within a buſh.", "JUDG. What anſwer you why Law should not proceed\nAccording to this evidence given in,", "To tax ye with the penalty of death ?", "Cob. That we are free from murthers very thought,\nAnd know not how the Gentleman was ſlain.", "1. JUſt. How came this linen-cloth ſo bloody then ?", "L. Cob. My husband hot with travelling, my Lord,", "His noſe guilth out a bleeding, that was it.", "2. JUſt. But how came your ſharp-edg'd knives un-\nſheath'd?", "L. Cob. To cut ſuch ſimple viualt as we had.", "JUDG. Say we admit this anſwer to theſe Articles,", "What made you in ſo private a dark nook,", "So far remote from any common path,", "As was the thick where the dead corps was thrown ?", "Cob. Journing, my Lord, from London, from the Term,\nDown into Lancashire, where we do dwell ;", "And what with age, and travel being ſaint,", "We gladly fought a place where we might reſt,", "Free from reſort of other paſſengers,", "And ſo we ſtray'd into that ſecret corner.", "JUDG. Theſe are but ambages to drive off time,\nAnd linger Juſtice from her purpus'd end.", "But who are theſe ?", "Enter Conſtable with the Irifhman, Prieſt, and Doll.", {"bbox

the good Lord Cobham.

But I upon the instant met with him :
And what he purchas'd with the lofs of blond,
With strokes I prefently bereav'd him of,
Some of the which is spent, the rest remaining,
I willingly surrender to the hands
Of old Sir Richard Lee, as being his ;
Befide, my Lord Judge, I greet your honour
With Letters from my Lord of Rochefoster.

[Delivers them.

Lee. Is this the Wolf, whose thirfty throat did drink
My dear Son's bloud? art thou the Snake
He cherifht, yet with envious piercing sting
Affaide't him mortally? Wer't not that the Law
Stands ready to revenge thy cruelty,
Traytor to God, thy Mafter, and to me,
Thefe hands should be thy Executioner.

Jud. Patience, Sir Richard Lee, you shall have Justice.
The fact is odious, therefore take him hence,
And being hang'd until the wretch be dead,
His Body after shall be hang'd in Chains,
Near to the place where he did act the murther.

Irish. Prythee, Lord Shudge, let me have mine own
Cloathis, my Strouces there, and let me be hang'd in a
Wyth after my Country the Irish Fashion.

[Exit.]

Jud. Go to, away with him. And now, Sir John,
Although by you this murther came to light :
Yet upright Law will not hold you excus'd,
For you did rob the Irifh-man, by which
You fland attainted here of Felony :
Befide, you have been lewd, and many years
Led a laſcivious, unbefeeming life.

Prief. O but, my Lord, Sir John repents, and he will mend,

Jud. In hope thereof, together with the favour
My Lord of Rochefter intreats for you,
We are content you shall be proved.

Prief. I thank your good Lordship.

Jud. Thefe faifly here accus'd, and brought
In peril wrongfully, we in like fort do fet at liberty.

Lee. And for amends,

Touching the wrong unwittingly I have done,
I give these few Crowns.

Jud. Your kindneſs merits prieſe, Sir Richard Lee,
So let us hence.

[Exeunt all but L. Powis and Cobham.

Pow. But Powis ſtill muſt ſtay,
There yet remains a part of that true love
He owes his noble Friend, unſatistfe
And unperform'd, which first of all doth bind me
To gratulate your Lordſhip's ſafe delivery :
And then intreat, that ſince unlookt for thus
We here are met, your honour would vouchſaſe
To ride with me to Wales, where though my power,
(Though not to quittance ofte great benefits
I have receiv'd of you) yet both my Houſe,
My Purſe, my ſervants, and what eſle I have
Are all at your command. Deny me not,
I know the Bifhop's hate purſues ye ſo,
As there's no ſafet y in abiding here.

Cob. 'Tis true my Lord, and God forgive him
for it.

Pow. Then let us hence, you ſhall be ſtraight provided
Of Inſty Geldings: and once entred Wales,
Well may the Bifhop huaſt, but ſpight his Face,
He never more ſhall have the Game in Chace.

[Exeunt,

THE

the Widow of Watling-street.

Wid. O thou paſt-Grace thou, out of my fight, thou graceleſs Imp, thou grieſeft me more than the death of thy Father: O thou ſubborn only Son: hadſt thou ſuch an honest man to thy Father— that would deceive all the World to get riches for thee, and canſt thou not af- ford a little falſt water? He that ſo wſely did quite over- throw the right Heir of thate Lands, which now you re- ſpect not: up every morning betwixt four and five, ſo duly at Weſtinſter-Hall every Term-time, with all his Cards and Writings, for thee, thou wicked Abſalon— O dear Husband!

Edm. Weep, quotha ? I proteſt I am glad he's Church- ed; for now he's gone, I ſhall ſpend in quiet.

Frank. Dear Mother, pray ceaſe, half your tears ſuſſe, 'Tis time for you to take truce with your eyes, Let me weep now.

Wid. O ſuch a dear Knight, ſuch a ſweet Husband have I loſt, have I loſt! — if bleſſed be the Coarſe the rain rains upon, he had it, pouring down.

Sir God. Sifter, be of good cheare. We are all mortal our ſelves, I come upon you freſhly, I ne're ſpeak without comfort, hear me what I ſhall ſay,— my Brother has left you wealthy, y'are rich.

Wid. O!

Sir God. I fay y'are rich: you are alſo fair.

Wid. O!

Sir God. Go to, y'are fair, you cannot ſmother it, beauty will come to light; nor are your years so far en- ter'd with you, but that you will be ſought after, and may very well anſwer another Husband; the World is full of fine Gallants, choice enow, Sifter,— for what ſhould we do with all our Knights, I pray? but to marry rich Widows, wealthy Citizens Widows, luſty fair-brow'd Ladies; go to, be of good comfort, I fay, leave ſnob- bing and weeping,— yet my Brother was a kind-hearted man.— I would not have the Elf ſee me now,— come, pluck up a woman's heart,— here ſtand my Daughters, who be well eſtated, and at maturity will alſo be inquir'd after with good Widows, fo all theſe tears ſhall be ſoon dried up, and a better World than ever.— what, Wo- man? you muſt not weep ſtill? he's dead, he's buried— yet I cannot chufe but weep for him.

Wid. Marry again! no, let me be buried quick then! And that fame part of Queire whereon I tread

To ſuch intent, O may it be my grave:

And that the Prief may turn your wedding-prayers, Even with a breath, to Funeral duſt and almes;

O, out of a million of millions, I ſhould ne're find ſuch a Husband; he was unmatchable—unmatchable: nothing was ſo hot, nor too dear for me, I could not ſpeak of that one thing that I had not, beſide, I had keys of all, kept all, receiv'd all, had money in my purſe, ſpent what I would, went abroad when I would, came home when I would, and did all what I would: O— my ſweet Husband; I ſhall never have the like.

Sir God. Sifter? ne're ſay ſo, he was an honest Brother of mine, and ſo, and you may light upon one as honest again, or one as honest again may light upon you, that's the properer phraſe indeed.

Wid. Never: O if you love me urge it not:

O may I be the by-word of the world,
The common talk at Table in the mouth

Of every Groom and Waiter, if e're more

I entertain the carnal ſuit of man.

Moll. I muſt kneel down for ſaſhion too.

Frank. And I, whom never man as yet hath ſcal'd, E'ne in this depth of general forrow, vow Never to marry, to ſuſtain ſuch ſols;

As a dear husband ſeems to be, once dead.

Moll. I lov'd my Father well too, but to ſay, Nay vow, I would not marry for his death, Sure I ſhould ſpeak falſe Latine, ſhould I not?

I'de as ſoon vow never to come in Bed:

Tut, women muſt live by th'quick, and not by th' dead.

Wid. Dear Copy of my Husband, O let me kiff thee:

[Drawing out her Husbands Picture.

How like him is their Model; their brief Picture

Quickens my tears: my forrows are renew'd

At their freſh fight.

Sir God. Sifter—

Wid. Away,

All honesty with him is turn'd to clay,

O my ſweet Husband, O—

Frank. My dear Father? [Excuse Mother & Daughters.

Moll. Here's a puling indeed! I think my Mother weeps for all the women that ever buried husbands: for if from time to time all the Widowers tears in England had been bottled up, I do not think all would have fill'd a three- half-penny Bottle: alas, a ſmall matter bucks a Handker- chief,— and fometimes the ſpittle ſlands too nigh Saint Thomas a Watrings: well, I can mourn in good ſober fort as well as another; but where I ſpend one tear for a dead Father, I could give twenty kiffes for a quick Husband.

[Exit] Moll.

Sir God. Well, go thy ways, old Sir Godfrey, and thou may'ſt be proud on't, thou haſt a kind loving Sifter-in- law: how conſtant? how paſſionate? how full of April the poor Souls eyes are; well, I would my Brother knew on't, he ſhould then know what a kind wife he had left behind him: truth, and 'twere not for ſhame that the Neighbours at th'next Garden ſhould hear me betwixt joy and grief, I ſhould e'ne cry out-right.

[Exit] Sir Godfrey.

Edm. So, a fair riddance, my Father's laid in duſt, his Coffin and he is like a whole Meat-Pye, and the worms will cut him up ſhortly: farewell, old Dad, farewell; I'le be curb'd in no more: I perceive a Son and Heir may quickly be a Fool and he will be one, but Ple take another order; —Now ſhe would have me weep for him forfooth, and why; becauſe he cozen'd the right Heir being a Fool, and beſtow'd thate Lands on me his eldeſt Son; and therefore I muſt weep for him, ha, ha: why all the World knows, as long as 'twas his pleasure to get me, 'twas his duty to get for me: I know the Law in that point, no Atturney can gull me. Well, my Uncle is an old Aſs, and an admirable Coxcomb, I'll rule the Roast my ſelf, I'll be kept under no more, I know what I may do well enough by my Fathers Copy: The Law's in mine own hands now: nay, now I know my ſtrength, I'll be ſtrong enough for my Mother, I warrant you.

[Exit]

Enter George Py-boord a Scholar and a Citizen, and into him an old Shouldier, Peter Skirmih.

Pye. What's to be done now, old Lad of War, thou that wert want to be as hot as a Turn-ſpit, as nimble as a Fencer, and as louſie as a School-mafter; now thou art put to ſilence like a Secretary,— War fits now like a Ju- ſtice of Peace, and does nothing: where be your Mus- kets, Calivers and Hotſhots? in Long-lane, at pawn, at pawn? —Now Keys are our only Guns, Key-guns, Key-guns, and Bawds the Gunners,— who are your Sentinels in Peace, and ſtand ready charg'd to give war- ning; with hems, hums, and pocky-coughs; only your Chambers are licenſt to play upon you, and Drabs enow to give fire to 'em.

Skyr. Well, I cannot tell, but I am ſure it goes wrong with me, for ſince the cefſure of the Wars, I have ſpent above a hundred Crowns out of purſe: I have been a Sol- dier any time this forty years, and now I perceive an old Soldier, and an old Courtier have both one deftiney, and in the end turn both into Hob-nails.

Pye. Pretty myſtler for a Beggar, for indeed a Hob nail is the true Emblem of a Beggar's ſhoe-foal.

Skyr. I will not ſay but that War is a blood-fucker, and ſo; but in my confidence, (as there is no Soldier but has a piece of one, though it be full of holes like a ſhot An- cient,

264

The Puritan : Or,

cient, no matter, 'twill serve to fwear by) in my confic-
cence, I think fome kind of Peace has more hidden oppref-
tions, and violent heady fins, (though looking of a gentle
nature) than a profet war.

Pye Troth, and for mine own part, I am a poor Gen-
teman, and a Scholar, I have been matriculated in the
University, wore out fix Gowns there, feen fome Fools,
and fome Scholars, fome of the City, and fome of the
Country, kept order, went bare-headed over the Qua-
drangle, eat my Commons with a good ftomach, and
Battled with Difference; at laft, having done many
flights and tricks to maintain my wit in ufe (as my brain
would never endure me to be idle,) I was expell'd the
University, only for fealing a Cheefe out of Jefus Col-
ledge.

Skir. Is't poffible ?

Pye. O! there was one Weſtman (God forgive him)
purſued it hard, and never left, till I turn'd my ſtaff
toward London, where when I came, all my Friends were
pit-hold, gone to Graves, (as indeed there was but a few
left before) then was I turn'd to my wits, to shift in the
World, to towre among Sons and Heirs, and Fools, and
Guils, and Ladies eldeſt Sons, to work upon nothing, to
feed out of Flint, and ever ſince has my belly been much
beholden to my brain : But now to return to you, old
Skirmiſh, I fay as you fay, and for my part with a Turbu-
lency in the World, for I have nothing in the World, but
my wits, and I think they are as mad as they will be: and
to strengthen your Argument the more, I fay an honest
War is better than a bawdy Peace: as touching my pro-
fellion, the multiplicity of Scholars, hatcht, and nouriſt
in the idle Calms of Peace, makes 'em like Fifhes, one
devour another; and the Community of Learning has ſo
plaid upon affections, and thereby almost Religion is
come about to Phantafe, and difcredited by being too
much ſpoken of— in ſo many and mean mouths. I
my ſelf being a Scholar and a Graduate, have no other
comfort by my learning, but the affection of my words.
to know how Scholar-like to name what I want, and can
call my ſelf a Beggar. both in Greek and Latine, and there
fore not to cog with Peace, I'll not be afraid to ſay, 'tis
a great Breeder, but a bad Nouriſer : a great getter of
Children, which muſt either be Thieves or Rich men,
Knaves or Beggars.

Skir. Well, would I had been born a Knave then, when
I was born a Beggar; for if the truth was known, I think
I was begot when my Father had never a penny in his
purſe.

Pye. Puh, faint not, old Skirmiſh, let this warrant thee,
Faciliſis Defcensu Avermi, 'tis an eafe Journey to a Knave,
thou may'ſt be a Knave when thou wilt; and Peace is a
good Madam to all other proſeffions, and an arrant Drab
to us, let us handle her accordingly, and by our wits
thrive in deſpight of her; for the Law lives by quarrels,
the Courſier by ſmooth good-morrows, and every pro-
fellion makes it ſelf greater by imperfections, why not we
then by shifts, wiles, and forgeries? And feeing our brains
are the only Patrimonies, let's ſpend with judgment, not
like a delerate Son and Heir, but like a ſober and dif-
creet Templer,— one that will never march beyond the
bounds of his allowance, and for our thriving means, thus,
I my ſelf will put on the Deceit of a Fortune-teller, a For-
tune-teller.

Skirm. Very proper.

Pye. And you a Figure-cafter, or a Conjurer.

Skir. A Conjurer ?

Pye. Let me alone, I'll inſtruct you, and teach you to
deceive all eyes, but the Devils.

Skir. O I, for I would not deceive him, and I could
chufe, of all others.

Pye. Fear not, I warrant you; and fo by theſe means
we shall help one another to Patients, as the condition of
the age affords creatures enow for cunning to work up-
on.

Skir. O wondrous, new Fools and fresh Alles.

Pye. O, fit, fit, excellent.

Skir. What in the name of Conjuring ?

Pye-boord. My memory greets me happily with an ad-
mirable ſubject to graze upon. The Lady-Widow, who
of late I law weeping in her Garden, for the death of her
Husband, ſure he's but a wattriſh Soul, and half on't by
this time is dropt out of her eyes: device well manag'd
may do good upon her: it ſtands firm, my firſt practice
hall be there.

Skir. You have my voice, George.

Pye-boord. Sh'as a grey Gull to her Brother, a Fool to her only Son, and an Ape to her youngeſt Daughter; ... I over-heard 'em feverally, and from their words I'll drive my device; and thou, old Peter Skirmiſh, ſhalt be my ſe cond in all flights.

Skir. Ne're doubt me, George Pye-boord, ... only you
muſt teach me to conjure.

Enter Captain Idle pinion'd, and with a Guard of
Officers paffeth over the Stage.

Pye. Puh, I'll perfect thee, Peter :
How now ! what's he ?

Skir. O George! this fight kills me,
'Tis my fworn Brother, Captain Idle.

Pye. Captain Idle.

Skir. Apprehended for fome ſellonious act or other, he
has ſtarted out, has made a Night on't, lackt filver; I can
not but commend his refolution, he would not paw his
Bull-Jerkin, I would either ſome of us were iſploy'd, or
might pitch our Tents at Uſurpers doors, to kill the flaves
as they peep out at the wicket.

Pye. Indeed thofe are our ancient Enemies; they keep
our money in their hands, and make us to be hang'd for
robbing of 'em; but come let's follow after to the Pri-
ſon, and know the nature of his offence, and what we
can ſtead him in, he ſhall be ſure of; and I'll uphold it
ſtil, that a charitable Knave is better than a footihing
Puritan.

[Exequit.]

Enter at one door Corporal Oath, a vain-glorious Fellow, and at the other three of the Widow Puritans Serving-men, Nicholas Saint-Tantlings, Simon Saint Mary-Overies, and Frailty in black ſeurvy mourning Coatt, and Books at their Girdles, as coming from Church. They meet.

Nich. What Corporal Oath ? I am ſorry we have met
with you next our hearts; you are the man that we are
forbidden to keep company withal, we muſt not ſwear I
can tell you, and you have the name for ſwearing.

Sim. I, Corporal Oath, I would you would do ſo much
as forſake us, we cannot abide you, we muſt not be ſeen in
your company.

Frail. There is none of us, I can tell you, but ſhall be
foundly whipt for ſwearing.

Corp. Why how now ? we three ? Puritanical Scrape
hooces, Fleſh a good Fridays; a hand.

All. Oh.

Corp. Why Nicholas Saint-Tantlings, Simon Saint Mary-
Overies, has the De'il poffeſt you, that you ſwear no bet-
ter, you half-Chriſtened Katomites, you ungod-mother'd
Varlets, do's the firſt ſeffon teach you to be proud, and
the ſecon'd to be Coxcombs; proud Coxcombs; not once
to do duty to a man of Mark.

Frail. A man of Mark, quotha, I do not think he can
ſlew a Beggars Noble.

Corp. A Corporal, a Commander, one of Spirit, that
is able to blow you up all dry with your Books at your
Girdles.

Simon. We are not taught to believe that, Sir, for we
know the breath of man is weak.

[Corporal breathes on Frailty.

Frail. Foh, you lye, Nicholas; for here's one ſtrong
enough;

the Widow of Watling-street.

265

enough; blow us up, quotha, he may well blow me above
twelve score off on him: I warrant, if the wind fiood
right, a man might finell him from the top of Newgate,
to the Leads of Ludgate.

Corp. Sirrah, thou hollow book of Wax-candle.

Nich. I, yon may fay what you will, so you fwear not.

Corp. I wear by the—

Nich. Hold, hold, good Corporal Oath; for if you fwear
once, we fhall fall down in a fwoon prefently.

Corp. I muft and will fwear: you quivering Coxcombſons,
my Captain is imprifoned, and by Vulcan's Leather Cod-
piece point—

Nich. O Simon, what an oath was there ?

Frail. If he fhoufd be to break it, the poor man's
Breeches would fall down about his heels, for Venus allows
but one point to his hoſe.

Corp. With theſe, my Bully-Fleet, I will thump ope the
Prifon doors, and brain the Keeper with the begging-Box,
but I'll fet my honſe ſweet Captain Idle at libertiy.

Nich. How, Captain Idle? my old Aunts Son, my dear
Kinfman in Cappadochio.

Corp. I, thon Church-peeling, thon Holy-paring, Reli-
gious outside thou; if thou had'ſt any grace in thee, thou
would'ſt viſit him, relieve him, ſwear to get him out.

Nich. Affure you, Corporal, indeed-la, 'tis the firſt time
I heard on't.

Corp. Why do't now then, Marmaſet; bring forth thy
yearly wages, let not a Commander perith ?

Sim. But if he be one of the wicked, he ſhall perith.

Nich. Well, Corporal, I'll e'en along with you, to viſit
my Kinfman, if I can do him any good, I will, — but I
have nothing for him, Simon Saint Mary-Overies and Frail-
ty, pray make a Lye for me to the Knight my Maſter, old
Sir Godfrey.

Corp. A Lye? may you lye then ?

Frail. O I, we may lye, but we muſt not ſwear.

Sim. True, we may lie with our Neighbour's wife, but
we muſt not ſwear we did to.

Corp. O, an excellent Tag of Religion.

Nich. O, Simon, I have thought upon a found excufe,
it will go curnant, ſay that I am gon to a Faſt.

Sim. To a Faſt? very good.

Nich. I, to a Faſt, ſay, with Maſter Full-belly the Mini
fter.

Sim. Maſter Full-belly? an honſe man: he feeds the
flock well, for he's an excellent Feeder.

[Exeunt Corporal and Nicholas.

Frail. O I, I have feen him eat a whole Pig, and after-
wards fall to the Pettitoes. [Exeunt Simon and Frailty.

The Prifon, Marſhſaſſe.

Enter Captain Idle at one door, and an old Souldier
at the other.

[George Pye-boord ſpeaking within.

Pye. Pray turn the Key.

Skir. Turn the Key, I pray.

Capt. Who ſhould thofe be, I almoſt know their voices ?
O my Friends! [Entring.

Y'are welcome to a ſmelling Room here; you newly took
leave of the Air, is't not a ſtrange favour ?

Pye. As all Pritons have ſmells of fundry Wretches;
Who, though departed, leave their ſeents behind 'em.
By Gold, Captain, I am ſincerely forry for thee.

Capt. By my troth, George, I thank thee; but, pifh—
what muſt be, muſt be.

Skir. Captain, what do you lie in for ? is't great ? what's
your offence?

Capt. Faith, my offence is ordinary,—common, and
a High-way, and I fear me my penalty will be ordinary and
common too, a Halter.

Pye. Nay, propheſie not ſo ill, it ſhall go hard,
But I'll ſhift for thy life.

Capt. Whether I live or dye, thon't an honſe George.
I'll tell you— Silver flow'd not with me, as it had done,
(for now the Tide runs to Bawds and Flatterers) I had a
ſtart out, and by chance fet upon a fat Steward, thinking
his purſe had been as purſe as his body; and the flave
had about him but the poor purchase of ten groats: not-
withſtanding being defcryed, purſued, and taken, I know
the Law is ſo grim, in reſpect of many desperate, un-
ſetled Souldiers, that I fear me I ſhall dance after their
pipe for't.

Skir. I am twice ſorry for you, Captain; firſt, that
your purchase was ſo ſmall, and now that your danger is
ſo great.

Capt. Pufh, the worſt is but death,— ha? you a pipe of
Tobacco about you ?

Skir. I think I have thereabouts about me.

[Captain blows a Pipe.

Capt. Here's a clean Gentleman too, to receive.

Pye. Well, I muſt caſt about ſome happy flight:

Work brain, that ever did'ſt thy Maſter right.

Capt. Keeper, let the key be turn'd.

[Corporal and Nicholas within.

Nich. I, I, pray, Maſter Keeper, give's a caſt of your
Office.

Capt. How now? more Vifitants? ——what, Corporal Oath?

Pye. Skir. Corporal.

Capt. In prifon, honſe Captain? this muſt not be,

Nich. How do you, Captain Kinfman?

Capt. Good Coxcomb, what makes that pure—ſtarcht
Fool here?

Nich. You ſee, Kinfman, I am ſomewhat bold to call
in, and ſee how you do; I heard you were ſafe enough,
and I was very glad on't, that it was no worſe.

Capt. This is a double torture now,— this Fool by th'
book doth vex me more than my imprifonment. What
meant you, Corporal, to hook him hither?

Capt. Who, he? he ſhall relieve thee, and ſupply thee,
I'll make him do't.

Capt. Fy, what vain breath you ſpend:

He fuppity? I'll ſooner expect mercy from an Uſurer when
my Bond's forfeited, ſooner kindneſs from a Lawyer when
my money's ſpent: nay, ſooner charity from the Devil,
than good from a Puritan. I'll look for relief from him,
when Lucifer is reſtor'd to his blood, and in Heaven a
gain.

Nich. I warrant my Kinfman's talking of me, for my
left ear burns moſt tyrannically.

Pye. Captain Idle? what's he there? he looks like a
Monkey upward, and a Crane downward.

Capt. Pſhaw; a ſooliſh Couſin of mine: I muſt thank
God for him.

Pye. Why, the better ſubject to work a ſcape upon;
thou ſhalt e'en change cloaths with him, and leave him
here, and ſo—

Capt. Pufh, I publifh him e'en now to my Corporal,
he will be damn'd e're he do me ſo much good; why, I
know a more proper, a more handſom device than that,
if the flave would be ſociable,— now Goodman Flster-
face?

Nich. O, my Couſin begins to ſpeak to me now, I ſhall
be acquainted with him again, I hope.

Skir. Look! what ridiculous Raptures take hold of his
wrinkles.

Pye. Then what ſay you to this device, a happy one
Captain?

Capt. Speak low, George; Prifon Rats have wider ears
than thofe in Malt-lofts.

Nich. Couſin, if it lay in my power, as they ſay, —
to—do—

Capt. 'I would do me an exceeding pleasure indeed,
that; ne're talk furder on't, the Fool will be hang'd e're
he do't.

Capt. Pox, I'll thump 'im to't.

Z Z Z

Pye. Why

The Puritan: Or,

Pye. Why, do but try the Fopster, and break it to him bluntly.

Cap. And so my diftgrace will dwell in his Jaws, and the Slave flavor out our purpoſe to his Maſter, for would I were but as ſure on't, as I am ſure he will deny to do't.

Nic. I would be heartily glad, Couſin, if any of my Friendſhips, as they ſay, might—ſtand, ha—

Pye. Why, you ſee he offers his Friendſhip Fooliſhly to you already.

Cap. I, that's the Hell on't, I would he would offer it wifely.

Nic. Verily, and indeed la, Couſin—

Cap. I have took note of thy ſeers a good while, if thou art minded to do me good ? as thou gapſt upon me comfortably, and givſt me Charitable ſaces ; which indeed is but a fashion in you all that are Puritans, wilt ſoon at night ſteal me thy Maſter's Chain ?

Nic. Oh, I ſhall ſowne !

Pye. Corporal, he ſtarts already !

Cap. I know it to be worth three hundred Crowns, and with the half of that, I can buy my life at a Brokers, at ſecon'd hand, which now lies in pawn to the Law, if this thon ſeufe to do, being eafe and nothing dangerous, in that thou art held in good Opinion of thy Maſter; why 'tis a palpable Argument thou holdſt my life at no price, and theſe thy broken and unjoyn'ted offers, are but only created in thy lip, now Born, and now buried, fooliſh breath only: what, wouſt do't ? ſhall I look for happineſs in thy anſwer ?

Nicb. Steal my Maſter's Chain, quoth he? no, it ſhall nere be ſaid, that Nicholas Saint Tantings committed Bird-lime !

Cap. Nay, I told you as much, did I not ? though he be a Puritan, yet he will be a true man.

Nic. Why Couſin, you know 'tis written, Thou ſhalt not ſteal.

Cap. Why, and Fool, Thou ſhalt love thy Neighbour, and help him in extremities.

Nic. Mafs I think it be indeed; in what Chapter's that, Couſin ?

Cap. Why in the first of Charity, the ſecon'd verſe.

Nic. The first of Charity, quoth a, that's a good ſelf, there's no ſuch Chapter in my Book !

Cap. No, I know 'twas torn out of thy Book, and that makes ſo little in thy heart.

Pye. Come, let me tell you, y'are too unkind a Kinfman i'faith; the Captain loving you ſo dearly, I, like the Pomwater of his Eye, and you to be ſo uncomfortable, ſie, ſie.

Nic. Pray do not with me to be hang'd, any thing eſſe that I can do; had it been to rob, I would ha' don't, but I muſt not Steal, that's the word, the literal, Thou ſhalt not Steal; and would you with me to Steal then ?

Pye. No Faith, that were too much, to ſpeak truth; why wilt thou Nim it from him ?

Nic. That I will.

Pye. Why enough, Bully; he will be content with that, or he ſhall ha' none; let me alone with him now, Cap-
tain, I ha' dealt with your Kinfman in a corner; a good—kind-natur'd ſellow, methinks: go to, you ſhall not have all your own asking, you ſhall bate ſomewhat on't, he is not contented abſolutely, as you would ſay, to Steal the Chain from him, but to do yon a pleafure, he will nim it from him.

Nic. I, that I will, Couſin,

Cap. Well, ſeeing he will do no more, as far as I fee, I muſt be contented with that.

Cap. Here's no notable gullry ?

Pye. Nay, I'le come nearer to you, Gentleman, becauſe we'll have only but a help and a mirth on't, the Knight ſhall not lоſe his Chain neither, but be only laid out of the way ſome one or two dayes.

Nic. I, that would be good indeed, Kinfman.

Pye. For I have a farder reach, to profit us better, by

the miſſing on't only, than if we had it out-right, as my diſcourſe ſhall make it known to you;—when thou haſt the Chain, do but convey it out at a back-door into the Garden, and there hang it cloſe in the Roſemary Bank, but for a ſmall ſeafon; and by that harmleſs device, I know how to wind Captain Idle out of Prifon, the Knight thy Maſter ſhall get his pardon, and releaſe him, and he fatiſe thy Maſter with his own Chain, and wondrous thanks on both hands.

Nic. That were rare indeed la,

Pray let me know how,

Pye. Nay, 'tis very necessary thou ſhould'ſt know, becauſe thou muſt be employ'd as an Actor ?

Nic. An Actor? O no, that's a Player ? and our Par-
fon rails againſt Players mightily. I can tell you, becauſe
they brought him drunk upo'th' Stage once,— as he will
be horribly drunk.

Cor. Mafs I cannot blame him then,

Poor Church ſpout.

Pye. Why as an Intermedler then ?

Nic. I, that, that.

Pye. Give me audience then; when the old Knight thy Maſter has rag'd his fill for the loſs of the Chain, tell him thou haſt a Kinfman in Prifon, of ſuch exquifite Art, that the Devil himſelf is French Lackey to him, and runs bare headed by his Horſe— belly (when he has one:) whom he will cauſe, with moſt trſib dexter-
ty, to fetch his Chain, though 'twere hid under a Mine of Sea-coal, and ne're make Spade or Pickaxe his inſtruments; tell him but this, with farther inſtructions thou ſhalt receive from me, and thou ſnewſt thy ſelf a Kinfman indeed.

Cor. A dainty Bully,

Skir. An honest—Book-keeper.

Cap. And my three times thrice honey-Couſin.

Nic. Nay, grace of God I'll rob him on't suddenly, and hang it in the Roſemary bank, but I bear that mind, Couſin, I would not Steal any thing, methinks, for mine own Father.

Skir. He bears a good mind in that, Captain.

Pye. Why, well ſaid,

He begins to be an honest Fellow, faith.

Cor. In truth he does.

Nic. You fee, Couſin, I am willing to do you any kind-
neſs, alwayse saving my ſelf; harmleſs.

[Exit] Nicholas.

Captain. Why I thank thee, fare thee well, I ſhall re-
quite it.

Cor. 'Twill be good for thee, Captain, that thou haſt
fuch an egregious Aſs to thy Couſin.

Cap. I, is not that a fine fool, Corporal?
But, George, thou talk'ſt of Art and Conjuring,
How ſhall that be ?

Pye. Pub, be't not in your care,
Leave that to me and my directions;
Well, Captain, doubt not thy delivery now,
E'en with the vantage, man, to gain by Prifon,
As my thoughts prompt me: Hold on brain and plot,
I aim at many cunning far events,
All which I doubt not to hit at length,
I'll to the Widow with a quaint affaült,
Captain, be merry.

Cap. Who I? Kerry merry Buffet Jerkin.

Pye. Oh, I am happy in more flights, and one will knit
ſtrong in another—Corporal Oath.

Cor. Hoh, Bully !

Pye, And thou, old Peter Skirmiſh, I have a neceſſary task for you both.

Skir. Lay't upon George Pye-board.

Cap. What e're it be, we'll manage it.

Pye. I would have you two maintain a quarrel before the
Lady Widows door, and draw your Swords i'th' edge of
the Evening: Clath a little, clath, clath.

Corp. Fuh !

Let

the Widow of Watling-street.

Let us alone to make our blades ring noon,
Though it be after supper.

Pye. I know you can;

And out of that falle Fire, I doubt not but to raife strange
belief—and, Captain, to countenance my device the better,
and grace my words to the Widow, I have a good
plain Sattn Sute, that I had of a young Reveller'th other
night, for words paſs not regarded now 2-days, unleſs they
come from a good ſuit of Cloaths, which the Fates and my
wits had beſtowed upon me. Well, Captain Idle, if I
did not highly love thee, I would n't be ſeen within
twelve ſcore of a Prifon, for I proteſt at this inflant, I
walk in great danger of ſmall debts; I owe money to ſe-
veral Hoftefſes, and you know ſuch Jills will quickly be
upon a Mans Jack.

Capt. True, George.

Pye. Fare thee well, Captain. Come Corporal and
Ancient, thou ſhalt hear more news next time we greet
thee.

Corp. More news? I, by yon Bear at Bridge Foot in
heaven ſhalt thou.

Capt. Enough; my friends, farewell,

This Prifon ſhews as if Ghoſts did part in Hell.

Enter Moll youngeſt Daughter to the Widow, alone.

Moll. Not marry ? forſwear marriage ? why all wo-
men know 'tis as honourable a thing as to lie with a man;
and I to ſpight my Suſitors vow the more, have entertain'd
a Suitor already, a fine Gallant Knight of the laſt Fea-
ther, he ſays he will Coach me too, and well appoint me,
allow me money to Dice withal, and many ſuch pleasing
proteſtations he flicks upon my lips : indeed his ſhort-
winded Father i'th' Country is wondrous wealthy, a moſt
abominable Farmer, and therefore he may dote in time:
troth I'll venture upon him; women are not without ways
enough to help themſelves : if he prove wife and good
as his word, why I ſhall love him, and uſe him kindly;
and if he prove an Aſs, why in a quarter of an hours
warning I can transform him into an Oxe;— there comes
in my relief again.

Enter Frailty.

Frail. O, Miftreſs Moll, Miftreſs Moll.

Moll. How now? what's the news?

Frail. The Knight your Suitor, Sir John Penny-Dub.

Moll. Sir John Penny-Dub ? where ? where ?

Frail. He's walking in the Gallery.

Moll. Has my Mother ſeen him yet ?

Frail. O no, he's— ſpitting in the Kitchin.

Moll. Direct him hither ſoſtly, good Frailty,
I'll meet him half way.

Frail. That's juſt like running a Tilt; but I hope he'll
break nothing this time.

Enter Sir John Penny-Dub.

Moll. 'Tis happineſs my Mother ſaw him not?

O welcome, good Sir John.

Penny-Dub. I thank you, faith,— Nay you muſt ſtand me
till I kifs you: 'tis the ſaſhion every where i'faith, and
I came from Court e now.

Moll. Nay, the Fates ſoreſend that I should anger the
ſaſhion ?

Penny. Then not forgetting the ſweet of new ceremo-
nies, I firſt fall back, then recovering my ſelf, make my
honour to your lip this: and then accoſt it.

Moll. Truſt me, very pretty and moving, y'are wor-
thy on't, fir.

O my Mother, my Mother, now he's here,

Kiffing. Enter Widow and Sir Godfrey.

We'll ſeal into the Gallery.

Sir God. Nay, Sifter, let reaſon rule you, do not
play the fool, ſtand not in your own light, you have
wealthy offers, large tendrings, do not withſtand your
good fortune: who comes a wooing to you I pray ? no
ſmall fool, a rich Knight o'th' City, Sir Oliver Muck-hill,
no ſmall foo I can tell you: and furthermore, as I heard late
by your Maid ſervants (as your Maid ſervants will ſay
to me any thing, I think 'em) both your Daughters are
not without Suitors, 1, and worthy ones too; one a brisk
Courtier, Sir Andrew Tipſtaſſe, ſifter a far off to your
eldeſt Daughter, and the third a huge wealthy Farmers
Son, a fine young Country Knight, they call him Sir
John Penny-Dub, a good name marry, he may have it
coy'n'd when he lacks money: what bleſſings are theſe,
Sifter ?

Wid. Tempt me not, Satan.

Sir God. Satan ? do I look like Satan ? I hope the
Devil's not ſo old as I, I trow.

Wid. You wound my ſenſes, Brother, when you name
A ſuitor to me,--oh I cannot abide it,
I take in poyſon when I hear one nam'd.

Enter Simon.

How now, Simon ? where's my ſon Edmond?

Sim. Verily, Madam, he is at vain Exercife, dripping
in the Tennis Court.

Wid. At Tennis-Court ? oh, now his Father's gone,
I ſhall have no rule with him; oh wicked Edmond, I
might well compare this with the Propheſis in the Chron-
nicle, though far inferiour, as Harry of Monmouth won
all, and Harry of Windsor loſt all; fo Edmond of Briſlow
that was the Father, got all, and Edmond of London that's
his ſon now, will I ſpend all.

Sir God. Peace, Sifter, we'll have him reform'd, there's
hope on him yet, though it be but a little.

Enter Frailty.

Frail. Forfooth, Madam; there are two or three Ar-
chers at door would very gladly ſpeak with your Ladi-
ſhip.

Wid. Archers ?

Sir God. Your Husband's Fletcher I warrant.

Wid. Oh,

Let them come near, they bring home things of his,
Troth I ſhould ha' forgot 'em, how now?

Villain, which be theſe Archers ?

Enter the Suitors, Sir Andrew Tipſtaſſe, Sir Oliver
Muck-hill, and Penny Dub.

Frail. Why, do you not fee 'em before you ? are not
theſe Archers, what do you call 'em Shooters ? Shooters
and Archers are all one, I hope.

Wid. Out ignorant Slave.

Muck. Nay, pray be patient Lady,
We come in way of honourable love.

Tipſt. Penny. We do.

Muck. To you.

Tipſt. Penny. And to your Daughters.

Wid. O why will you offer me this, Gentlemen? indeed
I will not look upon you; when the tears are ſcare out of
mine Eyes, not yet waſt off from my cheeks, and my dear
Husbands body ſcare fo cold as the Coffin, what reaſon
have you to offer it? I am not like ſome of your Widows
that will bury one in the Evening, and be ſure to another
eren Morning; pray away, pray take your anſwers, good
Knights, and you be fweet Knights, I have vow'd never to
marry; — and fo have my Daughters too !

ZZZ 2

Penny.

The Puritan: Or,

268

Penny. I, two of you have, but the third's a good wench!

Muck. Lady, a shrewd anfwer marry; the beſt is, 'tis but the firſt, and he's a blunt wooer, that will leave for one ſhrapp anſwer.

Tipſt. Where be your Daughters, Lady, I hope they'll give us better encouragements?

Widow. Indeed they'll anſwer you ſo, take't a my word they'll give you the very ſame anſwer Verbatim, truly la.

Penny. Mum: Moll's a good wench ſtill, I know what he'll do?

Muck. Well, Lady, for this time we'll take our leaves hoping for better comfort.

Widow. O never, never: and I live theſe thouſand years; and you be good Knights, do not hope; 'twill be all Vain, Vain, look you put off all yours ſuits, and you come to me again.

Erail. Put off all their ſuits, quotha? I, that's the beſt wooing of a Widow indeed, when a man's Nonſuted, that is, when he's a bed of her.

[Going out Muckhil and Sir Godfrey.

Muck. Sir Godfrey, here's twenty Angels more, work hard for me; there's life in't yet.

[Exit Muckhil.]
Sir Godf. Fear not Sir Oliver Muckhil, I'll stick close for you, leave all with me.

Enter George Pye. boord the Scholar.

Pye. By your leave, Lady Widow.

Wid. What another ſuiter now?

Pye. A ſuiter, no, I proteſt: Lady, if you'd give me your ſelf, I'd not be troubled with you.

Wid. Say you ſo, Sir, then you're the better welcome, Sir.

Pye. Nay, Heaven bleſs me from a Widow, unleſs I were ſure to bury her ſpecidly !

Wid. Good bluntnefs: well, your buſineſs, Sir?

Pye. Very needful; if you were in private once.

Wid. Needful? Brother, pray leave us: and you, Sir.

Frail. I ſhould laugh now, if this blunt ſellow ſhould put 'em all beſide the ſirrop, and vault into the Saddle himſelf, I have ſeen as mad a trick.

[Exit Frailty.

Enter Daughters.

Wid. Now, Sir? — here's none but we — Daughters forbear.

Pye. O no, pray let'em ſtay, for what I have to ſpeak importeth equally to them as you?

Wid. Then you may ſtay.

Pye. I pray beſtow on me a ſerious ear,

For what I ſpeak is full of weight and fear.

Widow. Fear?

Pye. I, if't pafs unregarded, and uneffeſted,

Elſe peace and joy: — I pray Attention.

Widow, I have been a meer ſtranger for theſe parts that you live in, nor did I ever know the Husband of you, and Father of them, but I truly know by certain ſpiritual Imſtelligence, that he is in Purgatory.

Wid. Purgatory? tuh; that word deferves to be ſpit upon; I wonder that a man of ſober tongue, as you ſeem to be, ſhould have the folly to believe there's ſuch a place.

Pye. Well, Lady, in cold blood I ſpeak it, I aſſure you that there is a Purgatory, in which place I know your Husband to recide, and wherein he is like to remain, till the diſſolution of the world, till the laſt general Bon-fire: when all the Earth ſhall melt into nothing, and the Seas ſcald their finny labourers: ſo long is his abidance, unleſs you alter the property of your purpofe, together with each of your Daughters theirs, that is, the purpofe of ſingle life in your ſelf and your eldeſt Daughter, and the ſpeedy determination of marriage in your youngeſt.

Moll. How knows he that? what, has ſome Devil told him?

Wid. Strange he ſhould know our thoughts: —

VVhy but Daughter, have you purpós'd ſpeedy Marriage?

Pye. You fee the tells you I, the ſayes nothing.

Nay, give me credit as you pleafe, I am a ſtranger to you, and yet you fee I know your determinations, which muſt come to me metaphyſically, and by a ſuper-natural intelligence.

Wid. This puts amazement on me.

Frank. Know our ſecrets?

Moll. I'de thought to ſleal a marriage, would his tongue Had dropt out when he blab'd it.

Wid. But, Sir, my Husband was too hones ſe a dealing man, to be now in any Purgatories —

Pye. O do not load your Conſcience with untruths, 'Tis but meer folly now to gild'em ore:

That has paſt but for Copper; Praſes here,

Cannot unbind him there: confes but truth,

I know he got hiswealth with a hard gripe:

Oh hardly, hardly.

Wid. This is moſt ſtrange of all, how knows he that?

Pye. He would eat fools and ignorant heirs clean up;

And had his drink from many a poor mans brow,
Even as their labour brew'd it.

He would ſcrape riches to him moſt unjuſtly;

The very dirt between his nails was ill got,

And not his own, — oh

I groan to ſpeak on't, the thought makes me ſhudder! —
ſhudder!

Wid. It quakes me too, now I think on't — Sir, I am much griev'd, that you a ſtranger, ſhould ſo deeply wrong my dead Husband !

Pye. boord. Oh?

Wid. A man that would keep Church ſo duly; rife early before his ſervants, and e'en for Religious haſt, go ungarter'd, unbutton'd, nay Sir Reverence untrut, to Morning Prayer?

Pye. Oh uſ.

Wid. Dine quickly upon high-days, and when I had great gueſts, would e'en ſhame me, and rife from the Table, to get a good feat at an after-noon Sermon.

Pye. There's the Devil, there's the devil, true, he thought it Saſtity enough, if he had kill'd a man, ſo'tad been done in a Pue, or undone his Neighbour, ſo'tad been near enough to th' Preacher. Oh! — a Sermon's a fine ſhort Cloak of an hour long, and will hide the upper part of a diſſem-bler. — Church, I, he ſeem'd all Church, and his conſcience was as hard as the Pulpit.

Wid. I can no more endure this.

Pye. Nor I, VVidow,

Endure to flatter.

Wid. Is this all your buſineſs with me?

Pye. No, Lady, 'tis but the induſtion to't,

You may believe my ſtrains, I ſtrike all true.

And if your conſcience would leap up to your tongue, your ſelf would aſſirm it, and that you ſhall perceive I know of things to come, as well as I do of what is prefent; a Brother of your Husband's ſhall ſhortly have a loſs.

Wid. A loſs? marry Heaven foreſend, Sir Godfry, my Brother !

Pye. Nay, keep in your wonders, 'till I have told you the Fortunes of you all; which are more ſeaful, if not happily prevented, — for your part and your Daughters, if there be not once this day ſome blood-fled before your door, whereof the humane creature dyes, of you two the elder ſhall run mad.

Mother and Frank. Oh !

Moll. That's not I yet.

Pye. And with moſt impudent profitution, ſhow your naked Bodies to the view of all beholders.

Pye. Our naked Bodies? ſie for ſhame.

Pye. Attend me, and your younger Daughter be ſtrucken dumb.

Moll.

the Widow of Watling-street.

269

Moll. Dumb? out, alas; 'tis the worst pain of all for a Woman, I'd rather be mad, or run naked, or any thing: dumb?

Pye. Give ear: ere the evening fall upon Hill, Bog, and Meadow, this my speech shall have paft probation, and then shall I be believed accordingly.

Wid. If this be true, we are all that am'd, all undone.

Moll. Dumb? I'll speak as much as ever I can poffible before evening.

Pye. But if it so come to paſs (as for your fair fakes I will it may) that this preſage of your ſtrange Fortunes be prevented by that accident of death and blood-fedding, which I before told you of; take heed upon your lives, that two of you which have vow'd never to marry, ſeeke out Husbands with all prefent ſpeed, and you the third, that have fuch a defire to outſtrip Chaflity, look you meddle not with a Husband.

Moll. A double Torment.

Pye. The breach of this keeps your Father in Purgatory, and the puniſhments that shall follow you in this World, would with horrour kill the car ſhould hear 'em related.

Wid. Marry ? why I vow'd never to marry.

Frank. And fo did I.

Moll. And I vow'd never to be ſuch an Aſs, but to marry: what a croſs Fortune's this?

Pye. Ladies, though I be a Fortune-teller, I cannot better Fortunes, you have 'em from me as they are revealed to me: I would they were to your tempers, and fellows with your bloods, that's all the bitterneſs I would you.

Wid. O ! 'tis a juſt vengeance, for my Husband's hard purchases.

Pye. I wifh you to bethink your ſelves, and leave 'em.

Wid. I'll be Sir Godfrey my Brother, and acquaint him with thefe ſafary prefages.

Frank. For, Mother, they portend loſſes to him.

Wid. O I, they do, they do;

If any happy ſiſure crown thy words,

I will reward thy cunning.

Pye. 'Tis enough, Lady,

I wifh no higher.

[Exit.]

Moll. Dumb ? and not marry ? worſe,

Neither to ſpeak, nor kifs, a double curſe.

[Exit.]

Pye. So, all this comes well about yet, I play the Fortune-teller, as well as if I had had a Witch to my Gran nam: for by good happineſs, being in my Hoffeſſes Garden, which neighbours the Orchard of the Widow, I laid the hole of mine car to a hole in the Wall, and heard 'em make theſe Vows, and ſpeak theſe words, upon which I wrought theſe advantages; and to encourage my forgery the more, I may now perceive in 'em a natural ſimplicity which will eafily fwallow an abufe, if any covering be over it: and to confirm my former preſage to the Wi dow, I have advis'd old Peter Skirmiſh the Souldier, to hurt Corporal Oath upon the Leg, and in that hurry I'll ruſh amongst 'em, and inſtead of giving the Corporal ſome Cordial to comfort him, I'll pour into his mouth a Potion of a ſleepy Nature, and make him ſeem as dead; for the which the old Souldier being apprehended, and ready to be born to Execution, I'll ſſep in, and take upon me the Cure of the dead man, upon pain of dying the condemned's death: the Corporal will wake at his minute, when the ſleepy force hath wrought it ſelf, and ſo shall I get my ſelf into a moſt admired opinion, and under the pretext of that cunning, beguile as I fee occaſion: and if that fooliſh Nicholas Saint Tamlings keep true time with the Chain, my Plot will be found, the Captain delivered, and my Wits applauded amongst Scholars and Souldiers for ever.

[Exit Pye-boord.]

Enter Nicholas Saint Tantlings, with the Chain.

Nich. O, I have found an excellent advantage to take

away the Chain, my Maſter put it off e'en now, to ſay on a new Doublet, and I ſneak it away by little and little, moſt Puritanically ! we haſt have good ſport anon when he has mift it, about my Couſin the Conjurer; the world shall fee I'm an honest man of my word, for now I'm going to hang it betwecu Heaven and Earth among the Rosemary-branches.

[Exit Nich.]

## Actus Tertius.

Enter Simon Saint Mary-Overies, and Frailty.

Frail. Sirrah, Simon Saint Mary-Overies, my Miftrefſends away all her Suiterſ, and puts fleas in their ears.

Sim. Frailty, the ſe does like an honest, chaſt, and virtuous woman; for Widows ought not to wallow in the puddle of Iniquity.

Frail. Yet, Simon, many Widows will do't, what ſo'e comes on't.

Sim. True, Frailty, their filthy fleth deſires a Conjunction Copulative; what ſtrangers are within, Frailty?

Frail. There's none, Simon; but Maſter Pilfer the Taylor: he's above with Sir Godfrey, praiing of a Doublet: and I muſt trudge anon to fetch Maſter Suds the Barber.

Sim. Maſter Sud's a good man, he waſhes the fins of the Beard clean.

Skir. How now, creatures ? what's a Clock ?

Enter old Skirmiſh the Souldier.

Frail. Why, do you take us to be Jack at th'Clockhouse?

Skir. I ſay again to you, what's a Clock ?

Sim. Truly Ia, we go by the Clock of our Conſcience, all worldly Clocks we know go false, and are ſet by drunken Sextons.

Skir. Then what's a Clock in your Conſcience? —O, I muſt break off, here comes the Corporal—hum, hum:—what's a Clock ?

Enter Corporal.

Corp. A Clock ? why paſt ſeventeen.

Frail. Paſt ſeventeen ? nay, h'as met with his match now, Corporal Oath will fit him.

Skir. Thou doſt not bawk or baffle me, doſt thou ? I am a Souldier:—paſt ſeventeen.

Corp. I, thou art not angry with the figures, art thou ? I will prove it unto thee, 12. and 1. is thirteen, I hope, 2. fourteen, 3. fifteen, 4. fixteen, and 5. ſeventeen, then paſt ſeventeen, I will take the Dials part in a juſt caufe.

Skir. I ſay 'tis but paſt five then.

Corp. I'll ſwear 'tis paſt ſeventeen then: doſt thou not know numbers? canſt thou not caſt?

Skir. Caſt? doſt thou ſpeak of my caſling ith' street?

[Draw.]

Corp. I, and in the Market place.

Sim. Clubs, Clubs, Clubs.

[Simon runs in.]

Frail. I, I knew by their ſhuffling, Clubs would be Trump: maſs here's the Knave, and he can do any good upon 'em: Clubs, Clubs, Clubs.

Enter Pye-boord.

Capt. O Villain, thou haſt open'd a vein in my Leg.

Pye. How now? for ſhame, for ſhame, put up, put up.

Capt. By yon blue Welkin, 'twas out of my part, George, to be hurt on the Leg.

ZZZ 3

Enter

The Puritan: Or,

Enter Officers.

Pye. Oh peace now — I have a Cordial here to comfort thee.

Offi. Down with 'em, down with 'em, lay hands upon the Villain.

Skir. Lay hands on me?

Pye. I'll not be seen among 'em now.

Cap. I'm hurt, and had more need have Surgeons, Lay hands upon me then, rough Officers.

Offi. Go, carry him to be drest then :

This mutinous Souldier shall along with me to Prifon.

Skir. To Prifon ? where's George ?

Offi. Away with him.

Pye. So,

All lights as I would wilh, the amaz'd Widow, Will plant me strongly now in her belief,

And wonder at the virtue of my words :

For the event turns thefe prefages from 'em,

Of being mad and dumb, and begers joy

Mingled with admiration: thefe empty Creatures,

Souldier and Corporal, were but ordain'd

As instruments for me to work upon.

Now to my Patient, here's his Potion. [Exit Pye boord.

Enter the Widow with her two Daughters.

Wid. O wondrous happineſs, beyond our thoughts!

O lucky fair event ! I think our Fortunes

Were bleſt e'n'e in our Cradles : we are quitted

Of all theſe fameful violent prefages

By this rath bleeding chance: go, Frailty, run, and know

Whether he be yet living, or yet dead,

That here before my Door receiv'd his hurt.

Frail. Madam, he was carried to the ſuperiuer, but if he had no money when he came there, I warrant he's dead by this time. [Exit Frailty.

Frank. Sure that man is a rare Fortune teller, never lookt upon our hands, nor upon any mark about us, a wondrous Fellow ſurely.

Moll. I am glad I have the uſe of my tongue yet, though of nothing eſſe, I ſhall find the way to marry too, I hope ſhortly.

Wid. O where's my Brother Sir Godfrey, I would he were here, that I might relate to him how prophetically the cunning Gentleman ſpoke in all things.

Enter Sir Godfrey in a rage.

Sir God. O my Chain, my Chain, I have loft my Chain, where be thefe Villains, Varlets?

Wid. Oh, h'as loft his Chain.

Sir God. My Chain, my Chain.

Wid. Brother, be patient, hear me ſpeak, you know I told you that a Cunning-man told me, that you should have a loft, and he has propheli'd ſo true.

Sir God. Out, he's a Villain to prophesy of the loſs of my Chain, 'twas worth above three hundred Crowns, beſides 'twas my Fathers, my Fathers, my Fathers, my Grand-fathers huge Grandfathers: I had as lieve ha loft my Neck, as the Chain that hung about it; O my Chain, my Chain.

Wid. Oh, Brother, who can be againſt a misfortune, 'tis happy 'twas no more.

Sir God. No more! O goodly godly Sifter, would you have me loft more? my beſt Gown too, with the Cloth of Gold-Lace? my Holyday Gafcoins, and my Jerkin ſet with Pearl? no more!

Wid. Oh, Brother, you can read —

Sir God. But I cannot read where my Chain is: what strangers have been here? you let in strangers, Thieves and Catch poles: how comes it gone? there was none

above with me but my Taylor, and my Taylor will not... I ſteal I hope?

Moll. No, he's afraid of a Chain.

Enter Frailty.

Wid. How now, Sirrah? the news?

Frail. O, Miſtrefſs, he may well be call'd a Corporal now, for his Corps are as dead as a cold Capons?

Wid. More happineſs.

Sir God. Sirrah, what's this to my Chain? where's my Chain, Knave?

Frail. Your Chain, Sir?

Sir God. My Chain is loft, Villain.

Frail. I would he were hang'd in Chains that has it then for me: Alas, Sir, I saw none of your Chain ſince you were hung with it your ſelf.

Sir God. Out Varlet? it had full three thouſand Links, I have oft told it over at my Prayers :

Over and over, full three thouſand Links.

Frail. Had it ſo, Sir, ſure it cannot be loft then; I'll put you in that comfort.

Sir God. Why ? why ?

Frail. Why if your Chain had ſo many Links, it cannot chufe but come to light.

Enter Nicholas.

Sir God. Deluſion. Now, long Nicholas, where is my Chain?

Nich. Why about your Neck, is't not, Sir?

Sir God. About my neck, Varlet? my Chain is loft, 'Tis toſn away, I'm robb'd.

Wid. Nay, Brother, show your ſelf a man.

Nich. If it be loft or toſle, if he would be patient, Miſtrefſs, I could bring him to a Cunning Kinfman of mine that would fetch it again with a Sefarara.

Sir God. Canſt thou ? I will be patient, ſay, where dwells he?

Nich. Marry he dwells now, Sir, where he would not dwell and he could choofe, in the Marhaſſen, Sir; but he's an excellent Fellow if he were out: h'as travel'd all the World o're, he, and been in the ſeven and twenty Provinces: why he would make it, be fetcht, Sir, if it were rid a thouſand mile out of Town.

Sir God. An admirable Fellow, what lies he for.

Nich. Why he did but rob a Steward of ten Groats tother night, as any man would ha done, and there he lies for't.

Sir God. I'll make his peace,

A trifle, I'll get his pardon.

Beſides a bountiful reward, I'll about it,

But fee the Clerks, the Juſtice will do much;

I will about it ſtraight, good Sifter pardon me,

All will be well I hope, and turn to good,

The name of Conjurer has laid his blood.

[Exeunt.]

Enter Puttock and Ravenſhaw two Serjeants, with Yeoman Dogſon, to arreſt the Scholar George Pye-boord.

Put. His Hoftels where he lies will truſt him no longer, ſhe hath feed me to arreſt him; if you will accompany me, becauſe I know not of what nature the Scholar is, whether deſperate or ſwift, you ſhall ſhare with me, Serjeant Ravenſhaw, I have the good Angel to arreſt him.

Rav. Troth I'll take part with thee then, Serjeant, not for the ſake of the money, ſo much, as for the hate I bear to a Scholar: why, Serjeant, 'tis natural in us you know to hate Scholars: natural beſides, they will publifh our imperfections, Knaveries, and Conveyances upon Scaſfolds and Stages.

Put, I, and ſpightfully too; troth I have wondred how the

the Widow of Watling-street.

271

the flaves could fee into our Breasts so much, when our
Doublets are button'd with Pewter.

Rav. I, and so clove without yielding: oh, they're partless Fellows, they will search more with their wits, than a Conftable with all his Officers.

Put. Whifh, whiſt, whiſt, Yeoman Dogſon, Yeoman Dogſon.

Dog. Ha ? what fayes Serjeant ?

Put. Is he in the Pothecaries Shop ſtill,

Dog. I, I.

Put. Have an Eye, have an Eye.

Rav. The beſt is, Serjeant, if he be a true Scholar he
wears no Weapon I think.

Put. No no, he wears no Weapon.

Rav. Maffs, I am right glad of that: 'thas put me in better heart: nay if I clutch him once, let me alone to drag him if he be stiff necked; I have been one of the fix my ſelf, that has dragg'd as tall men of their hands, when their Weapons have bin gone, as ever baſtinaido'd a Serjeant — I have done I can tell you.

Dog. Serjeant Puttock, Serjeant Puttock.

Put. Hoh.

Dog. He's coming out ſingle.

Put. Peace, peace, be not too greedy, let him play a little, let him play a little, we'll jerk him up of a ſudden, I ha ſiſht in my time.

Rav. I, and caught many a Fool, Serjeant.

Enter Pye boord.

Pye. I parted now from Nicholas: the Chain's couch't,
And the old Knight has ſpent his rage upon't,

The Widow holds me in great admiration

For cunning Art: 'mongſt joyes I'm e'ne loſt,
For my device can no way now be croſt,

And now I muſt to Prifon to the Captain, and there—

Put. I arrest you, Sir.

Pye. Oh— I ſpoke truer than I was aware, I muſt to
Prifon indeed.

Put. They ſay you're a Scholar, nay Sir — Yeoman
Dogſon, have care to his Arms — you'll rail again Serjeants, and ſlage 'em: you tickle their Vices.

Pye. Nay, uſe me like a Gentleman, I'm little leſs.

Put. You a Gentleman? that's a good jeſt i'faith;
can a Scholar be a Gentleman, — when a Gentleman
will not be a Scholar; — look upon your wealthy Citi-
zens Sons, whether they be Scholars or no, that are
Gentlemen by their Fathers Trades: a Scholar a Gen-
tleman!

Pye. Nay, let Fortune drive all her ſlings into me, ſhe
cannot hurt that in me, a Gentleman, Accidents inſeparable to my blood.

Rav. A rablement, nay you ſhall have a bloody rablement upon you I warrant you.

Put. Go, Yeoman Dogſon, before, and enter the Action i'th' Counter.

Pye. Pray do not handle me cruelly, I'll go [Ex. Dog.
Whither you pleafe to have me.

Put. Oh, he'stame, let him loofe Serjeant.

Pye. Pray at whose Suit is this?

Put. Why, at your Hoftelſes Suit where you lie, Mi-
ſtrefes Cunniburrow, for Bed and Board, the ſumm four
pound five ſhillings and five pence.

Pye. I know the ſumm too true, yet I prefum'd
Upon a farther day; well, 'tis my ſlars:

And I muſt bear it now, though never harder.
I wear now, my device is croſt indeed.

Captain muſt lie by't: this is Deceits feed.

Put. Come, come away.

Pye. Pray give me ſo much time as to knit my Garter,
and I'll away with you.

Put. Well, we muſt be paid for this waiting upon you,
this is no pains to attend thus.

Pye. I am now wretched and miferable, I ſhall ne're
recover of this Difeafe: hot Iron gnaw their Fifts: they
have ſtuck a Fever into my ſhoulder, which I ſhall ne're
ſlake out again I fear me, till with a true Habreas Corpus
the Sexton remove me, oh if I take Prifon once, I ſhall be
preſt to death with Actions, but not ſo happy as ſpeedily;
perhaps I may be forty year a preſling till I be a thin old
man, that looking through the Grates, men may look
through me; all my means is confounded, what ſhall I
do? has my wit ſerved me ſo long, and now give me the
ſlip (like a train'd ſervant) when I have moſt need of
'em: no device to keep my poor Carcaſe from theſe Puttocks? — yes, happineſs, have I a Paper about me now? yes too, I'll try it, it may hit, Extremity is Touch ſtone unto wit, I, I.

Put. 'Sfoot how many yards are in thy Garters, that
thou art ſo long a tying on them? come away, Sir.

Pye. Troth Serjeant I proteſt, you could never ha took
me at a worſe time, for now at this inflant, I have no
lawful Picture about me.

Put. 'Slid how ſhall we come by our Fees then.

Rav. We muſt have Fees, Sirrah.

Pye. I could have wiſht i'faith, that you had took me
half an hour hence for your own ſake, for I proteſt if
you had not croſt me, I was going in great joy to receive
five pound of a Gentleman, for the Device of a Mask
here, drawn in this paper, but now, come, I muſt be con-
tented, 'tis but ſo much loſt, and anſwering to the reſt
of my Fortunes?

Put. Why how far hence dwells that Gentleman?

Rav. I, well ſaid Serjeant, 'tis good to caſt about for
money.

Put. Speak, if it be not far—

Pye. We are but a little paſt it, the next ſtreet behind us.

Put. 'Slid we have waited upon you grievouſly already,
if you'll ſay you'll be liberal when you ha't; give us double
Fees, and ſpend upon's, why we'll ſhow you that kindneſs,
and go along with you to the Gentleman.

Rav. I, well ſaid ſtill, Serjeant, urge that.

Pye. Troth if it will ſuſice, it ſhall all be among you,
for my part I'll not pocket a penny, my Hofteſs ſhall have
her four pound five ſhillings, and bate me the five pence,
and the other fifteen ſhillings I'll ſpend upon you.

Rav. Why now thou art a good Scholar.

Put. An excellent Scholar i'faith; has proceeded very
well alate; come, we'll along with you.

[Exeunt with him, paſſing in, they knock at the door with a knocker withinſide.

Ser. Who knocks, who's at Door? we had need of a
Porter.

Pye. A few Friends here, — pray is the Gentleman
your Maſter within?

Ser. Yes, is your buſineſs to him?

Pye. I, he knows it, when he fees me:

I pray you, have you forgot me.

Ser. I by my troth, Sir, pray come near, I'll in and
tell him of you, plicaſe you to walk here in the Gallery till
he comes.

Pye. We will attend his worſhip, — worſhip I think,
for ſo much the poſts at his door should ſignify, and the
fair coming in, and the Wicket, eſſe I neither knew him
nor his Worſhip, but 'tis happineſs he is within Doors,
what ſo ere he be, if he be not too much a formal Citizen,
he may do me good: Serjeant and Yeoman, how do you
like this Houſe, is't not moſt wholſomely plotted?

Rav. Troth Prifoner, an exceeding fine Houſe.

Pye. Yet I wonder how he ſhould forget me, for he
ne're knew me: No matter, what is ſorgt in you, will
be remembred in your Maſter.

A pretty comfortable room this methinks:
You have no ſuch rooms in Prifon now?

Put. Oh Dog holes to't.

Pye. Dog holes indeed. — I can tell you I have great
hope

The Puritan : Or,

hope to have my Chamber here shortly, nay, and Dyet too, for he's the most free-hearted'ft Gentleman where he takes: you would little think it? and what a fine Gallery were here for me to walk and study, and make Verfes.

Put. O it stands pleafantly for a Scholar.

Enter Gentleman.

Pye. Look what Maps, and Pictures, and Devices, and things, neatly, delicately? Mafs here he comes, he should be a Gentleman, I like his Beard well;-- All happineſs to your worſhip.

Gent. You'r kindly welcome, fir.

Put. A ſimple falutation.

Rav. Mafs it ſeems the Gentleman makes great ac-
count of him.

Gent. I have the thing here for you, fir.

Pye. I beſeech you, conceal me, fir, I'm undone eſſe,... I have the Mask here for you, fir, Look you fir,—I be- ſeech your VVorſhip, firſt pardon my rufenefſs, for my extreams makes me bolder than I would be; I am a poor Gentleman, and a Scholar, and now moſt unfortunately faln into the hands of unmerciful Officers, arreſted for Debt, which though ſmall, I am not able to compaſs, by reaſon I'm deſtitute of Lands, Money, and Friends, ſo that if I fall into the hungry ſwallow of the Prifon, I am like utterly to perſih, and with fees and extortions be pinch'd clean to the bone: Now, if ever pitty had intereſt in the blood of a Gentleman, I beſeech you vouchſafe but to favour that means of my eſcape, which I have already thought upon.

Gent. Go forward.

Put. I warrant he likes it rarely.

Pye. In the plunge of my extremities, being giddy, and doubtful what to do; at laſt it was put in my labouring thoughts, to make a happy uſe of this paper, and to blear their unlettered eyes, I told them there was a Device for a Mask drawn in't, and that (but for their intercep- tion) I was going to a Gentleman to receive my reward for't: they greedy at this word, and hoping to make pur- chase of me, offered their attendance, to go along with me, my hap was to make bold with your door, fir, which my thoughts ſhew'd me the moſt faireſt and comfortableſt entrance, and I hope I have happened right upon under- ſtanding, and pity: may it pleafe your good worſhip then, but to uphold my Device, which is to let one of your men put me out at a back door, and I ſhall be bound to your worſhip for ever.

Gent. By my troth an excellent Device.

Put. An excellent Device he ſays; he likes it won-
derfully.

Gent. A my faith, I never heard a better.

Raven. Hark, he ſwears he never heard a better,
Serjeant.

Put. O there's no talk on't, he's an excellent Scholar, and eſpecially for a Mask.

Gent. Give me your Paper, your Device; I was never better pleas'd in all my life: good wit, brave wit, finely wrought, come in, fir, and receive your money, fir.

Pye. I'll follow your good worſhip,

You heard how he lik'd it now?

Put. Pub, we know he could not chufe but like it: go thy ways, thou art a fine witty fellow i'faith, thou ſhalt diſcourſe it to us at the Tavern anon, wilt thou?

Pye. I, I, that I will,—look, Serjeants, here are Maps, and pretty toys, be doing in the mean time, I ſhall quick-
ly have told out the money, you know.

Put. Go, go, little villain, fetch thy chink, I begin to love thee, I'll be drunk to night in thy company.

Pye. This Gentleman I may well call a part
Of my falvation, in theſe earthly evils,
For he has fav'd me from three hungry Devils.

[Exit] George.

Put. Sirrah Serjeant, theſe Maps are pretty painted

things, but I could ne'r fancy them yet, methinks they'r
too buſe, and full of Circles and Conjurations; they ſay
all the World's in one of them, but I could ne'r find the
Counter in the Poultry.

Rav. I think fo: how could you find it ? for you know it ſlands behind the Houſes.

Dog. Mafs that's true, then we muſt look o'ch' back-
ſide for't: 'ſfoot here's nothing, all's bare.

Rav. I warrant thee that ſlands for the Counter, for you know there's a company of bare fellows there.

Put. Faith like enough, Serjeant, I never mark'd ſo much before. Sirrah Serjeant, and Yeoman, I should love theſe Maps out a cry now, if we could fee men peep-out of door in 'em, oh we might have 'em in a morning to our Break-faſt ſo finely, and ne'r knock our heels to the ground a whole day for 'em.

Rav. I marry fir, I'd buy one my ſelf.

But this talk is by the way, where ſhall's ſup to night:
Five pound receiv'd, let's talk of that.

I have a trick worth all, you two ſhall bear him to'th' Ta-
vern, whilſt I go cloſe with his Hofteſſs, and work out of
her, I know he would be glad of the ſumm, to ſinger
money; becauſe he knows 'tis but a deſperate debt, and
full of hazard: what will you ſay if I bring it to paſs, that
the Hofteſſs ſhall be contented with one half for all, and
we to ſhare t'other fifty Shillings, Bullies.

Put. Why I would call thee King of Serjeants, and thou ſhould'ſt be Chronicled in the Counter-Book for ever.

Rav. Well, put it to me, we'll make a night on't
i'faith.

Dog. 'ſfoot, I think he receives more money, he ſtays
ſo long.

Put. He tarryſs long indeed, may be, I can tell you, up-
on the good liking on't the Gentleman may prove more
bountiful.

Rav. That would be rare, we'll ſearch him.

Put. Nay be ſure of it, we'll ſearch him, and make him
light enough.

Enter the Gentleman.

Rav. Oh here comes the Gentleman, by your leave,
Sir.

Gen. God you god den firſ,—would you ſpeak with me?

Put. No, not with your worſhip, fir; only we are bold to ſlay for a friend of ours, that went in with your worſhip.

Gen. Who? not the Scholar?

Put. Yes, e'n he, an it pleafe your worſhip.

Gen. Did he make you ſtay for him? he did you wrong then: why, I can affure you he's gone above an hour ago.

Rav. How, fir?

Gen. I paid him his money, and my man told me he went out at back-door.

Put. Back-door?

Gen. Why, what's the matter?

Put. He was our Prifoner, fir, we did arreſt him.

Gen. What he was not? you the ſheriff's Officers—
you were to blame then,

Why did not you make known to me as much;
I could have kept him for you, I proteſſ,
He receiv'd all of me in Britain Gold,
Of the laſt coyning.

Rav. Vengeance dog him with't.

Put. 'ſfoot has he gull'd us ſo?

Dog. Where ſhall we ſup now, Serjeants?

Put. Sup, Simon, now, eat Porridge for a Month.

Well, we cannot impute it to any lack of good will in your
Worſhip,—you did but as another would have done,
'twas our hard fortunes to miſs the purchase, but if e'r we
clutch him again, the Counter ſhall charm him.

Rav.

["the Widow of Watling-street.", "273", "Ra. The Hole shall rot him.", "Dog. Amen.", "Gent. So,", "[Exeunt.]", "Vex out your Lungs without doors, I am proud,\nIt was my hap to help him, it fell fit,", "He went not empty neither for his wit:", "Alas, poor wretch, I could not blame his brain,\nTo labour his delivery, to be free,", "From their unpitying fangs,—I’m glad it flood", "V’ within my power to do a Scholar good.", "[Exit.]", "Enter in the Prison, meeting George and Captain,\nGeorge coming in muffled.", "Cap. How now, who’s that? what are you?", "Pye. The fame that I should be, Captain.", "Cap. George Pye board, honest George? why cam’st thou\nin half fac’d, muffled so?", "Pye. Oh Captain, I thought we should nere ha’ laughter\nagen, never spent frolick hour agen.", "Cap. V’hy? why?", "Pye. I coming to prepare thee, and with news", "As happy as thy quick delivery,", "VAs trac’d out by the fent, arrefted, Captain.", "Cap. Arrefted, George?", "Pye. Arrefted; gueſs, gueſs, how may Dogs do you think\nI’d upon me?", "Cap. Dogs? I fay, I know not.", "Pye. Almoſt as many as George Stone the Bear :", "Three at once, three at once.", "Cap. How did’ſt thou ſhake’em off then?", "Pye. The time is buſe, and calls upon our wits, let it\nſuſſice,", "Here I stand ſafe, and ſcap’t by Miracle :", "Some other hour ſhall tell thee, when we’ll ſleep", "Our Eyes in laughter: Captain, my device", "Leans to thy hoppinels, for ere the day", "Be ſpent toth’ Girdle, thou ſhalt be free :", "The Corporal’s in’s firſt ſleep, the Chain is miſ,\nThy Kinfman has expreſſt thee, and the old Knight\nWith Palfey-hams now labours thy releafe.", "What reſts, is all in thee, to Conjure, Captain.", "Cap. Conjure? ’ſoot, George, you know, the Devil a\nconjuring I can conjure.", "Pye. The Devil of conjuring? nay by my ſay, I’d not\nhave thee do so much, Captain, as the Devil a conjuring:\nlook here, I ha’ brought thee a Circle ready character’d\nand all.", "Cap. ’ſoot, George, art in thy right wits, doſt know\nwhat thou ſayt? why doſt talk to a Captain a conjuring?\ndidst thou ever hear of a Captain conjure in thy life ?\ndoſt call’t a Circle ? ’tis too wide a thing, me thinks;\nhad it been a leſſer Circle, then I knew what to have\ndone.", "Pye. Why every Fool knows that, Captain: nay then\nI’le not cog with you, Captain, if you’ll ſtay and hang the\nnext Seſſions you may.", "Cap. No, by my Faith, George, come, come, let’s to\nconjuring.", "Pye. But if you look to be releafe, as my wits have took\npain to work it, and all means wrought to farther it, befides\nto put Crowns in your purſe, to make you a man of better\nhopes, and whereas before you were a Captain or poor\nSouldier, to make you now a Commander of rich Fools,\n(which is truly the only beſt purchase peace can allow you)\nlaſter than High-wayes, Heath, or Cony-groves, and yet a\nfar better booty; for your grealeſt thieves are never hang’d,\nnever hang’d; for why? they’re wife, and cheat within\ndoors; and we geld Fools of more money in one Night,\nthan your ſalſe-tail’d Gelding will purchase in a twelve-\nmonths running, which confirms the old Beldams ſaying,\nHe’s wifſe, that keeps himſelf warmeſt, that is, he that\nrobs by a good Fire.", "Cap. Well opened i’faith, George, thou haſt pull’d that\nfaying out of the husk.", "Pye. Captain Idle, ’Tis no time now to delude or delay,\nthe old Knight will be here suddenly, I’le perfect you,\ndirect you, tell you the trick on’t: ’tis nothing.", "Cap. ’ſoot, George, I know not what to ſay to’t, con-\njure? I ſhall be hang’d ere I conjure.", "Pye. Nay, tell not me of that, Captain, you’ll ne’re con-\njure after you’re hang’d; I warrant you; look you, Sir, a\nparlous matter, ſure, firſt to ſpread your Circle upon the\nground, then with a little conjuring ceremony, as I’le have\nan Hackney-mans wand filver’d o’re a purpofe for you,\nthen arriving in the Circle, with a huge word, and a great\ntrample, as for inſtance: have you never ſeen a ſtalking,\nſtamping Player, that will raſe a tempeſt with his tongue,\nand Thunder with his heels?", "Cap. O yes, yes, yes; often, often.", "Pye. Why be like ſuch a one? for any thing will blear\nthe old Knights Eyes: for you muſt note, that He’ll ne’re\ndare to venture into the Room, only perhaps peep fear-\nfully though the Key-hole, to fee how the Play goes for-\nward.", "Cap. Well, I may go about it when I will, but mark the\nend on’t, I ſhall but ſhame my ſelf i’faith, George, ſpeak\nbig words, and ſtamp and ſtare, and he look in at Key-\nhole, why the very thought of that would make me laugh\nout-right, and ſpoil all: nay I’le tell thee, George, when\nI apprehend a thing once, I am of ſuch a laxative laughter,\nthat if the Devil himſelf ſtood by, I ſhould laugh in his\nface.", "Pye. Pub, that’s but the babe of a man, and may eſtably\nbe huff’d, as to think upon ſome dſaſter, ſome ſad misfor-\ntune, as the Death of thy Father i’th’ Country.", "Cap. ’ſoot, that would be the more to drive me into\nſuch an eſtaſſe, that I ſhould ne’re lin laughing elfe.", "Pye. Why then think upon going to hanging.", "Cap. Mafs that’s well remembered, now I’le do well, I\nwarrant thee, ne’re fear me now: but how ſhall I do, George,\nfor boyferous words, and horrible names?", "Pye. Pub, any ſultian invocations, Captain, will ſerve\nas well as the beſt, for you rant them out well, or you may\ngo to a Pothecaries ſhop, and take all the words from\nthe Boxes.", "Cap. Troth, and you ſay true, George, there’s ſtrange\nwords enow to raſe a hundred Quack-falvers, though they\nbe ne’re ſo poor when they begin ? but here lies the fear\non’t, how if in this ſalſe conjuration, a true Devil ſhould\npop up indeed.", "Pye. A true Devil, Captain? why there was ne’re ſuch\na one, nay Faith he that has this place, is as ſalſe a Knave\nas our laſt Church warden.", "Captain. Then he’s ſalſe enough a Conſcience i’faith,\nGeorge.", "The Cry at Marſhalſea.", "Cry prisoners. Good Gentlemen over the way, ſend your\nreſtrel :", "Good Gentlemen over the way,—Good, Sir Godfrey?", "Pye. He’s come, he’s come.", "Nich. Maſter, that’s my Kinfman yonder in the Buff.\nJerkin— Kinfman, that’s my Maſter yonder i’th’ Taffaty\nHat—pray ſalſe him intirely.", "They ſalſue: and Pye-board ſalutes Maſter Edmond.", "Sir God. Now my Friend.", "Pye. May I partake your name, Sir?", "Edm. My name is Maſter Edmond.", "Pye. Maſter Edmond,—are you not a Welſh-man, Sir?", "Edm. A Welſh man? why?", "Pye. Becauſe Maſter is your Chriften name, and Edmond\nyour Sir name.", "Edm. O no: I have more names at home, Maſter\nEdmond.", "nks they’r\ns they ſay\nr find the\nyou know\n’o’th’ back\nunter, for\nere, I\nmark’d so,\n> I hould\n> men peep\n> morning to\n> eels to the", "night:", "to’t? Tha’ work out of, to finger debt, and pafs, that for all, and, and", "ants, and\nBook for\nBook for\nBook

The Puritan : Or,

274

Edmond Plus is my full name at length.

Pye. O cry you mercy, Sir ?

[Whispering,]

Cap. I understand that you are my Kinfmans good Ma-
fter, and in regard of that, the beft of my skill is at your
viceſe : but had you fortu'n a meer ſtranger, and made
no means to me by acquaintance, I should have utterly
denied to have been the man; both by reaſon of the Act
of Parliament againſt Conjurers and Witches, as alſo, be-
cauſe I would not have my Art vulgar, trite, and com-
mon.

Sir God. I much commend your care there, good Ca-
ptain Conjurer, and that I will be ſure to have it private
enough, you ſhall do't in my Sifters houſe,— mine own
houſe I may call it, for both our charges therein are pro-
portion'd,

Capt. Very good, Sir,—what may I call your loſs, Sir ?

Sir God. O you may call't a great loſs, a grievous loſs,
Sir, as goodly a Chain of Gold, though I fay it, that wore
it: how fay'ft thou, Nicholas ?

Nich. O'twas as delicious a Chain of Gold, Kinſman,
you know—

Sir God. You know, did you know't, Captain ?

Capt. Truſt a Fool with ſecrets? —Sir, he may ſay I
know: his meaning is, becauſe my Art is ſuch, that by it
I may gather a knowledge of all things—

Sir God. I, very true.

Capt. A pox of all Fools— the excuſe ſtuck upon my
tongue like Ship-pitch upon a Mariners Gown, not to come
off in haſte—ber-lady, Knight, to loſe ſuch a fair Chain
of Gold, were a foul loſs: Well, I can put you in this good
comfort on't, if it be between heaven and earth, Knight,
I'll ha't for you.

Sir God. A wonderful Conjurer,— O I, 'tis between
heaven and earth, I warrant you, it cannot go out of the
Realm,— I know 'tis ſomewhere about the earth.

Capt. I, nigher the earth than thou wot't on.

Sir God. For firſt, my Chain was rich, and no rich thing
ſhall enter into Heaven, you know.

Nich. And as for the Devil, Maſter, he has no need
on't, for you know he has a great Chain of his own.

Sir God. Thou fay'ſt true, Nicholas, but he has put off
that now, that lies by him.

Capt. Faith, Knight, in few words, I prefume ſo much
upon the power of my Art, that I could warrant your
Chain agen.

Sir God. O dainty Captain !

Capt. Marry, it will coſt me much ſweat, I were better
go to fixteen Hot-houſes.

Sir God. I, good man, I warrant thee.

Capt. Beſide great vexation of Kidney and Liver.

Nich. O, 'twill tickle you hereabouts, Couſin, becauſe
you have not been us'd to't.

Sir God. No? have you not been us'd to't, Captain ?

Capt. Plague of all Fools ſtill; —indeed, Knight, I have
not us'd it a good while, and therefore 'twill ſtrain me ſo
much the more, you know.

Sir God. O it will, it will.

Capt. What plunges he puts me to? Were not this
Knight a Fool, I had bin twice ſpoil'd now; that Captain's
woreſ than accuſt that has an Aſs to his Kinſman, 'ſoot,
I fear he will drivel't out before I come to't.— Now, Sir,
—to come to the point indeed,—you fee I ſlick here in the
jaw of the Marſhalſea, and cannot do't.

Sir God. Tut, tut, I know thy meaning, thou would't
fay thou'rt a prifoner, I tell thee th'art none.

Capt. How, none? why is not this the Marſhalſea ?

Sir God. Wouſt hear me ſpeak? I heard of thy rare
Conjuring:

My Chain was loſs, I ſweat for thy releaſe,

As thou ſhalt do the like at home for me :

Keeper.

Enter Keeper.

Keep. Sir.

Sir God. Speak, is not this man free ?

Keep. Yes, at his pleafure, Sir, the Fees diſcharg'd.

Sir God. Go, go, I'll diſcharge them, I.

Keep, I thank your Worſhip.

[Exit Keeper.

Capt. Now, truſt me, y'are a dear Knight; kindneſs
unexpected! O there's nothing to a free Gentleman,—
I will conjure for you, Sir, 'till Froth come through my
Buff-Jerkin.

Sir God. Nay, then thou ſhalt not paſs with ſo little a
bonty, for at the firſt ſight of my Chain agen,— forty
five Angels ſhall appear unto thee.

Capt. 'Twill be a glorious ſhow, i'faith, Knight, a very
fine ſhow, but are all theſe of your own houſe ? are you
fure of that, Sir ?

Sir God. I, I, no, no; what's he yonder talking with my
wild Nephew, pray heaven he give him good counſel.

Capt. Who, he? he's a rare friend of mine, an admira-
ble Fellow, Knight, the fineſt Fortune teller.

Sir God. O! 'tis he indeed, that came to my Lady Si-
fter, and foretold the loſs of my Chain; I am not angry
with him now, for I fee 'twas my Fortune to loſe it: By
your leave, Mr. Fortune-teller, I had a glimpſe of you at
home, at my Sifters the Widows, there you propheliſed of
the loſs of a Chain: —simply, though I ſtand here, I was
he that loſt it.

Pye. Was it you, Sir ?

Edm. A my troth, Nuncle, he's the rareſt Fellow, has
told me my Fortune ſo right; I find it ſo right to my na-
ture.

Sir God. What is't? God ſend it a good one.

Edm. O, 'tis a palling good one, Nuncle: for he ſays I
ſhall prove ſuch an excellent Gameſter in my time, that I
ſhall ſpend all ſafter than my Father got it.

Sir God. There's a Fortune indeed.

Edm. Nay, it hits my humor ſo pat.

Sir God. I, that will be the end on't: will the Curſe of
the Beggar prevail ſo much, that the Son ſhall confume
that foolſhly, which the Father got craftily; I, I, I, 'twill,
'twill, 'twill.

Pye. Stay, ſtay, ſtay.

[Pye-boord with an Almanack,

Capt. Turn over, George, and the Captain.

Pye. June, July; here, July, that's the month, Sunday
thirteen, yesterday fourteen, to day fifteen.

Capt. Look quickly for the fifteen day,—if within the
compaſs of theſe two days there would be ſome boſterous
ſtorm or other, it would be the beſt, I'de defer him off till
then; ſome Tempeſt, and it be thy will.

Pye. Here's the fifteen day,—Hot and fair.

Capt. Pub, would t'ad been, Hot and ſoul.

Pye. The fixteen day, that's to morrow; The morning
for the moſt part, fair and pleafant.

Capt. No luck.

Pye. But about high-noon, Lightning and Thunder.

Pye. Lightning and Thunder? admirable! beſt of all!
I'll conjure to morrow juſt at high-noon, George.

Pye. Happen but true to morrow, Almanack, and I'll
give thee leave to lye all the year after.

Capt. Sir, I muſt crave your patience, to beſlow this
day upon me, that I may furniſh my ſelf strongly,—
I ſent a Spirit into Lancashire t'other day, to fetch back a
Knave-Drover, and I look for his return this evening—
to morrow morning, my friend here and I will come and
breakſt with you.

Sir God. O, you ſhall be moſt welcome.

Capt. And about noon, without fail, I purpofe to con-
jure.

Sir God. Mid-noon will be a fit time for you.

Edm. Conjuring? do you mean to conjure at our houſe
to morrow, Sir ?

Capt. Matry do I, Sir ? 'tis my intent, young Gentle-
man.

Edm. By my troth, I'll love you while I live for't: O
rare! Nicholas, we ſhall have Conjuring to morrow.

Nich. Puh I, I could ha'told you of that.

Capt.

the Widow of Watling-street.

275

Cap. Law, he could ha told him of that, Fool, Cox-
comb, could ye?

Edm. Do you hear me, Sir, I defire more acquaintance
on you, you shall earn fome monecy of me, now I know
you can Conjure; but can you fetch any that is loft?

Cap. Oh, any thing that's loft.

Edm. Why look you, Sir, I tell't you as a Friend and a
Conjurer; I should marry a Pothecaries Daughter, and a
'twas told me, she the loft her Maiden-head at Stony Strat-
ford: now if you'll do but so much as Conjure for't, and
make all whole agen ...

Cap. That I will, Sir.

Edm. By my troth I thank you, la.

Cap. A little merry with your Sifters Son, Sir.

Sir God. Oh, a fimple young man, very fimple, come
Captain, and you, Sir; we'll e'en part with a Gallon of
Wine till to morrow Break-faft.

Tip. Cap. Troth, agreed, Sir.

Nich. Kinfman--Scholar.

Pye. Why now thou art a good Knave, worth a hun-
dred Brownifts.

Nich. Am I indeed, la: I thank you heartily, la.

[Exeunt.]

Actus Quartus.

Enter Moll, and Sir John Penny-Dub.

Pen. BUT I hope you will not serve a Knight so, Gen-
tlewoman, will you? to caffeer him, and caft
him off at your pleasure; what do you think I was dubb'd
for nothing, no by my Faith, Ladies Daughter.

Moll. Pray Sir John Penny-Dub, let it be defer'd a-
while, I have a heart to marry as you can have; but as
the Fortune-teller told me.

Pen. Pax o'th' Fortune-teller, would Derrick had been
his fortune feven year ago, to crofs my love thus: did he
know what caſe I was in? why this is able to make a man
drown himſelf in's Father's Fifth Pond.

Moll. And then he told me moreover, Sir John, that
the breach of it kept my Father in Purgatory.

Penny. In Purgatory? why let him purge out his heart
there, what have we to do with that? there's Physicians
enow there to caſt his Water, is that any matter to us?
how can he hinder our love? why let him be hang'd now
he's dead? — Well, have I rid poſt day and night, to
bring you merry news of my Fathers Death, and now —

Moll. Thy Fathers Death ? is the old Farmer dead ?

Penny. As dead as his Barn-Door, Moll.

Moll. And you'll keep your word with me now, Sir
John, that I shall have my Coach and my Coach-man?

Penny. I faith.

Moll. And two white Horſes with black Feathers to
draw it?

Penny. Too.

Moll. A guarded Lackey to run before't, and py'd Li-
veries to come trafing after't.

Penny. Thou halt, Moll.

Moll. And to let me have money in my Purſe to go
whither I will.

Penny. All this.

Moll. Then come, whatfoe're come's on't, we'll be
made fure together before the Maids o'th' Kitchin.

Enter Widow with her eldeſt Daughter, Frank
and Frailty.

Wid. How now ? where's my Brother Sir Godfrey?
went he forth this Morning?

Frail. O no Madam, he's above at Breakfaſt, with Sir
reverence a Conjurer.

Wid. A Conjurer ? what manner of Fellow is he?

Frail. Oh, a wondrous rare Fellow, Miftrefs, very
frongly made upward, for he goes in a Buff-Jerkin: he
fayes he will fetch Sir Godfrey's Chain agen, if it hang be-
tween Heaven and Earth.

Wid. What! he will not? then he's an exlent Fellow I
Warrant: how happy were that Woman to be bleſt with
fuch a Husband, a man cunning? how do's he look, Frail-
ty? very fwartly I warrant, with black Beard, ſcorch
Cheeks, and fmoaky Eye-brows.

Frail. Foh— he's neither ſmoak-dried, nor ſcoreth,
nor black, nor nothing, I tell you, Madam, he looks as
fair to fee to as one of us; I do think, but if you faw him
once, you'de take him to be a Chriftian.

Frank. So fair, and yet ſo cunning, that's to be won-
dred at, Mother.

Enter Sir Oliver Muck-hill, and Sir An-
drew Tipſtaſſe.

Muck. Bleſs you, sweet Lady.

Tip. And you, fair Miftrefs.

[Exit Frailty.

Wid. Coades, what do you mean, Gentlemen? Fie,
did I not give you anſwers?

Muck. Sweet Lady?

Wid. Well, I will not flick with you for a kifs:
Daughter, kifs the Gentleman for once.

Frank. Yes forfooth.

Tip. I'm proud of ſuch a favour.

Wid. Truly la, Sir Oliver, y'are much too blame to
come agen when you know my mind ſo well deliver'd —
as a Widow could deliver a thing.

Muck. But I exſpect a farther comfort, Lady.

Wid. Why la you now, did I not defire you to put off
your Suit quite and clean when you came to me again ?
how ſay you? did I not?

Muck. But the ſincere love which my heart bears to
you —

Wid. Go to, I'll cut you off; and Sir Oliver to put you
in comfort, afar off, my fortune is read me, I muſt marry
again.

Muck. O bleſt Fortune !

Wid. But not as long as I can choose; nay, I'll hold out
well.

Enter Frailty.

Frail. O Madam, Madam.

Wid. How now ? what's the haſt?

[In her Ear.

Tip. Faith, Miftrefs Frances, I'll maintain you gallantly,
I'll bring you to Court, wean you among the fair Society
of Ladies poor Kinfwomen of mine in Cloth of Silver, be-
fide you hall have your Monkey, your Parrot, your Muf-
kat, and your Pifs, Pils, Pifs.

Frank. It will do very well.

Wid. What, do's he mean to Conjure here then? how
hall I do to be rid of theſe Knights, — pleafe you, Gen-
tlemen, to walk a while i'th' Garden, to gather a Pink,
or a Gilly-flower.

Both. With all our hearts, Lady, and count us fa-
vour'd.

[Exeunt.

Sir God. within. Step in, Nicholas, look, is the Coaſt
clear?

Nich. Oh, as clear as a Carter's Eye, Sir.

Sir God. Then enter Captain Conjurer: — now —
how like you our Room, Sir?

Enter Sir Godfrey, Captain, Pye-boord,
Edmond, Nicholas.

Cap. O wonderful convenient.

Edm. I can tell you, Captain, ſimply though it lies
here, 'tis the faireſt Room in my Mothers Houſe, asain-
ty a Room to Conjure in, me thinks, — why you may
bid,

The Puritan : Or,

bid, I cannot tell how many Devils welcome in't; my
Father has had twenty in't at once!

Pye. What Devils?

Edm. Devils, no Deputies, and the wealthieſt men he
could get.

Sir God. Nay put by your chats now, fall to your bu-
ſineſs roundly, the Feſeue of the Dial is upon the Chris-
croſs of Noon: but oh, hear me, Captain, a qualm comes
o're my Stomach.

Capt. Why, what's the matter, Sir?

Sir God. Oh, how if the Devil ſhould prove a knave, and
tear the hangings.

Capt. Fuh, I warrant you, Sir Godfrey.

Edm. I, Nuncle, or ſpit fire upo'th' fealing.

Sir Godf. Very true too, for 'tis but thin plaſtered, and
'twill quickly take hold a' the laths: and if he chance to
ſpit downward too, he will burn all the boards.

Capt. My life for yours, Sir Godfrey.

Sir Godf. My Sifter is very curious and dainty ore this
Room, I can tell you, and therefore if he muſt needs ſpit,
I pray defire him to ſpit i'th' Chimney.

I'ye. Why, allured you, Sir Godfrey, he ſhall not be brought
up with ſo little manners, to ſpit and ſpawl a' th' floor.

Sir Godf. Why I thank you, good Captain, pray have a care I, —fall to your Circle, we'll not trouble you I war rant you, come, we'll into the next Room, and becaufe we'll be ſure to keep him out there, we'll bar up the Door with some of the Godlies Zealous works.

Edm. That will be a fine device, Nuncle; and becaufe the
ground ſhall be as holy as the Door, I'll tear two or three
Rofaries in pieces, and ſtrew the pieces about the Chamber:
Oh! the Devil already.
[Runs in. Thunder's.

Pye. 'ſfoot, Captain, ſpeak ſomewhat for ſhame: it ligh-
tens and Thunderes before thou wilt begin, why when?

Capt. Pray peace, George,— thou'lt make me laugh
anon, and ſpoil all.

Pye. Oh, now it begins agen; now, now, now! Captain.

Capt. Rhumbos ragdayon, pur, pur, colucundrian, Hois-
Plois.

Sir Godfrey through the Key hole, within.

Sir Godf. Oh admirable Conjurer! has fetcht Thunder
already.

Pye. Hark hark, agen Captain.

Capt. Benjamin, gaffpois-kay-goff got hotheron-umbrois.

Sir Godf. Oh, I would the Devil would come away quick-
ly, he has no confcience to put a man to ſuch pain.

Pye. Agen.

Capt. Flowſte kak opumpos-dragome-leloemenos hodge podge.

Pye. Well ſaid, Captain.

Sir Godf. So long a coming? O would I had nere be-
gun't now, for I fear me theſe roaring Tempeſts will de-
ſtroy all the Fruits of the Earth, and tread upon my corn—
oh, i' th' Country.

Capt. Gog de gog, hobgoblin, buncs, hounflow, hockley
te come park.

Wid. O Brother, Brother, what a Tempeſt's i'th'Garden,
ſure there's ſome Conjuration abroad.

Sir Godf. 'Tis at home, Sifter.

Pye. By and by I'll ſteep in, Captain.

Capt. Nuncle Nuncle, Rip, Gaffcoines, Ips, Drip-Dropite.

Sir Godf. He drips and drops, poor man: alas, alas.

Pye. Now, I come.

Capt. O Sulphure Sooſace.

Pye. Arch-Conjurer, what would't thou with me?

Sir Godf. O, the Devil, Sifter, i' th' dining-Chamber:
ſing, Sifter, I warrant you that will keep him out; quickly,
quickly, quickly.
[goes in.

Pye. So, ſo, ſo; I'll releaſe thee: enough Captain,
enough: allow us ſome time to laugh a little, they're flud
dering and flaking by this time, as if an Earthquake were
in their kidneys.

Capt. Sirrah George, how was't, how was't? did I do't
well enough?

Pye. Woult believe me, Captain, better than any Con-

jurer, for here was no harm in this; and yet their horri-
ble expeſation fatſisfied well, you were much beholding
to Thunder and Lightning at this time, it grac'd you well,
I can tell you.

Capt. I muſt needs ſay ſo, George: Sirrah if we could ha'
convey'd hither cleanly a cracker, or a fire-wheel, t'ad
been admirablc.

Pye. Blurt, blurt, there's nothing remains to put thee to
pain now. Captain.

Capt. Pain? I proteſt, George, my heels are ſomer than a
Whifon Morris dancer's.

Pye. All's paſt now, — only to reveal that the Chain's
i'th' Garden, where, thou know'st, it has lain theſe two
dayes.

Capt. But I fear, that Fox Nicholas has reveal'd it
already.

Pye. Fear not, Captain, you muſt put it to th' venture
now: Nay 'tis time, call upon 'em, take pity on'em, for I
believe ſome of 'em are in a pithful cafe by this time.

Capt. Sir Godfrey, Nicholas, Kintman, — 'stoot they're
ſaſt at it ſtill: George, Sir Godfrey?

Sir Godf. Oh, is that the Devil's voice? how comes be
to know my name?

Capt. Fear not, Sir Godfrey, all's quieted.

Sir Godf. What, is he laid?

Capt. Laid: and has newly drep.

Your Chain i'th' Garden.

Capt. Godf. I'th' Garden! in our Garden?

Capt. Your Garden.

Sir Godf. O ſweet Conjurer! where abouts there?

Capt. Look well about a bank of Rofemary.

Sir Godf. Sifter, the Rofemary-bank, come, come:
there's my Chain, he fayes.

Wid. Oh happineſs! run, run.

[Suppofeth to go.

Edm. Captain Conjurer?

[Edm. at key hole.

Capt. Who? Maſter Edmund?

Edm. I, Maſter Edmund, may I come in faſely without
danger, think you?

Capt. Puh, long ago, it is all as 'twas at firſt:

Fear nothing, pray come near,—how now, man?

Edm. Oh! this Room's mightily hot i'faith: 'slid, my
ſhirt flicks to my Belly already: what a fleam the Rogue
has left behind him? Foh, this Room muſt be air'd, Gen-
tlemen, it ſmells horribly of Brimſtone,—let's open the
windows.

Pye. Faith, Maſter Edmond, 'tis but your conceit.

Edm. I would you could make me believe that, i'faith,
why do you think I cannot ſmell his favour, from another:
yet I take it kindly from you, becaufe you would not put
me in a fear, i'faith: a my troth I ſhall love you for this
the longeſt day of my life.

Capt. Puh, 'tis nothing, Sir, love me when you fee
more.

Edm. Mafs, now remember, I'll look whether he has
find'd the hangings, or no.

Pye. Captain, to entertain a little ſport till they come:
make him believe, you'll charm him inviſible, he's apt to
admire any thing, you fee, let me alone to give force
to't.

Capt. Go, retire to yonder end then.

Edm. I proteſt you are a rare fellow, are you not?

Capt. O Maſter Edmond, you know but the leaſt part of
me yet; why now at this inflant I could flourish my
wand thrice ore your head, and charm you inviſible.

Edm. What you could not? make me walk inviſible
man? I should laugh at that i'faith; troth I'll require your
kindneſs, an you'll do't, good Captain Conjurer.

Capt. Nay, I ſhould hardly deny you ſuch a ſmall kind
neſs, Maſter Edmond Plus, why, look you, Sir, 'tis no more
but this, and thus ageu, and now y'are inviſible.

Edm. Am I Faith? who would think it?

Capt. You fee the Fortune-teller yonder at farther end
o'th' Chamber, go toward him, do what you will with him,
he ſhall ne'r find you.

Edin

the Widow of Watling-Street.

277

Edm. Say you so, I'll try that i'faith— [Jufłles him.

Pye. Hoe now Captain ? who's that juftled me ?

Pye. Juftled you ? I faw no body.

Edm. Ha, ha, ha, — fay 'twas a Spirit.

Capr. Shall I?——may be fome Spirit that haunt the circle.

Pye. O my noſe, agen, pray conjure then, Captain.

[Pulls him by the Nofe.

Edm. Troth this is exlent, I may do any knavery now and never be ſeen,—and now I remember me, Sir Godfrey my Uncle abus'd me t'other day, and told tales of me to my Mother—Troth now I'me invisible, I'll hit him a found whirrit a'th'ear, when he comes out a'th'garden,— I may be reveng'd on him now finely.

Enter Sir Godfrey, Widow, Frank, Nicholas with the Chain.

Sir God. I have my Chain again, my Chain's found again. [Edmond ftrikes him. O fweet Captain, O admirable Conjurer.

O, what mean you by that, Nephew ?

Edm. Nephew ? I hope you do not know me, Uncle ?

Wid. Why did you ſtrike your Uncle, Son ?

Edm. Why, Captain, am I not invifible ?

Capr. A good jeſt, George,—not now you are not, Sir, Why did not you fee me, when I did uncharm you ?

Edm. Not I, by my troth, Captain: Then pray you pardon me, Uncle, I thought I'de been invisible when I ſtruck you.

Sir God. So, you would do't? go,—y'are a fooliſh boy, And were I not o'recome with greater joy, I'de make you taſte correction.

Edm. Correction, pufh—no, neither you nor my Mother, ſhall think to whip me as you have done.

Sir God. Captain, my joy is ſuch, I know not how to thank you, let me embrace you, O my fweet Chain, gladneſs e'en makes me giddy, rare man: 'twas juſt i'th'Rofemary bank, as if one ſhould ha laid it there,—O cunning, cunning!

Wid. Well, feeing my Fortune tells me I muſt marry; let me marry a man of wit, a man of parts, here's a wor thy Captain, and 'tis a fine Title truly la to be a Captain's Wife, a Captain's Wife, it goes very finel, befide all the world knows that a worthy Captain is a fit Companion to any Lord, then why not a fweet Bed-fellow for any Lady,—I'll have it fo—

Enter Frailty.

Frail. O Miftrefs, Gentlemen, there's the bravest fight coming along this way.

Wid. What brave fight ?

Frail. O, one going to burying, and another going to hanging.

Wid. A rueful fight.

Pye. 'ſfoot, Captain, I'll pawn my life the Corporal's coffin'd, and old ſhirmiſh the Souldier going to execution, and 'tis now about the time of his waking; hold out a little longer, fleepy potion, and we ſhall have exlent admira- tion; for I'll take upon me the cure of him.

Enter the Coffin of the Corporal, the Souldier bound, and led by Officers, the Sheriff there.

Frail. O here they come, here they come !

Pye. Now muſt I cloſe ſecretly with the Souldier, prevent their impatience, or eſle all's diſcovered.

Wid. O lamentable feeing, theſe were thofe Brothers, that fought and bled before our door.

Sir God. What they were not, Sifter ?

Skir. George, look to't, I'll peach at Tiburn elfe.

Pye. Mum—Gentles all, vouchſafe me audience, and you eſpecially, Maſter ſheriff:

Yon man is bound to execution, Because he wounded this that now lies coffin'd.

Sher. True, true, he ſhall have the Law,—and I know the Law.

Pye. But under favour, Maſter ſheriff, if this man had been cured and ſafe again, he ſhould have been releas'd then ?

Sher. Why, make you queſtion of that, Sir ?

Pye. Then I releafe him freely, and will take upon me the death that he ſhould die, if within a little ſeafon, I do not cure him to his proper health again.

Sher. How, Sir ? recover a dead man ?

That were moſt ſtrange of all.

[Frank comes to him.

Frank. Sweet Sir, I love you dearily, and could with my beſt part yours,—O do not undertake ſuch an impoſſible venture.

Pye. Love you me? then for your ſweet fake I'll do't: Let me entreat the Corps to be ſet down.

Sher. Bearers, ſet down the Coffin,—this is wonder- ful, and worthy Stow's Chronicle.

Pye. I pray beſtow the freedom of the air upon our whoſome Art,—Mafs his cheeks begin to receive natural warmth: nay, good Corporal, wake bedtime, or I ſhall have a longer ſleep than you,—'sfoot, if he ſhould prove dead indeed now, he were fully reveng'd upon me for making a property on him, yet I had rather run upon the Ropes, than have the Rope like a Tetter run upon me, O—he ſtris—he ſtris agen—look, Gentlemen, he recovers, he flarts, he rifles.

Sher. Oh, oh, defend us—out, alas.

Pye. Nay, pray be ſtill; you'll make him more giddy elfe,—he knows no body yet.

Corp. Zowns: where am I ? cover'd with ſnow ? I marvel ?

Pye. Nay, I knew he would ſwear the fit ſt thing he did, as ſoon as he came to life again.

Corp. 'sfoot, Hofteſs—fome hot porridoge,—oh, hio, lay on a dozen of Faggots in the Moon Parlour, there.

Pye. Lady, you muſt needs take a little piety of him i' faith, and ſend him into your Kitchin fire.

Wid. O, with all my heart, Sir Nicholas and Frailty, help to bear him in.

Nich. Bear him in, quotha, pray call in the Maids, I ſhall ne're have the heart to do't, indeed la.

Frail. Nor I neither, I cannot abide to handle a Ghoſt, of all men.

Corp. 'Sloud, let me fee, where was I drunk laſt night? hah—

Wid. O, ſhall I bid you once agen take him away ?

Frail. Why, we're as fearful as you, I warrant you—oh—

Wid. Away, Villains, bid the Maids make him a Cawdle prefently to ſettle his brain—or a Poffet of Sack, quickly, quickly.

[Exeunt, pufhing in the Corps.

Sher. Sir, whatfoe're you are, I do more than admire you.

Wid. O I, if you knew all, Maſter ſheriff, as you ſhall do, you would ſay then, that here were two of the rareſt men within the Walls of Chriſtendom.

Sher. Two of 'em, O wonderful: Officers, I diſcharge you, fet him free, all's in tune.

Sir God. I, and a Banquet ready by this time, Maſter ſheriff, to which I moſt cheerfully invite you, and your late Prifoner there: fee you this goodly Chain, Sir, mum, on more words, 'twas loft and is found again; come, my in eſtimable Bullies, we'll talk of your noble Aſts in ſparkling Charnico, and inſtead of a Jeſter, we'll ha the Ghoſt i'th' white fleet fit at upper end oth' Table.

Sher. Exlent, merry man, i'faith.

[Exit.

Frank. Well, feeing I am enjoy'd to love and marry, My fooliſh vow thus I calheer to air Which firſt begot it,—now, Love, play thy part; The Scholar reads his lecture in my heart.

Aaaa

Actus

278

The Puritan: Or,

Actus Quintus.

Enter in haſte Maſter Edmond and Frailty.

Edm. THis is the Marriage-morning for my Mother and my Sifter.

Frail. O me, Maſter Edmond, we ſhall have rare doings.

Edm. Nay go, Frailty, run to the Sexton, you know my Mother will be married at Saint Antlings, hie thee,'tis palt five, bid them open the Church door, my Sifter is almoſt ready.

Frail. What already, Maſter Edmond ?

Edm. Nay, go hie thee, firſt run to the Sexton, and run to the Clerk, and then run to Maſter Pigman the Parfon, and then run to the Milliner, and then run home agen.

Frail. Here's run, run, run—

Edm. But hark, Frailty.

Frail. What, more yet ?

Edm. Have the Maids remembred to ſtrew the way to the Church.

Frail. Foh, an hour ago I help'd 'em my ſelf.

Edm. Away, away, away, away then.

Frail. Away, away, away, away then [Exit Frailty.

Edm. I ſhall have a ſimple Father-in-law, a brave Captain, able to beat all our ſtreet: Captain Idle, now my Lady Mother will be ſitted for a delicate name, my Lady Idle, my Lady Idle, the fineſt name that can be for a Woman, and then the Scholar, Maſter Pye-boord for my Sifter Frances, that will be Miſtrefs Frances Pye-boord, Miſtrefs Frances Pye-boord, they'll keep a good Table, I warrant you: Now all the Knights noſes are put out of joynt, they may go to a Bone-fetters now.

Enter Captain and Pye-boord.

Hark, hark; O who comes here with two Torches before 'em, my ſweet Captain, and my fine Scholar ? O how bravely they are ſhot up in one night, they look like fine Britains now me thinks, here's a gallant change i'faith; 'lid, they have hit'd men and all by the Clock.

Capt. Maſter Edmond, kind, honest, dainty Maſter Edmond.

Edm. Foh, ſweet Captain Father-in-law, a rare perfume i'faith.

Pye. What, are the Brides flirring? may we ſteal upon 'em, think'it thou, Maſter Edmond ?

Edm. Faw, they'r e'ne upon readineſs, I can aſſure you; for they were at their Torch e'ne now, by the fame token I tumbled down the flairs.

Pye. Alas, poor Maſter Edmond.

Enter Musicians.

Capt. O, the Musicians ! I prethee, Maſter Edmond, call 'em in, and liquor 'em a little.

Edm. That I will, ſweet Captain Father-in-law, and make each of them as drunk as a common Fidler.

[Exeunt omnes.

Enter Sir John Penny-Dub and Moll above lacing of her Cloaths.

Pen. Whewh, Miſtrefs Moll, Miſtrefs Moll.

Moll. Who's there ?

Pen. 'Tis I.

Moll. Who, Sir John Penny-Dub ? O you're an early Cock i'faith, who would have thought you to be ſo rare a flirrer ?

Pen. Prethee, Moll, let me come up.

Moll. No by my faith, Sir John, I'll keep you down,

for you Knights are very dangerous, if once you get above.

Pen. I'll not ſtay i'faith.

Moll. I'faith you ſhall ſtay: for, Sir John, you muſt note the nature of the Climates: your Northern Wench in her own Country may well hold out till ſhe be ſifteen, but if ſhe touch the South once, and come up to London, here the Chimes go prefently after twelve.

Pen. O th'art a mad Wench, Moll, but I prethee make haſte, for the Priest is gone before.

Moll. Do you follow him, I'll not be long after.

[Exeunt.

Enter Sir Oliver Muck-hill, Sir Andrew Tipſtaſt, and old Skirmiſh talking.

Muck. O monſtrous unheard of Forgety !

Tip. Knight, I never heard of ſuch villany in our own Country, in my life.

Muck. Why, 'tis impoſſible, dare you maintain your words ?

Tip. Dare we we? e'ne to their wezen pipes: we know all their plots, they cannot ſquander with us, they have knavilyth'abus'd us, made only properties on's to advance their ſelves upon our ſhoulders, but they ſhall rue their aſbufes, this morning they are to be married.

Muck. 'Tis too true, yet if the Widow be not too much beſotted on flights and forgeries, the revelation of their villanies will make 'em loathſom, and to that end, be it in private to you, I ſent late laſt night to an honourable perſonage, to whom I am much indebted in kindneſs, as he is to me, and therefore prefume upon the payment of his tongue, and that he will lay out good words for me, and to ſpeak truth, for ſuch needful occations, I only preſerve him in bond, and ſometimes he may do me more good here in the City by a free word of his mouth, than if he had paid one half in hand, and took Doomſday for t'other.

Tip. In troth, Sir, without ſoofing be it ſpoken, you have publifhed much judgment in theſe few words.

Muck. For you know, what ſuch a man utters will be thought effectual, and to weighty purpofe, and therefore into his mouth we'll put the approved Theme of their forgeries.

Tip. And I'll maintain it, Knight, if ſhe'll be true.

Enter a Servant.

Muck. How now, Fellow.

Serv. May it pleafe you, Sir, my Lord is newly lighted from his Coach.

Muck. Is my Lord come already ? his Honour's early: You fee he loves me well; up before heaven, Truſt me, I have found him night-capt at eleven: There's good hope yet: come, I'll relate all to him.

[Exeunt.

Enter the two Bridegrooms, Captain and Scholar after them, Sir Godfrey and Edmond, Widow changed in Apparel, Miſtrefs Frances led between two Knights, Sir John Penny-Dub and Moll: there meets them a Nobleman, Sir Oliver Muck-hill, and Sir Andrew Tipſtaſt.

Nob. By your leave, Lady.

Wid. My Lord, your honour is moſt chaſtly welcome.

Nob. Madam, though I came now from Court, I come not to flatter you: upon whom can I juſtly caſt this blot, but upon your own forehead, that know not Ink from Milk, ſuch is the blind beſetting in the ſlate of an un-headed woman that's a Widow. For it is the property of all you that are Widows (a handful excepted) to hate thofe that honeſtly and carefully love you, to the maintenance of credit, ſlate, and poſterity, and strongly to doat on thofe, that only love you to undo you: and regard

the Widow of Watling-street.

279

regard you leaſt, are beſt regarded; who hate you moſt, are beſt beloved. And if there be but one man amongst ten thouſand millions of men, that is accurate, diſaſtrons, and evilly Planeted; whom Fortune beaſt moſt, whom God hates moſt, and all Societies eſteem leaſt, that man is ſure to be a Husband — Such is the peeviſh Moon that rules your blouds. An impudent Fellow beſt woes you, a flattering Lip beſt wins you, or in mirth, who talks roughlieſt, is moſt freeſeſt; nor can you diſtinguſh truth from forgeries, miſts from simplicity: witneſs theſe two deſeculous Monſters, that you have entertain'd for Bridegrooms.

Wid. Deceitful—

Pye. All will out.

Cap. 'Sfoot, who has blab'd, George? that fooliſh Ni-
cholas.

Nob. For, what they have befotted your eafie bloud withal, were nought but Forgeries, the Fortune-telling for Husbands, and the Conjuring for the Chain; Sir Godfrey heard the falſhood of all: nothing but meek Knavery, deceit and cozenage.

Wid. O wonderful! indeed I wondred that my Huf-
band with all his Craft, could not keep himſelf out of
Purgatory.

Sir God. And I more wonder, that my Chain ſhould
be gone, and my Taylor had none of it.

Moll. And I wondred moſt of all, that I ſhould be
tyed from Marriage, having ſuch a mind to't: come Sir
John Penny-Dub, fair weather on our ſide, the Moon has
chang'd ſince Yeſternight.

Pye. The ſting of every evil is within me.

Nob. And that you may perceive I feign not with you,
behold their Fellow-actor in that ſorſe Forgeries, who full of
Spleen and Envy at their ſo ſudden advancements, reveal'd
all their Plot in anger.

Pye. Bafe Souldier, to reveal us.

Wid. I'ſt poſſible we ſhould be blinded ſo, and our Eyes
open?

Nob. Widow, will you now believe that falſe, which
too ſoon you believed true?

Wid. O, to my ſhame, I do.

Sir God. But under favour, my Lord, my Chain was
truly loft, and ſtrangely ſoung again.

Nob. Refolve him of that, Souldier.

Skir. In few words, Knight, then thou wert the Arch-
Gull of all.

Sir God. How, Sir?

Skir. Nay I'll prove it: for the Chain was but hid in
the Roſemary-bank all this while, and thou gotſt him out
of Prifon to Conjure for it, who did it admirably ſuſtianly,

for indeed what needed any others, when he knew where
it was?

Sir God. O Villany of Villains! but how came my
Chain there?

Skir. Where's Trulyma, Indeed ma? he that will not
Swear, but Lye; he that will not Steal, but Rob: pure
Nicholas Saint Amtlings.

Sir God. O Villain! one of our Society,
Deem'd always holy, pure, religious:

A Puritan, a Thief? when was't ever heard?

Soon we'll kill a man, than Steal, thou know'st.

Out Slave, I'll rend my Lyon from thy back —
With mine own hands.

Nich. Dear Maſter, oh.

Nob. Nay Knight, dwell in patience.

And now, Widow, being ſo near the Church, 'twere
great pitty, nay uncharity, to fend you home again with-
out a Husband: draw near, you of true Worſhip, ſtate
and credit: that ſhould not ſtand ſo far off from a Wi-
dow, and ſuffer forſured ſhapes to come between you: Not
that in theſe I blemiſh the true Title of a Captain, or blot
the fair margent of a Scholar: for I honour worthy and
deferring parts in the one, and cheriſh fruitful Virtues in
the other. Come Lady, and you Virgin, beſtow your
Eyes and your pureſt affections, upon men of eſtimation,
both in Conct and City, that have long woed you, and
both with their hearts and wealth, ſincerely love you.

Sir God. Good Sifter, do: freeſt little Frank, theſe are men of reputation, you ſhall be welcom at Court: a great credit for a Citizen, freeſt Sifter.

Nob. Come, her ſilence do's conſent to't.

Wid. I know not with what Face.

Nob. Pah, pah, with your own Face, they deſire no
other.

Wid. Pardon me, worthy Sirs, I and my Daughters have
wrong'd your loves.

Muck. 'Tis eafily pardon'd, Lady,
If you vouchſafe it now.

Wid. With all my Soul.

Frank. And I, with all my heart.

Moll. And I, Sir John with Soul, Heart, Lights and all.

Sir God. They are all mine, Moll.

Nob. Now Lady :

What honeſt Spirit, but will applaud your choice,

And gladly furniſh you with hand and voice ;

A happy change, which makes e'en Heaven rejoice,

Come, enter in your Joyes, you ſhall not want,
For, Fathers, now I doubt it not, believe me,

But that you ſhall have hands enough to give me.

[Exeunt omnes.

Aaaa2

A

A Yorkhire
TRAGEDY,

*Not so New, as Lamentable and True.*

*Enter Oliver and Raph, two Serving-men.*

Oliv. S
irrah Raph, my young Miftrels is in such a pit-
tiful paſſionate humour for the long abſence
of her Love.

Raph. Why, can you blame her? why, Apples hang
ing longer on the Tree than when they are ripe, makes
fo many fallings, viz. Mad VVenches, becauſe they are
not gathered in time, are fain to drop of themſelves,
and then 'tis common you know for every Man to take
them up.

Oliv. Mafs thy fayeſt true, 'tis common indeed, but
firrah, is neither our young Maſter returned, nor our fel-
low Sam come from London ?

Raph. Neither of either, as the Puritan Bawd fays.
'Slid I hear Sam, Sam's come, here tarry, come i'faith,
now my Nofe itches for News.

Oliv. And fo doth mine Elbow.

[Sam calls within. Where are you there?

Sam. Boy, look you walk my Horfe with diſcretion,
I have rid him finply, I warrant his skin flicks to his
cough of the lungs, I were well ſerved, were I not? What
Raph and Oliver?

Amb. Honeſt fellow Sam, welcome i'faith. what tricks
haſt thou brought from London ?

[Furnish'd with things from London.

Sam. You fee I am hang'd after the trueſt fashion,
three Hats, and two Glaffes bobbing upon them, two re-
bato wyers upon my breaſt, a Cap-caſe by my ſide, a bruſh
at my back, an Almanack in my pocket, and three Bal-
lads in my codpiece; nay, I am the true picture of a com-
mon ſerving-man.

Oliv. I'll ſwear thou art, thou may'ſt ſet up when thou
wilt, there's many a one begins with leſs I can ſell thee,
that proves a rich man e'r he dyes, but what's the News
from London, Sam ?

Raph. I that's well ſed, what is the News from London,
firrah ? My young Miftrels keeps ſuch a puling for her
Love.

Sam. Why the more fool ſhe, I, the more ninny-ham-
mer ſhe.

Oliv. Why, Sam, why ?

Sam. Why, he is married to another long ago.

Amb. Faith ye jeſt.

Sam. Why, did you not know that till now? Why,
he's married, beats his Wife, and has two or three Chil-
dren by her: for you muſt note, that any Woman bears
the more when ſhe is beaten.

Raph. I that's true, for ſhe bears the blows.

Oliv. Sirrah Sam, I would not for two years wages
my young Miftrels knew ſo much, ſhe'd run upon the left

hand of her wit, and ne'r be her own Woman again.

Sam. And I think ſhe was bleſſed in her Cradle, that he
never came in her bed; why, he has confumed all, pawn'd
his Lands, and made his University Brother ſtand in wax
for him; There's a fine phraſe for a Scrivener, puh, he
owes more than his skin is worth.

Oliv. Is't poffible?

Sam. Nay, I'll tell you moreover, he calls his VVife
Whore, as familiarly as one would call Moll and Doll, and
Children Baſtards, as naturally as can be, but what have
we here? I thought 'twas ſomething pull'd down my
Breeches: I quite forgot my two poting flicks, theſe came
from London, now any thing is good here that comes from
London.

Oliv. I, far fetcht you know.

Sam. But Iſpeak in your Conſcience i'faith, have not we
as good poting flicks 'ch' Country as need to be put 'ch'
ſire, the mind of a thing is all, and as thou faſſ't all even
now, far fetch'd are the beſt things for Ladies.

Oliv. I, and for waiting, gentlewomen too.

Sam. But Raph, is our Beer ſowre this Thunder?

Raph. No, no, it holds countenance yet.

Sam. Why then follow me, I'll teach you the fineſt
humour to be drunk in, I learn'd it at London laſt week.

Amb. Faith let's hear it, let's hear it.

Sam. The braveſt humour, 'twould do a man good to
be drunk in it, they call it knighting in London, when
they drink upon their knees.

Amb. Faith that's excellent.

Sam. Come follow me, I'll give you all the degrees of
it in order.

[Exeunt.]

*Enter Wife.*

Wife. What will become of us? all will away.

My Husband never ceaſes in expence,

Both to confume his Credit and his Houſe.

And 'tis ſet down by Heavens juſt decree,

That Riots Child muſt needs be Beggery.

Are theſe the Vertues that his Youth did promife?

Dice and voluptuous Meetings, midnight Revels,

Taking his Bed with ſurfeits; I'll beſeeming

The ancient honour of his Houſe and Name:

And this not all, but that which kills me moſt,

When he recounts his loſſes and ſalſe fortunes,

The weakneſs of his ſtate ſo much dejeſted,

Not as a man repentant, but half mad,

His fortunes cannot anſwer his expence:

He ſits and fallenely locks up his arms,

Forgetting Heaven, looks downward, which makes
Him appear ſo dreadful, that he frights my heart:

Walks heavily, as if his ſoul were earth;

Not penitent for thofe his fins are paſt,

But

A Yorkshire Tragedy.

But vext, his money cannot make them laft :
A fearful melancholy, ungodly forrow.
Oh yonder he comes, now in defpight of ills
I'll ſpeak to him, and I will hear him ſpeak,
And do my belt to drive it from his heart.

Enter Husband.

Huf. Pox of the laft throw, it made
Five hundred Angels vanilſt from my ſight :
I'm damn'd, I'm damn'd, the Angels have forſook me;
Nay 'tis certainly true : for he that has no coyn,
Is damn'd in this world; he's gone, he's gone.

Wife. Dear Husband.

Huf. Oh ! molſt puniſhment of all, I have a Wife.
Wife. I do entreat you, as you love your Soul,

Tell me the cauſe of this your diſcontent.

Huf. A vengeance ſtrip thee naked, thou art cauſe,
Effect, quality, property, thou, thou, thou.

Wife. Bad turn'd to worſe ?

Both beggery of the Soul as of the Body,

And fo much unlike himſelf at ſeſt,

As if fome vexed ſpirit had got his form upon him.

Enter Husband again.

He comes again,

He fays I am the cauſe, I never yet

Spoke leſs than words of duty and of love.

Huf. If marriage be honourable, then Cuckolds are
honourable, for they cannot be made without marriage.
Fool, what meant I to marry to get Beggars ?

Now muſt my eldeſt Son be a Knave or nothing, he can-
not live but upo'th' fool, for he will have no Land to
maintain him : that mortgage ſits like a ſnaſſle upon mine
Inheritance, and makes me chaw upon Iron.

My fecon'd Son muſt be a promoter, and my third a
Thief, or an under-putter, a Slave Pander.
Oh beggery, beggery, to what bafe uſes doth it put a man.

I think the Devil ſcorns to be a Bawd :
He bears himſelf more proudly,
Has more care on his credit.

Bafe, ſlavifh, abjeſt, filthy poverty.

Wife. Good Sir, by all our vows I do beſeeth you,
Shew me the true cauſe of your diſcontent.

Huf. Money, money, money, and thou muſt ſupply me.

Wife. Alas, I am the leaſt cauſe of your diſcontent.

Yet what is mine, either in Rings or Jewels,
Uſe to your own define; but I beſeeth you,

As you are a Gentleman by many bloods,
Though I my ſelf be out of your reſpect,

Think on the ſtate of theſe three lovely Boys
You have been Father to.

Huf. Pub, Baſtards, Baſtards, Baſtards, begot in tricks,
begot in tricks.

Wife. Heaven knows how thofe words wrong me,
But I'll endure theſe griefs among a thouſand more :

Oh call to mind your Lands already mortgag'd,
Your ſelf wound into debts, your hopeful Brother
At the Univerſity into bonds for you,

Like to be ſeiz'd upon. And—

Huf. Ha' done, thou Harlot,

Whom though for ſashion I married,
I never could abide. Think'ft thou thy words
Shall kill my pleasure ? fall off to thy friends,
Thou and thy Baſtards beg, I will not bate
A whit in humour: Midnight still I love you,
And revel in your company: curb'd in ?

Shall it be faſed in all ſocieties,

That I broke cuſtom ? that I ſlag'd in money ?
No, thofe thy Jewels I will play as freely,
As when my ſtate was ſulleſt.

Wife. Be it to.

Huf. Nay I proteſt, and take that for an earneſt,

He ſpurns her.

I will for ever hold thee in contempt,
And never touch the Sheets that cover thee,
But be divorc'd in Bed, till thou confent,
Thy dowry ſhall be fold to give new life
Unto thofe pleafures which I molſt affect.

Wife. Sir, do but turn a gentle eye on me,
And what the Law ſhall give me leave to do,
You ſhall command.

Huf. Look it be done, ſhall I want duſt,
And like a Slave wear nothing in my pockets,

Holds his Hands in his Pockets.

But my hands to fill them up with nails ?

Oh much againſt my blood, let it be done,

I was never made to be a looker on :

A Bawd to Dice; I'll ſhake the Drabs my ſelf,
And make them yield; I ſay, look it be done.

Wife. I take my leave, it ſhall.

Exit.

Huf. Speedily, ſpeedily, I hate the very hour I chofe
a Wife, a trouble, trouble, three Children like three evils
hang upon me, fie, fie, fie, ſtrumpet and baſtards, ſtrump-
pet and baſtards.

Enter three Gentlemen, hearing him.

1 Gent. Still do theſe loathſome thoughts jar on your Tongue ?

Your ſelf to ſtain the honour of your Wife,
Nobly defcended; thofe whom Men call mad,
Endangers others, but he's more than mad
That wounds himſelf, whoſe own words

Do proclaim it is not ſit, I pray forſake it.

2 Gent. Good Sir, let modety reprove you.

3 Gent. Let honeſt kindneſs ſway ſo much with you.

Huf. God den, I thank you, Sir, how do you? adieu, I
am glad to fee you, farewel Inſtructions, Admonitions.

Exen't Gent.

Enter a Servant.

How now, ſirrah ? what would you ?

Ser. Only to certifie you, fir, that my Mirtreſs was
met by the way, by them who were ſent for her up to
London by her honourable Unckle, your Worſhips late
Guardian.

Huf. So, Sir, then ſhe is gone, and fo may you be,

But let her look the thing be done ſhe wots of,
Or Hell will ſtand more plaſaſant than her Houſe at home.

Exit Servant.

Enter a Gentleman.

Gent. Well or ill met, I care not.

Huf. No, nor I.

Gent. I am come with confidence to chide you.

Huf. Who me? chide me? do't finely then, let it not
move me, for if thou chid'ſt me angry, I ſhall ſtrike.

Gent. Strike thine own follies, for it is they
Deſerve to be well beaten; we are now in private,
There's none but thou and I, thou art fond and peevifh,
An unclean Rioter, thy Lands and Credit
Lie now both fick of a consumption,
I am forry for thee; that Man ſpends with ſhame,
That with his Riches doth confume his Name,
And fuch art thou.

Huf. Peace.

Gent. No, thou ſhalt hear me further.

Thy Fathers and fore-fathers worthy Honours,
Which were our Country Monuments, our Grace,
Follies in thee begin now to deface.

The ſpring time of thy youth did fairly promife
Such a molſt fruitful ſummer to thy Friends,
It ſcare can enter into mens beliefs,
Such dearths ſhould hang on thee; we that fee it,
Are forry to believe it: in thy change,

A a a a 3

Thiſ

["A Yorkhire Tragedy.", "This voice into all places will be hurl'd :\nThou and the Devil has deceiv'd the World.", "Huf. I'll not endure thee.", "Gent. But of all the worft,", "Thy virtuous Wife, right honourably allied,\nThou haft proclaim'd a ftrumpet,", "Huf. Nay then I know thee,", "Thou art her Champion thou, her private friend,\nThe party you wot on.", "Gent. Oh ignoble thought,", "I am paft my patient blood, I'll all I ſtand idle", "And fee my reputation touch'd to death ?", "Huf. This has gal'd you, has it ?", "Gent. No monſter, I prove", "My thoughts did only tend to virtuous love.", "Huf. Love of her virtues ? there it goes.", "Gent. Bafe ſpirit, to lay thy hate upon", "The fruitful honour of thine own bed.", "They fight, and the Husband is hurt.", "Huf. Oh.", "Gent. Wilt thou yield it yet ?", "Huf. Sir, Sir, I have not done with you.", "Gent. I hope, nor ne'r ſhall do.", "[Fight again.]", "Huf. Have you got tricks ? are you in cunning with me?", "Gent. No, plain and right.", "He needs no cunning that for truth doth fight.", "[Husband falls down.]", "Huf. Hard fortune, am I level'd with the ground ?", "Gent. Now, Sir, you lye at mercy.", "Huf. I, you Slave.", "Gent. Alas, that hate ſhould bring us to our Grave,\nYou fee, my Sword's not thirtſy for your life,", "I am forſrier for your wound, than your ſelf;", "Y'are of a virtuous Houſe, ſhew virtuous deeds,", "'Tis not your honour, 'tis your folly bleeds:", "Much good has been expected in your life,", "Cancel not all Mens hopes, you have a Wife,", "Kind and obedient, heap not wrongſul ſhame", "On her and your poſterity : let only ſin be fore,", "And by this fall, rife never to fall more.", "And fo I leave you.", "[Exit.]", "Huf. Has the Dog left me then,", "After his tooth has left me ? Oh, my heart", "Would fain leap after him, revenge I ſay,", "I'm mad to be reveng'd, my ſtrumpet Wife,", "It is thy quarrel that rips thus my ſleſh,", "And makes my breast ſpit blood, but thou ſhalt bleed:", "Vanquifh'd ? got down ? unable e'en to ſpeak?", "Surely 'tis want of money makes Men weak,", "I, 'twas that o'rthrew me, I'd ne'r been down eſſe.", "Enter Wife in a riding ſute, with a Serving-man.", "Ser. Faith, Miftrefs, if it may not be preſumption", "In me to tell you ſo, for his excufe", "You had ſmall reaſon, knowing his abufe.", "Wife. I grant I had, but alas,", "Why ſhould our faults at home be ſpread abroad ?", "'Tis grief enough within doors; at ſirſ fight", "Mine Uncle could run o'r his prodigal life", "As perfectly, as if his ſerious eye", "Had numbred all his ſollies :", "Knew of his mortgag'd lands, his friends in bonds,", "Himſelf wither'd with debt; and in that minute", "Had I added his ſuſage and unkindneſs,", "'Twould have confounded every thought of good :", "Where now, fathering his riots on his youth,", "Which time and tame experience will ſhake off,", "Gueſing his kindneſs to me (as I smooth'd him", "With all the skill I had) though his delments", "Are in form uglier than an unſhap'd Bear.", "He's ready to prefer him to ſome Office", "And place at Court: a good and ſure relief", "To all his ſtooping fortunes, 'twill be a means, I hope,", "To make new league between us, and redeem\nHis Virtues with his Lands.", "Ser. I ſhould think ſo : Miftrefs, if he ſhould not now\nbe kind to you, and love you, and cheriſh you up, I ſhould\nthink the Devil himſelf kept open houſe in him.", "Wife. I doubt not but he will now, prithee leave me,\nI think I hear him coming.", "Ser. I am gone.", "[Exit.]", "Wife. By this good means I ſhall preferve my Lands,\nAnd free my Husband out of Uſurpers hands;", "Now there is no need of ſale, my Uncle's kind,", "I hope, if ought, this will content his mind.", "Here comes my Husband.", "Enter Husband.", "Huf. Now, are you come ? where's the money ? let's\nfee the money, is the rubbiſh fold ? that ſwife-akers your\nLands, why then, the money, where is it ? pour it\ndown, down with it, down with it: I ſay pour't on the\nground, let's fee it, let's fee it.", "Wife. Good Sir, keep but in patience, and I hope", "My words ſhall like you well, I bring you better", "Comfort than the ſale of my Dowry,", "Huf. Ha, what's that?", "Wife. Pray do not fright me, Sir, but vouchſafe me hea-\ning. My Uncle, glad of your kindneſs to me and mild uſe-\nage (for ſo I made it to him) hath in pity of your deſi-\nling fortunes, provided a place for you at Court, of worth\nand credit; which ſo much overjoyed me—", "Huf. Out on thee, filth, over and over-joyed,", "When I'm in torment.", "[Spurns her.]", "Thou politick whores, ſubſtiller than nine Devils, was\nthis thy journey to Nunck, to let down the hiftory of\nme, my ſlate and fortunes:", "Shall I, that dedicated my ſelf to pleafure, be now con-\nfin'd in ſervice to crouch, and ſtand like an old man i'th'\nhams, my Hat off? I that could never abide to uncover\nmy head i'th' Church: bafe ſlut, this fruit bears thy com-\nplaints.", "Wife. Oh, heaven knows,", "That my complaints were praifes, and beſt words", "Of you, and your eſtate; only my friends", "Knew of your mortgag'd Lands, and were poſſeſt", "Of every accident before I came.", "If you iſpect it but a plot in me,", "To keep my dowry, or for mine own good,", "Or my poor Childrens (though it ſuits a mother", "To ſhew a natural care in their reliefs)", "Yet I'll forget my ſelf to calm your blood,", "Confufe it, as your pleafure counſels you,", "And all I wifh, e'n clemency affords,", "Give me but pleafant looks, and modeſt words.", "Huf. Money, whores, money, or I'll— [Draws his Dagger.", "Enter a Servant haſtily.", "What the Devil ? how now ? thy haſtly News ?", "Ser. May it pleafe you, Sir.", "Huf. What, may I not look upon my Dagger ?", "Speak, Villain, or I will execute the point on thee :\nquick, ſhort.", "Ser. Why, Sir, a Gentleman from the University flays\nbelow to ſpeak with you.", "Huf. From the University ? ſo, University,\nThat long word runs through me.", "[Exit.]", "Wife. Was ever Wife ſo wretchedly beſt?", "Had not this News ſteep'd in between, the

A Yorkshire Tragedy.

He calls it flavery to be preferr'd,
A place of credit, a bafe servitude.
What fhall become of me, and my poor Children?
Two here, and one at Nurfe, my pretty beggars,
I fee how ruine with a palfie hand
Begins to fhake the ancient feat of duft:
The heavy weight of forrow draws my lids
Over my darkiſh eyes: I can scarce fee;
Thus grief will laſt, it wakes and fleeps with me.

*Enter the Husband with the Maſter of the College.*

Huf. Pleafe you draw near, Sir, y'are exceeding welcome.

Maſt. That's my doubt, I fear I come not to be welcome.

Huf. Yes, howfoever.

Maſt. 'Tis not my fashion, Sir, to dwell in long circumſtance, but to be plain and effectual; therefore to the purpose.

The caufe of my ſetting forth was pious and lamentable; that hopeful young Gentleman your Brother, whose virtues we all love dearly, through your default and unnatural negligence, lies in bond executed for your debt, a Prifoner, all his ſtudies amazed, his hope ſtruck dead, and the pride of his youth muffled in theſe dark clouds of oppreſſion.

Huf. Hum, hum, hum.

Maſt. O you have kill'd the towardeft hope of all our University, wherefore without repentance and amends, expect ponderous and ſudden judgments to fall grievouſly upon you; your Brother, a man who profited in his di-vine impleyments, and might have made ten thouſand ſouſs fit for heaven, now by your careleſs courſes caſt into prifon, which you muſt anſwer for, and aſſure your ſpirit it will come home at length.

Huf. O God, oh.

Maſt. Wife men think ill of you, others speak ill of you, no man loves you, nay, even thofe whom honeyly condemnſs, condemn you: and take this from the virtuous affection I bear your Brother, never look for proſperous hour, good thoughts, quiet ſleep, contented walks, nor any thing that makes man perfect, till you redeem him: what is your anſwer? how will you beflow him? upon desperate miſery, or better hopes? I ſuffer till I hear your anſwer.

Huf. Sir, you have much wrought with me, I feel you in my foul, you are your Arts maſter. I never had fenſe till now; your ſyllables have cleft me, both for your words and pains I thank you: I cannot but acknowledge grievous wrongs done to my Brother, mighty, mighty, mighty, mighty wrongs, Within there.

*Enter a Servingman.*

Huf. Fill me a bowl of Wine. Alas, poor Brother, Bruifed with an execution for my ſake.

Maſt. A bruife indeed makes many a mortal ſore,
Till the Grave cure them.

*Enter with Wine.*

Huf. Sir, I begin to you, y'ave chid your welcome.

Maſt. I could have wifht it better for your ſake,
I pledge you, Sir, to the kind man in prifon.

Huf. Let it be so.

Now, Sir, if you pleafe, to ſpend but a few minutes in walking about my grounds below, my man ſhalt here attend you: I doubt not but by that time to be furniſhed of a ſufficient anſwer, and therein my Brother fully faſtified.

Maſt. Good Sir, in that the Angels would be pleafed, and the World's murmurs calm'd, and I ſhould ſay, I ſet forth then upon a lucky day.

*Exit.*

Huf. O thou confuſed man, thy pleafant ſins have undone thee, thy damnation has begger'd thee, that heaven

ſhould ſay we muſt not ſin, and yet made women: gives our ſenſes way to find pleafure, which being found, confounds us, why ſhould we know thofe things so much miſufe us? O would virtue had been forbidden, we ſhould then have proved all virtuous, for 'tis our blood to love what we are forbidden, what man would have been forbidden, what man would have been ſool to a beaſt, and zany to a fwine, to ſhow tricks in the mire, what is there in three Dice, to make a man draw thrice three thouſand acres into the compaſs of a little round table, and with the Gentlemans palfie in the hand ſhake out his poſterity, thieves, or beggars; 'tis done, I have don't; 'faith: terrible, horrible miſery, how well was I left, very well, very well.

My Lands ſhewed like a Full-Moon about me, but now the Moon's in the laſt Quarter, waining, waining, and I am mad to think that Moon was mine; mine and my Fathers, and my Fore-fathers Generations, Generations, down goes the Houſe of us, down, down it ſinks: Now is the name a Beggar, begs in me that name which hundreds of years has made this Shire famous; in me and my poſterity runs out.

In my Seed five are made miferable befides my ſelf, my Riot is now my Brothers Jaylor, my Wifes ſ fighting, my three Boyes penury, and mine own conſuſion.

*He tears his Hair.*

Why fit my Hairs upon my curled Head?
Will not this Poifon ſcatter them? oh my Brother's

In Execution among Devils that ſtretch him:

And make him give; and I in want,

Not able for to live, nor to redeem him.

Divines and dying men may talk of Hell,

But in my heart her ſeveral torments dwell,

Slavery and miſery. Who in this caſe

Would not take up money upon his Soul?

Pawn his Salvation, live at interſt:

I, that did ever in abundance dwell,

For me to want, exceeds the threes of Hell.

*Enter his little Son, with a Top and Scourge.*

Son. What ail you, Father, are you not well, I cannot courge my Top as long as you ſland to: you take up all the room with your wide Legs, pub, you cannot make me afraid with this, I fear no Vizards, nor bugbears.

He takes up the Child by the Skirts of his long Coat in one hand, and draws his Dagger with the other.

Huf. Up Sir, for here thou haſt no inheritance left.

Son. Oh what will you do, Father, I am your white Boy.

*Strikes him.*

Huf. Thou ſhalt be my red Boy, take that.

Son. Oh you hurnt me Father.

Huf. My eldeſt Beggar, thou ſhalt not live to ask an Uſurer bread, to cry at a great mans Gate, or follow, Good your Honour, by a Coach, no, nor your Brother: 'tis Charity to brain you.

Son. How ſhall I learn now my Head's broke?

Huf. Bleed, bleed, rather than beg, beg. [Hubs him.]
Be not thy names difgrace:

Spurn thy Fortunes firſt, if they be bafe:

Come view thy ſecond Brother: Fates,

My Childrens bloud shall ſpin into your Faces,

You ſhall fee,

How confidently we ſcorn beggery. [Exit with his Son.

*Enter a Maid with a Child in her Arms, the Mother by her ſleep.*

Maid. Sleep, sweet Babe, ſorrow makes thy Mother ſleep, It boads ſmall good when heavineſs falls ſo deep, Hufh, pretty Boy, thy hopes might have been better, 'Tis loſt at Dice, what ancient honour won,

Hard

A Yorkshire Tragedy.

Hard when the Father plays away the Son:
Nothing but misery serves in this Houfe,
Ruine and defolation; oh.

Enter Husband with the Boy bleeding.

Huf. Whore, give me that Boy.
[He strives with her for the Child.
Maid. Oh help, help, out alas, murder, murder.
Huf. Are you goffiping, prating sturdy quean,
I'll break your clamour with your Neck,
Down stairs; tumble, tumble, headlong.

[He throws her down.
So, the furest way to charm a Womans Tongue,
Is break her Neck, a Politician did it.

Son. Mother, Mother, I am kill'd, Mother.

[His Wife awakes, and catcheth up the youngest.
Wife. Ha, who's that cry'd? O me my Children,
Both, both; bloudy, bloudy.

Huf. Strumpet, let go the Boy, let go the Beggar.

Wife. Oh my sweet Husband.

Huf. Filth, Harlot.

Wife. Oh, what will you do, dear Husband ?

Huf. Give me the Baftard.

Wife. Your own sweet Boy.

Huf. There are too many Beggars.

Wife. Good my Husband.

Huf. Do't thou prevent me still?

Wife. Oh God !

[Stabs at the Child in her arms, and gets it from her.

Huf. Have at his Heart.

Wife. Oh my dear Boy.

Huf. Brat, thou shall not live to flame thy Houfe.

Wife. Oh Heaven.

Huf. And perſiſh, now be gone,

There's Whores enow, and want would make thee one.

Enter a lufky Servant.

Ser. Oh Sir, what deeds are theſe ?

Huf. Bafe slave, my Vafall,

Com'thou between my fury to queſtion me ?

Ser. Were you the Devil, I would hold you, Sir.

Huf. Hold me ? preſumption, I'll undo thee for it.

Ser. 'Sbroud, you have undone us all, Sir.

Huf. Tug at thy Maſter ?

Ser. Tug at a Monſter.

Huf. Have I no power ? ſhall my Slave Fetter me ?

Ser. Nay then the Devil wraſtles, I am thrown.

[Husband overcomes him.
Huf. Oh Villain, now I'll tug thee, now I'll tear thee,
Set quick Spurs to my Vafall, bruife him, trample him ;
So, I think thou wilt not follow me in haſte.
My Horſe stands ready fadled, away, away,
Now to my Brat at Nurfe, my fucking Beggar ;
Fates, I'll not leave you one to trample on.

[The Maſter meets him.
Maſter. How is't with you Sir, me-thinks you look of a diſtraſted colour.

Huf. Who, I Sir ? 'tis but your fancy,
Pleafe you walk in, Sir, and I'll foon resolve you,
I want one ſmall part to make up the fumm,
And then my Brother ſhall reſt ſatisfied.

Maſter. I ſhall be glad to fee it, Sir, I'll attend you.

[Exeunt.
Ser. Oh, I am ſcarce able to heave up my ſelf,
He has ſo bruis'd me with his devililli weight,
And torn my fleſh with his bloud-haſty Spur,
A man before of eafe constitution,
Till now Hells power ſupplied, to his Souls wrong,
Oh how damnation can make weak men ſtrong.

Enter Maſter and two Servants.

Ser. Oh the moſt pittious deed, Sir, ſince you came.
Maſter. A deadly greeting; hath he fumm'd up theſe
To ſatſe his Brother ? here's another,

And by the bleeding Infants, the dead Mother.

Wife. Oh, oh.

Maſter. Surgeons, Surgeons, ſhe recovers life,
One of his men all faint and bloudied.

I Ser. Follow, our murderous Maſter has took
Horſe to kill his Child at nurſe, oh follow quickly.

Maſter. I am the readieſt, it ſhall be my charge
To raife the Town upon him.

[Exit Maſter and Servants.

I Ser. Good Sir follow him.

Wife. Oh my Children.

I Ser. How is it my moſt afflicted Miftrefs ?

Wife. Why do I now recover ? why half live ?

To fee my Children bleed before mine Eyes,
A flight, able to kill a Mothers Breaſt without
An Executioner; what, art thou mangled too ?

I Ser. I thinking to prevent what his quick miſchiefs
Had fo ſoon acted, came and ruſht upon him,

We ſtrugled, but a fouler ſtength than his
Ore-threw me with his Arms, then he did bruife me,
And rent my fleſh, and rob'd me of my Hair,
Like a man mad in Execution,
Made me unfit to rife and follow him.

Wife. What is it that beguil'd him of all grace?
And ſtole away humanity from his Breaſt,
To ſlay his Children, purpoſed to kill his Wife,
And ſpoil his Servants.

Enter two Servants.

Both. Pleafe you leave this accuſed place,
A Surgeon waits within.

Wife. Willing to leave it ;
'Tis guilty of sweet bloud, innocent bloud,
Murder hath took this Chamber with full hands,
And will not out as long as the Houſe stands.

[Exeunt.

Enter Husband, as being thrown of his
Horſe, and falls.

Huf. Oh ſtumbling Jade, the Spavin overtake thee,
The fifty Difeaſes ſtop thee :

Oh, I am forely bruis'd, Plague founder thee,
Thou run't at eafe and pleaſure, heart of chance,
To throw me now, within a flight o' th' Town,
In fuch plain even ground,

'Sfoot, a man may Dice upon it, and throw away the
Meadows, ah filthy Beaſt.

Cry within. Follow, follow, follow.

Huf. Ha ? I hear ſounds of men, like Hue and Cry ;
Up, Up, and ſtruggle to my Horſe, make on,
Difſpatch that little Beggar, and all's done.

Cry within. Here, this way, this way.

Huf. At my back ? oh,

What fate have I, my Limbs deny me to go,
My will is bated, Beggery claims a part,
Oh I could here reach to the Infants heart.

Enter Maſter of the Colledge, three Gentlemen,
and others with Halberds.

All. Here, here, yonder, yonder.

Maſter. Unnatural, flinty, more than barbarous,
The ſcathians in their marble-hearted fates,
Could not have acted more remorſeleſs deeds
In their relentleſs natures, than theſe of thine :
Was this the anſwer I long waited on,
The ſatisfaction for thy Prifoned Brother ?

Enſ.

A Yorkshire Tragedy.

Huf. He can have no more of us than our skins,
And fome of them want but fleeing.

1 Gent. Great fins have made him impudent.

Maſt. H'as ſhed so much blood, that he cannot bluſh.

2 Gent. Away with him, bear him to the Juitices,
A Gentleman of Worſhip dwells at hand,
There ſhall his deeds be blazed.

Huf. Why all the better,
My glory 'tis to have my action known,
I grieve for nothing, but I miſt of one.

Maſt. There's little of a father in that grief:
Bear him away.

[Exeunt.]

Enter a Knight, with two or three Gentlemen.

Knight. Endangered fo his Wife, murdered his Chil-
dren?

1 Gent. So the cry goes.

Knight. I am forry I were knew him,
That ever he took life and natural being
From ſuch an honoured ſtock, and fair deſcent,
Till this black minute without ſtain or blemiſh.

1 Gent. Here come the men.

Enter the Maſter of the Colledge, and the reſt
with the Prisoner.

Knight. The Serpent of his houſe: I me forry for this
time, that I am in place of Juitice.

Maſt. Pleafe you, Sir.

Knight. Do not repeat it twice, I know too much,
Would it had ne're been thought on.
Sir, I bleed for you.

1 Gent. Your father's forrows are alive in me:
What made you ſhew ſuch monſtrous cruelty ?

Huf. In a word, Sir,

I have confum'd all, plaſed away long acre,
And I thought it the charitabledeed I could do
To cozen Beggery, and knock my houſe o'th'head.

Knight. I do not think, but in To morrow's judgment,
The terror will fit cloſer to your foul,
When the dread thought of Death remembers you ;
To further which, take this ſad voice from me,
Never was act plaſd more unnaturally.

Huf. I thank you, Sir.

Knight. Go lead him to the Jayl.
Where Juitice claims all, there muſt pity fail.

Huf. Come, come, away with me.

[Exit Prisoner.]

Maſt. Sir, you deferve the worſhip of your place,
Would all did ſo, in the Law is grace.

Knight. It is my wifh it ſhould be ſo;
Ruinous man, the defolation of his houſe,
The blot upon his Predeceſſor's honour'd name :
That man is neareſt ſhame, that is paſt ſhame.

[Exit.]

Enter Husband with the Officers, the Maſter and Gen-
tlemen, as going by his Housſe.

Huf. I am right againſt my houſe, ſeat of my Ance-
ſtors; I hear my Wife's alive, but much endangered; Ict
me intreat to ſpeak with her before the prifon gripe me.

Enter his Wife brought in a Chair.

Gent. See, here he comes of her ſelf.

Wife. O my fweet husband, my dear diſtrefſed husband,
now in the hands of unrelenſing Laws, my greateſt for-
row, my extremeſt bleeding; now my foul bleeds.

Huf. How now ? kind to me ? did not I wound thee,
leave thee for dead ?

Wife. Tut, far greater wounds did my breaſt feel,
Unkindneſs ſtrikes a deeper wound than ſeel,
You have been ſtill unkind to me.

Huf. Faith, and ſo I think I have ;
I did my murders roughly out of hand,

Deſperate and ſudden, but thou haſt deſvis'd
A fine way now to kill me, thou haſt given my eyes
Seven wounds apiece; now glides the Devil from
Me, departs at every joint, heaves up my nails.

O catch him new torments, that were ne're invented :
Bind him one thouſand more, you bleſſed Angels,
In that bottomleſs pit, let him not rife

To make men act unnatural Tragedies,

To ſpread into a Father, and in fury,

Make him his Childrens Executioners,
Murder his Wife, his Servants, and who not ?

For that man's dark, where Heaven is quite forgot.

Wife. O my repentant husband !

Huf. My dear ſoul, whom I too much have wrong'd
For death I die, and for this I have long'd.

Wife. Thou should'ſt not (be allured) for theſe faults
Die, if the Law could forgive as ſoon as I.

[Children laid out.]

Huf. What fight is yonder ?

Wife. O our two bleeding Boys
Laid forth upon the threshold.

[crack.]

Huf. Here's weight enough to make a heart-string
O were it lawful that your pretty fouls

Might look from Heaven into your Father's eyes,
Then ſhould you fee the penitent glaſſes melt,
And both your murders ſhoot upon my cheeks.

But you are playing in the Angels laps,
And will not look on me,

Who void of grace, kill'd you in beggery.

O that I might my wifhes now attain,
I ſhould then with you living were again ;

Though I did beg with you, which thing I feaſ'd,
O 'twas the enemy my eyes ſo blear'd.

O would you could pray Heaven me to forgive,
That will unto my end repentant live.

Wife. It makes me e'en forget all other forrows,
And leave part with this.

Officer. Come, will you go ?

Huf. I'll kifs the blood I pilt, and then I'll go,
My foul is bloodied, well may my lips be ſo.

Farewel, dear Wife, now thou and I muſt part,
I of thy wrongs, repent me with my heart.

Wife. O ſlay, thou ſhalt not go.

Huf. That's but in vain, you fee it muſt be ſo.

Farewel ye bloody affes of my Boys,
My puniſhments are their eternal joys.

Let every Father look well into his deeds,
And then their Heirs may proſper, while mine bleeds.

[Exit Husband with Officers.]

Wife. More wretched am I now in this diſtrefſ,
Than former forrows made me.

Maſt. O kind Wife, be comforted,

One joy is yet unmurdered,
You have a Boy at nurſe, your joy's in him.

Wife. Dearer than all is my poor husband's life :
Heaven give my body ſtrength, which is yet faint
With much expence of blood, and I will kncel,
Sue for his life, number up all my friends
To plead for pardon for my dear husband's life.

Maſt. Was it in man to wound ſo kind a creature ?

I'll ever praife a woman for thy fake.

I muſt return with grief, my anſwer's ſet,
I ſhall bring news weighs heavier than the debt.

Two Brothers; the one in bond lies overthrown,
This on a deadlair execution.

[Exeunt omnes.]

THE

286

THE
TRAGEDY
OF
LOCRINE,
THE
ELDEST SON
OF
KING BRUTUS.

Actus Primus. Scena Prima.

Enter Atey with Thunder and Lightning, all in black, with a burning Torch in one hand, and a bloddy Sword in the other hand; and prefently let there come forth a Lyon running after a Bear, or any other Beast, then come forth an Archer, who muſt kill the Lyon in a dumb ſhow, and then depart. Remain Atey.

Atey.

In pænam ſeſtatur & Umbra.

A
Mighty Lyon, Ruler of the Woods,
Of wondrous ſtrength and great proportion,
With hideous noife ſcaring the trembling
Trees,
With yelling clamours ſhaking all the Earth,
Traverſt the Groves, and chac't the wandring Beaſts:
Long did he range among the ſhady Trees,
And drave the filly Beaſts before his Face;
When suddenly from out a thorny Buſh
A dreadful Archer with his Bow ybent,
Wounded the Lyon with a diſmal ſhaft,
So he him ſtrook, that it drew forth the bloud,
And fill'd his ſurious heart with fretting ire;
But all in vain he threatneth Teeth and Paws,
And ſparkleth fire from forth his flaming Eyes,
For the ſharp ſhaft gave him a mortal wound:
So valiant Brute, the terror of the World,
Whoſe only looks did ſcare his Enemies,
The Archer Death brought to his lateſt end.

Oh what may long abide above this ground,
In ſtate of blifs and healthful happineſs !

[Exit.]

Scena Secunda.

Enter Brutus carried in a Chair, Locrine, Camber, Al-
banact, Corineius, Guendelin, Aſſaracus, Debon,
Thraſimachus.

Brutus. Moſt loyal Lords, and faithful Followers,
That have with me, unworthy General,
Paffed the greedy Gulf of th' Ocean,
Leaving the Conſines of fair Italy,
Behold, your Brutus draweth nigh his end,
And I muſt leave you, though againſt my will;
My finews ſhrunk, my numbered ſenſes fail,
A chilling cold poſſeſeth all my Bones,
Black ugly Death with viſage pale and wan,
Prefes himſelf before my dazled Eyes,
And with his Dart prepared is to ſtrike:
Theſe Arms, my Lords, theſe never daunted Arms,
That oft have quell'd the courage of my Foes,
And eke diſmay'd my Neighbour's arrogance,
Now yield to Death, o'relaid with crooked Age,
Devoid of ſtrength and of their proper force;
Even as the luſty Cedar worn with years,
That far abroad her dainty odour throws,
'Mongſt all the Daughters of proud Lebanon,
This heart, my Lords, this ne're appalled heart,
That was a terror to the bordring Lands,
A doleful ſcourge unto my neighbour Kings,

Now

The Tragedy of Lorraine.

Now by the weapons of impartial Death,
Is clove afoonder and bereft of life;
As when the facred oak with Thunderbolts,
Sent from the fiery circuit of the Heavens,
Sliding along the airs celestial vauls,
Is rent and cloven to the very roots.
In vain therefore I fttriggle with this foe,
Then welcome Death, since God will have it fo.

Affar. Alas my Lord, we forrow at your cafe,
And grieve to fee your perſon vced thus;
But whatfoe're the fates determin'd have,
It lieth not in us to difanoul,
And he that would annihilate his mind,
Soaring with Icarus too near the Sun,
May catch a fall with young Bellerophon.
For when the fatal Sifters have decreed
To ſeparate us from this earthly mould,
No mortal force can countermand their minds:
Then, worthy Lord, ſince there's no way but one,
Ceafe your laments, and leave your grievous moan.

Corin. Your Highneſt knows how many victories,
How many Trophies I errected have
Triumphantly in every place we came;
The Grecian Monarch, warlike Pandraſſus,
And all the crew of the Molloſſians:
Goffarius the arm-ſtrong King of Gaules,
Have felt the force of our victorious Arms,
And to their coſt beheld our Chivalrie,
Where e're Ancora handmaid of the Sun,
Where e're the Sun-bright gardiant of the day,
Where e're the joyful day with cheerful Light,
Where e're the Light illuminates the World,
The Trojans glory flies with golden wings,
Wings that do foar beyond ſell envious flight,
The fame of Brutus and his followers
Pierceth the skies, and with the skies the throne
Of mighty Jove, Commander of the world,
Then, worthy Brutus, leave theſe ſad laments,
Comfort your ſelf with this your great renown,
And fear not Death, though he ſeem terrible.

Brutus. Nay, Corineus, you miſtake my mind,
In conſtruing wrong the cauſe of my complaints,
I fear'd not t' yield my ſelf to fatal Death,
God knows it was the leaſt of all my thoughts,
A greater care torments my very Bones,
And makes me tremble at the thought of it,
And in your Lordings doth the ſubſtance lie.

Thraſi. Moſt noble Lord, if ought your Loyal Peers
Accompliſh may, to eafe your lingring grief,
I in the name of all proteſt to you,
That we will boldly enterprife the fame,
Were it to enter to black Tartarus,
Where triple Cerberus with his venomous throat,
Scareth the Ghoſts with high refounding noife,
We'll either rent the bowels of the Earth,
Searching the entrails of the bruitish Earth,
Or with his Ixions overardring ſoon,
Be bound in Chains of ever-during Steel.

Bru. Then harken to your Soveraign's lateſt words,
In which I will unto you all unfold,
Our Royal mind and refolute intent.
When golden Hebe, Daughter to great Jove,
Cover'd my manly Cheeks with youthful Down,
Th'unhappy ſlaughter of my luckleſs Sir,
Drove me and old Aſſarachus mine Eame,
As exiles from the bounds of Italy,
So that perſorce we were conſtrain'd to fly
To Grecians Monarch, noble Pandraſſus,
There I alone did undertake your cauſe,
There I reſor'd your antique liberty,
Though Grecia frown'd, and all Molloſſia ſtorm'd,
Though brave Antigonus, with martial band,
In pitched field encountered me and mine,
Though Pandraſſus and his contributaries,

With all the rout of their confederates,
Sought to deface our glorious memory,
And wipe the name of Trojans from the Earth:
Him did I captivate with this mine Arm,
And by compulſion forc't him to agree
To certain Articles, which there we did propound,
From Grecia through the boifterous Helleſpont,
We came into the Fields of Leftrigon,
Whereat our Brother Corineus was;
Which when we paffed the Cieſtian gulf,
And fo transfretting the Iliſian Sea,
Arrived on the coaſts of Aquitain;
Where with an Army of his barbarous Gaules
Goffarius and his Brother Gathelus
Encountring with our hoſt, ſuſtain'd the foil,
And for your fakes my Turnus there I loft:
Turnus that flew fix hundred men at Arms,
All in an hour, with his ſharp Battle Axe,
From thence upon the ſtronds of Albion
To Corus Haven happily we came,
And quell'd the Giants, come of Albion's race,
With Gogmagog, Son to Samotheus,
The curſed Captain of that damned crew,
And in that ſle at length I placed you,
Now let me fee, if my laborious toyles,
If all my care, if all my grievous wounds,
If all my diligence were well employ'd.

Corin. When firſt I followed thee and thine (brave King)

I hazarded my life and deareſt Blood,
To purchase favour at your Princely hands,
And for the fame in dangerous attempts
In fundry conflicts, and in divers broyls,
I ſhew'd the courage of my manly mind:
For this I combated with Gathelus,
The Brother to Goffarius of Gaule:
For this I fought with furious Gogmagog,
A favage Captain of a favage crew:
And for theſe deeds brave Cornwall I receiv'd,
A grateful gift given by a gracious King;
And for this gift, this life and deareſt Blood,
Will Corineus ſpend for Brutus good.

Deb. And what my Friend, brave Prince, hath vow'd to you,

The fame will Debon do unto his end.

Bru. Then, Loyal Peers, ſince you are all agreed,
And refolute to follow Brutus hoſts,
Favour, my Sons, favour thofe Orphans, Lords,
And ſhield them from the dangers of their foes.
Llocrine, the Column of my Family,
And only Pillar of my weakned age:
Locrine, draw near, draw near unto thy Sire,
And take thy lateſt bleſſings at his hands;
And for thou art the eldeſt of my Sons,
Be thou a Captain to thy Brethren,
And imitate thy aged Fathers ſteps,
Which will conduct thee to true honours gate:
For if thou follow facred virtues lore,
Thou ſhalt be crowned with a Laurel branch,
And wear a wreath of ſempiternal fame,
Sorted amongſt the glorious happy ones.

Locrin. If Locrine do not follow your advice,
And bear himſelf in all things like a Prince
That feeks to ampliſe the great renown,
Left unto him for an inheritance
By thofe that were his Anceſtours,
Let me be ſung into the Ocean,
And ſwallowed in the bowels of the Earth.
Or let the ruddy lightning of great Jove,
Defend upon this my devoluted head.

Brutus raking Guendeline by the hand.

Brutus. But for I fee you all to be in doubt,
Who ſhall be matched with our Royal Son,
Locrine, receive this preſent at my hand:

A gift

The Tragedy of Locrine.

A gift more rich than are the wealthy Mines
Found in the Bowels of America.

Thou fhalt be ſpouſed to fair Guendeline:
Love her, and take her, for ſhe is thine own,
If ſo thy Uncle and her ſelf do pleafe.

Corin. and herein how your Highneſs' honours me,
It cannot now be in my ſpeech expreſt :
For careful Parents glory not so much
At their honour and promotion,
As for to fee the ill ſe of their Blood
Seated in honour and prosperity.

Guend. And far be it from my pure Maiden thoughts,
To contradict her aged Fathers will.
Therefore ſince he to whom I muſt obey,
Hath given me now unto your Royal ſelf,
I will not ſtand aloof from off the lure,
Like crafty Dames that moſt of all deny
That, which they moſt defire to poſſeſ.

Brutus turning to Locrine,

[Locrine kneeling.]

Then now my Son thy part is on the ſlage,
For thou muſt bear the perſon of a King.

[Puts the Crown on his head.]

Locrine ſtand up, and wear the regal Crown,
And think upon the ſlate of Majefity,
That thou with honour well maſt wear the Crown,
And if thou tendreſt theſe my lateſt words,
As thou requireſt my Soul to be at reſt,
As thou deſireſt thine own ſecurity,
Cherish and love thy new betrothed wife.

Locrine. No longer let me well enjoy the Crown,
Than I do peerleſs Guendeline.

Brut. Camber.

Cam. My Lord,

Brut. The glory of mine age,
And darling of thy Mother Junoſer,
Take thou the South for thy Dominion,
From thee there ſhall proceed a Royal race,
That ſhall maintain the honour of this land,
That ſway the regal ſcepter with their hands.

[Turning to Alabanaſt.]

And Alabanaſt thy Fathers only joy,
Youngeſt in years, but not the young'it in mind,

A perfect pattern of all chivalrie,
Take thou the North for thy Dominion,
A country full of hills and ragged rocks,
Replenſed with ſierce untamed beaſts,
As correfpondent to thy martial thoughts.

Live long my Sons with endleſs happineſs,
And bear firm concordance among your ſelves,
Obey the counſels of theſe Fathers grave,
That you may better bear out violence,
But suddenly through weakneſs of my age,

And the defect of youthful puſſance,
My Maladie increaſeth more and more,
And cruel Death haſteneth his quickned pace,
To diſpoſeſs me of my earthly ſhape,
Mine Eyes wax dim, o're-caſt with clouds of age.

The pangs of Death compaſs my crazed bones,
Thus to you all my bleſſings I bequeath,
And with my bleſſings, this my fleeting Soul.

My glaſs is run, and all my miſeries

Do end with life: Death cloſeth up mine Eyes,
My Soul in haſt flies to the Elyſian fields.

[He dieth.]

Loc. Accurſed ſlars, damn'd and accuſed ſlars,
To abbreviate my noble Father's life,

Hard-hearted gods, and too envious fates,
Thus to cut off my Father's fatal thred,
Brutus that was a glory to us all,

Brutus that was a terror to his foes,
Alas too ſoon by Demagorgon's knife,
The martial Brutus is bereit of life.

No faſd complaints may move juſt Lacus.

Corin. No dreadful threats can fear judge Rhodomantb.

Wert thou as ſtrong as mighty Hercules,
That tam'd the huge monſters of the world,
Plaid'ſt thou as ſweet, on the ſweet ſounding Lute,
As did the ſpouſe of fair Euridice,
That did enchant the waters with his noſe,
And made the Stones, birds, beaſts, to lead a dance,
Conſtrain'd the hilly trees to follow him,
Thou could'ſt not move the judge of Crebiu,
Nor move compaſſion in grim Pluto's heart,
For fatal Mors expeſteth all the world,
And every man muſt tread the way of Death,
Brave Tantalus, the valiant Pelops ſire,
Gueſt to the gods, ſuffered untimely Death,
And old Fleithonus Husband to the morn,
And eke grim Minos whom juſt Jupiter
Deign'd to admit unto his ſacrifice,
The thundring trumpets of blood-thirſty Mars.
The fearful rage of ſell Tiphnoen.

The boilſrous waves of humid Ocean,
Are instruments and tools of diſmal Death.

Then noble cousin ceaſe to mourn his chance,
Whofe age and years were ſigns that he ſhould die.
It reſeſt now that we inter his bones,
That was a terror to his Enemies.

Take up his coarſe, and Princes hold him dead,
Who while he liv'd, upheld the Trojan State.

Sound Drums and Trumpets, march to Trinevant,
There to provide our chieſtains Funeral.

[Exult.]

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Strumbo above in a gown, with Ink and Paper in his hand, laying,

Strum. Either the four Elements, the ſeven Planets and all the particular Stars of the Pole Antaſtick, are adverſitive against me, or eſſe I was begotten and born in the wain of the Moon, when every thing, as Laſtantius in his fourth Book of Conſtultations doth lay, goeth arſward. I Maſters, I, you may laugh, but I muſt weep; you may joy, but I muſt forrow; theſding ſalt tears from the watry Fountains of my moſt dainty fair Eyes, along my comely and ſmooth cheeks, in as great plenty as the water runneth from the bucking-tubs, or red wine out of the Hogs-heads: for truſt me, Gentlemen and my very good Friends, and to forth: the little god, nay the deſperate god Cuprid, with one of his vengible birds bolts, hath ſhot me unto the heel: ſo not only, but alſo, oh fine phraſe, I burn, I burn, I burn, and I burn, in love, in love, and in love a, ah Strumbo, what haſt thou ſeen, not Dina with the Aſ Tom? Yea with theſe Eyes thou haſt ſeen her, and therefore pull them out: for they will work thy bail. Ah Strumbo, haſt thou heard the voice of the Nightingale, but a voice ſweeter than hers, yea with theſe ears haſt thou heard them, and therefore cut them off, for they have cauſ'd thy forrow. Nay Strumbo, kill thy ſelf, drownd thy ſelf, hang thy ſelf, ſtare thy ſelf. Oh but then I ſhall leave my ſweet heart. Oh my heart! Now pate for thy Maſter, I will dite an alijant love-pitſle to her, and then the hearing the grand verboſity of my Scrip- ture, will love my prefently.

[Let him write a little, and then read.
My pen is naught, Gentlemen, lend me a knife, I think the
more haſte the worſt ſpeed.

[Then write again, and after read.

So it is, Miftris Dorotbie, and the fol ſeffence of my Soul,
that the little ſparkles of affection kindled in me towards
your ſweet ſelf, hath now increaſed to a great flame, and
will e're it be long confume my poor heart, except you
with the pleafant water of your ſecret Fountain, quench
the furious heat of the fame. Alas, I am a Gentleman of
good fame, and name, majeſtical, in apparel comely, in
gate portly. Let not therefore your gentle heart be ſo
hard, as to deſpife a proper tall young man of a handſome
life.

The Tragedy of Locrine.

289

life, and by defpiing him, not only but also to kill him
Thus expecting time and tide, I bid you farewell. Your
Servant, Signior Strumbo.

Oh wit, O pate, O memory, O hand, O ink, O Paper.
Well, now I will fend it away: Trompart, Trompart,
what a Villain is this? Why Sirrah, come when your
Master calls you. Trompart.

Trompart entring faith
Anon, Sir.

Strumbo. Thou knowest, my pretty Boy, what a good
Master I have been to thee ever since I took thee into my
service.

Trom. I, Sir.

Strum. And how I have cherified thee always, as if
thou hadst been the fruit of my Loyns, Flesh of my
Flesh, and Bone of my Bone.

Trom. I, Sir.

Strum. Then flew thy felf herein a truſtſervant, and
carry this Letter to Miftrels Dorothy, and tell her.

[Speaking in his Ear.

[Exit Trompart.

Strum. Nay, Maſters, you ſhall fee a Marriage by and
by. But here ſhe comes. Now muſt I frame my amorous
paffions.

Enter Dorothy and Trompart.

Doro. Signior Strumbo, well met, I received your Let-
ters by our man here, who told me a pittiful ſtory of
your anguifh, and ſo underſtanding your paffions were
fo great, I came hither ſpeedily.

Strum. Oh, my sweet and Pigney, the fecundity of
my ingeny is not ſo great, that may declare unto you the
farrowſow fobs, and broken fleeps that I suffered for your
fake; and therefore I deſire you to receive me into your
familiarity.

For your Love doth lie,
As near and as nigh,
Unto my heart within,
As mine Eye to my Nofe,
My Leg unto my Hoge,
And my Flesh unto my Skin.

Dor. Truly, Mr. Strumbo, you ſpeak too learnedly
for me to underſtand the drift of your mind, and there-
fore tell your tale in plain terms, and leave off your dark
Riddles.

Strum. Alas, Miftrels Dorothy, this is my luck, that
when I moſt would, I cannot be underſlood: ſo that my
great learning is an inconvenience unto me. But to ſpeak
in plain terms, I love you, Miftrels Dorothy, if you like
to accept me into your familiarity.

Dor. If this be all, I am content.

[Turning to the people.

Strum. Say'ft thou ſo, ſweet Wench, let me lick thy
Toes. Farewel, Miftrels. If any of you be in love,
provide ye a Cap Cafe full of new coin'd words, and
then ſhall you ſoon have the ſuccado de labres, and ſome-
thing elfe.

[Exeunt.]

Scena Quarta.

Enter Locrine, Guendeline, Camber, Albanaſt, Cori-
neuſ, Aſſarachus, Debon, Thraſimachus.

Locrine. Uncle and Princes of brave Brittany,
Since that our noble Father is Entomb'd,
As beſt beſeem'd ſo brave a Prince as he,
If ſo you pleafe, this day my Love and I,
Within the Temple of Concordia,
Will ſeſomnize our Royal Marriage.

Tha. Right noble Lord, your ſubjects every one,
Muft needs obey your Highneſts at command,
Eſpecially in ſuch a cauſe as this,
That much concerns your Highneſts great content.

Locr. Then frolick, Lordings, to fair Concords Walls,
Where we will paſt the day in Knightly ſports,
The night in Dancing and in ſigured Masks,
And offer to God Rijus all our ſports.

[Exeunt.]

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Ate as before, after a little Lightning and Thun-
dring, let there come forth this ſhow: Perſeus and An-
dromeda, band in band, and Cepheus alio with Swords
and Targets. Then let there come out of another Door
Phineus, all black in Armour, with Aſthiopians after
him, driving in Perſeus, and having taken away Andro-
media, let them depart. Ate remaining, ſaying,

Regit omnia numem.

When Perſeus married fair Andromeda,
The only Daughter of King Cepheus,
He thought he had eſtablifhed well his Crown,
And that his Kingdom ſhould for aye endure.
But to proud Phineus with a Band of men,
Contrib'd of Sun-burnt Aſthiopians,
By force of Arms the Bride he took from him,
And turn'd their joy into a flood of tears.
So fares it with young Locrine and his Love,
He thinks this marriage tendeth to his weal,
But this foul day, this foul accuſed day,
Is the beginning of his miferies.
Behold where Humber and his Scythians.
Approacheth nigh with all his Warlike Train,
I need not I, the ſequel ſhall declare,
What tragick chances fell out in this War.

[Exeunt.]

Scena Secunda.

Enter Humber, Hubba, Eſtrilo, Segar,
and their Souldiers.

Hum. At length the Snail doth climb the highest tops,
Aſcending up the flately Caffle Walls,
At length the Water with continual drops,
Doth penetrate the hardest marble ſtone,
At length we are arrived in Albion,
Nor could the barbarous Dacian, Soveraign,
Nor yet the Ruler of brave Belgia
Stay us from cutting over to this life;
Whereas I hear a Troop of Phrygians
Under the Conduct of Poſthumius Son,
Have pitch'd up Lordly Pavillions,
And hope to proper in this lovely life:
But I will fruitrate all their Fooliſh hope,
And teach them that the Scythian Emperor
Leads Fortune tied in a Chain of Gold,
Conſtraining her to yield unto his will,
And grace him with their Regal Diadem:
Which I will have, maugre their treble Hoffs,
And all the power their petty Kings can make.

Hubba. If the that rules fair Rhamnis golden Gate,
Grant us the honour of the Viſtory,
As hitherto the always favour'd us,
Right noble Father, we will rule the Land,
Enthronis'd in Seats of Topaz ſtones,
That Locrine and his Brethren all may know,

Bbbb

None

The Tragedy of Locrine.

290

None must be King but Humber and his Son.
*Hum.* Courage my Son, Fortune shall favour us,
And yield to us the Coronet of Bayes,
That decketh none but noble Conquerours:
But what faith *Elfrid* to these Regions?
How liketh she the temperature thereof?
Are they not pleafant in her gracious Eyes?
*Elfr.* The Plains, my Lord, garnifht with *Flora's* wealth,
And over Spread with party-coloured Flowers,
Do yield sweet contentation to my mind,
The airy Hills enclos'd with flady Groves,
The Groves replenifht with sweet chirping Birds,
The Birds refounding Heavenly Melody,
Are equal to the Groves of *Theffaly*,
Where Phæbus with thefe learned Ladies nine,
Delight themfelves with muſick Harmony,
And from the moifture of the Mountain tops,
The ſilent Springs dance down with murmuring ſtreams,
And water all the ground with cryſtal Waves,
The gentle blaſts of *Eurus* modſet Wind,
Moving the pittering leaves of *Silvane's* Woods,
Do equal it with *Tempe's* Paradife,
And thus comforted all to one effect,
Do make me think theſe are the happy ſlles,
Moſt fortunate if *Humber* may them win.
*Hubba.* Madam, where refolution leads the way,
And courage follows with emboldened pace,
Fortune can never uſe her Tyranny;
For valiantneſs is like unto a Rock
That flandeth on the Waves of Ocean,
Which though the Billows beat on every ſide,
And *Boreas* fell with his tempeſtuous ſtorms,
Bloweth upon it with a hideous clamour,
Yet it remaineth ſtill unmoveable.
*Hum.* Kingely refolv'd, thou glory of thy fire:
But worthy *Segar*, what uncouth novelties
Bring it unto our Royal Majefty?
*Seg.* My Lord, the youngeſt of all *Brutus* Sons,
Stout *Albananſt*, with millions of men,
Approacheth nigh, and meaneth e're the Morn,
To try your force by dint of fatal Sword.
*Hum.* Tut, let him come with millions of Hofts,
He shall find entertainment good enough,
Yea fit for theſe that are our Enemies:
For we'll receive them at the Lances points,
And maſſacre their Bodies with our Blades:
Yea though they were in number infinite,
More than the mighty *Babylonian* Queen,
*Semiramis* the ruler of the Weſt,
Brought 'gainſt the Emperour of the *Scythians*,
Yet would we not ſtart back one foot from them:
That they might know we are invincible.
*Hub.* Now by great Jove the ſupream King of Heaven,
And the immortal gods that live therein,
When as the Morning ſhews his chearful Face,
And *Lucifer* mounted upon his Steed,
Brings in the Chariot of the golden Sun,
I'll meet young *Albananſt* in the open field,
And crack my Launce upon his Burganet,
To try the valour of his Boyiſh ſtrength:
There will I ſhow ſuch ruthful ſpectacles
And cauſe ſo great effuſion of blond,
That all his Boyes ſhall wonder at my ſtrength:
As when the Warlike Queen of *Amazon*,
*Pentheſilea* armed with her Launce,
Girt with a Corſlet of bright ſhining ſteel,
Coopt up the faint-heart *Grecians* in the Camp.
*Hum.* Spoke like a warlike Knight, my noble Son,
Nay, like a Prince that ſeeks his Father's Joy.
Therefore to Morrow ere fair *Titan* ſhine,
And bathſul *Eos* Meſſenger of light,
Expels the liquid ſleep from out mens Eyes,
Thou ſhalt conduct the right Wing of the Hoft,
The left Wing ſhall be under *Segar's* charge,

The Rearward ſhall be under me my ſelf;
And lovely *Elfrid* fair and gracious,
If Fortune favour me in mine attempts,
Thou ſhalt be Queen of lovely *Albion*.
Fortune ſhall favour me in mine attempts,
And make thee Queen of lovely *Albion*.
Come let us in and muſter up our Train,
And furniſe up our luffy Souldiers,
That they may be a Bulwark to our ſtate,
And bring our wifbed joyes to perfect end.

[Exeunt.]

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Strumbo, Dorothy, Trompart, Cobling
Shoos, and ſinging.

*Trom.* We Coblers lead a merry life:

*All.* Dan, dan, dan, dan.

*Strum.* Void of all envy and ſtrife:

*All.* Dan diddle dan.

*Dor.* Our eafe is great, our labour ſmall:

*All.* Dan, dan, dan, dan.

*Strum.* And yet our gains be much withal:

*All.* Dan diddle dan.

*Dor.* With this art ſo fine and fair:

*All.* Dan, dan, dan, dan.

*Trom.* No occupation may compare:

*All.* Dan diddle dan.

*Strum.* For merry paſtme and joyful glee:

*Dan, dan, dan, dan.*

*Dor.* Moſt happy men we Coblers be:

*Dan diddle dan.*

*Trom.* The Can ſtands full of nappy Ale,

*Dan, dan, dan, dan.*

*Strum.* In our Shop ſtill withouten fail:

*Dan diddle dan.*

*Dor.* This is our meat, this is our food:

*Dan, dan, dan, dan.*

*Trom.* This brings us to a merry mood:

*Dan diddle dan.*

*Strum.* This makes us work for Company:

*Dan, dan, dan, dan.*

*Dor.* To pull the Tankards cheerfully:

*Dan diddle dan.*

*Trom.* Drink to thy Husband *Dorothy*,

*Dan, dan, dan, dan.*

*Dor.* Why then my *Strumbo* there's to thee:

*Dan diddle dan.*

*Strum.* Drink thou the reſt *Trompart* amain:

*Dan, dan, dan, dan.*

*Dor.* When that is gone, we'll fill't again:

*Dan diddle dan.*

*Cap.* The pooreſt ſtate is fartheſt from annoy,
How merrily he ſitteth on his ſtool:
But when he ſees that needs he muſt be preſſ,
He'll turn his note and ſing another tune,
Ho, by your leave Maſter Cobler.

*Strum.* You are welcome, Gentleman, what will you
any old Shoos or Buskins, or will you have your Shoos
clouted, I will do them as well as any Cobler in *Cathnes*
whatſoever?

[Captain ſhewing him Preſſ-money.

O Maſter Cobler, you are far deceived in me, for
don you fee this? I come not to buy any Shoos, but to
buy your ſelf; come, Sir, you muſt be a Souldier in the
King's Caufe.

*Strum.* Why, but hear you, Sir, has your King any
Commiſſion to take any man againſt his will. I pro-
mife you, I can ſcant believe it, or did he give you Com-
miffion?

*Cap.* O Sir, ye need not care for that, I need no Com-
miffion:

The Tragedy of Lorraine.

291

miffion: hold here, I command you in the name of our
King *Albanæt*, to appear to morrow in the Town-Houfe
of *Cathne*.

*Strum.* King Naſtabell, I cry God mercy, what have we to do with him, or he with us? but you Sir Maſter Capontail, draw your Paffboard, or else I promife you, I'll give you a Canvafado with a Baſtado over your shoulders, and teach you to come hither with your implements.

*Cap.* I pray thee good Fellow be content, I do the Kings Command.

*Strum.* Put me out of your Book then.

*Cap.* I may not.

*[Strumbo snatching up a ſbaff.*

No will, come, Sir, will your ſtomach serve you, by gogs blew hood and halidom, I will have a bout with you.

*[Fight both.*

*Enter Thraſimachus.*

*Thra.* How now, what noife, what sudden clamor's this?
How now, my Captain and the Cobler so hard at it?
Sirs what is your quarrel?

*Cap.* Nothing, Sir, but that he will not take Prefs-mone.

*Thra.* Here, good Fellow, take it at my command,
Unlefs you mean to be ſtretch'd.

*Strum.* Truly, Maſter Gentleman, I lack no money, if you please I will resign it to one of these poor Fellows.

*Thra.* No such matter,

Look you be at the common Houſe to morrow.

*[Exit. Thraſimachus and the Captain.*

*Strum.* O Wife I have ſpun a fair thread, if I had been quiet, I had not been preſt, and therefore well may I wayment; But come Sirrah, flut up, for we muſt to the Wars.

*[Exitunt.*

### Scena Quarta.

*Enter Albanaſt, Debon, Thraſimachus, and the Lords.*

*Alb.* Brave Cavaliers, Princes of Albany,
Whose trenchant Blades with our decaſed Sire,
Paffing the Frontiers of brave Grecia,
Were bathed in our Enemies lukewarm bloud,
Now is the time to maniſect your wills,
Your haughty minds and refolutions,
Now opportunity is offered
To try your courage and your earneſt zeal,
Which you always proteſt to *Albanæt*,
For at this time, yea at this preſent time,
Stout Fugitives come from the *Scythians* bounds.

Have peftred every place with mutinies...
But truſt me, Lordings, I will never ceaſe.
To perſecute the Raſcal Runnagates,
Till all the Rivers ſtained with their bloud,
Shall fully ſlew their fatal overthrow.

*Deb.* So ſhall your Highneſs merit great renown,
And imitate your aged Father's ſteps.

*Alb.* But tell me, Couſin, cam't thou through the plains?
And faw't thou there the faint heart Fugitives

Muſtring their weather-beaten Souldiers,
What order keep they in their marthalling?

*Thra.* After we palt the Groves of *Caledone*,
We did behold the ſtragling *Scythians* Camp,
Repleat with men, ſor'd with munition;
There might we fee the valiant minded Knights
Fetching Carriers along the ſpacious plains,
*Humber* and *Hubba* arm'd in azure blue,
Mounted upon their Courſers white as Snow,
Went to behold the pleafant flowring fields;
*Heſtor* and *Tiroilus*, *Priamus*, lovely Sons,

Chafing the *Grecians* over *Simœis*,

Were not to be compared to theſe two Knights.

*Alba.* Well hali thou painted out in Eloquence
The Portraiture of *Humber* and his Son;
As fortunate as was *Polycrates*,

Yet ſhould they not eſcape our conquering Swords,
Or boaid of ought but of our Clemency.

*Enter Strumbo and Trompart crying often;*

Wild-fire and pitch, wild-fire and pitch, &c.

*Thra.* What Sirs, what mean you by theſe clamors made,
Thoſe outcries railed in our flately Court?

*Strum.* Wild-fire and pitch, wild fire and pitch.

*Thra.* Villains I ſay, tell us the cauſe hereof?

*Strum.* Wild-fire and pitch, wild-fire and pitch.

*Thra.* Tell me you Villains, why you make this noife,
Or with my Lance, I will prick your Bowels out.

*All.* Where are your Houſes, where's your dwelling
place?

*Strum.* Place, Ha, ha, ha, laugh a month and a day at him; place ! I cry God mercy, why do you think that fuch poor honeſt men as we be, hold our Habitacles in Kings Palaces: Ha, ha, ha. But becauſe you ſeem to be an abominable Chieſtain, I will tell you your ſtate.

*From the top to the toe,*

*From the head to the foot,*

*From the beginning to the ending.*

*From the building to the burning.*

This honeſt Fellow and I had our manſion Cottage in the Suburbs of this City, hard by the Temple of *Mercuriu*. And by the common Souldiers of the Shittens, the *Scythians*, what do you call them? with all the Suburbs, were burnt to the ground, and the aſhes are left there for the Country Wives to waſh Bucks withal. And that which grieves me muſt, my loving Wife, O cruel ſtrife; the wicked Flames did roaſt.

*And therefore Captain Cruſt,*

*We will continually cry,*

*Except you ſee a remedy,*

*Our Houſes to re-edify,*

*Which now are burnt to dust.*

*Both cry.* Wild-fire and Pitch, Wild-fire and Pitch,

*Alba.* VVell, we muſt remedy these outrages,

And throw revenge upon their hateful Heads,

And you good Fellows for your Houſes burnt,

VVe will remunerate your ſtore of Gold,

And build your Houſes by our Palace Gate.

*Strumbo.* Gate ! O pretty Treason to my Perſon, no where else but by your backſide; Gate ! oh how I am vexed in my Coller: Gate ! I cry God mercy, do you hear, Maſter *King* ? If you mean to gratiſe much poor men, as we be, you muſt build our Houſes by the Ta-
vern.

*Alba.* It ſhall be done, Sir.

*Strum.* Near the Tavern, I, by Lady, Sir, it was ſpo-
ken like a good Fellow. Do you hear, Sir ? when our
Houſe is builded, if you do chance to paſs or re-paſs that
way, we will beſtow a Quart of the beſt VVine upon
you ?

[Exit.

*Alb.* It grieves me, Lordings, that my ſubjects goods
Should thus be ſpoiled by the *Scythians*,
VWho as you fee with lightfoot Forragers,
Depopulate the places where they come,
But curled *Humber* thou haliue the day
That ere thou cam't unto *Cathneſta*.

*[Exitunt.*

*Scena*

Bbbb 2

The Tragedy of Locrine.

## Scena Quinta.

Enter Humber, Hubba, Segar, Truffier, and their Souldiers.

Hun. Hubba, go take a Coronet of our Horfe,
As many Lanciers, and light-armed Knights,
As may suffice for such an enterprife,
And place them in the Grove of Chalcedon,
With thefe, when as the skirmish doth encreafe,
Retire thou from the shelters of the wood,
And fet upon the weakned Trojans backs,
For policy joyned with Chivalry,
Can never be put back from Victory.

[Exeunt.]

Enter Albanaſt, Clowns with him.

Alb. Thou bafe born Hun, how durſt thou be so bold,
As once to menace warlike Albanaſt ?
The great Commander of thefe Regions,
But thou ſhalt buy thy rafhneſs with thy Death,
And rue too late thy over-bold attempts,
For with this Sword, this Inſtrument of Death,
That hath been drenched in my Foe-mens Blood,
Ple ſeparate thy Body from thy Head,
And fet that Coward Blood of thine abroach.

Strum. Nay with this ſtaff great Strumbo's Inſtrument,
Ple crack thy Cockscomb, paltry Scythian.

Hun. Nor wreak I of thy threats thou princox Boy,
Nor do I fear thy foolish infolency,
And but thou better uſe thy bragging blade,
Than thou doſt rule thy overflowing Tongue,
Superbious Britain, thou ſhalt know too foon
The force of Humber and his Scythians.

[ Let them fight.]

[Humber and his Souldiers run in.]

Strum. O horrible, terrible.

## Scena Sexta.

Sound the Alarm. Enter Humber and his Souldiers.

Hun. How bravely this young Britain, Albanaſt,
Darteth abroad the Thunderbolts of war,
Beating down millions with his furious mood :
And in his glory triumphs over all,
Moving the maffie ſquadrants of the ground;
Hopps Hills on Hills, to feale the ſtarry skie:
As when Briareus armed with an hundred hands,
Flung forth an hundred mountains at great Jove,
And when the monſtrous gyant Monichus
Hurl'd mount Olympus at great Mars his targe,
And flot huge Cedars at Minerva's ſhield.
How doth he overlook with haughty front
My fleeting hoſt, and lifts his lofty face
Aginſt us all that now do fear his force,
Like as we fee the wrathful Sea from far,
In a great mountain heapt with hideous noife,
With thouſand billows beat againſt the Ships,
And toſs them in the Waves like Tennis Balls.

[Sound the Alarm.]

Hun. A me, I fear my Hubba is ſurpris'd,

Sound again. Enter Albanaſt.

Alba. Follow me, Souldiers, follow Albanaſt;
Purſue the Scythians flying through the field :
Let none of them eſcape with Victory :
That they may know the Britains force is more

Than all the power of the trembling Hunns,
Thra. Forward, brave Souldiers, forward, keep the
chafe,
He that takes Captive Humber or his Son,
Shall be rewarded with a Crown of gold.

Sound Alarm, then let them fight, Humber give back,
Hubba Enters at their backs, and kills Débon, let
Strumbo fall down, Albanaſt run in, and afterwards
enter wounded.

Alba. Injurious Fortune, haſt thou croſt me thus?
Thus in the Morning of my Victories,
Thus in the prime of my felicity
To cut me off by ſuch hard overthrow.
Had ſt thou no time thy rancour to declare,
But in the ſpring of all my dignities ?
Had ſt thou no place to ſpit thy venome out,
But on the perlon of young Albanaſt ?
I that e're while did ſcare mine Enemies,
And drove them almost to a ſhameful flight :
I that e're while full Lyon-like did ſare
Amongst the dangers of the thick throng'd pikes,
Muſt now depart moſt lamentably ſlain
By Humber's Treacheries and Fortunes ſpights :
Curt ſ by their charms, damn'd be her curled charms
That doth delude the wayward hearts of men,
Of men that truſt unto her ſickle wheel,
Which never leaveth turning upſide down.
O gods, O heavens, allot me but the place
Where I may find her hateſul manion,
Ple pafs the Alps to watry Meroe,
Where fiery Phæbus in his chariot,
The wheels whereof are deckt with Emeralds,
Caſt ſuch a heat, yea ſuch a ſcorching heat,
And ploileth Flora of her chequered graſs,
Ple overturn the mountain Caucasus,
Where fell Chimera in her triple ſhape,
Rolleth hot Flames from out her monſtrous panch,
Scaring the beaſts with uſlue of her gorge,
Ple pafs the frozen Zone where Icy flakes
Stopping the paſſage of the fleeting Ships
Do lie, like mountains in the congeal'd Sea,
VVhere if I find that hateſul Houſe of Hers,
Ple pull the ſickle wheel from out her hands,
And tie her ſelf in everlaſting bands:
But all in vain I breathe theſe threatnings,
The day is loſt, the Hunns are conquerors,
Débon is ſlair, my men are done to Death,
The currents ſwift ſwim violently with Blood,
And laſt, O that this laſt Night ſo long laſt,
My ſelf with wounds paſt all recovery,
Muſt leave my Crown for Humber to poſſeſs.

Strum. Lord have Mercy upon us, Maſters, I think this
is a Holy-day, every man lies ſleeping in the fields, but
God knows full fore againſt their wills.

Thra. Fly, noble Albanaſt, and fave thy ſelf,
The Scythians follow with great celerity,
And there's no way but fight, or ſpeedy Death,
Flie, noble Albanaſt, and fave thy ſelf.

[Sound the Alarm.]

Alba. Nay let them ſie that fear to die the Death,
That tremble at the name of fatal Mors,
Ne're ſhall proud Humber boaſt or brag himſelf,
That he hath put young Albanaſt to flight :
And left he ſhould triumph at my decay,
This Sword ſhall reave his Maſter of his life,
That oft hath fav'd his Maſters doubtful life :
But oh my Brethren if you care for me,
Revenge my Death upon his Traiterous Head.

Et vos quæsime domus est nigrantis regia ditis,
Qui regitis rigidò ſtygios moderamine lucos:
Nox caci regina poli ſurialis Erimys,

Dique

The Tragedy of Locrine.

Diique deaque omnes Albanum tollite regem,
Tollite flumineis undis rigidaque palude
Nunc me fata vocant, hoc condam peittore ferrum.

[Thrust himself through.

Enter Trumpart.

O what hath he done ? his nofe bleeds: but I smell a Fox,
Look where my Mafter lies, Mafter, Mafter.

Strum. Let me alone, I tell thee, for I am dead.

Trump. Yet one, good, good, Mafter.

Strum. I will not fpeak, for I am dead, I tell thee.

Trump. And is my Mafter dead ?

O fticks and fones, brickbats and bones,
and is my Mafter dead ?

O you Cockatrices, and you Bablatrices,
that in the Woods dwell :

You briers and brambles, you Cook-flops and fhambles,
come howl and yell.

With howling and fcreeking, with wailing and weeping,
come you to lament.

O Colliers of Croyden, and Rufticks of Royden,
and Filhers of Kent.

For Strumbo the Cobler, the fine merry Cobler
of Cathnes Town :

At this fame floure, at this very hour
lies dead on the ground.

O Mafter, thieves, thieves.

Strum. Where be they ? cox me tunny, bobekin, let
me be riling, be gone, we fhall be robb'd by and by.

## Scena Oetava.

Enter Humber, Hubba, Segar, Thraffier, Efrild, and the Souldiers.

Hun. Thus from the dreadful fhocks of furious Mars's
Thundring Alarms, and Rhamnufia's Drum
We are retired with joyful Viſtory,
The flaughter'd Trojans fqueltring in their blood,
Infect the air with their carcaſſes,

And are a prey for every ravenous bird.

Efrild. So perifh they that are our enemies.

So perifh they that love not Humber's weal.

And mighty Jove, Commander of the World,
Protect my love from all falſe trecheries.

Hun. Thanks, lovely Efrild, ſolace to my foul.

But, valiant Hubba, for thy Chivalry

Declar'd againſt the men of Albany,

Loe here a flowring Garland wreath'd of Bay,
As a reward for this thy forward mind.

[Set it on his head.

Hub. This unexpected honour, noble Sire,
Will prick my courage unto braver deeds,
And caufe me to attempt ſuch hard exploits,

That all the world ſhall found of Hubba's name.

Hun. And now, brave Souldiers, for this good ſucceſſ,
Carouſe whole cups of Amazonian Wine,

Sweeter than Nectar or Ambroſia,

And caſt away the clods of curſed care,

With Goblets crown'd with Semeleius gifts,

Now let us march to Abis filver ſtreams,

That elearly glide along the Champagne fields,
And moſt the graſſie meads with humid drops.

Sound Drums and Trumpets, found up cheerfully,
Sith we return with joy and victory.

## Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Ate as before. The dumb ſhow. A Crocodile sitting on
a rivers bank, and a little Snake flinging it. Then
let both of them fall into the water.

Ate.

Sceler a in authorem cadant.

High on a bank by Nilus boſterous ſtreams,
Fearfully fat th'Egyptian Crocodil,

Dreadfully grinding in her ſharp long teeth,

The broken bowels of a filly ſih,

His back was arm'd againſt the dint of ſpear,

With fields of braſs that ſhin'd like burniſt gold,
And as he ſtretched forth his cruel paws,

A ſubtil Adder creeping cloſely near,

Thrustling his forked ſing into his claws,

Privily ſhed his poſſon through his bones,

Which made him ſwell that there his bowels burſt,

That did ſo much in his own greatneſs truſt.

So Humber having conquered Albanact,
Doth yield his glory unto Locrine's ſword,

Mark what enfues, and you may eafily fee,

That all our life is but a Tragedy.

[Exit.]

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Locrine, Guendeline, Corineius, Aſſaracus,
Thraſimachus, Camber.

Locrine. And is this true, is Albanactus ſlain ?

Hath curſed Humber with his ſtragling Hoft,

With that his Army made of Mungrel Curr's,

Brought our redoubted Brother to his end ?

O that I had the Thracian Orpheus boarp,

For to awake out of the infernal ſhade

Thofe ugly Devils of black Erebus,

That might torment the damned Traitor's ſoul :

O that I had Amphion's inſtrument

To quicken with his vital notes and tunes

The flinty joints of every ſtony rock,

By which the Scythians might be puniſhed ;

For, by the lightning of almighty Jove,

The Hunn ſhall die, had he ten thouſand lives :

And would to God he had ten thouſand lives,

That I might with the arm-ſtrong Hercules

Crop off ſo vile an Hydra's hilling heads.

But ſay me, Couſin, for I long to hear,

How Albanact came by untimely death ?

Thraſi. After the traiterous Hoft of Scythians

Entred the field with Martial equipage,

Young Albanact, impatient of delay,

Led forth his Army 'gainſt the ſtragling mates,

Whofe multitude did daunt our Souldiers minds,

Yet nothing could difmay the ſroward Prince ;

But with a courage moſt heroicall,

Like to a lion 'mongſt a flock of lambs,

Made havock of the faint-heart fugitives,

Hewing a paſſage through them with his ſword ;

Yea we had almoſt given them the repulſe,

When suddenly from out the filent wood

Hubba with twenty thouſand Souldiers,

Cowardly came upon our weakned backs,

And murthered all with fatal maſſacre ;

Amongſt the which old Debon, Martial Knight,
With many wounds was brought unto the death :

And Albanact oppreſſ with multitude,

Whillſt valiantly he ſeld his enemies,

Yielded his life and honour to the duſt,

He being dead, the Souldiers ſled amain,

Bbbb

And

The Tragedy of Locrine.

And I alone escaped them by flight,
To bring you Tidings of these accidents.

Locr. Not aged *Priam* King of flately Troy,
Grand Emperour of barbarous *Afia*,
When he beheld his noble minded Sons
Slain traiterouly by all the *Mirmidions*,
Lamented more than I for *Albanact*.

Guen. Not *Hecuba* the Queen of *Ilium*,
When he beheld the town of *Pergamus*,
Her palace burnt, with all devouring flames,
Her fifty Sons and Daughters freth of hue,
Murthered by the wicked *Pyrbus* bloody Sword,
Shed fuch fad tears as I for *Albanact*.

Cam. The grief of *Niobe* fair *Athens* Queen,
For her feven Sons magnanimous in field,
For her feven Daughters fairer than the faireft,
Is not to be compar'd with my laments.

Cor. In vain you forrow for the floughtered Prince,
In vain you forrow for his overthrow;
He loves not moft that doth lament the moſt,
But he that feeks to venge the injury.
Think you to quell the Enemies warlike train,
With childlieth fobs and womaniſh laments?
Unheath your Swords, unheath yohr conquering Sword?

And feek revenge, the comfort for this fore:
In *Cornwall* where I hold my Regiment,
Even juſt ten thouſand valiant men at Arms
Hath *Corineus* ready at command :

All theſe and more, if need ſhall more require,
Hath *Corineus* ready at command,

Cam. And in the fields of martial *Cambria*,
Cloſe by the boiftrous *Ifcan's* Silver ſtreams,
Where light foot Fairies skip from bank to bank,
Full twenty thouſand brave couragious Knights
Well exercis'd in feats of Chivalrie,

In manly manner moſt invincible,
Young *Camber* hath with gold and viſtual;
All theſe and more, if need ſhall more require,
I offer up to venge my Brothers Death.

Loc. Thanks, loving *Uncle*, and good Brother too,
For this revenge, for this ſweet word Revenge
Muſt eafe and ceaſe my wrongful injuries ;

And by the Sword of bloody *Mars* I wear,

Ne're ſhall weſt quiet enter this my front,
'Till I be venged on his traiterous Head
That flew my noble Brother *Albanact*.

Sound Drums and Trumpets, muſter up the camp,
For we will ſtraight march to *Albania*.

[Exeunt.]

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Humber, Eſtrild, Hubba, Truffier, and
the Souldiers.

Hum. Thus are we come, victorious Conquerour :
Unto the flowing currents Silver ſtreams,

Which, in memorial of our victory,
Shall be agnominated by our name,

And talked of by our poſtuer :

For sure I hope before the golden Sun
Poſteth his Horſes to fair *Theſis* plains,

To fee the waters turned into blood,
And change his blewifh hue to rueful red,

By reaſon of the fatal maffacre,

Enter *the Ghoſt* of *Albanact*.

See how the Traitor doth prefage his harm,
See how he glories at his own decay,

See how he triumphs at his proper loſs.
O Fortune vile, unſtable, fickle, frail!

Hum. Methinks I fee both Armies in the field,
The broken lances climb the Cryſtal skies,
Some headleſs lie, ſome breathleſſs on the ground,
And every place is ſtrew'd with carcaſſes,
Behold the graſs hath loſſ his pleafant green,
The fweeteſt fight that ever might be feen.

Ghoſt. I, Traiterous *Humber*, thou ſhalt find it ſo,
Yea to thy coſt thou ſhalt the fame beheld,
With anguifh, forrow, and with ſad laments;
The graſſie plains, that now do płaſe thine Eyes,
Shall e're the night be coloured all with blood;

The ſhadie groves that now incloſe thy camp,
And yield me ſweet favour to thy damned corps,

Shall e're the night be figured all with blood;
The profound ſtream that paſſeth by thy Tents,
And with his moſture ſerveth all thy Camp,

Shall e're the Night converted be to Blood,
Yea with the Blood of thofe thy ſtragling Boys :

For now revenge ſhall eafe my lingring grief,
And now revenge ſhall glut my longing Soul.

Hub. Let come what will, I mean to bear it out,
And either live with glorious viſtorie,

Or die with fame renown'd for chivalrie:

He is not worthy of the honey comb,
That ſhuns the hives becauſe the bees have ſtings ;

That likes me beſt that is not got with eafe,
Which thouſand dangers do accompany ;

For nothing can diſmoy our Regal mind ;

Which aims at nothing but a golden Crown,
The only upſhot of mine enterprifes.

Were they enchanted in grim *Pluto's* Court,
And kept for treaſure 'mongſt his helliſh crew,

I would either quell the triple *Cerberus*
And all the Army of his hateful hags,

Or roll the Stone with wretched *Syffius*.

Hum. Right martial by thy thoughts, my noble Son,
And all thy words favour of Chivalrie,

But, warlike *Segar*, what ſtrange accidents

Make you to leave the warding of the Camp?

*Segar*. To armes, my Lord; to honourable arms ;
Take helm and targe in hand, the *Britains* come

With greater multitude than eſt the *Greeks*

Brought to the ports of *Phrygian Tenedes*.

Hum. But what faith *Segar* to theſe accidents ?

What Counſel gives he in extremities ?

*Segar*. Why this, my Lord, experience teacheth us,
That Reſolution is a ſole help at need.

And this, my Lord, our honour teacheth us,

That we be bold in every enterprife ;

Then ſince there is no way but fight or die,
Be refolute, my Lord, for Victory.

Hum. And refolute, *Segar*, I mean to be,
Perhaps ſome blifſul Star will favour us,

And comfort bring to our perplexed State :

Come let us in and fortifie our Camp,
So to withſtand their ſtrong invasion.

[Exeunt.]

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Strumbo, Trumpart, Oliver, and his Son
William following them.

Strum. Nay neighbour *Oliver*, if you be ſo whor, come
prepare your ſelf, your ſhall find two as ſtout fellows of us,
as any in all the North.

Oliver. No by my dorth Neighbour *Strumbo*, Ich zee
dat you are a man of ſmall zideration, dat will zeek to
injure your old vreends, one of your familiar gueſts, and
derefore zeeing your pinion is to deal withouten reaazon,
Ich

The Tragedy of Locrine.

Ich and my zonne William will take dat courfe, dat shall
be fardeft vrom reafon ; how zay you, will you have my
Daughter or no?

*Strumbo.* A very hard queftion, Neighbour, but I will
folve it as I may: what reafon have you to demand it
of me?

*Will.* Marry Sir, what reafon had you when my Sifter
was in the barn to tumble her upon the Hay, and to fifth
her Belly.

*Strum.* Mafs thou fay'ft true; well, but would you
have me marry her therefore? No, I fcorn her, and you,
and you: I, I fcorn you all.

*Oliv.* You will not have her then?

*Strum.* No, as I am a true Gentleman.

*Will.* Then will we School you, e're you and we part
hence.

*Enter Margerie, and Snatches the Staff out of her Brothers hand as he is fighting.*

*Strum.* I, you come in pudding time, or elfe I had drest
them.

*Mar.* You Mafter fawce-box, Lobcock, Cocks comb,
you flop'fawce, lick'fingers, will you not hear ?

*Strum.* Who ſpeak you to, me?

*Mar.* I Sir, to you, John lackoneſt, little-wit, is it you
that will have none of me?

*Strum.* No by my troth, Miftrefis nicebice, how fine you
can nick-name me; I think you were brought up in the
University of Bridewell, you have your Rhetorick ſo ready
at your Tongues end, as if you were never well warned
when you were young.

*Mar.* Why then goodman cods-head, if you will have
none of me, farewell.

*Strum.* If you be ſo plain, Miftrefis driggle-draggle, fare
you well.

*Mar.* Nay, Maſter Strumbo, e're you go from hence we
muſt have more words, you will have none of me?

*[They both Fight.*

*Strum.* Oh my head, my head, leave, leave, leave, I
will, I will, I will.

*Mar.* Upon that condition I let thee alone.

*Oliv.* How now Maſter Strumbo, hath my Daughter
taught you a new leſſon?

*Strum.* I but hear you, goodman Oliver, it will not be
for my eafe to have my head broken every day, therefore
remedy this, and we ſhall agree.

*Oliv.* Well, Zon, well, for you are my Zon now, all
ſhall be remedied, Daughter be friends with him.

*[Shake hands.*

*Strum.* You are a fweet Nut, the Devil crack you. Ma-
ſters, I think it be my luck, my firſt wife was a loving quiet
wench, but this I think would weary the Devil. I
would ſhe might be burnt as my other VVife was; if not,
I muſt run to the Halter for help. O Codpiece, thou haſt
undone thy Maſter, this it is to be medling with warm
plackets.

*[Exeunt.]*

## Scena Quinta.

*Enter Locrine, Camber, Corineius, Thraſimachus, Affarachus.*

*Locri.* Now am I guarded with an hoſt of men,
VVhoſe haughty courage is invincible;
Now am I hemm'd with troupes of Souldiers,
Such as might force Bellona to retire,
And make her tremble at their puſſance;
Now ſit I like the mighty god of war,
VVhen armed with his Coat of Adamant,

Mounted his Chariot drawn with mighty Bulls,
He drove the Argives over Xanthus ſtreams.
Now, curſed Humber, doth thy end draw nigh,
Down goes the glory of his victories,
And all his fame, and all his high renown,
And in a moment yield to Locrine's Sword:
Thy bragging banners croſt with argent ſtreams,
The ornaments of thy pavillions,
Shall all be captivated with this hand,
And thou thy ſelf at Albanactus Tomb
Shalt offered be, in ſatisfaction
Of all the wrongs thou didst him when he li'd.
But canſt thou tell me, brave Thraſimachus,
How far we are diſtant from Humber's Camp?

*Thra.* My Lord, within your foul accurſed Grove
That bears the tokens of our overthrow,
This Humber hath intrencht his damned Camp.
March on, my Lord, becauſe I long to fee
The treacherous Scythians ſqueltring in their gore.
*Locri.* Sweet Fortune, favour Locrine with a ſmile,
That I may venge my noble Brothers Death,
And in the midſt of ſtately Troinovant,
I'le build a Temple to thy deitie

*Thra.* Of perfect Marble, and of Jacinth Stones,
That it shall pafs the high Pyramids,
VVhich with their top ſurmount the firmament.
*Locri.* The arm ſtrong off'pring of the doubted Knight,
Stout Hercules Almenas, mighty Son,
That tam'd the monſters of the three-fold world,
And rid the oppreſſed from the tyrants yokes,
Did never ſhew luch valiantneſs in fight,
As I will now for noble Albanact.

*Cori.* Full fourſcore years hath Corineius liv'd,
Sometimes in war, fometime in quiet peace,
And yet I feel my ſelf to be a ſtrong

*As erſt I was in Summer of mine age,
Able to toſs this great unweildy Club,
VVhich hath been painted with my foe-mens brains:
And with this Club I'le break the ſtrong array
Of Humber and his ſtragling Souldiers,
Of loſe-my life amongſt the thickeſt preſs,
And die with Honour in my lateſt dayes:
Yet e're I die they all ſhall underſand,
VVhat force lies in ſlout Corineius hand.

*Thra.* And if Thraſimachus detract the fight,
Either for weakneſs or for cowardife,
Let him not boaſt that Brntus was his Eame,
Or that brave Corineius was his Sire.
*Locri.* Then courage, Souldiers, firſt for your ſafety,
Next for your peace, laſt for your Victory.

*[Exeunt.]*

*Sound the Alarm. Enter Hubba and Segar at one Door, and Corineius at the other.*

*Cori.* Art thou that Humber, Prince of Fugitives,
That by thy Treafon flew'ſt young Albanact?

*Hub.* I am his Son that flew young Albanact,
And if thou take not heed, proud Phrygian,
Ple ſend thy Soul unto the Stygian lake,
There to complain of Humber's injuries.

*Corin.* You triumph, Sir, before the Victory,
For Corineius is not to ſoon flain.
But, curſed Scythians, you ſhall rue the day,
That e're you came into Albania.
So perſiſh they that envy Britains wealth,
So let them die with endleſs infamy,
And he that feeks his Soveraigns overthrow,
VVould this my Club might aggravate his woe.

*[Strikes them both down with his Club.*

*Enter.*

The Tragedy of Locrine.

Enter Humber.

Hum. Where may I find some defart Wilderneſs,
Where I may breathe out curſes as I would,
And ſcare the earth with my condenning voice,
Where every echo ſe reperuſlion
May help me to be wail mine overthrow,
And aid me in my forrowful laments ?
Where may I find some hollow uncouth rock,
Where I may damn, condemn, and ban my fill ?
The heavens, the hell, the earth, the air, the fire,
And utter curſes to the concave sky,
Which may inſect the aiery Regions,
And light upon the Britain Locrine's head.
You ugly Ipirits that in Cocitus mourn,
And gnaw your teeth with dolorous laments,
Your fearful dogs that in black Lethe howl,
And ſcare the Ghoſts with your wide open throats,
You ugly Ghoſts that flying from theſe dogs,
Do plunge your ſelves in Puryſegiton,
Come all of you, and with your ſhrieking notes
Accompany the Britains conquering Hoaſt.
Come tience Erinmys, horrible with Snakes,
Come ugly Furies, armed with your Whips,
You threefold judges of black Tartarus,
And all the army of your heliſh Fiends,
With new found torments rack proud Locrine's Bones.
O Gods and Stars, damn'd be the Gods and Stars,
That did not drown me in fair Thetis plains.
Curſe be the Sea that with outrageous Waves,
With ſurging Billows did not rive my Ships
Againſt the Rocks of high Ceramia,
Or ſwallowed me into her watry Gulf.
Would God he had arriv'd upon the Shore
Where Polyphemus and the Cyclops dwell,
Or where the bloody Anthropophagie
With greedy jaws devours the wandring Wights.

Enter the Ghoſt of Albania.

But why comes Albania's bloody Ghoſt,
To bring a corſive to our miſeries !
Is't not enough to ſuffer ſhameful flight,
But we must be tormented now with Ghoſts?
With apparitions ſeanful to behold ?
Ghoſt. Revenge, revenge for blood.
Hum. So nought will fatſishe your wandring Ghoſt,
But dire revenge, nothing but Humber's fall,
Becaufe he conquered you in Albany.
Now by my Soul, Humber would be condemn'd
To Tantals Hunger, or Ixion's Wheel,
Or to the vulture of Prometheus,
Rather than that this murther were undone.
When as I dye I'll drag thy curſed Ghoſt
Through all the Rivers of foul Erebus,
Through burning ſulphur of the Limbo-lake,
To allay the burning fury of that heat,
That rageth in mine everlaſting Soul.

[Exeunt.]

Alba. Ghoſt. Vindicta, vindicta.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Ate as before. Then Omphale Daughter to the King of Lydia, having a Club in her hand, and a Lyons skin on her back, Hercules following with a distaffe. Then let Omphale turn about, and taking of her Pantoſte, ſtrike Hercules on the Head, then let them depart, Ate remaining, ſaying;

Qem non Argolici mandata ſevera Tyranni,
Non potut Juno vincere, vixit amor.

Stout Hercules the mirrour of the World,
Son to Alcmena and great Jupiter,
After ſo many Conqueſts won in Field,
After ſo many Monſters quell'd by force,
Yielded his valiant heart to Omphale,
A fearful Woman void of manly ſtrength,
She took the Club, and wore the Lyons skin.
He took the Wheel, and maidenly gan Ipin.
So Martial Locrine cheer'd with victory,
Falleth in love with Humber's Concubine,
And ſo forgetteth peerleſs Guendeline.
His Uncle Corineus ſtorms at this,
And forceth Locrine for his grace to ſue,
Lo here the ſumm, the proceſs doth enſue.

[Exit.]

Scena Secunda.

Enter Locrine, Camber, Corineus, Aſſarachus, Thraſimachus, and the Souldiers.

Thus from the fury of Bellona's broils,
With found of Drum and Trumpets melody,
The Britain King returns triumphantly,
The Scythians ſlain with great occiſion,
Do equalize the graſs in multitude,
And with their blood have ſlain'd the ſtreaming brooks,
Offering their Bodies and their deareſt Blood
As ſacrifice to Albaniaſt Ghoſt,
Now curſed Humber haſt thou paid thy due,
For thy deceits and crafty treacheries,
For all thy guiles, and damned ſtratagems,
With loſs of life, and everduring ſhame.
Where are thy Horſes trap'd with burniſh'd gold,
Thy trampling Courſers rul'd with foaming bits ?
Where are thy foldiers ſtrong and numberleſs ?
Thy valiant Captains, and thy noble Peers ;
Even as the Country Clowns with ſharpeſt Scythes,
Do mow the witherred graſs from off the earth,
Or as the Plough man with his piercing ſhare
Renteth the bowels of the fertile Fields,
And rippeth up the roots with Razors keen.
So Locrine with his mighty curſel-axe,
Hath cropped off the heads of all thy Humns,
So Locrine's Peers have daunted all thy Peers,
And drove thine Hoaſt unto conſuſion,
That thou may't ſuffer penance for thy fault,
And die for murdering valiant Albaniaſt.

Cori. And thus, yea thus, ſhall all the reſt be ſerv'd,
That ſeek to enter Albion' gainſt our wills.
If the brave Nation of the Troglodites,
If all the coal-black ſAthiopians,
If all the forces of the Amazons,
If all the Hoaſts of the Barbarian Lands,
Should dare to enter this our little VWorld,
Soon should they rne their overbold attempts,
That after us our Progeny may ſay,
There lies the Beaſts that ſought to uſurp our Land.

Loco.

The Tragedy of Lorraine.

Loc. I, they are beafts that seek to unfur our Land,
And like to brutifh beafts they fhall be ferv'd.
For mighty love, the supreme King of Heaven,
That guides the concourse of the Meteors,
And rules the motion of the azure Sky,
Fights always for the Britains safety.
But flay, methinks I hear fome frieking noife,
That draweth near to our Pavillion.

Enter the Souldiers leading in Eſtrild.

Eſtr. What Prince foe're adorn'd with golden Crown,
Doth fway the Regal Scepter in his hand:
And thinks no chance can ever throw him down,
Or that his flate fhall everlafth ſland,
Let him behold poor Eſtrild in this plight,
The perfect platform of a troubled wight.
Once was I guarded with mavortal bands,
Compact with Princes of the noble Blood,
Now am I faln into my foe-men hands,
And with my death muſt pacifie their mood.
O life the harbour of calamities,
O death the haven of all miferies,
I could compare my forrows to thy woe,
Thou wretched Queen of wretched Pergamus,
But that thou view'd ſt thy enemies overthrow,
Nigh to the rock of High Capহareus.
Thou ſaw'd ſt their death, and then departed ſt thence.
I muſt abide the Viftors infolence.

The Gods that pitied thy continual grief,
Transform'd thy Corps, and with thy Corps thy care,
Poor Eſtrild lives defpairing of relief,
For friends in trouble are but few and rare.
What, faid I, few? What, few or none at all,
For cruel death made havock of them all.
Thrice happy thy whole fortune was ſo good,
To end their lives, and with their lives their woes,
Thrice hapleſs I, whom Fortune ſo withſtlood,
That cruel ſhe gave me to my foes.

O Souldiers, is there any mifery

To be compar'd to Fortunes treachery.

Loc. Camber, this fame ſhould be the Scythian Queen.

Camb. So may we judge by her lamenting words.

Loc. So fair a Dame mine eyes did never fee,

With flouds of woes ſhe feems o'rewhelm'd to be.

Camb. O Lorraine, hath ſhe not a caufe to be ſad?

Eſtr. At one ſide of the Stage.

Loc. If ſhe have caufe to weep for Humber's death,
And ſhed ſalt tears for her overthrow:

Lorraine may well bewail his proper grief,

Lorraine may move his own peculiar woe,

He being conquer'd, died a ſpeedy death,

And felt not long his lamentable ſmarte,

I being a Conquerour, live a lingring life,

And feel the force of Cupid's ſudden ſtroke.

I gave him caufe to die a ſpeedy death.

He left me caufe to with a ſpeedy death.

O that weeſt face painted with Nature's dye,

Thofe roſeal cheeks mixt with a ſnowy white,

That decent neck ſurpaſſing Ivory,

Thofe comely beafts which Venus well might ſpife,

Are like to ſnares which wily ſowlers wrought,

Wherein my yielding heart is prifoner caught.

The golden treſſes of her dainty hair,

Which ſhine like Rubies glittering with the Sun,

Have ſo entrapt poor Lorraine's love-fick heart,

That ſi'om the fame no way it can be won.

How true is that which oft I heard declar'd,

One dram of joy muſt have a pound of care.

Eſtr. Hard is their fall, who from a golden Crown
Are caſt into a Sea of wretchedneſs.

Loc. Hard is their thrall, who by Cupid's frown

Are wrapt in waves of endleſs carefulneſs.

Eſtr. O Kingdom, object to all miferies.

Loc. O Love, the extream'ſt of all extremities.

Let him go into his Chair.

Sold. My Lord, in ranfacking the Scythian Tents,

I found this Lady, and to manifeſt

That earneſt zeal I bear unto your Grace,

I here prefent her to your Majeſt.

Another Sold. He lies, my Lord, I found the Lady firſt,

And here prefent her to your Majeſt.

1 Sold. Prefumptuous Villain, wilt thou take my prize ?

2 Sold. Nay rather thou depriv'ſt me of my right.

3 Sold. Reſlig thy Title (cative) unto me,

Or with my Sword I'll pierce thy Cowards loins.

2 Sold. Soft words, good Sir, 'tis not enough to ſpeak:

A barking Dog doth ſeldom ſtrangers bite.

Loc. Unreverent Villains, Itrive you in our fight ?

Take them hence, Jaylors, to the Dungeon,

There let them lie and try their quarrel out.

But thou, fair Princeſs, be no whit diftay'd,

But rather joy that Lorraine favours thee.

Eſtr. How can he favour me that flew my Spouſe ?

Loc. The chance of war (my love) took him from thee.

Eſtr. But Lorraine was the cauſer of my death.

Loc. He was an Enemy to Lorraine's State,

And flew my noble Brother Albanact.

Eſtr. But he was link'd to me in Marriage-bond,

And would you have me love his ſlaughterer ?

Loc. Better to live, than not to live at all.

Eſtr. Better to die renowned for chaſtity,

Than to live with ſhame and endleſs infamy.

What would the common fort report of me,

If I forget my love, and cleave to thee ?

Loc. Kings need not fear the vulgar ſentences.

Eſtr. But Ladies muſt regard their honef name.

Loc. Is it a ſhame to live in Marriage-bonds ?

Eſtr. No, but to be a Strumpet to a King.

Loc. If thou wilt yield to Lorraine's burning love,

Thou ſhalt be Queen of fair Albania.

Eſtr. But Guendeline will undermine my State.

Loc. Upon mine Honour, thou ſhalt have no harm.

Eſtr. Then lo, brave Lorraine, Eſtrild yields to thee,

And by the Gods, whom thou doſt invocate,

By the dread Ghoſt of thy deceſsed Sire,

By thy right hand, and by thy burning love,

Take pitty on poor Eſtrild's wretched thrall.

Cori. Hath Lorraine then forgot his Guendeline,

That thus he courts the Scythians Paramount ?

What, are the words of Brute ſo ſoon forgot ?

Are my deferts ſo quickly out of mind ?

Have I been faithful to thy Sire now dead ?

Have I proteſted thee from Humber's hand,

And do'ſt thou quit me with ungratitude ?

Is this the guerdon for my grievous wounds ?

Is this the honour for my labours paſt ?

Now by my Sword, Lorraine, I ſwear to thee,

This injury of thine ſhall be repaid.

Loc. Uncle, ſorn you your Royal Soveraign,

As if we ſlood for cyphers in the Court ?

Upbraid you me with thofe your benefits ?

Why, it was a Subject's duty ſo to do.

What you have done for our deceſsed Sire

We know, and all know, you have your reward.

Cori. Avant, proud Princox, brav'ſt thou me withal,
Aflure thy ſelf, though thou be Emperour,
Thou ne're ſhalt carry this unpunifhed.

Camb. Pardon my Brother, noble Corineus,

Pardon this once, and it ſhall be amended.

Affar. Coulin, remember Brutus lateſt words,

How he defired you to cheriſh them :

Let not this fault ſo much incufe your mind,

Which is not yet paffed all remedy.

Cori.

The Tragedy of Locrine.

Cori. Then Locrine, lo I reconcile my self,
But as thou lov'ft thy life, fo love thy VVife:
But if thou violate thofe promises,
Blood and revenge fhall light upon thy head.
Come, let us back to flately Troynovant,
VWhere all thefe matters fhall be fetled.

Millions of Devils wait upon thy Soul.
Legions of Spirits vex thy impious Ghoft:
Ten thouland Torments rack thy curfed Bones.
Let every thing that hath the ule of breath,
Be instruments and workers of thy Death.

[Locrine to himself.]

[Exeunt.]

### Scena Tertia.

Enter Humber alone, his hair hanging over his shoulders,
his arms all bloody, and a dart in one hand.

Hum. VVhat Bafilisk hath hatched in this place,
Where every thing confumed is to nought?
What fearful Fury haunts thefe curfed groves,
Where not a root is left for Humber's meat?
Hath fell a Aleto with envenomed biafts,
Breathed forth poifon in thefe tender plains?
Hath triple Cerberus with contagious foam,
Sow'd Aconitum 'mongft thefe wither'd herbs?
Hath dreadful Fames with her charming rods
Brought barrenneſs on every fruitful tree?
What not a root, no fruit, no beaſt, no bird,
To nouriſh Humber in this wilderneſs?
What would you more, you Fiends of Erebus?
My very intraſls burn for want of drink,
My bowels cry, Humber give us ſome meat,
But wretched Humber can give you no meat,
Theſe foul accurſed groves afford no meat:
This fruitleſs foil, this ground brings forth no meat.
The gods, hard-hearted gods, yield me no meat.
Then how can Humber give you any meat?

Enter Strumbo with a pitch-fork, and a
Scotch-cap.

Str. How do you, Maſters, how do you ? how have
you ſcaped hanging this long time ? i'faith I have ſcap'd
many a ſcouring this year, but I thank God I have paſt
them all with a good couragio, couragio, and my Wife and
I are in great love and charity now, I thank my manhood
and my ſtrength; for I will tell you, Maſters, upon a
certain day at night I came home, to ſay the very truth,
with my ſlomach full of Wine, and ran up into the Cham-
ber, where my Wife ſoberly fate rocking my little Baby,
leaning her back againſt the Bed, ſinging lullaby. Now
when the ſaw me come with my noſe foremoſt, thinking
that I had been drunk, as I was indeed, ſnatch'd up a ſagot-
flick in her hand, and came ſurrounely marching towards
me with a big face, as though the would have eaten me
at a bit; thundering out theſe words unto me. Thou
drunken knave, where haſt thou been ſo long? I ſhall
teach thee how to benight me another time: and ſo the
began to play knaves trumps. Now, although I trembled,
fearing the would fet her ten Commandments in my
face, ran within her, and taking her luffily by the mid-
dle, I carried her valiantly to the Bed, and flinging her
upon it, ſung my ſelf upon her, and there I delighted
her ſo with the ſport I made, that ever after the ſe
would call me sweet Husband, and ſo banifh'd brawling for ever:
and to fee the good will of the Wench, the ſe bought with
her Portion a yard of Land, and by that I am now be-
come one of the richeſt Men in our Parifh. VVell,
Maſters, what's a Clock ? it is now break-faſt time, you
ſhall fee what Meat I have here for my break-faſt.

[He fits down and pulls out his Vieluals.]

Hum. Was ever Land ſo fruitleſs as this Land ?
Was ever Grove ſo graceleſs as this Grove?
Was ever Soil ſo barren as this Soil?
Oh no: the Land where hungry Fames dwelt,
May no ways equalize this curſed Land;
No, even the climate of the torrid zone
Brings forth more Fruit than this accurſed Grove.
Ne'r came ſweet Ceres, ne'r came Venu here;
Triptolemus the god of Husbandmen,
Ne'r fow'd his Seed in this foul Wilderneſs,
The hunger-bitten Dogs of Acheron,
Chac'd from the nine-fold Puriphlegiton,
Have fet their footſteps in this damned ground,
The iron hearted Furies arm'd with Snakes,
Scattered huge Hydras over all the plains,
Which have confum'd the Graſs, the Herbs, the Trees,
Which have drunk up the flowing water ſprings.

Strumbo hearing his voice flarts up, and puts his meat in
his pocket, seeking to hide himself.

Hum. Thou great commander of the ſtarry Sky,
That guid't the life of every mortal wight,
From the incloſures of the fleeting Clouds
Rain down ſome Food, or eſſe I faint and dye.
Pour down ſome drink, or eſſe I faint and dye.
O Jupiter, haſt thou ſent Mercury
In Clowifh ſhape to minifter ſome Food?
Some Meat, ſome Meat, ſome Meat.

Strum. O alas Sir, ye are deceived, I am not Mercury,
I am Strumbo.

Hum. Give me ſome Meat, Villain, give me ſome Meat,
Or 'gainſt this Rock, I'll daſh thy curſed Brains,
And rend thy bowels with my bloody hands.

Give me ſome Meat, Villain, give me ſome Meat.

Strum. By the faith of my Body, good fellow, I had
rather give a whole Oxe, than that thou ſhould't ſerve
me in that ſort. Daſh out my brains! O horrible,
terrible. I think I have a quarry of Stones in my
pocket.

He makes as though he would give him ſome, and as he put-
teth out his hand, enters the Ghoſt of Albanaſt, and
ſtrikes him on the hand, and ſo Strumbo runs out, Hum-
ber following him.

[Exeunt.]

Alba. Ghoſt. Lo here the gift of fell Ambition,
Of Ulfuration and of Treachery.

Lo here the harms that wait upon all thofe
That do intrude themſelves in others Lands,
Which are not under their Dominion.

[Exit.]

### Scena Quarta

Enter Locrine alone.

Loc. Seven Years hath aged Corinſius liv'd
To Locrine's grief, and fair Eſtrilda's woe,
And feven Years more he hopeth yet to live;
Oh supreme Jove, annihilate this thought.
Should he enjoy the airs fruition?
Should he enjoy the benefit of life?
Should he contemplate the radiant ſun,
That makes my life equal to dreadful death?
Venus convey this Monſter from the earth,
That diſobeyth thus thy ſacred heaths.
Cupid convey this Monſter to dark Hell,
That diſannuls thy Mothers ſugared Laws.
Mars with thy Target all beſet with flames,
With murthering blade bereave him of his life,
That hindreth Locrine in his ſweeteſt joys.
And yet for all his diligent aſpect,

His

The Tragedy of Locrine.

His wrathful eyes piercing like Linces eyes,
Well have I overmatcht his fubtilty.
Nigh Deucolitum by the pleafant Lee,
Where brackiſh Thamis llides with filer ſtreams,
Making a breach into the graſſie downs,
A curious arch of cotſtly marble fraught,
Hath Locrine framet underneath the ground,
The walls whereof, garniſt with Diamonds,
With Ophiurs, Rubies, glitſering Emeralds,
And interl'act with Sun-bright Carbuncles,
Lightens the room with artificial day,
And from the Lee with water-flowing pipes
The moſture is deriv'd into this arch,
Where I have plac'd fair Eſtrild ſecreſtly;
Thither eſtoons accompanied with my Page,
I covertly viſit my hearts defire,
Without ſuſpicion of the meaneſt eye,
For love aboundeſt ſtill with policy :
And thither ſtill means Locrine to repair,
Till Atropos cut off mine uncle's life.

### Scena Quinta.

Enter Humber alone, faying :

Hum. O vita miſero longa, ſalices brevis !

Ehen malorum fames extremum malum.

Long have I lived in this defart cave,
With eating haws and miſerable roots,
Devouring leaves and beaſtly excrementes.
Caves were my beds, and ſtones my pillow-beres,
Fear was my ſleep, and horrour was my dream :
For ſtill me thought at every boifferous blaſt,
Now Locrine comes, now Humber thou muſt die ;
So that for fear and hunger, Humber's mind
Can never reſt, but always trembling ſtands.
O what Danubius now may quench my thirſt ?
What Euphrates, what light foot Euripus
May now allay the fury of that heat,
Which raging in my entrails eats me up ?
You ghaſtly Devils of the ninefold ſhex,
You damned Ghoſts of joyleſs Acheron,
You mournful ſouls, vext in Abyſſus vaults,
You coal-black Devils of Avernus pond,
Come with your fleſh-hooks, rend my famiſt arms,
Theſe arms that have ſuſtain'd their maſters life;
Come with your razours rip my bowels up,
With your ſharp fire-forks crack my ſtarved bones.
Life me as you will, ſo Humber may not live.
Accurſed Gods that rule the ſtarry Poles,
Accurſed Yove King of the accurſed Gods,
Caſt down your lightning on poor Humber's head,
That I may leave this deathful like life of mine :
What hear you not, and ſhall not Humber die ?
Nay I will die, though all the Gods ſay na y.
And gentle Aby take my troubled corps,
Take it and keep it from all mortal Eyes,
That none may ſay when I have loft my breath,
The very Flouds conſpir'd 'gainſt Humber's death.

[Flings himself into the River.

### Enter the Ghoſt of Albanact.

En cadem ſequitur, cades in cade quiſſco.
Humber is dead, joy Heavens, leap Earth, dance Trees;
Now may it ſtill thou reach thy Apples Tantalus,
And with 'em feed thy hunger-bitten Limbs :
Now Syſſiphus leave the tumbling of thy Rock,
And reſt thy reſtleſs Bones upon the fame :
Unbind Ixion, cruel Rhadamanth,

And lay proud Humber on the whirling Wheel.
Back will I poff to Hell mouth Tanarus,
And paſs Cocytus, to the Elyſian Fields,
And tell my Father Brutus of theſe news.

[Exeunt.]

### Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Ate as before. Jafon leading Creon's Daughter, Me-
dea following, hath a Garland in her hand, and putting it
on Creon's Daughters Head, fetterth it on fire, and then
killing Jafon and her, departeth.

Ate. NON tam Trinacris exefuat Ærna cavernis,
Lafæ furtivo quam cor mulieris amor.

Medea feeing Jafon leave her love,
And choofe the Daughter of the Theban King,
Went to her devilliſh charms to work revenge;
And raſling up the triple Hecate,
With all the rout of the condemned fiends,
Framed a Garland by her magick skill,
With which ſhe wrought Jafon and Creon's ill.
So Guendeline feeing her ſelf miſus'd,
And Humber's Paramour poffeſs her place,
Flies to the Dukedom of Cornubia,
And with her Brother ſlout Thraſimachus,
Gathering a power of Corniſh Souldiers,
Gives Battel to her Husband and his Hoft,
Nigh to the River of great Mertia :
The chances of this diſmal Maſſacre,
That which enſueth ſhortly will unfold.

[Exit.]

[Exit.]

### Scena Secunda.

Enter Locrine, Camber, Aſtaracus, and
Thraſimachas.

Aſſa. But tell me, Conſin, dyed my Brother ſo ?
Now who is left to hapleſs Albion,
That as a Pillar might uphold our ſtate,
That might ſtrike terror to our daring Foes ?
Now who is left to hapleſs Britany,
That might defend her from the barbarous hands
Of thofe that fill their bowels for their ruinous fall,
And feek to work her downſal and decay.

Cam. I Uncle, Death is our common Enemy,
And none but Death can match our matchleſs power,
Witneſs the fall of Albioneius Crew,
Witneſs the fall of Humber and his Huns,
And this foul Death hath now increas'd our woe,
By taking Corineius from this life,
And in his room leaving us Worlds of care.

Thra. But none may more bewail his mournful Hearſe,
Than I that am the ſlue of his Loinſ,
Now ſoul beſal that curſed Humber's throat,
That was the cauſer of his lingring wound.

Loc. Tears cannot raife him from the dead again,
But where's my Lady Miftres Guendoline ?

Thra. In Cornwall, Locrine, is my Sifter now,
Providing for my Father's Funeral.

Loc. And let her there provide her mourning Weeds,
And mourn for ever her own Widow-hood :
Ne're ſhall the come within our Palace Gate,
To countercheck brave Locrine in his love.
Go, Boy, to Deucolitum, down the Lee,
Unto the Arch where lovely Eſtrild lies,
Bring her and Sabrew ſtraight unto the Court,

She

["The Tragedy of Locrine.", "300", "She shall be Queen in Guendelines room.", "Let others wail for Corineus death,", "I mean not so to macerate my mind,", "For him that barr'd me from my hearts fire.", "*Thra.* Hath Locrine then forfook his Guendeline ?", "Is Corineus death so foon forgot ?", "If there be Gods in Heaven, as sure there be ;", "If there be Fiends in Hell, as needs there must,", "They will revenge this thy notorious wrong,", "And pour their plagues upon thy curled head.", "*Loc.* What, prat't thou, Peafant, to thy Soveraign?", "Or art thou trucken in fome ecclastie ?", "Do't thou not tremble at our Royal looks ?", "Do't thou not quake when mighty Locrine frowns ?", "Thou beardlefs Boy, were't not that Locrine ſcorns", "To vex his mind with ſuch a heartleſs Child,", "With the ſharp point of this my battel-axe,", "I'de ſend thy foul to Puryphlegiton.", "*Thra.* Though I be young and of a tender age,", "Yet will I cope with Locrine when he dares.", "My noble Father with his conquering Sword,", "Slew the two Giants Kings of Aquitains", "*Thraſimachus* is not ſo degenerate,", "That he ſhould fear and tremble at the looks,", "Or taunting words of a Venerean Squire :", "*Loc.* Menaceſt thou thy Royal Soveraign ?", "Uncivil, not befeeming ſuch as you.", "Injurious Traitor (for he is no leſs", "That at defiance ſtandeth with his King)", "Leave theſe thy taunts, leave theſe thy bragging words,", "Unleſs thou mean't to leave thy wretched life.", "*Thra.* If Princes ſlain their glorious Dignity", "With ugly ſpots of monſtrous infamy,", "They leefe their former eſtimation,", "And throw themſelves into a Hell of hate.", "*Loc.* Wilt thou abufe my gentle patience,", "As thou thought did't our high diſpleasure ſcorn?", "Proud Boy, that thou may'ſt know thy Prince is mov'd,", "Yea, greatly mov'd at this thy ſwelling pride,", "We banifh thee for ever from our Court.", "*Thra.* Then, loſel Locrine, look unto thy ſelf,", "*Thraſimachus* will revenge this injury.", "[Exit.]", "*Loc.* Farewel, proud Boy, and learn to uſe thy tongue.", "*Aſſa.* Alas, my Lord, you ſhould have call'd to mind", "The lateſt words that Brutus ſpake to you,", "How he defiſ'd you, by the obedience", "That children ought to bear their Sire,", "To love and favour Lady Guendeline :", "Confider this, that if the injury", "Do move her mind, as certainly it will,", "War and diſſention follows ſpedidly.", "What though her power be not ſo great as yours,", "Have you not ſeen a mighty Elephant", "Slain by the biting of a filly Moule ?", "Even ſo the chance of War inconſtant is.", "*Loc.* Peace, Uncle, peace, and ceaſe to talk hereof ;", "For he that feeks by whispering this or that,", "To trouble Locrine in his ſweeteſt life,", "Let him perſwade himſelf to die the death.", "*Enter the Page, with Eſtrild and Sabren.*", "*Eſtr.* O fay me, Page, tell me, where is the King ?", "Wherefore doth he ſend for me to the Court ?", "Is it to die ? is it to end my life ?", "Say me, (weet Boy, tell me and do not feign.)", "*Page.* No, truſt me, Madam, if you will credit the little honefy that is yet left me, there is no ſuch danger as you fear, but prepare your ſelf, yonder's the King.", "*Eſtr.* Then, Eſtrild, lift thy dazled ſpirits up,", "And bleſſes that bleſſed time, that day, that hour,\nThat warlike Locrine firſt did favour thee.", "Peace to the King of Britany, my Love,", "Peace to all theſe that love and favour him.", "*[Locrine taking her up.]*", "*Doth Eſtrild* fall with ſuch ſubſmission", "Before her fervant King of Albion ?", "Arife, fair Lady, leave this lowly chear,", "Lift up theſe looks that cherifh Locrine's heart,", "That I may freely view that roſeal face,", "Which ſo intangled hath my love-ſick breast.", "Now to the Court, where we will court it out,", "And pafs the night and day in Vemus sports,", "Frolick, brave Peers, be joyful with your King.", "*[Exeunt.]*", "*Scena Tertia.*", "*Enter Guendeline, Thraſimachus, Madan, and Souldiers.*", "*Guen.* You gentle winds that with your modeſt blaſſs,", "Pafs through the circuit of the heavenly vault,", "Enter the clouds unto the THRONE of Jove,", "And bear my prayers to his all-hearing ears,", "*For Locrine* hath forſaken Guendeline,", "And learnt to love proud Humber's Concubine.", "You happy Sprites that in the concave Sky", "With pleafant joy, enjoy your ſweeteſt Love,", "Shed ſorth theſe tears with me, which then you ſhed,", "When firſt you woo'd your Ladies to your wills :", "Thofe tears are firſteſt for my woful cafe,", "Since Locrine ſhuns my nothing pleafant face.", "Bluſh Heavens, bluſh Sun, and hide thy ſhining beams,", "Shadow thy radiant locks in gloomy clouds,", "Deny thy cheerful light unto the world,", "Where nothing reigns but falſhhood and deceit.", "What, faid I, falſhhood ? I, that filthy crime,", "*For Locrine* hath forſaken Guendeline.", "Bhold the Heavens do wail for Guendeline :", "*The ſhining Sun* doth bluſh for Guendeline :", "*The liquid Air* doth weep for Guendeline :", "*The very Ground* doth groan for Guendeline.", "I, they are milder than the *Britain* King,", "For he rejeſteth luckleſs Guendeline.", "*Thra.* Siffer, complaints are bootleſſs in this cauſe,", "This open wrong muſt have an open plague :", "This plague muſt be repaid with grievous war,", "This war muſt finiſh with Locrinus death,", "His death will ſoon extinguifh our complaints.", "*Guen.* O no, his death will more augment my woes,", "He was my Husband, brave Thraſimachus,", "More dear to me than the apple of mine eye,", "Nor can I find in heart to work his ſcathe.", "*Thra.* Madam, if not your proper injuries,", "Nor my exile, can move you to revenge :", "Think on our Father Corineus words,", {"bbox": [677, 984, 933, 1002], "

The Tragedy of Locrine.

301

### Scena Quarta.

Enter Locrine, Eſtrild, Habren, Aſſarachus, and
the Souldiers.

Locr. Tell me, Aſſarachus, are the Corniſh Chuffes
In ſuch great number come to Mertia,
And have they pitched there their Hoft,
So cloſe unto our Royal Manſion?

Aſſa. They are, my Lord, and mean incontinent
To bid defiance to your Maſſety.

Locr. It makes me laugh, to think that Guendeline
Should have the heart to come in arms againſt me,
Eſtr. Alas, my Lord, the Horſe will run amain
When as the Spur doth gall him to the Bone ;
Jealouſe, Locrine, hath a wicked ſting.

Locr. Sayſt thou, Eſtrild, Beauties Paragon ?
Well, we will try her choler to the proof,
And make her know, Locrine can brook no braves.
March on, Aſſarachus, thou muſt lead the way,
And bring us to their proud Pavillion.

[Exeunt.]

### Scena Quinta.

Enter the Ghoſt of Corineus, with thunder
and lightning.

Ghoſt. Behold, the Circuit of the azure Sky
Throws forth ſad throbs, and grievous ſulpſirs,
Prejudicating Locrine's overthrow:

The Fire caſſeth fourth ſharp darts of flames,
The great Foundation of the triple World
Trembleth and quaketh with a mighty noſle,
Prefaging bloudy Maſſacres at hand.

The wandring Birds that flutter in the dark,
When helliſh night in cloudy Chariot feated,
Caſſeth her miſts on ſhady Tellus Face,
With ſable Mantles covering all the Earth,
Now flies abroad amid the chearful day,
Foretelling fome unwonted miſery.

The ſnaring Curs of darkned Tartarus,

Sent from Avernus Ponds by Radamanth,
With howling ditties peſter every Wood ;

The watry Ladies and the lightfoot Fawns,

And all the rabble of the woody Nymphs,
All trembling hide themſelves in ſhady Groves,
And ſhrowd themſelves in hideous hollow Pits.

The boyſterous Boreas thundreth fourth revenge :

The ſtley Rocks cry out on ſharp revenge :

The thorny Buſh pronounceth dire revenge.

[Sound the alarm.]

Now Corineus ſlay and fee revenge,

And feed thy Soul with Locrine's overthrow,

Behold they come, the Trumpets call them forth:
The roaring Drums ſummor the Souldiers.

Lo where their Army gliftereth on the Plains.

Throw forth thy lightning, mighty Jupiter,

And pour thy Plagues on curſed Locrine's Head.

[Stand aside.]

Enter Locrine, Eſtrild, Aſſarachus, Habren and their
Souldiers at one Door, Thraſimachus, Guendeline, Ma-
dan and their Followers at another.

Loc. What is the Tyger ſtarted from his Cave?

Is Guendeline come from Cornubia,

That thus the braveth Locrine to the Teeth ?

And haſt thou found thine Armour, pretty Boy,

Accompanied with theſe thy ſtragling mates ?

Believe me but this Enterprize was bold,

And well deferveth commendation.

Guen. I Locrine, Traiterous Locrine, we are come,

With full pretence to ſeek thine overthrow:

What have I done that thou ſhould'ſt ſcorn me thus ?

What have I faſt that thou ſhould'ſt me rejeſt ?

Have I been diſobedient to thy words?

Have I bewray'd thy arcane ſecrecy?

Have I diſhonoured thy Marriage Bed

With filthy Crimes, or with laſcivious Luſts?

Nay it is thou that haſt diſhonoured it,

Thy filthy mind orecome with filthy Luſts,

Yieldeth nnto aſſections filthy Darts.

Unkind, thou wrong'ſt thy firſt and trueſt fear,

Unkind, thou wrong'ſt thy beſt and deareſt Friend ;

Unkind, thou ſcorn'ſt all skilful Brutus Laws,
Forgetting Father, Uncle, and thy ſelf.

Eſtr. Believe me, Locrine, but the Girl is wife,

And well would ſeem to make a Veſtal Nun,

How finely frames the oration.

Tbr. Locrine, we came not here to fight with words,
V Words that can never win the victory,

But for you are ſo merry in your frumps,

Unheath your ſwords, and try it out by force,

That we may fee who hath the better hand.

Locr. Think'ſt thou to dare me, bold Thraſimachus?

Think'ſt thou to fear me with thy taunting braves,

Or do we ſeem too weak to cope with thee ?

Soon ſhall I ſhew thee my fine cutting Blade,

And with my Sword, the Meſſenger of Death,

Seal thee an acquittance for thy bold attempts.

[Exeunt.]

Sound the Alarum. Enter Locrine, Aſſarachus, and a
Souldier at one Door, Guendeline, Thraſimachus, at
another, Locrine and his Followers driven back.

Then let Locrine and Eſtrild enter again in amaze.

Locr. O fair Eſtrilda, we have left the Field,

Thraſimachus hath won the Victory,

And we are left to be a laughing ſtock,

Scoft at by thofe that are our Enemies,

Ten thouſand Souldiers arm'd with Sword and Shield,

Prevail againſt an hundred thouſand men,

Thraſimachus inceſt with ſuming ire,

Rageth amongſt the faint-heart Souldiers,

Like to grim Mars, when covered with his targe

He fought with Diomedes in the field,

Cloſe by the Banks of ſilver Simoſs,

[Sound the Alarum.]

O lovely Eſtrild now the Chafe begins,

Ne're ſhall we fee the flately Troynovant

Mounted with Courſers garniſt all with Pearls,

Ne're ſhall we view the fair Concordia,

Unleſs as Captives we be thither brought.

Shall Locrine then be taken Prifoner,

By ſuch a youngling as Thraſimachus ?

Shall Guendeline captivate my love ?

Ne're ſhall mine Eyes beheld that diſmal hour,

Ne're will I view that ruthful ſpectacle,

For with my Sword, this ſharp Curtle-Axe,

I'll cut in funder my accuſed heart.

But O you judges of the ninefold Styx,

Which with inceſſant torments rack the Ghoſts
Within the bottomleſs Abyſſies Pits,

You gods, Commanders of the Heavenly Spheers,

Whole will and laws irrevocable ſtand,

Forgive, forgive, this foul accuſed fin,

Forget O gods, this foul condemned ſault :

And now my Sword that in ſo many fights [Riſ his Sword.

Haſt fav'd the Life of Brutus and his Son,

End now his Life that wiſeth ſtill for Death,

Work now his Death that wiſeth ſtill for Death,

Work now his Death that hateth ſtill his Life.

Farewell, fair Eſtrild, Beauties Paragon,

C c c c

Fram'd

The Tragedy of Locrine.

302

Fram'd in the Front of forlorn miferies,
Ne're shall mine Eyes behold thy Sun-like Eyes,
But when we meet in the Elysian Fields,
Thither I go before with haftened pace.
Farewel,vain World, and thy enticing fnares.
Farewel, foul fin, and thy enticing pleafures.
And welcom Death, the end of mortal ſmart,
Welcom to Locrine's over-burthened heart.

[Thrifts himſelf through with his Sword.

Eſtr. Break heart with fobs and grievous ſuſpirs,
Stream forth you tears from forth my watry Eyes,
Help me to mourn for Warlike Locrine's Death,
Pour down your tears you watry Regions,
For mighty Locrine is bereſt of life,
O fickle Fortune, O unſtable World,
What eſſe are all things, that this Globe contains,
But a confuſed Chaos of miſhaps ?
VWherein as in a Glafs we plainly fee,
That all our Life is but a Tragedy.
Since mighty Kings are ſubject to miſhap,
I, mighty Kings are ſubject to miſhap,
Since martial Locrine is bereſt of life,
Shall Eſtrild live then after Locrine's Death?
Shall love of life bar her from Locrine's Sword?
O no, this Sword that hath bereſt his life,
Shall now deprive me of my fleeting Soul :
Strengthen theſe hands O mighty Jupiter,
That I may end my woful miferie,
Locrine I come, Locrine I follow thee.

[Kills her ſelf.

### Sound the Alarm. Enter Sabren.

Sab. VVhat doleful fight, what ruthful ſpectacle
Hath Fortune offered to my hapſleſs heart ?
My Father flain with fuch a fatal Sword,
My Mother murthred by a mortal wound ?
VVhat Thracian Dog, what Barbarous Mirmidon,
VVould not relent at ſuch a ruthful cafe ?
VVhat ſierce Achilles, what hard ſtony flint,
VVould not bemoan this mournful Tragedie ?
Locrine, the map of magnanimity,
Lies ſlaughtered in his foul accurſed cave,
Eſtrild, the perfect pattern of renown,
Natures ſole wonder, in whole beauteous breaks,
All heavenly grace and vertue was inſtrind,
Both maſſacred are dead within this cave,
And with them dies fair Pallas and ſweet love.
Here lies a Sword, and Sabren hath a heart,
This bleſſed Sword ſhall cut my curſed heart,
And bring my Soul unto my parents ghoffs,
That they that live and view our Tragedy,
May mourn our cafe with mournful plaudites.

[Let her offer to kill her ſelf.

Ay me, my virgins hands are too too weak,
To penetrate the bullwark of my Breaſt,
My fingers us'd to tune the amorous Lute,
Are not of force to hold this ſteely glain,
So I am left to wail my parents Death,
Not able for to work my proper Death.
Ah Locrine, honour'd for thy noblenefs,
Ah Eſtrild, famous for thy conſtancie.
Ill may they fare that wrought your mortal ends.

### Enter Guendeline, Thraſimachus, Madam, and the Souldiers.

Guen. Search Souldiers, Search, find Locrine and his Love,
Find the proud ſtrumpet, Humber's Concubine,
That I may change thate her ſo pleasing looks,
To pale and ignominious aspect.
Find me the influe of their curſed Love,

Find me young Sabren, Locrine's only joy,
That I may glut my mind with lukewarm Blood,
Swiftly diſtilling from the Baſtards breſt,
My Fathers gholt ſtill haunts me for Revenge,
Crying, Revenge my over-haftened Death,
My Brother's exile, and mine own divorce,
Banifh remorſe clean from my brazen Heart,
All Mercy from mine adamantive breaks.

Thra. Nor doth thy Husband, lovely Guendeline,
That wonted was to guide our ſtarſleſs ſteps,
Enjoy this Light; ſee where he murdred lies:
By luckleſs lot and froward frowning fate,
And by him lies his lovely paramour
Fair Eſtrild goared with a diſmal Sword,
And as it ſeems, both murdred by themſelves,
Claſping each other in their ſeebled arms,
VWith loving zeal, as if for Company
Their uncontented Corps were yet content!
To paſs foul Styx in Charon's ferry-boat.

Guen. And hath proud Eſtrild then prevented me,
Hath ſhe eſcap'd Guendeline's wrath,
Violently by cutting off her life?
VVould God ſhe had the monſtrous Hydra's lives,
That every hour ſhe might have died a Death
VVorſe than the ſwing of old Ixion's wheel,
And every hour revive to die again,
As Titius bound to houſe Caucasus,
Doth feed the ſubſtance of his own miſhap,
And every day for want of Food doth die,
And every night doth live again to die.
But ſlay, methinks, I hear ſome fainting Voice,
Mournfully weeping for their Juckleſs Death.

Sa. You mountainNymphs which in theſe defaſts reign,
Ceafe off your haſty chafe of Savage Beaſts,
Prepare to ſee a heart oppreſt with care,
Addreſs your Ears to hear a mournful ſtile,
No humane ſtrength, no work can work my weal,
Care in my heart ſo Tyrant like doth deal,
You Dryades and lightfoot Satyri,
You gracious Fairies which at Even tide,
Your Cloſets leave with Heavenly Beauty ſtor'd,
And on your shoulders ſpread your golden Locks,
You favage Bears in Caves and darkn'd Dens,
Come wail with me the martial Locrine's Death.
Come mourn with me, for beauteous Eſtrild's Death.
Ah loving Parents little do you know,
VVhat ſorrow Sabren ſuffers for your thrall.

Guen. But may this be, and is it poſſible,
Lives Sabren yet to expiate my wrath?
Fortune I thank thee for this courteſe,
And let me never ſee one proſperous hour,
If Sabren die not a reproachful death.
Sa. Hard-hearted death, that when the wretched call,
Art fartheſt off, and ſeldom hearſt at all,
But in the midſt of Fortunes good ſucceſs,
Uncalled comes, and ſheers our life in twain:
VVhen will that hour, that bleſſed hour draw nigh,
VVhen poor diſtreſſed Sabren may be gone.
Sweet Atropos cut off my fatal thread.
VVhat art thou Death, shall not poor Sabren die?

[Guendeline taking her by the Chin, ſhall ſay ſtins:

Guen. Yes Damſel, yes, Sabren ſhall ſurely die,
Though all the VWorld ſhould ſeek to ſave her Life,
And not a common Death ſhall Sabren die,
But after ſtrange and grievous puniſhments,
Shortly infiſted upon thy Baſtards Head,
Thou ſhalt be caſt into the curſed ſtreams,
And feed the Fifhes with thy tender fleth.

Sab. And think! ſt thou then, thou cruel Homicide,
That theſe thy deeds ſhall be unpunifhed ?
No Traytor, no, the gods will venge theſe wrongs,
The Fiends of Hell will mark theſe injuries.
Never ſhall theſe cloud ſucking maſty Curs
Bring wretched Sabren to her latest home.

For

The Tragedy of Locrine.

For I my self in spite of thee and thine,
Mean to abridge my former deſtinies,
And that which Locrine's Sword could not perform,
This prefent ſtream ſhall prefent bring to pafs.
[She drowneth her ſelf.

Guen. One miſchief follows anothers neck,
VWho would have thought fo young a Maid as ſhe,
VVith ſuch a Courage would have fought her Death.
And for becauſe this River was the place
VVhere little Sabren refolutely died,
Sabren for ever ſhall this fame be call'd.
And as for Locrine our deſeafed Spouse,
Becauſe he was the Son of mighty Brute,
To whom we owe our Country, lives and goods,
He ſhall be buried in a ſtately Tomb,
Cloſe by his aged Father Brutus Bones,
VVith ſuch great Pomp and great Solemnity,
As well beſeems ſo brave a Prince as he.
Let Eſtrild be without the ſhallow Vaults,

VVithout the honour due unto the dead,
Becauſe ſhe was the Author of this VVar.
Retire brave followers unto Troynevant,
VVhere we will celebrate theſe Exequies,
And place young Locrine in his Father's Tomb.

[Exeunt omnes.]

Ate. Lo here the end of lawleſs Treachery,
Of Uſurpation and ambitious Pride,
And they that for their private amours dare
Turmoil our Land, and fet their broils abroad,
Let them be warned by theſe premiſſes,
And as a VVoman was the only cauſe
That civil diſcord was then ſtried up,
So let us pray for that renowned Maid,
That eight and thirty years the Scepter ſway'd
In quiet Peace and ſweet felicity,
And every wight that feeks her graces ſmart,
VVould that this Sword were pierced in his heart.

[Exit.]

F I N I S.