Actus primi,

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Deare my lou'd hart be not so passionate, nothing extreame liues long.

"But not to be extreame, nothing in loue's extreame my loue receiues no meane.

I giue you fayth, and pre thee since poore foule I am so easy to beleeue thee, make it much more pitty to deceiue me, weare this sleight fauor in my remēbrance.

Which when I part from, hope the best of life, euer part from me.

I take you and your word, which may euer liue your seruant, see day is quite broke vp, the best of houres.

Good morrow gracefull mistres, our nuptiall day holds.

With happy constancy a wished day.

My selfe and all content rest with you.

Diaboli vertus in Lumbis est, morrow my frend; come, I could make a tedious scene of this now but, what, pab, thou art in loue with a Courtezan, why sir, should we loath all strumpet a­sume men should hate their owne mothers or sisters, a sinne a­gainst kinde I can tell you.

May it be seeme a wise man to be in loue?

Let wise men alone, twill beseeme thee and me well enough.

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Shall I not offend the [...] of our frendship?

Wher to affect that [...] [...]rend affected by hea­ [...]en I resigne her freely, the creature and I most growe of, by this time shee has assurely heard of my resolued marriage, and no question sweares, Gods Sacrament, [...]en Towsand Diuells Ile resigne I faith.

I would but imbrace her, [...]eare her speake, and at the most but kisse her.

O frend he that could liue with the smoake of roast [...]ate might liue at a cheape rate.

No matter sir, In-sufficiency and sottishnes are much commendable in a most discommendable action, now could I swallow thee, thou hadst wont to be so ba [...]sh and cold ile tell thee. Hell and the prodegies of angrie loue are not so fearefull to a thinking minde as a man without affectio [...], why frend, Phi­losophie & a [...]re are all one, lo [...], is the center in which all lines close the common bonde of being.

O but a chast reserued priuatnes, a modest continence,

Death man, my destiny I cannot choose.

Vnauoidable though folly, worse then madnes.

Cocledemoy vt vales Domine.

Ago tibi gratias, my worshipfull friend, how do'es your friend?

Out you rascall.

Hang toastes, you are an Asse, much a your worships brayne lyes in your Calues, bread a God boy, I was at supper last night with a new weande bulchin, bread a God drunke, hor­ribly drunke, horribly drunke, there was a wench one Franke Frailty, a puncke, an honest pole-cat, of a cleane In step, found legge, smooth thigh, and the nimble Diuell in her buttocke, al [...] fiest a grace, when saw you Tysefew, or M. Caque [...]ure, that prat­ling gallant of a good draught common customes, fortunate, impudence and sound fare.

A way Rogue.

Hang toastes, my fine boy, my companion as worship­full.

Yes I heare you are taken vp with schollers and church­men.

Qùanquam to Marce fi [...] my fine boy, does your wor­ship want a Barb [...] Surgeon.

Farewell knaue, beware the Mull [...]grubs.

Let the Malligrubs beware the knaue, what a Bar­bar Surgeon▪ my delicate boy?

Yes sir an apprentise to surgery.

Ti,s my fine boy, to what bawdy [...] doth your Maister be­long, whats thy name?

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Holifernes Rain-scure.

Rainscure? good M. Holifernes I desire your further acquaintance, nay pray yee bee couered my fine boy, kill thy itch and heale thy skabes, is thy Maister rotten?

My father forsooth is dead.

And laid in his graue, alas what comfort shall Peggy then haue.

None but me sir, thats my mothers sonne I assure you.

Mothers sonne, a good witty boy, would liue to read an Homilie well, and to whome are you going now?

Marry forsooth to trim M. Mulligrub [...]he Vintner.

Doe you know M. Mulligrub?

My Godfather Sir.

Good boy hold vp thy chops, I pray thee doe one thing for me, my name is Gudgeon.

good M. Gudgeon.

Lend me thy bason, razer, and Apron.

O Lord sir.

Wel spokē, good english, but whats thy furniture worth?

O Lord sir I know not.

Well spoken, a boy of a good wit, holde this pawne, where dost dwell.

At the signe of the three razers sir,

A signe of good shauing my carastrophonicall fine boy, I haue an odde iest to trim M. Mulligrub for a wager, a iest boy, a humor, Ile returne thy thinges presently, hold.

What meane you good M. Gudgeon?

Nothing faith but a iest boy, drinke that, Ile recoile pre­sently.

You'le not stay long.

As I am an honest man, the 3. razers?

I sir.

Good, and if I shaue not M. Mulligrub, my wit has no edge, and I may goe cacke in my pewter, let me see, a Barbar, my scurule tongue will discouer me, must dissemble, must disguise, for my beard, my false hayre, for my tongue Spanish Dutch, or Welsh, no, a Northerne Barbar, very good, widdow Raine-s [...]ures man well, newly entertainde, right, to, hang tostes, a [...]cardes [Page] haue white backes, and all knaues would seeme to haue white breaster, so proceede, now worshipfull Cocledemoy.

Nay good sweete daughter, doe not swagger so, you heare your loue is to bee married, true, he does cast you off, right he will leaue you to the world, what then? tho blew and white, black and greene leaue you, may not redde and yellow entertain you, is there but one coullor in the Raine-bow?

Grand Grincome on your sentences, Gods sacrament, ten towsand diuels take you, you ha brought mine loue, mine ho­nor, mine boddy all to noting.

To nothing! I'le be sworne I haue brought them to all the thinges I could, I ha made as much a your may­denhead, and you had beene mine owne daughter, I could not ha sold your Mayden head oftner then I ha done, I ha sworn for you God forgiue me, I haue made you acquainted with the Spa­niard Don Skirtoll, with the Italian, M. Beieroane, with the Irish Lord, S. Patrick, with the Dutch Marchant, Haunc [...] Herkin G [...]ukin Skellam Elappdragon, and specially with the grea­test French, and now lastly with this English (yet in my consci­ence) an honest Gentleman: and am I now growne one of the accursed with you for my labour? is this my reward, am I calde Bawde? Well Mary Fough, goe thy wayes Mary Fough, thy kind heart will bring thee to the Hospitall.

Nay good Naunt, you'le helpe me to an oder loue, vil you not?

Out thou naughty belly, wouldst thou make mee thy Bawde? thu'st best make me thy Bawde, I ha kept counsell for thee, who paide the Apothecary, wast not honest Mary Fough? who redeemde thy petticote and mantle, wast not honest Mary Fough? who helped thee to thy custome not of swaggering Ire­and Captaines, nor of 2. s. Innes a court men, but with honest atte-cappes, wealthy flat-caps, that pay for their pleasure the best of any men in Europe, nay, which is more in London, and dost thou defile me vile creature.

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Foutra pon you Vitch, Bawde, Pole-catte, Paugh, did not you prayse Freeuill to mine loue?

I did prayse I confesse, I did prayse him, I sede hee was a foole, an vnthrift, a true whoremaister, I confesse, a constāt drabbe keeper I confesse, but what the winde is turnde.

It is, it is vile woman, reprobate wowan, naughtie woman it is, vat sal become of mine poore flesh now, mine bod­dy must turne Turke for 2. d. O Diuela, life a mine art, Ick sall be reuengde, doe ten thousand Hell damme me, Ick sal haue the rouge trote cut, and his loue, and his friend, and all his affinitie sall smart, sall dye, sal hang, now legion of deuill seaze him, de gran pest, S. Anthonies fire, and de hot Neopolitan poc rotte him.

Francischina.

O mine seete, deerst, kindest, mine louing, O mine tow­sand, ten towsand, delicated, petty seet art

a mine a deere leeuest affection.

Why Monky, no fashion in you? giue entertaine to my friend.

Icke sal make de most of you, dat curtesie may: Aunt Mary, Mettre Faugh, stooles, stooles for des gallantes: mine Mettre sing non oder song, frolique, frolique Sir, but still com­plaine me doe her wrong, lighten your heart Sir, for me did but kisse her, for me did but kis her, and so let go: Your friend is very heauy, ick sall neere like such sad company.

No thou delightest onely in light Company.

By mine trot, he been very sad, vat ayle you sir.

A tooth ake Lady, a paultry rheume.

De diet is very goot for de rheume.

How far of dwels the house surgeon Mary Fough.

You are a prophane fellow I faith, I little thought to heare such vngodly termes come from your lips.

Pre de now, tis but a toy, a very trifle.

I care not for the valew, Franke, but I faith-

I fait, me must needes haue it (dis is Beatrice ring, oh [Page] could I get it,) seet pree de now, as euer you haue embraced me with a hearty arme, a warme thought, or a pleasing touch, as e­uer you will professe to loue me, as euer you do wish me life, giue me dis ring, dis litle ring.

Pree thee be not vnciuillie importunate, sha not ha't, faith I care not for thee, nor thy ielousie, sha not ha't ifaith.

You doe not loue me, I heare of Sir Hubert Subboys daughter Mistresse Beatrice, Gods Sacrament, ick could scratch out her eyes, and sucke the holes.

Goe y' are growne a puncke rampant.

So get thee gone, nere more behold min eyes by thee made wretched.

Mary Fough farewell, farewell Franck.

Sall I not ha de ring?

No by the Lord.

By te Lord?

By the Lord.

Goe to your new Blouze, your vnproude sluttery, your modest Mettre forsooth.

Marry will I forsooth.

Will you marry forsooth?

Your wishes to you.

Beautie entirely choyce:

Pray yee proue a man of fashion, and neglect the neg­lected.

Can such a raritie bee neglected, can there be measure or sinne in louing such a creature▪

O min poore forsaken hart.

Mine vowed, go, go, go, I can no more of loue, no, no, no, you bin all vnconstant, O vnfaithfull men, tyrantes, betray­ers, de very enioying vs, looseth us, and when you onely ha made vs hatefull, you onely hate vs: O mine forsaken hart.

I must not raue, Scilence and modesty two customa­rie vertues: will you be my mistresse?

Mettres? ha, ha, ha.

VVill you lie wirh me?

Lie with you, O no, you men will out-lie any woman, f [...]i [...] me no more can loue.

No matter, let me enioy your bed.

O vile man, vat do you tinck on me, doe you take mee to be a beast, a creature that for sence onely will entertaine loue, and not onely for loue, loue? O brutish abhomination!

VVhy then I pray thee loue, and with thy loue enioy me.

Giue me reason to affect you, will you sweare you loue me.

So seriously, that I protest no office so dangerous, no deede so vnreasonable, no cost so heauie, but I vow to the vtmost tentation of my best being to effect it.

VVill you doe one ting for me?

Can I doe it?

Yes, yes, but ick doe not loue dis same Freeuill.

VVell.

Nay I do hate him.

So.

By this kisse I hate him.

I loue to feele such othes, sweare againe.

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No, no, did you euer heare of any that loude at the first sight?

A thing most proper.

Now fai [...], I iudge it all incredible, vntill this houre I saw you pritty fayre eyed yout, would you enioy me?

Rather then my breath, euen as my being.

Vel, had ick not made a vow.

VVhat vow?

O let me forget it, it makes vs both despaire.

Deare soule what vow?

Hah, good morrow gentle Sir, endeuour to forget me, as I must be enforced to forget al lmen. Sweet mind rest in you.

Stay, let not my desire burst me, O my impatient heate endures no resistance, no protractiō, there is no being for me but your suddaine inioying.

I doe not loue Freeuil.

But what vow, what vow?

So long as Freeuil liues, I must not loue.

Then he.

Must.

Die.

VVill you be mine when he is not?

VVill I? deare, deare breast, by this most zealous kisse, but I will not perswade you: but if you hate him that I loath most deadly, yet as you please, i'le perswade noting.

VVill you be onely mine.

Vill I? how hard tis for true loue to dissemble, I am one­ly yours.

Tis as irreuocable as breath, he dyes. Your loue.

To kill a man?

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Nay hee is gone, the ring, well, come, little more libe­rall of thy loue.

Not yet my vow.

O heauen, there is no hell but loues prolongings, deare farewell.

It is right I assure you, iust fifteene pounds.

Well Cocledemoy tis thou putst me to this charge, but and I catch thee, I'le charge thee with as many irons: well, is the Barbar come, ile be trimd and then to Cheapeside, to buy a faire peece of plate, to furnish the losse, is the Barbar come?

Truth husband, surely heauen is not pleasde with our vocation; we do winke at the sinnes of our people, our wines are Protestantes, and I speake it to my griefe, and to the burthē of my conscience, we frie our fish with salt butter.

Goe looke to your busines, mend the matter and skore falfe with a vengeance.

Welcome friend, whose man?

Widdow Raine soures man, and shall please your good worship, my nam'es Andrew Sharke.

How do's my God sonne good Andrew.

Very well, hee's gone to trim M. Quicquid our Parson, hold vp your head.

How long haue you beene a Barbar Andrew?

Not long Sir, this two yeare.

What and a good worke man already, I dare scarse trust my heade to thee.

O feare not, we ha polde better men then you, we learn the trade very quickly, will your good worship be shaue not [...]

As you will, what trade didst liue by, before thou turnedst Barbar Andrew.

I was a Pedler in Germany, but my countrimen thriue better by this trade.

Wha's the newes Barbar, thou art sometimes at Court.

Sometimes pole a Page or so sir.

And what's the newes? how doe all my good Lordes, and all my good Ladies, and all the rest of my acquaintance.

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What an arrogant knaue's this, Ile acquaintance yee (tis cash,) say yee sir.

And what newes? what newes? good Andrew.

Marry sir you know the Conduit at Greenewich, and the vnder-holes that spowtes vp water.

Very well, I was washt there one day, and so was my wise, you might haue wrung her smocke ifaith, but what a those holes?

Thus Sir, out of those little holes in the midst of the night crawlde out 24. huge horrible, monstrous, fearefull de­uouring.

Blesse vs.

Serpents, which no sooner were beheld, but they turnd to massiues which howlde, those mastiues instantly turnde to Cockes which crowed, those cockes in a moment were changde to Beares which roard, which Beares are at this hower to bee yet scene in Paris Garden, liuing vpon nothing but toasted cheese and greene onions.

By the Lord and this may be: my wife and I will go see them, this portends something.

Yes worshipfull Fiest, thou'st feele what portendes by and by.

And what more newes, you shaue the worlde, especially you Barbar Surgeons you know the ground of many thinges, you are cunning priuie searchers, by the mas you skowre all: what more newes?

They say Sir that 25, coople of Spanish Iennetes are to bee seene hand in hand daunce the olde measures, whilest fixe goodly Flaunders Mares play to them on a noyse of flutes.

O monstrous! this is a lie a my word, nay and this bee not a lie, I am no foole I warrant, nay make an Asse of mee once?

Shut your eyes close, wincke sure sir, this bal wil make you smart.

I do winke.

Your head will take cold.

I will put on your good worships night-cap, whilest I shaue you, so, much: hang toastes: faugh: viah: sparrowes must pecke and [Page] Cocledemoy munch.

Ha, ha, ha, 25. couple of Spanish Iennets to daunce the olde measures. Andrew, makes my worshippe laugh, ifaith, dost take me for an Asse Andrew, dost know one Cocledemoy in towne, he made mee an Asse last night, but ile asse him, art thou free Andrew, shaue me well, I shall bee one of the common Councell shortly, and then Andrew, why Andrew, Andrew, doest leaue me in the Suddes?

why Andrew I shall be blinde with winking. Ha Andrew, wife Andrew, what meanes this, wife, my money wife.

What's the noyse with you? what aile you?

VVheres the Barbar?

Gone, I saw him depart long sinne, why are not you trimd?

Trimd, O wife, I am shau'd, did you take hence the money?

I toucht it not as I am Religious▪

O Lord I haue wink faire.

I pray Godfather giue me your blessing.

O Holofernes, O wheres thy mothers Andrew [...]

Blessing Godfather.

The diuell choake thee, where's Andrew thy mo­thers man?

My mother hath none such forsooth.

My money, 15. l. plague of all Andrewes, who wast trimd me?

I know not Godfather, onelie one me [...] me, as I was comming to you, and borrowed my furniture, as he saide for a iest sake.

What kinde of fellow?

A thick elderly stub-bearded fellow.

Cocledemoy, Cocledemoy, raise all the Wise men in the streete, Ile hang him with mine owne hands O wife, some R [...]sa Solis.

Good husband take comfort in the Lord, Ile play the Diuell, but ile recouer it, haue a good conscience ti's but a [Page] weekes cutting in the Terme.

O wife, O wife, O Iacke how does thy mother? is there any Fidlers in the house?

Yes, M. Creakes noyse.

Bid 'em play, laugh, make merry, cast vp my ac­countes, for ile go hang my selfe presently, I will not curse, but a poxe on Cocledemoy, he has polde and shaude the, he has trimd me.

Actus tertius. Scena prima.

Nay good child, A loue once more, M. Freeuils Son­net, a the kisse you gaue him.

Pish sister Beatrice, [...] thee reade no more, my sto­macke alate stands against kissing extreamly.

Why good Crispinell [...]

By the faith, and trust I beare to my face, tis grown one of the most vnsauorie Ceremonies▪ Boddy, a [...]eautie tis one of the most vnpleasing in [...] fellow that [...] but one no [...] on [...], and standing co [...]r and skirtes also [...]ude with Tastery sarcenet, must salute vs on the lipps as [...]iliarly▪ Soft skins saue yet here was a stubbearded Iohn a stile with a ploydens fa [...]e saluted me last day, and stroke his bristles through my lippes, I [...]a spent 10. shillings in pom [...]tum finde to [...]kinne them againe. Marry it a nobleman or a knight with one [...]he vissit vs though his vncleane goose turnd greene teeth, hathe palsy his nostrells smell worse then a putrified maribone, & his loose beard drops into our bosome, yet wee must kisse him with a cursy, a curse, for my part I had as liue they would break wynd in my lip [...]s.

Fy Crispinella you speake too broad.

No [...]ot sister, lets neere be ashamed to speake what we [Page] be not ashamd to thinke, I dare as boldly speake venery, as think venery.

Faith sister ile begone if you speake so broad.

Will you so? now bashfulnes seaz you, we pronoūce boldly Robbery, Murder, treason, which deedes must needes be far more lothsome then an act which is so naturall, iust and necessary, as that of procreation, you shall haue an hipocriticall vestall virgin speake, that with close teeth publikely, which she will receiue with open mouth priuately, for my owne part I con­sider nature without apparell, without disguising of custome or complement, I giue thoughts wordes, and wordes truth, and truth boldnes, she whose honest freenes makes it her vertue, to speake what she thinks, will make it her necessity to thinke what is good, I loue no prohibited things, and yet I would haue no­thing prohibited by policy but by vertue, for as in the fashion of time, those bookes that are cald in, are most in sale and request; so in nature those actions that are most prohibited, are most desired.

Good quick-sister, stay your pace we are priuat, but the world would censure you, for truly seuere modesty is womens vertue.

Fye, Fye,, vertue is a free pleasant buxom qualitie: I loue a constant countenance well, but this froward ignorant coynes, fower austere lumpish vnciuill priuatenes, that promises nothing but rough skins, and hard stooles, ha, fy out good for nothing but for nothing, well nurse, and what do you conceaue of all this?

Nay faith my conceauing dayes be done, marry for kis­sing ile defend that, thats within my compas, but for my own part heers mistres Beatrice is to be married with the grace of God, [...] fine gentleman he is shall haue her and I warrant a stronge, he has a legg like a post, a nose like a Lion, a brow like a Bull, and a beard of most faire expectation: this weeke you must marry him, and I now will read a lecture to you both, how you shall behaue your selues to your husbands, the first monneth of your nuptiall, I ha broake my skull about it, I can tell you and there is much braine in it.

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Read it to my sister good nurse, for I assure you ile nere marry.

Marry God forfend, what will you doe then?

Fayth striue against the flesh, marry? no fayth, hus­bands are like lotts in the lottery: you may drawe forty blankes before you finde one that has any prise in him, A husband gene­rally is a careles dominering thing that growes like coroll which as long as it is vnder water is soft and tender, but as soone as it has got his branch aboue the waues is presently hard stiffe, not to be bowed but burst, so when your husband is a sutor & vnder your choyse, Lord how suple hee is, how obsequious, how at your seruice sweet Lady: once married got vp his head aboue A stiffe crooked knobby inflexible tyrannous creature he grows then they turne like water, more you would imbrace the lesse you hould, ile liue my owne woman, and if the worst come to the worst, I had rather prooue a wagge then a foole.

O but a vertuous marriage.

Vertuous marrige? there is no more affiaity betwixt vertue and marriage, then betwixt a man and his horse, indeed vertue gerts vp vppon marriage sometimes, and ma [...]ageth it in the right way, but marriage is of another peece, for as a horse may be without a man, and a man without a horse, so marriage you know is often without vertue, and vertue I am sure more oft without marriage, but thy match sister, by my troth I thinke twill do well, hees a well shapt cleane lipp'd gentleman of a handsome, but not affected finenes, a good faithfull eye, and a well humord cheeke, would he did not stoope in the shoulders for thy sake, see here he is.

Good day Sweete.

Good morrow brother nay you shall haue my lip, good [...]orrow seruant.

Good morrow sweete life.

Life? dost call thy mistres life.

Life, yes why not life?

How many mistresses hast thou?

Some nine.

Why then thou hast nine liues like a Cat.

Mew you would be taken vp for that.

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Nay good let me still sit, we lowe statures loue still to sit, least when we stand we may be supposed to sit.

Dost not weare high corke shooes: chopines.

Monstrous on's. I am as many other are, peec'd aboue and peec'd beneath.

Still the best part in the,

And yet all will scarce make me so high as one of the Gyants stilts that stalkes before my Lord Maiors pageant.

By the Lord so I thought 'twas for some thing Mistres Ioyce iested at thy high insteps.

She might well inough, and long inough, before I would be ashamed of my shortnes, what I made or can mend my selfe I may blush at; but what nature put vpon me, let her be ashamed for me, I ha nothing to doe with it, I forget my beauty.

Fayth Ioyce is a foolish bitter creature.

A pretty mildewed wench she is.

And faire.

As my selfe.

O you forget your beauty now.

Troth I neuer remember my beauty, but as some men doe religion for controuersies sake,

A motion sister.

Niniuie, Iulius Ceasar, Ionas, or the distruction of Ie­rusalem.

My loue heere.

Pree thee call him not love, 'tis the drabs phrase, nor sweete honie, nor my cunny, nor deare duckling, 'tis the Citti­zen termes, but call me him.

What?

Anithing, what'st the motion?

You know this night our parents haue intended so­lemnly to contract vs, and my Loue to grace the feast hath pro­mised a maske.

You'le make one Tysefue, and Caqueture shall fill vp a rome.

Fore heauen well remembred he borrowed a diamond of me last night to grace his finger in your visitation: The Lying Creature will sweare some straung thing on it now.

Peace, he's here, stand close, lurke.

Good morrow most deere, and worthy to be most wise, how do's my mistresse?

Morrow sweete seruant, you glister, pree thee let's see that stone.

A toy Lady, I bought to please my finger.

Why I am more pretious to you, than your finger:

Yes, or than all my body, I sweare.

Why, then let it be bought to please me, come I am no professed beggar.

Troth Mistresse; Zoones: Forsooth, I protest.

Nay, if you turne Protestant for such a toy.

In good deed la, another time ile giue you a

Is this yours to giue.

O God, forsooth mine, quoth you, nay as for that.

Now I remember, I ha seene this on my seruant Tise­ [...]s finger.

Such another.

Nay, I am sure this is it.

Troth tis forsooth, the poore fellow wanted money to pay for supper last night, and so pawnd it to mee, tis a pawne faith, or else you should haue it.

Harke ye, Thou base lying: how dares thy impudence hope to prosper, wer't not for the priuiledge of this respected companie, I would so hange thee.

Come hether seruant, What's the matter betwixt you two?

Nothing but (hearke you) he did me some vnciuile dis­courtesies last night, for which, because I should not call him to account, hee desires to make me any satisfaction: the Coward trembles at my verie presence, but I ha him on the hippe, ile take the forfeit on his Ringe.

What's that you whisper to her?

Nothing Sir, but satisfie her, that the Ringe was not pawnd, but onely lent by you to grace my finger, and so tould her I crau'd your pardon, for being too familiar, or indeed ouer­ [...] with your reputation.

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Yes indeede he did, he said you desired to make him a­ny satisfaction for an vnciuill discourtesie you did him last night, but he said he had you a the hyp and would take the forfeit of your ring.

How now ye base Pultrone?

Hold, hold, my mistresse speakes by contraries.

Contraries.

She iests, faith onely iests.

Sir, Ile no more a your seruice, you are a childe, Ile giue you to my nurse.

And he come to me, I can tell you as olde as I am, what to doe with him.

I offer my seruice forsooth.

Why so, now euery dogge has his bone to knawe on.

The Maske holds, Master Caque [...]er.

I am ready Sir, Mistresse Ile daunce with you, neare feare, Ile grace you.

I tell you I can my singles and my doubles and my tricke a xxtie, my carantapace, my trauerse forward, and my falling backe yet ifaith.

Vntill night onely my heart be with you [...]

Adieu brother, come on sister for these since to [...]

Lets meete and practise presently.

Content, weele but fit our pumpes, Count ye [...] vermine.

My friend, wished houres, what newes from [...] How dos the woman of Sinne, and naturall [...]

The eldest child of nature nere [...] So dam'd a creature.

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What, In noua f [...]x [...] animus [...] dicere formas? which way beares the Tyde?

Deare loued Sir, I finde a minde courageously vitious, may put on a desperate securitie, but can neuer bee blessed with a firme inioying and selfe satisfaction.

what passion is this, my deare Lindabridis.

Tis well, we both may iest, I ha beene tempted to your death.

What is the rampa [...]t Cocatrice growne mad for the losse of hir men?

Deuilishly mad.

As most assured of my second loue.

Right.

She would haue had this ring.

O bloody villaines, nothing is defamed but by his pro­per selfe, Phisitions abuse remedies, Lawyers spoyle the Lawe, and women onely shame women, you ha vow'd my death?

My lust, not I, before my reason would, yet I must vse [...], that I a man of sence should conceiue endelesse pleasure in a body whose soule I know to be so hideously blacke.

That a man at twentie th [...]e should cry, O sweete plea­sure, and at fortie three should sigh, O sharpe Poxe: but con­sider man furnished with omnipotencie and you ouerthrowe him, thou must coole thy impatient appetite.

Ti's Fate, ti's Fate.

I doe malign my creation that I am subiect to passion, I must inioy her.

O but thinke of it.

Thinke of it, come away, vertue let sleepe thy passions, "VVhat old times held as crimes, are now but fashions.

I am not at this time furnished, but ther's my bond for your Plate.

Your bill had ben sufficient y'are a good man, a standing cup parcell guilt, of 32. ounces. 11. pound, 7. shillings, the first of Iuly, good plate, good man, good day good all.

Tis my hard fortune, I will hang the knaue, no, first he shall halfe rot in fetters in the Dungeon, his conscience made de­spairfull, ile hyre a Knaue a purpose, shal assure him he is damn'd, and after see him with mine owne eyes, hanged without singing any Psalme. Lord that hee has but one necke.

You are too tyrannous, you'le vse me no further.

No Sir, lend mee your seruant, onely to carry the plate home, I haue occasion of an houres absence.

VVith easie consent, sir hast and be carefull,

Be very carefull I pray thee to my wifes owne hands.

Secure your selfe sir.

To her owne hand.

Feare not, I haue deliuered greater thinges than this, to a womans owne hand.

Mounsier, please you to buy a fine delicate b [...]ll, sweet [Page] ball; a Camphyer ball.

Pre thee away.

One a ball to skower, a skowring ball, a ball to be shaued

For the loue of god talke not of shauing, I haue been shaued, mischeife and 1000. diuells cease him, I haue been shaued.

The Fox growes fat when he is cursed, ile shaue ye smo­ther yet, turd on a tile stone, my lips haue a kind of [...]hew [...]e at this bole, ile hau't, ile gargalize my throate with this Vintner, and when I haue don with him, spit him out, Ile shark, consciēce does not repine, were I to bite an honest gentleman a poore gro­garan poet, or a penurious Parson, that had but ten pigs tayles in a twelue month & for want of lerning had but one good stoole in a fortnight, I were damd beyond the workes of superarroga­tion, but to wring the whythers of my gowtie barmd spiggod [...]igging-iumbler of elements. Mulligrub, I hold it as lawfull as sheepe-shearing, taking egges from hens, caudels from Asses, or butterd shrimps from horses, they make no vse of them, were not prouided for them. And therefore worshipfull Cocledemoy, hang toasts, on, in grace and vertue to proceed, onely beware be­ware degrees, there be rounds in a ladder, and knots in a halter, ware carts, hang toasts, the comon counsell has decreed it, I must drawe a lot for the great Goblet.

Nay, I pray you stay and drinke, and how do's your Mistresse, I know her verie well, I haue ben inward with her, and so has many more, she was euer a good patient creature yfaith, with all my hart ile remēber your master an honest man, he knew me before I was maryed, an honest man hee is, and a crafty, hee comes forward in the world well, I warrant him, and his wife is a proper woman that she is, well, she has ben as proper a woman as any in Cheape, she paints now, and yet she keeps her husbands old Customers to him still. Introth a fine fac'd wife, in a wainscot carued seat, is a worthy ornament to a Tradesman shop, and an a­tractiue I warrant, her husband shall finde it in the custome of his ware, Ile assure him, God bee with you good youth, I ac­knowledge the receit.

I acknowledge all the rece [...]t sure, tis very well spoken, I acknowledge the receit, thus tis to [Page] haue good education and to bee brought vp in a Tauerne, I doe keepe as gallant and as good companie, though I say it, as any she in London, Squiers, Gentlemen, and Knightes diet at my ta­ble, and I doe lend some of them money, and full many fine men goe vpon my score, as simple as I stand heere, and I trust them and truely they verie knightly and courtly promise faire, giue [...] verie good words, and a peece of flesh when time of yere seruet, nay, though my husband be a Citizen and's caps made of wooll, yet I ha wit, and can see my good assoone as another, for I haue all the thankes, my silly husband, a lasse, hee knowes nothing of it, tis I that beare, tis I that must beare a braine for all.

Faire hower to you Mistresse.

Faire hower, fine terme, faith ile score it vp anone a beautifull thought to you sir.

Your Husband, and my Maister Mr. Garnish has sent you a Iole of fresh Salmon, and they both will come to dinner to season your new cup with the best wine, which cup your hus­band intreats you to send backe by mee, that his armes may bee grau'd a the side, which he forgot before it was sent.

By what token, are you sent by no token? nay, I haue wit.

He sent me by the same token, that he was dry shaued this morning.

A fad token, but true, here sir, I pray you commend me to your Master, but especially to your Mistresse, tell them they shall be most sincerely welcome.

Shall be most sincerely welcome, worshipfull Coclede­moy, lurke close, hang toasts, be not ashamed of thy qualitie, eue­rie mans turd smels well in's owne nose, vanish Foyst.

Come spread these Table Diaper Napkins, and doe you heare, perfume this Parlour do's so smell of prophane Ta­bacco, I could neuer endure this vngodly Tabacco, since one of our Elders, assured me vpon his knowledge Tabacco was not vsed in the Congregation of the family of loue: spread, spread handsomely, Lord these boyes doe things arsie, varsie, you shew your bringing vp, I was a Gentlewoman by my sisters side, I can [Page] tell yee so methodically: methodically, I wonder wher [...] it goe that word O sir Amina dub Ruth had me kisse him methodical­ly, I had it somewhere, and I had it indeede.

Mind, be not desperate, ile recouer all [...] thinges with me, shall seeme honest, that can be profitable, He must nere winch, that would or thriue, or saue, To be cal [...] Nigard, cuckold, Cut-throat, Knaue.

Are they come husband?

Who? what, how n [...]w? what feast towards in my pri­uate Parlour.

Pray leaue your foolerie, what are they come?

Come, who come?

You need not mak't so strange?

Strange?

I strange, you know no man that sent me word, that he and his wife would come to dinner to me, and sent this Iole of fresh Salmon before hand.

Peace, not I, peace, the Messenger hath mistaken the house, let's eat it vp quickly, before it be enquir'd for sit to it, som vineg [...]r, quicke, some good luck yet faith, I neuer tasted salmon relisht better, oh when a man feeds at other mens cost.

Other mens cost? why did not you send this Iole of Salmon.

No.

By Master Garnish man?

No.

Sending me word, that he and his wife would come to dinner to me.

No, no.

To season my now bowle?

Bowle?

And withall wild me to send the bowle backe▪

Backe?

That you might haue your Armes grau'd on the side?

Ha?

By the same token you were drie shauen this morning before you went forth.

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Pah, how this Sammon stinkes.

And thereupon sent the bowle backe, prepar'd dinner, nay and I bare not a braine.

Wife, doe not vexe, me, is the bowle gone, is it deliuer'd?

Deliuered! yes sure, tis deliuered.

I will neuer more say my prayers, doe not make mee madde, tis common, let me not crie like a woman, is it gone?

Gone? Good is my witnesse, I deliuered it with no more intention to be cozend on't, than the child new borne: and yet

Looke to my house, I am haunted with euill spirites, here mee, doe; heare me, if I haue not my Goblet againe, hea­uen, I'le to the Diuell, I'le to a Coniurer, looke to my house, I'le raise all the wise men ithe streete.

Deliuer vs! what wordes are these, I trust in God, hee is but drunke sure.

I must haue the Sammon to worship, Cocledemoy, now for the Master peece, God blesse thy necke peece, and Fowtra. Faire Mistresse my Master.

Haue I caught you, what Roger?

Peace good Mistres, I'le tell you all, a lest, a verie mere lest, your husband onely tooke sport to fright you, the bow [...]s at my Masters, and there is your husband, who sent me in all hast, least you should be ouer frighted with his fayning, to come to dinner to him.

Praise Heauen, it is no worse.

And desired me, to desire you to send the lose of Sam­mon before, and your selfe to come after to them, my Mistresse would bee right glad to see you.

I pray carry it: now thanke them entierly: blesse me, I was neuer so out of my skinne in my life, pray thanke your Mis­tresse most entirely.

So now Figo worshipfull Mall [...]ough, and I will monch Cheaters & Bawds go together like washing & wringing.

Beshrew his heart for his labor, how euery thing about abou [...] me quiuers, what Christian my hat and aporne, here take my sleeues, and how I tremose, so [...]e gossope it now for't, thats certaine, here has been reuolutions, and false hers indeed.

Whether now? Whats the matter with you now? whe­ther are you a gadding?

Come, come, play the foole no more: Will you goe?

Whether, in the ranke name of madnesse: whether?

Whether, why to mayster Garnish, to eate the Iowle of Salmon? Lord, how strange you make it?

Why so, why so.

Why for why did not you send the selfe same fellow for the Iole of Salmon, tha [...] had the cup?

Tis well, tis very well.

And wil [...] me to come and eate it with you at the Gold­ [...]he [...].

OI, I, I, art in thy right w [...]s?

Doe you heare, make a foole of some body else, and you make an asse of me, I [...]e make an Oxe of you, do ye see.

Nay wife be pa [...]ent, for looke you, I may be madde, or drunke, or so, for my wise part, though you can bear more then I, yet I can do well: I will not cause nor cary, but heauen knows what I thinke. Come, lets goe neare some musicke, I will neuer more say my praiers. Lets goe heare some dolefull musicke. Nay if Heauen forget [...]o prosper [...]. Ile goe no more to the Syna­gogue. Now I am discontented, Ile turne Sectarie that is fashion.

Actus Quartus, Scena prima.

More lights: welcome Sir Lyonell Frevile, brother Frevile shortly. Looke to your lights.

The Maskers are at hand.

Call downe our daughter: Harke they are at hande, ranke handsomly.

So.

So.

I doe beseech you sweet, do not for me prouoke your Fortune.

What sodaine flaw is risen?

From whence come this?

An vlcer long time lurking, now is burst.

Good si [...] the time and your deseigns are soft.

I deare sir, councell him, aduise him, twill rellish well From your caruing: Good my sweetnest safe.

As well, als well, this shall be ended straight.

The banquet staies, there weele discourse more [...]

Marriage must not make m [...]n Cowards.

Nor rage fooles.

"Tis valor not where hea [...], but reason rules.

But do you heare Lady, you proud ape you. What was the lest you brake of [...]

Nothing, I onely saide you were all mettle, that you had a brazen face, a Leaden braine, and a copperheard.

Quicksiluer, thou little more then a Dwarfe, and some­thing lesse then a Woman.

A Wispe, a wispe, a wispe, will you go to the banquet.

By the Lord I thinke thou [...]ilt marry shortly too, thou growest somewhat foolish already.

O I faith, tis a faire thing to be married, and a necessary, To hear this word must, if our husbands be proud, we must bear his contempt, if noysome we must beare with the Gote vnder his armeholes, if a foole we must beare his bable, and which is worse, If a loose liuer, Wee must liue vppon vnholsome Reuersions: Where, on the contrary side, our husbands because they may and we must; care not for vs, thinges hop'd with feare, and got with struglings, are mens high pleasures, when duety pales and flatres their appetite.

What a tart Monkey is this, by heauen if thou hadst not so much wit I could finde in my hart to my marry thee. Faith bear with me for all this.

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Beare with thee, I wonder how thy mother could beare th [...]ten months in her bellie, when I cannot indure thee 2. hours in mine eie.

Alasse for you sweet soule, by the Lorde you are growne a proud, scuruie, apish, ydle, disdainefull, scoffing, Gods foot, be­cause you haue read Ephues and his England, Palmerin de Oliva, & the Legend of Lies.

Why yfaith yet seruant, you of all others shoulde beare with my knowne vnmalicious humors, I haue alwaies in my Hart giuen you your due respect:

And heauen may be sworne, I haue priuately giuen faire speach of you, and protested.

Nay looke you, for my owne part, if I haue not as religi­ously vowd my hart to you, been in drunke to your health, swalowd flap-dragons, eate glasses, drunke vrine, stabd armes, and don all the offices of protested gallan [...]rie for your sake: and yet you tell me I haue a brazen face, a leaden braine▪ and a copper bearde, Come yet and it please you.

No, no, you do not loue me?

By () but I do now, and whosoeuer dares say that I do not loue you, nay honor you, and if you would vouchsafe to marrie.

Naie as for that thinke out as you will, but Gods my re­cord, and my sister knowes I haue taken drinke and slept vppont, that if euer I marrie it shall be you, and I will marrie, and yet I hope I do not saie it shall be you neither.

By heauen I shalbe assoone wearne of health as of your in­ioyeng: will you cast a smooth cheeke vpon me?

I cannot tell, I haue no crumpt shoulders, my back needs no mantle, and yet marriage is honorable: do you thinke ye shall proue a Cuckold?

No, by the Lord, not I?

If you will bee mine, you shall be your owne, my pursse, [Page] my bodie, my hart is yours, onlie bee silent in my house, modest at my table, and wanton in my bed, and the Empresse of Europe cannot content, and shall not be contented better.

Can anie kind hart speake more discreetlie affectionate­lie: my fathers consent, and as for mine,

Then thus, and thus, so Hymen should begin, Sometimes a falling out, proues falling in.

No.

Then I must enioy Francischina.

You shall: Ile lend this ring, shew it to that faire Deuill, It will resolue me dead, which rumor with my artificiall absence, wil make most firme, enioy her sodainlie.

But if report go strong that you are slaine, and that by me. Whereon I may be seizd Where shall I finde your being.

At maister Shatewes the Iewellers, to whose breast Ile trust our secret purpose.

I rest your selfe, each man hath follies.

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Tis true, but truth seemes folly in madnesse spectacles, I am not now my selfe, no man: Farewell.

Farewell.

"When womna's in the hart, in the soule hell.

Pan you poultron.

Gods sacramant. Pox.

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By me fait dis bin verie fine languge, Ick sall bush ye now, ha, be garzon vare had you dat place?

Hedemoy key, get you gon Punck rampant, key common vp-taile.

O daughter, cozen, neece, seruant, mistresse.

Humpum, plumpum squat, I am gone.

There is one M. Malliereux at the dore desires to see you: he saies he must not be deuide, for he hath sent you this ring and withall saies tis done.

Vat sall me do now, Gods sacramant: tell him two ho­wers hence he sall be most affectionatlie velcome, tell him (vat sal me do) tel him Ick am bin in my bate, and Ick fall perfume my seetes, mak a mine bodie so delicate for his arme Two houres hence.

I shall satisfie him two houres hence well.

Now Ick sall reuange, hay, begar me sal tartar de whole generation, mine braine vorke it, Frevile, is dead, Malhareux sall hang, And mine riuall Beatrice, Ick sall make run madde.

Hees gone forsooth no [...] [...] cawdle of Cock-stones, & will returne within this two houres.

Verie vel, giue mons to some fellow to squire me, Ick sal go abroad.

Thers a lustie Bravo beneath, a stranger, but a good stale Rascall: he swea [...]es valiantlie, kicks a Bawd right vertuously, and protestes with an emptie pocket might desperately, Heele squier you.

Very velcom, mine san, Ick sall re [...]ome presantly, now sal me be reuange ten tousant deula, der sall be no got in me but passion, no tought but rage, no mercie but bloud, no spirit but Diula in me, Dere sal noting tought good for me, But dat is mischieuous for others.

Pray God that all be well or would I were not.

Hees not to be found Sirian [...] where.

You must not make a heauy face presage an ill euent: I like your Sister well, shees quick and liuely: would she woulde marry faith.

[...], nay [...]ell would man a [...] an old mans a [...]n­entring▪

Ha, masse and so [...]

You are a Widdowe [...].

Than I am I faith faire Crisp, and I can tell you, would you affect me, I haue it in me yet I faith.

Troth I am in loue, let me see your hand: would you ca [...] your selfe away vpon me willingly▪

Will I: I by the

Woulde you be a Cockould willingly? By my troath us a comely, fine, and handsome sight, for one of my yeeres to marry an old man, truth tis restoratiue what a comfortable thinge it is to thinke of her husband to [...] venerable cough a the euer­lastings, no feele his rough [...] summer handes, and winter [...]gges, his almoste no eies, and assuredly no teeth, and then [...] thinke what she must dreame of, when she considers others hap­pines and her owne want: tis a worthy and notorious comforta­ble match.

Pish, pish, will you haue me▪

Will you assure me.

Fiue hundred pound ioynture.

That you will die within this fortnight▪

No, by my faith Cris.

Then Crisp. by her faith assures you sheele haue none of you.

Beere leaue Gentles and men of night caps, I would I peak, [Page] But that here stands one is able to [...] her owne tale best.

Sir mine speech is to you, you [...] [...]vile.

Had ha, and haue.

No po [...], me a [...]eome to assure you da [...] on mest [...] Mal­heureus hath killed him.

O me, wretched, wretched.

Looke to our daughter.

How art thou [...]

If dat it please you to go [...] bring you [...]ere you'l all hear Ma [...]she [...]eus [...] his owne lips confesse it, a [...] may apprehend him and reuenge your and mine loues [...]

Your [...]

He was so sir, let you [...] it do not [...] dy, de yong man dat be flame did [...] you [...] me ten tousant tousant times more deerely.

O my hart I will loue you the better [...] he affected? O passion, O my griefe which way will [...] and consume?

Peace.

Deare woes cannot speake.

For looke you Ladie as your [...]ing he gaue [...] [...] iests at your scornd kin [...] [...]

He did not ill not to [...] did no [...] will as mocke me: Gentle mine [...] yet [...] Ly at not to mo [...]ous of so [...] onlie loue me was ioy enough for [...] only might onlie loue him.

O but to be abusde, scornde, scoft at, O ten tousand did [...] by such a one, and vnto such a one.

I thinke you saie not true [...]ister, shall we know one ano­ther in the other world?

What meanes my sister?

I would faine see him againe: O my torture mind, Frevile is more then dead, he is vnkinde.

Conuey her in, and so sir as you said [...]et a strong watch.

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I sir, and so basse [...] this [...]a [...]e common woman, you must make it good.

Ick sall, or let me pay for his, mine bloud.

Come then along all, with quiet speed.

O Fate?

O sir, be wisely sorrie, but not passionate.

Plant a watch there, be verie carefull Sirs, the rest with vs.

The heauy night growes to her depth of quiet, Tis about mid darkenesse.

Mine shambre is hard by, Ick sall bring you to it presant ment.

Deepe silence. On

within Wa, ha, h [...],

It was his voice, tis he: he suppes with his cupping glas­ses. Tis late, he must passe this waie: Ile ha him, Ile ha my fine [Page] boy, my worshipfull Cocledemoy, Ile moy him, he shall be hangd in lowsie linnen, Ile hire some sectary to make him an hereticke before he die? And when he is dead Ile pisse on his graue.

Ah my fine puncks, good night, Franke, frailtie, fraile a Fraile-Hall? [...]onus noches my vbiquitari.

Ware polling and shauing Sir.

A Wolfe, a wolfe, a wolfe,

Heers something yet, a Cloke, a cloke, yet Ile after, he cannot scape the watch, Ile hang him if I haue any mercy▪ Ile slice him.

Who goes there? come before the Constable.

Bread a God Constable, you are a Watch for the deuil. Honest men are robd vnder your nose, thers a false knaue in the habit of a Vintner, set vpon me, he would haue had my purse, But I tooke me to my heeles: yet he got my Cloke, a plaine stuffe cloke poore, yet twill serue to hang him? Tis my losse, poor man that I am.

Maisters, we must Watch better, ist not strange that knaues, Drunkerds, and theeues, should be a brode, and yet we of the Watch, Scriueners, smithes, and Taylors, neuer stur.

Harke, who goes there?

An honest man and a Cittiezen.

Appeare, appeare, what are you?

A simple Vintner.

A Vintner ha, and simple, draw neerer, nerer: heers the Cloke.

I Maister Vintner we know you, a plaine stuffe cloke: tis it.

Right, come: Oh thou varlet, doest not thou know that the Wicked cannot scape the eies of the Constable?

What meanes this violence, as I am an honest man I tooke the cloke.

As you are a knaue, you tooke the cloke, we are your witnes­ses for that.

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But heare me, heare me, Ile tell you what I am.

A theefe you are.

I tell you my name is Mullegrub.

I will grubbe you, In with him to the stockes, there let him sit tell to morrow morning that Iustice Quodlibet may examine him.

Why but I tell thee.

Why but I tel thee, weele tell thee now.

I, I, let him pra [...]e, he shall find matter in vs scabs I warrant: Gods so, what good members of the common wealth, doe wee proue.

Prethee peace, lets remember our duties, and let go sleepe, in the feare of God.

Who goes there: I lo, ho, ho: zounds shall I run mad, Loose my wits: shall I be hangd, hark: who goes there? Do not feare to be poore Mullegrub, Thou hast a sure stocke now.

Zounds man I tell thee I am lockt.

Lockt: O world: O men: O time: o night: that canst not [Page] Discerne vertue, and wisdome, and one of the common Counsel: What is your Worship in for?

For (a plague ont) suspition of Fellonie.

Nay, and it be but such a trifle, Lord I could weep, to see your good Worship in this taking: your Worshippe has beene a good friend to me, and tho you haue forgot me, yet I knewe your wife before she was married, and since I haue found your Worsh. dore open and I haue knockt, and God knows what I haue saued: and doe I liue to see your Worship stockt?

Honest Belman, I perceiue thou knowst me, I prethe call the Watch. Informe the Constable of my reputation, That I may no longer abide in this shamefull habitation, And hold thee, all I haue about me.

Tis more then I deserue sir: Let me alone for your Deliuerie.

Doe, and then let me alone with Cockledemoy, Ile moy him.

Maids in your: Maister Constable, whose that ith'stoks?

One for a robberie: one Mullegrub, he cals himselfe. Mullegrub? Bel-man, knowst thou him?

Know him: O maister Const. what good seruice haue you done. Know him? Hees a strong theefe, his house has beene suspected for a bawdie Tauerne a great while: and a receipt for Cut-purses, tis most certaine: He has beene long in the blacke booke, and is he tane now?

Berlady my maisters weele not trust the stocks with him, Weele haue him to the Iustices, get a Mittimus to Newgate presentlie. Come sir, come on sir.

Ha: does your Rascalship yet know my Worship In the end?

I, the end of your Worship we know.

Ha, goodman Constable, heeres an honest fellow can tell you what I am?

Tis true sir, yare a strong theefe hee saies on his owne know­ledge: Binde fast, binde fast, we know you: Weele trust no Stocks with you. Awaie with him to the Iayle instantlie.

Why but dost heare Bel-man, Rogue, Rascall, Gods [Page] Whie but?

Whie but; wha ha ha, excellent, excellent, ha my fine Cocledemoy, my Vintner fistes, Ile make him fart crackers be­fore I ha done with him; to morrow is the daie of Iudgment.

Afore the Lord God my knauerie growes vnperegall, Tis time to take a nap, vntill halfe an houre hence: God giue your Worship Musicke, content, and rest.

Actus Quintus, Scena prima.

You bin verie velcom to mine shambra.

But how knowe ye, how are ye assurde Both of the deed, and of his sute returne.

Feare not, tis well: good works get grace for sin.

Ho Cosen Francke, the partie you wot of, M. Malhereux.

Bid him come vp, I prede.

What your a lerned wanton, and proceed by art?

Why quareld a set purpose, drew him out, Singled him, and hauing th'advantage of my sword and might, ran him through and through.

Vat did you vid him van he was sticken?

I dragd him by the heeles to the next wharffe and spurnd him in the Riuer.

Seize, seize him: O monsterous? O ruthlesse Villaine?

What meane you Gentlemen? by heauen,

Speake not of anie thing thats good.

Your errors giues you passion: Frevile liues.

Thie own lips saie, thou liest.

Let me die if at Shatewes the Ieweller, he liues not safe vntoucht.

Meane time to stricktest guard, to sharpest prison.

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I will.

Prede do, and saie anie ting dat vil vex her.

Let me alone to vex her.

Is she so? O vile creature? then let me alone with her.

Sister, cannot a woman kill her selfe? Is it not lawfull to die when we should not liue?

O sister tis a question not for vs, we must do what God will.

What God will? Alasse, can torment be his glorie, or our greefe his pleasure? Does not the Nurces nipple iuic'd ouer with Wormwood, bid the childe it shoulde not sucke? And does not Heauen when it hath made our breath bitter vnto vs, say we shud not liue? O my best sister: to suffer wounds when one may scape this rod, is against nature, that is against God.

Good sister do not make me weep: sure Frevile was not false: Ile gage my life that strumpet out of craft

And some close second end hath malist him.

My seruant, maister Cacature desires to visite you,

By your leau [...] sweet creatures.

Sir, all I can yet say of you, is, you are vnciuill.

Hold, peace, the ge [...] [...] O my best sister.

She stirs, giue aire, she breathes.

O eternallie much laued, recollect your spirits.

Heauen cannot be too gratious to such goodnesse, I shall discourse to you the seueral chances, but harke I must yet rest dis­guisd, the sudden close of many drifts now meet,

"Where pleasure hath some profit, ar [...] is sweet.

Newes, newes, newes, newes.

Oysters, Oysters, oysters, oysters.

Why, is not this well now? Is not this better then louring, and pouting, and puling, which is hatefull to the liuing, and vaine to the dead? Come, come, you must liue by the quicke, when all is done, and for my owne part, let my wife laugh at me when I am dead, so s [...]eele smile vpon me whilst I liue, but to see a woman Whine, and yet keepe her eies [...] mourne, and yet keepe her cheekes fat: nay, to see a woman c [...]aw her husbande by the feete when he is dead, that would haue scratcht him by the face whe [...] he was liuing: this now is somewhat rediculous.

Lord how you prate.

And yet I was afraide ifaith that I shoulde ha seene a Gar­land on this beauties herse, but time, truth, experience, and varie­tie, are great doers with women.

But whats the newes? the newes I pray you?

I pray you? nere pray me: for by your leaue you may command me. This tis: the publique sessions which this day is past, hath doom'd to death ill fortun'd Malhereux.

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And that twas but a plot betwixt them two.

What of him Sir.

Nothing but hanging, the Whoresone slaue is mad before he hath lost his sences.

Was his fact cleere and made aparant Sir?

Shall we go meet the execution?

I shall be rulde by you.

Will you man vs, you shall be our guide to Freuile.

I am your seruant.

Ha seruant? Zounds I am no companion for Pandors▪ your best make him your loue.

So will I Sir, we must liue by the quicke you say.

So, I ha lost my Sergeant in an ecliptique mist, drunke, horrible drunke, he is fine: so now will I fit my selfe, I hope this habit will do me no harme, I am an honest man already: fit, fit, fit as a puncks taile, that serues euery body: By this time my Vintner thinkes of nothing but hel and sulpher, he farts fire and brimstone already, hang tostes, the execution approcheth.

Sir, sir, prepare, vaine is all lewd defence.

I Sir, and it shall please you the poore has your purse a [...].

De man dose raue, tinck a got, tinck a got, and bid d [...] [...]lesh, de world, and the dible farewell.

Farewell.

Farewell.

Vat ist you sea, ha?

Why staie.

Vnprosperous Diuell, vat sall me do now.

You maze vs all, let vs not be lost in darkenesse?

To seuerest prison with her, with what hart canst liue? What eies behold a face?

To the extreamest whip and Iaile.

Frolique, how is it Sirs?

On afore there, roome for the prisoners?

I praie you do not lead me to execution through cheape­side, I owe M. Burnish the gold-smith monie, and I feare heele set a Seriant on my backe for it.

Trouble not your skonce my Christian Brothers, but haue an eie vnto the maine chance, I will warrant your shouldiers, as for your necke Plinius secundus, or marcus Tullius Cycero, or some­bodie it is saies, that a three foulde corde is hardlie broken.

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Wel, I am not the first honest man that hath bin cast away, and I hope shall not be the last.

O sir, haue a good stomach and mawes, you shal haue a ioyfull supper.

In troth I haue no stomach to it, and it please you take my trencher▪ I vse to fast at nights.

O husband, I little thought you should haue come to think on God thus soon: nay and you had bin hangd deseruedly, it would neuer haue greeud me, I haue known of many honest innocent men haue bin hangd deseruedly, but to be cast away for nothing.

Good woman hold your peace, your prittles & your prattles your bibbles and your babbles, for I pray you heare mee in priuate, I am a widdower, and you are almost a widdow, shal I be welcom to your houses, to your tables, and your other things.

I haue a peece of mutton and a featherbed for you at all times, I pray make hast.

I do here make my confession, if I owe anie man anie thing, I do hartilie forgiue him: if any man owe me anie thing, let him paie my wife.

I will looke to your wi [...]es paiment I warrant you.

And now good yoke-fellow leaue thy poor mulligrub.

Naie then I were vnkind ysaith, I will not leaue you vntill I haue seene you hang.

But brothers, brothers, you must thinke of your sins and iniquities, you haue bin a brocher of prophane vessels, you haue made vs drinke of the iuice of the whore of Babylon, for whereas good ale, Perrys, Bragets, Syders, and metheglins, was the true aunti­ent British and Troyan drinks, you ha brought in Popish wines, Spa­nish wines, French wines, tam marti quam mercurio, both muscadi [...] and malmsey, to the subuersion, staggering, and sometimes ouer­throw of manie a good Christian: You ha bin a great Iumbler, O remember the sins of your nights, for your night works ha bin vn­sauorie in the tast of your Customers.

I confesse, I confesse, and I forgiue as I would be forgiuē, Do you know one Cocledemoy?

O verie wel: know him? an honest man he is and a com­ly, an vpright dealer with his neighbours, and their wiues speake good things of him.

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Wel, whersoere he is, or whatsoere he is, Ile take it on my death hees the cause of my hanging, I hartily forgiue him, and if he would come forth he might saue me, for he only knowes the why, and the wherfore.

You do from your harts, and midrifs, and intrales forgiue him then you wil not let him rot in rusty Irons, procure him to be hangd in lowsie linnen without a song, and after he is dead pisse on his graue.

That hard hart of mine has procurd all this, but I forgiue as I would be forgiuen.

Hang tosts my Worsh.

behold thy Cocledemoy, my fine vintner, my castrophomicall fine boy: behold and see.

Blisse, a the blessed, who would but look for 2. knaues here?

No knaue worsh. friend, no knaue, for obserue honest C [...] ­cledemoy restores whatsoeuer he has got, to make you know, that whatsoere he has don, has bin only Euphoniae gratia, for Wits sake: I acquit this Vintner as he has acquitted me, all has bin done for Emphises of wit my fine boie, my worshipfull friends.

Goe you are a flattring knaue.

I am so, tis a good thriuing trade, it coms forward better then the 7. liberal Sciences, or the nine cardinall vertues, whiche may well appeare in this, you shall neuer haue flattering knaue turn courtyer: and yet I haue read of many Courtyers that haue turned flattring knaues.

Wast euen but so, why then als well?

I could euen weepe for ioy.

I could weep to, but God knowes for what.

Hers another tack to be giuen, your son and daughter.

Ist possible, hart I, al my hart, wil you be ioyned here?

yes [...]aith father, mariage and hanging are spun both in one houre.

Why then my worsh. good friends I bid my selfe most hartily welcome to your merry nuptials, and wanton Iigga-ioggies And now my verie fine Heliconian Gallantes, and you my Worsh. friends in the middle Region: