BVt Francke, Franke, now we are come to the house, what shall we make to be our busines?

Tut, let vs be Impudent enough, and good inough.

We haue no acquaintaince heere, but young Scar­borrow.

How no aquaintance: Angels guard me from thy company. I tel thee Wentloe thou art not worthy to weare guilte Spurs, cleane Linnen, nor good Cloaths.

Why for Gods sake?

By this hand thou art not a man fit to Table at an Ordi­nary, keepe Knights company to Bawdy houses, nor Begger thy Taylor.

Why then I am free from Cheaters, cleare from the Pox, and escape Cursses?

Why doost thou think there is any Christians in the world?

I and Iewes too, Brokers, Puritans, and Sergiants.

Or doost thou meane to begge after Charity, that goes in a cold sute already, that thou talkest thou hast no acquaintance here. I tel thee Wentloe thou canst not liue on this side of the world: feed wel, drink Tobacco, and be honored into the presence, but thou must be acquainted with all sortes of men, I and so farre in to, till they desire to be more acquainted with thee.

True, and then you shall be accompted a gallant of good credit.

But stay, here is a Scrape-trencher ariued: How now blew bottle, are you of the house?

I haue heard of many blacke Iacks Sir, but neuer of a blew Bottle.

Well Sir, are you of the house?

No Sir, I am twenty yardes without, and the house stands without me.

Prethee tels who owes this building.

He that dwels in it Sir.

Who dwels in it then.

He that owes it.

Whats his name.

I was none of his God-father.

Dus maister Scarberow lie heere,

What am I the better for thy answer?

What am I the better for thy question?

Why nothing.

Why then of nothing comes nothing.

Sblud this is a philosophicall foole.

Then I that am a foole by Art, am better then you that are fooles by nature.

Gentlemen, welcome to Yorkshire.

And well incountred my little Villaine of fifteene hundred a yeare, S [...]ut what makest thou heere in this barren soyle of the North, when thy honest friends misse thee at London?

Faith Gallants tis the Countrey where my Father liued, where first I saw the light, and where I am loved,

Lou'd, I as Courtiers loue Vsurers, & that is iust as long as they lend them mony. Now dare I lay.

None of your Land good Knight, for that is laid to mor­gage already?

I dare lay with any man that will take me vp.

Who list to haue a Lubberly load.

Sirrah wag, this Rogue was son and heire to Antony Nowe, Now, and Blind Moone. And he must needs be a scuruy Musiti­on, that hath two Fidlers to his Fathers: but tel me in fayth, art thou not, nay I know thou art cald down into the country here, by some hoary Knight or other, who knowing thee a young Gentleman of good parts, and a great liuing▪ hath desired thee to see some pitti­full [Page] peece of his Workemanship, a Daughter I meane, Ist not, so?

About some such preferment I came downe.

Preferment, a good word: And when do you commence into the Cuckolds order, the Preferment you speak of when shal we haue Gloues: when, when?

Why, and that is time enough to make vp a dozen marria­ges, as marriages are made vp now adayes. For looke you Sir: the father according to the fashion, being sure you haue a good liuing, and without Incumbrance, comes to you thus:—takes you by the hand thus:—wipes his long beard thus:—or turn svp his Muchacho thus:—Walks some turne or two thus:—to shew his comely Grauity thus:—And hauing washt his foule mouth thus:—it last breaksout thus.—

O God: Let vs heare more of this?

Maister Scarborrow, you are a young Gentleman, I knew your father well, hee was my worshipfull good Neighbour, for our Demeanes lay neare together. Then Sir,—you and I must be of more nere acquaintance.—At which, you must make an eruption thus:—O God (sweet Sir)

Sfut, the Knight would haue made an excellent Zany, in an Italian Comedy.

Then hee goes forward thus: Sir, my selfe am Lord of some thousand a yeere, a Widdower, (maister Scarberrow) I haue a cou­ple of young Gentlewomen to my Daughters, a thousand a yeare will do well deuided among them? Ha, wilt not Maister Scarbor­row, —At which you out of your education must reply thus.—The Portion will deserue them worthy husbands: on which Tinder he soones takes fire and sweares you are the Man his hopes shot at, and one of them shall be yours.

If I did not like her, shoulde hee sweare to the diuell, I would make him forsworne.

Then putting you and the young Puggs to in a close roome together.

If he should lie with her there, is not the father partly the Bawd?

Where the young puppet, hauing the Lesson before from [Page] old Fox, giue the sonne halfe a dozen warme kisses, which after her fathers oths, takes such Impression in thee, thou straight calst by Iesu Mistris, I loue you:—When shee has the wit to aske, but Sir, will you marry me, and thou in thy Cox-sparrow-humor replyest, I (before God) as I am a Gentleman wil I, which the Fa­ther ouer-hearing, leaps in, takes you at your word, sweares hee is glad to see this; nay he will haue you contracted straight, and for a need makes the priest of himselfe.

But can they Loue one another so soone?

Oh, it is no matter now adaies for loue, tis wel, and they can but make shift to lie together.

But will your father doe this too, if hee know the gallant breaths himselfe at some two or three Bawdy houses in a morning.

Oh the sooner, for that and the Land together, tell the olde ladde, he will know the better how to deale with his Daughter?

Come Wag, if thou hast gone no further then into the Ordinarie fashion, meete, see, and kisse, giue ouer: Mary not a Wife to haue a hundred plagues for one pleasure: lets to London, theres varie­ty: and change of pasture makes fat Calues.

But change of women bawld Knaues, Sir Knight.

Wag and thou beest a Louer but three dayes, thou wilt bee Hartles, Sleeplesse, witles, Mad, Wretched, Miserable, and indeed, a starke Foole. And by that, thou hast beene married but three weekes, tho thou shouldst wed a Cynthia rara avis, thou wouldest be a man monstrous: A Cuckold, a Cuckold.

And why is a Cuckold monstrous, Knight?

Why, because a man is made a Beast by being married? Take but example thy selfe from the Moone, as soone as shee is deliuered of her great belly, doth she not poynt at the world with a payre of hornes, as who should say, married men, some of ye are Cuckolds.

Theres nere a wanton Wench that heares thee, but thinkes thee a Coxcom for saying so: Marry none of them, if thou wilte haue their true Characters, Ile giue it thee,—Women are the Purgatory of mens Pursses, the Paradice of their bodies, and the Hel of their mindes; Marry none of them. Women are in Chur­ches Saints, abroad Angels, at home Diuels.

Here are married men inow, know this: Marry none of them.

Let them be what Flowers they will, and they were Roses, I will plucke none of them for pricking my fingers. But soft, heere comes a voider for vs: and I see, do what I can, as long as the world lasts, there wil be Cuckolds in it. Do you heare Childe, heeres one come to blend you together: he has brought you a kneading-tub, if thou dost take her at his hands,

Health Knight, not as Drunkards giue their healthes I hope, to go together by the eares when they haue done?

My healths are welcome: welcome Gentlemen.

Are we welcome Knight, Infayth.

Welcome infayth Sir.

Preethee tell me hast not thou bin a Whoremaister.

The Father, and the Gallants haue left mee heare with a Gentlewoman, and if I know what to say to her I am a villen, hea­uen grant her life hath borrowed so much Impudence of her sex, but to speak to me first: for by this hand, I haue not so much steel of Immodesty in my face, to Parle to a Wench without blushing. Ile walke by her, in hope shee can open her teeth.—Not a word?—Is it not strange a man should be in a womans com­pany all this while and not heare her tongue.—Ile goe fur­ther? —God of his goodnes: not a Sillable. I think if I should take vp her Cloaths to, she would say nothing to me.—With what words tro dus a man begin to woe. Gentlewoman pray you what Ist a Clockc?

Troth Sir, carrying no watch about me but mine eyes, I answer you: I cannot tell.

And if you cannot tell, Beauty I take the Addage for my reply: You are naught to keepe sheepe.

Yet I am big enough to keepe my sclfe.

Prethee tell me: Are you not a Woman?

I know not that neither, til I am better acquainted with a man.

And how would you be acquainted with a man?

To distinguish betwixt himselfe and my selfe.

Why I am a Man.

Thats more then I know Sir.

To approue I am no lesse: thus I kisse thee.

And by that proofe I am a man too, for I haue kist you.

Prethee tell me can you loue?

O Lorde Sir, three or foure thinges: I Loue my meate, choise of Suters: Cloathes in the Fashion: and like a right woman I loue to haue my will.

What thinke you of me for a Husband?

Let me first know, what you think of me for a wife?

Troth I thinke you are a proper Gentlewoman.

Do you but thinke so?

Nay I see you are a very perfect proper Gentlewoman.

It is great pitty then I should be alone without a proper man.

Your father sayes I shall marry you.

And I say God forbid Sir: I am a great deale to young.

I loue thee by my troth.

O pray you do not so, for then you stray from the steps of Gentility, the fashion among them is to marry first, and loue after by leisure.

That I do loue thee, here by heauen I sweare, and cal it as a witnes to this kisse.

You will not inforce me I hope Sir?

O God, you are too hot in your gifts, shoulde I ac­cept them, we should haue you plead nonage, some halfe a year hence: sue for reuersement, & say the deed was done vnder age.

Prethee do not Iest?

No (God is my record) I speak in earnest: & desire to know Whether ye meane to marry me, yea or no.

This hand thus takes thee as my louing wife,

For better, for worse.

I, till death vs depart loue.

Why then I thanke you Sir, and now I am like to haue that I long lookt for: A Husband.

Now maister Scarborrow.

And both agreed so.

We are Sir,

Then long may you liue together, haue store of sons.

Tis no matter who is the father.

But sonne here is a man of yours is come from London.

And brought you Letters Sir.

What newes from London Butler.

The old newes Sir, the Ordinaries are full, some Cittizens are bankerouts, and many Gentlemen beggers.

Our name is blest in such an honoured marriage

To see the contract twixt you honoured Neece and maister Scarborrow.

Tis so, and I did looke for him by this.

I saw him leaue his horse as I came vp.

Sir, sir, I and sir knaue, then here is a mellowed experience knowes how to teach you,

O God.

Boy, hast thou deliuered my Letter?

I Sir, I saw him open the lips ont.

He had not a new sute on, had he?

I am not so well acquainted with his Wardrobe Sir, but I saw a leane fellowe, with sunke eyes, and shamble legges, sigh pittifully at his chamber dore, and intreat his man to put his ma­ster in mind of him.

O, that was his Taylor, I see now he wil be blest he pro­fits by my counsell, he will pay no debts before he be arested, nor then neither, if he can finde ere a beast that dare but be bayle for him, but he will seale i'th afternoone.

Yes Sir, he will imprint for you as deepe as he can.

Good, good, now haue I a Parsons Nose, and smell tyth comming in then. Now let me number how many rooks I haue halfe vndone already this Tearme by the first returne: foure by Dice, six by being bound with me, and ten by queanes, of which some be Courtiers, some Country Gentlemen, and some Citti­zens Sonnes. Thou art a good Franke, if thou pe [...]gest thus, thou art still a Companion for Gallants, maist keepe a Caramite, take Phisick, at the Spring and the fall.

Franke, newes that will make thee fat Frank.

Master Scarberrow is a married man.

Then heauen grant he may, as few married men do, make much of his wife.

Why? wouldst haue him loue her, let her command al, and make her his master?

No no, they that do so, make not much of theyr wiues, but giue them their will, and its the marring of em.

Honest Franke, valerous Francke, a portion of thy witte, but to helpe vs in this enterprise, and we may walk London stret and cry pish at the Sergiants.

You may shift out one tearme, and yet die in the Counter, these are the scabs now that hang vpon honest Iob, I am Iob, and these art the scuruy scabbes, but whats this your pot seeths ouer withall?

Maister Scarborrow is a married man.

He has all his land in his owne hand.

His brothers and sisters portions.

Besides foure thousand pound in ready money with his wife.

A good talent by my faith, it might helpe many Gentlemen to pay their Tailours, and I might be one of them.

Nay, honest Frank, hast thou found a tricke for him, if thou hast not, looke heeres a line to direct thee. First draw him in­to bands for money, then to dice for it: Then take vp stuffe at the Mercers, straight to a punke with it: Then morgage his Lande, and be drunke with that: so with them and the rest, from an An­cient Gentleman, make him a young begger.

What a Roge is this, to read a lecture to me, and mine owne lesson too, which he knowes I ha made perfect to 9 hundred four­score and nineteene. A cheating Rascall wil teach me that ha made them that haue worne a spatious Parke, Lodge and all of theyr backes this morning: bin fayne to pawne it afore night, and they that ha stauked like a huge Elephant, with a Castle on theyr neckes, and remooued y ^t to their owne shoulders in one day which their fathers built vp in seuen yeare, bin glad by my meanes, in so much time as a childe suckes, to drinke bottle Ale, tho a punk pay fort. And shal this Parat instruct me?

Nay but Franke.

A roge that hath fed vpon me, & the fruit of my wit like Pul­len from a Pantlers chipings, and now I put him into good cloths to shift two sutes in a day, that could scare shift a patcht shirt once [Page] in a yeare, and sayes prayers when he had it: hark, how he prates.

Besides Franke, since his marriage, he stawkes me like a cashierd Captaine discontent, in which Melancholy, the leaste drop of mirth, of which thou hast an Ocean, will make him, and all his ours for euer.

Sayes mine owne Roge so, giue mee thy hand then, weele doot, and theres earnest. Strikes him. Sfut you Chitrtiface, that lookes worse then a Collier thorough a woodden window, an Ape afeard of a whip, or a Knaues head, shooke seauen yeares in the weather vpon London-bridge. Do you Catechize me?

Nay but valorous Franke, he that knowes the secrets of al harts, knowes I did it in kindnes.

Know your seasons: besides, I am not of that Species for you to instruct. Then know your seasons.

Sfut friends, friends, al friends: Here comes young Scar­borrow, should he knew of this, all our disseignes were preuented.

What, melancholy my young maister, my young marryed man, God giue your worship ioy.

Ioy, of what Franke?

Of thy wealth, for I heare of few that ha ioy of heir wiues

Thou hauing so much witte, what a Deuill meantst thou to marry?

A common course, those men that are married in the Mor­ning, to wish themselues buried ere night.

I cannot loue her.

No newes neither, wiues know thats a generall fault amongst their Husbands.

I will not ly with her.

Cetera volunt sheele say still, if you wil not, another wil.

Why did she marry me, knowing I did not loue her.

As other women do, either to bee maintaind by you, or to make you a Cuckold. Now sir, what come you for?

As men do in hast, to make an end of their busines.

Whats your busines?

My busines is this Sir, this Sir, and this Sir,

The meaning of al this Sir. Cl. By this is as much as to say Sir, may Mai. has sent vnto you. By this is as much as to say Sir, my mai­ster has him humbly commended vnto you, and by this is as much as to say, my master craues your answere.

Giue me your Letter. And you shal haue this Sir, this Sir, and this Sir.

No Sir.

Why Sir?

Because as the learned haue very well instructed me, Qui supranos, nihil ad nos, and tho many Gentlemen will haue to doe with other mens busines, yet from me know, the most part of them proue knaues for their labor.

You ha the Knaue yfaith Franke.

Long may hee liue to enioy it. From Sir Iohn Harcop of Harcop, in the County of Yorke Knight, by me his man, to your selfe my young maister, by these presents greeting.

How camst thou by these good words?

As you by your good cloaths, tooke them vpon trust, & swore I would neuer pay for em.

How now my young Bully, like a young wench forty weeks after the losse of her Mayden-head, crying out.

Well, I could alter mine eies from filthy mud into fair wa­ter: you haue paid for my teares, and mine eyes shal proue banke­routs, and breake out for you, let no man perswade me, I will cry, and euery Towne betwixt Shoreditch-church and Yorke bridge, shall beare me witnesse.

Kisse, Sfut what else? thou art a good plumpe wench, I like you well, prethee make hast and bring store of boyes, but bee sure they haue good faces, that they may call me vnck [...]e.

Glad of so faire a sister, I salute you.

Tut, thats not that we dout on wench, but do you heare Sir Iohn, what doe you thinke drue mee from London, and the Innes of Court, thus farre into Yorkshire?

I gesse to see this girle, shal be your sister.

Faith, and I gesse partly so too, but the maine was, and I will not lie to you, that your comming nowe in this wise into our kindred, I might be acquainted with you aforehand, that after my brother had married your daughter, I his brother might borrowe some money of you.

What? Do you borrow of your kindred Sir?

Sfut what else, they hauing interrest in my blood, why shoulde not I haue interrest in their coyne. Besides Sir, I being a younger brother, would be ashamed of my generation if I would not borrow of any man that would lend, especially of my affinitie, of whom I keepe a Kalender. And looke you Sir, thus I goe ouer them. Frst ore my Vnckles, often ore mine Aunts, then vp to my Nephewes, straight downe to my Neeces, to this Cosen Thomas, and that Cosen Ieffrey, leauing the courteous claw giuen to none of their elbowes, euen vnto the thirde and fourth remooue of any that hath interest in our blood. Al which do vpon their summons made by me, duely and faithfully prouide for appearance, and so as they are, I hope we shall be, more indeerd, intierly, better, and more feelingly acquainted.

you are a merrie Gentleman.

Tis the hope of monie makes me so, and I know none but fooles vse to be sad with it.

Do, and Ile drinke, to my new sister, but vpon this condi­tion, that she may haue quiet daies, little rest a nights, hapleasant afternoones, bee plyant to my brother, and lend me money when soere Ile borrow it.

Well, I am contented, women must to the wal, tho it be to a feather-bed. Fill vp then.

O mistris, if euer you haue seene Demoniceacleare look in­to mine eyes, mine eyes are Seuerne, plaine Seuerne, the Thamee, nor the Ryuer of Tweed are nothing to em: Nay all the rayne that fell at Noahs floud, had not the discretion that my eyes haue: that drunke but vp the whole world, and I ha drownd all the way be­twixt this and London.

Thy newes good Robbin.

My newes mistres, Ile tell you strange newes, the dust vp­on London way, being so great, that not a Lorde, Gentleman, Knight, or Knaue could trauell, least his eies should bee blowne out: At last, they all agreed to hyre me to go before them, when I looking but vpon this Letter, did with this water, this very water, lay the dust, as well as if it had raind from the beginning of Aprill to the last of May.

A Letter from my Scarborrow, giue it thy mistris.

But Mistris.

Tis your turne Knight, take your licquor, know I am boun­tifull, Ile forgiue any man any thing that hee owes mee, but his drinke, and that Ile be paid for.

Sayes my sister so, Ile be ruld by thoe then. Do you heare, in hope hereafter youle lend me some mony, now we are halfe drunk lets go to dinner. Come Knight.

Sister, Gods precious, the cloths laide, the meate cooles, we all stay, and your father cals for you.

What ride by the gate, & not call, that were a shame yfaith.

Weele but taste of his Beere, kisse his Daughter, and to horse againe, wheres the good Knight heare?

You bring me to my shame vnwillingly.

Hees our owne, hees our own, Come, lets make vse of his wealth, as the snow of Ice: Melt it, melt it.

But art sure he will hold his meeting.

As sure as I am now, & was dead drunke last night.

Why then so sure will I be arrested by a couple of Ser­geants, and fall into one of the vnlucky Crankes about Cheap­side, cald Counters.

Withall, I haue prouided M. Grype the Vsurer, whoe vpon the instant will be ready to step in, charge the Seargeaunts to keepe thee fast, and that now hee will haue his fiue hundered pounds, or thou shalt rot for it.

When it followes, young Scarborow shall be bounde for the one: then take vp as much more, we share the one half, & help him to be drunke with the other.

Ha, ha, ha.

Why, dost laugh Franke?

To see that wee and Vsurers line by the fal of yong heirs as swine by the dropping of Acorns. But hees come. Where be these Rogues? shall we ha no tendance here?

Good day Gentlemen.

A thousand good dayes, my noble Bully, and as manye good fortunes as there wer Grashoppers in Egypt, and thats co­uered [Page] ouer with good lucke: but Nouns, Pronounes, and Par­ticiples. Where be these Rogues here: what, shall we haue no Wine here?

Anon, anon, sir.

Anon, goodman Rascall, must wee stay your leysure? gee't vs by and by, with apoxe to you.

O, do not hurt the fellow?

Hurt him, hang him, Scrape-trencher, star-waren, Wine spiller, mettle-clancer, Rogue by generation. Why, dost heare Will? If thou dost not vse these Grape-spillers as you doe theyr pottle-pots, quoit em down stayres three or foure times at a supper, they le grow as sawcy with you as Sergeants, and make bils more vnconscionable then Taylors.

Heres the pure and neat grape Gent. I hate for you.

Fill vp: what ha you brought here, goodman roge?

The pure element of Claret sir.

Ha you so, and did not I call for Rhenish you Mungrell?

Thou needst no wine, I prethee be more mild?

Be mild in a Tauerne, tis treason to the red Lettyce, ene­my to their signe post, and slaue to humor:

Nay, he profits well, but the worst is he will not swear yet

Do not belie me: If there be any good in me thats the best: Oathes are necessary for nothing, They passe out of a mās mouth, like smoake through a chimney, that files all the waye it goes.

Why then I think Tobacco be a kind of swearing, for it furs our nose pockily.

But come, lets drinke our selues into a stomach asor supper.

Agreed. Ile begin with a new health. Fill vp.

Drinke round my harts.

An excellent health.

Mayster Ilford, theres a couple of strangers be­neath desires to speake with you.

What beards ha they? Gentleman-like-beards, or bro­ker-like-beards?

I am not so well acquainted with the Art of Face­mending sir: but they would speake with you.

Ile goe downe to em.

Doe: and weele stay here and drinke Tobacco.

Nay, neuer striue, we can hold you.

I, me, and any man else, and a fall into your Clutches: Let go your tugging, as I am a Gentleman, Ile be your true prisoner.

How now: whats the matter Franke?

I am fallen into the hands of Sergiants, I am arested.

How, arrest a Gentleman in our company?

Put vp, put vp, for sins sake put vp, lets not a [...]l suppe in the Counter to night, let me speak with maister Gripe the Creditor.

Well: what say you to me Sir?

You haue arrested me heere maister Gripe.

Not I Sir, the Sergiants haue.

But at your sute master Gripe: yet hear me, as I am a Gent.

I rather you could say as you were an honest man, and then I might beleeue you.

Yet heare me.

Heare me no hearings, I lent you my mony for good will.

And I spent it for meere necessity, I confesse I owe you fiue hundred pound, and I confesse I owe not a peny to any man, but he wold be glad to hate: my bond you haue already master Gripe If you will, now take my word.

Word me no wordes: Officers looke to your prisoner: If you cannot either make me present paiment, or put me in security such as I shall like too.

Such as you shall like too: what say you to this young Gent. He is the widgen that wee must feed vpon.

Who young maister Scarborrow, he is an honest Gentle­man for ought I know, I nere lost peny by him.

I would be ashamd any man should say so by me, that I haue had dealings withall: But my inforced friends, wilt please you but to retire into some smal distance, whilst I discend with a few words to these Gentlemen, and Ile commit my selfe into your hands im­mediately.

Well sir weele wait vpon you.

Gentlemen I am to proferre some conference, and in espe­cially to you maister Scarborrow, our meeting here for your mirth hath proued to me thus aduerse, that in your companies I am Ar­rested: How ill it will stand with the flourish of your reputations when men of ranke and note communicate, that I Franke Ilforde, Gentlem. whose Fortunes may transcend, to make ample Gratui­ties [Page] future, and heape satisfaction for any present extention of his friends kindnes, was Inforced from the Miter in Bredstreet, to the Counter i'th Poultrey: for mine owne part, if you shall thinke it meet, and that it shall acord with the state of gentry, to submit my selfe from the featherbed in the Maisters side, or the Flock-bed in the Knights warde, to the straw-bed in the hole, I shall buckle to my heeles insted of guilt spurs, the armour of patience, and doote.

Come, come, what a pox need all this, this is Mellis Flo­ra, the sweetest of the hony, he that was not made to fat Cattel, but to feed Gentlemen.

You weare good cloaths.

Are well descended.

Keepe the best company.

Should regard your credit.

Stand not vpon't, be bound, be bound.

Ye are richly married.

Loue not your wife.

Haue store of friends.

Who shall be your heyre.

The sonne of some slaue.

Some groome.

Some Horse-keeper.

Stand not vpont, be bound, be bound.

Well at your Importance, for once Ile stretch my purse Whose borne to sinke, as good this way as worse.

Now speakes my Bully like a Gentleman of worth.

Of merit.

Fit to be regarded.

That shall command our soules.

Our swords.

Our selues.

To feed vpon you as Pharoes leane kine did vpon the fat.

Maister Gripe is my bond currant for this Gentleman.

Good security you Aegyptian Grashopper, good security?

May haue security.

Your bond with land conuaid, which may assure me of mine owne againe.

You shal be satisfied, and Ile become your debter, for full fiue hundred more then he doth owe you.

Why then lets come and take vp a new roome, the infected hath spit in this.

True, he has in his hands our portions, the patrimony which our Father gaue vs, with which he lies fatting himselfe with Sacke and suger in the house, and we are faine to walke with lean purses abroad. Credit must be maintained which wil not be without mo­ny, Good cloaths must be had, which will not be without money, company must be kept which wil not be without money, al which we must haue, and from him we will haue money.

And he shall do it brother, tho we haue waited at his lod­ging, longer then a Taylours bil on a young Knight for an old re­koning, without speaking with him, Heere we know he is, and we wil call him to parle.

Anon, anon, looke downe into the Dolphine there.

Here comes a drawer we wil question him.

Doe you heare my friend, is not maister Scarborrow here?

Here sir, what a iest is that, where should hee bee else, I would haue you well know my maister hopes to grow rich before he leaues him.

How long hath he continued heere since he came hether.

Faith Sir not so long as Noahs floude, yet long enough to haue drowned vp the liuings of three Knights, as Knights goes now adaies, some moneth or there abouts.

Pitch, Pitch, but I must not say so, but for your further sa­tisfaction, did you euer see a young whelpe and a Lyon plaie to­gether.

Yes.

Anon, anon, looke downe to the Pomgranate there.

I prethee say heeres them would speake with him.

Ile do your message: Anon, anon there.

Whose there would speake with me?

Your Brothers, who are glad to see you well.

Well.

Our Byrth-right good brother, this Towne craues main­teinance, [Page] silke stockings must be had, and we would be loath our heritage should be arraigned at the Vintners bar, and so condem­ned to the Vintners box, though while you did keepe house, wee had some Belly-timber at your Table, or so, yet wee would haue you think, we are your Brothers, yet no Esaus to sell our patrimo­ny for Porridge.

So, so, what hath your comming else?

So, then you two my Brothers, and she my sister, come not as in duty you are bound, to an elder brother, out of Yorkshire to see vs, but like leaches to sucke from vs.

We come compeld by want to craue our owne.

Nay, nay, nay, Wil: prethy come away, we haue a full gal­lon of Sacke staies in the fire for thee, thou must pledge it to the health of a friend of thine.

What dost thinke these are Franke?

They are Fidlers I thinke, if they be, I preethe sende them into the next roome, and let them scrape there, and weell send to them presently.

They are my brothers Franke, come out of Yorkeshire, To the Tauerne here, to aske their portions: [Page] they call my pleasures, ryots, my company Leproes, & like a school boy, they would tutor me?

O, thou shouldst haue done wel to haue bound them pren­tises when they were young, they woulde haue made a couple of sawcy Taylers.

Taylers?

I Birdlime: Taylers: Taylours are good men, and in the Terme time they weare good Cloathes. Come, you must learne more manners, stand at your Brothers backe, as to shift a Trean­cher neately, and take a Cuppe of Sacke, and a Capons legge con­tentedly.

Do, fight: I loue you all well, because you were my olde masters sonnes, but Ile neither part you, nor be partaker with you. I come to bring my mast, newes, he hath two sons borne at a birth in Yorkshire, and I find him together by the ears with his brothers in a Tauerne in London. Brother and brother at ods, tis naught: sure, it was not thus in the days of charity. Whats this world lyke to? Faith iust like an Inne-keepers Chamber-pot, receiues all waters, good and bad, It had need of much scouring. My old mast kept a good house, and twenty or thirty tall sworde and Buckler men a­bout him, and y fayth his sonne differs not much, he wil haue met­tle to, tho he hath not store of Cutlers blades, he will haue plentie of Vintners pots. His father kept a good house for honest men, [Page] his Tenants, that brought him in part, and his son keeps a bad de house with Knaues that helpe to consume al. Tis but the change of time: why shoulde any man repyne at it: Crekits, good li­uing, and lucky wormes, were wont to feede, sing, and reioyce in the fathers chimney, and nowe Carrion Crowes builds in the sons Kitchen, I could be sorry for it, but I am too old to weepe. Well then, I will go tel him newes of his of-springs.

Alas good Brothers, how came this mischance?

Our portions, our brother hath giuen vs our portions sister, hath he not?

He would not be so monstrous I am sure.

Well I will not curse him: he seedes now vppon Sacke & Anchoues with a pox to him: but if he be not faine before he dies to eate Acornes, let me liue with nothing but pollerd, and my mouth be made a Cooking stoole for euery scolde to set her tayle on.

How now Butler, whats the meaning of this?

Your brother meanes to lame as many as he can, that [Page] is a begger himselfe, many liue with him in the Hospital. His wise sent me out of Yorkshire, to tell him, that God had blest him with two sonnes, he bids a plague of them, a vengeance of her, crosses mee ore the pate, and sendes mee to the Surgeons to seeke salue: I lookt at least he should haue giuen me a brace of Angels for my paines.

Thou hast not lost all thy longing, I am sure he hath giuen thee a crackt crowne.

A plague on his fingers, I cannot tel, he is your Brother & my maister, I would be loath to Prophesie of him, but who soere doth cursse his Children being Infants, ban his wife lying in childbed, and beats his man brings him newes of it, they may bee borne rich, but they shall liue Slaues, be Knaues, and die Beggers.

Did he do so.

Gesse you, he bid a plague of them, a vengeance on her, & sent me to the Surgeons.

Well I doe pitty you, and the rather because you sale, you woulde faine liue honest and want meanes for it, for I can tell you tis as strange heere to see a maid faire, poore, and honest, as to see a Collier with a cleane face. Maids heere do liue (especially with­out maintenance)

Your father was my good Benifactor, and gaue me a house whilst I liue to put my head in: for I would be loth then to see his onely daughter, for want of meanes, turne punk, I haue a drift to keepe you honest. Haue you a care to keepe your selfe so, yet you shall not know of it, for womens tounges are like siues, they will holde nothing, they haue power to vent. You two wil further m [...] ▪

In any thing good honest Butler.

Ift be to take a purse Ile be one.

Perhaps thou speakest righter then thou art aware of: wel, as chance it, I haue receiued my wages: there is forty shillings for you, Ile set you in a lodging, and till you heare from vs, let that prouide for you, weele first to the surgeons,

Boy▪ bear the Torch faire: Now am I armd to fight with a Wind-mill, and to take the wall of an Emperor: Much drinke, no money: A heauy head, and a light paire of heeles.

O, stand man?

I weare an excellent creature to make a Punk of, I should downe with the least touch of a knaues finger, thou hast made a good night of this: What hast won Franke?

A matter of nothing, some hundred pounds.

This is the hel of al gamsters▪ I thinke when they are at play, the boord ea [...]es vp the mo [...]ey: For if there be fiue hundred pound lost, theres neuer but a hundred pounds wonne. Boy, take [Page] the wall of any man, and yet by light, such deedes of darkness may not be.

What dost meane by that Will?

To saue charge, and walke like a Fury with a fire-brande in my hand, euery one goes by the light, & weel go by the smoke.

Boy, keepe the Wall: I will not budge for any man, by these Thumbs, and the paring of the Nayles shal stick in thy teeth not for a world.

Whose this, young Scarborrow?

The man that the Mare [...]id on.

Is this the reuerence that you owe to me?

You should haue brought me vp better.

That vice should thus transforme man to a beast.

Go to, your names Lorde, Ile talke with you when your out a debt and ha better cloaths.

I pitty thee euen with my very soule.

Pitty ith thy throat, I can drinke Muscadine and Egges, and Muld sack, do you heare: you put a peece of turnd stuffe vp­on me, but I wil -

What will you do Sir?

Pisse in thy way, and thats no slander.

Your sober blood wil teach you otherwise.

My honoured Lord, your happily wel met,

Ile send you shorter to heauen, then you came to the earth, do you Catechize? Do you Catechize?

Hold, hold, do you draw vpon your vnckle?

Like to a swine.

What shal we do now Butler?

A man had better lyne a good handsome payre of gallows before his time, then be born to do these sucklings good, their mo­thers milke not wrung out of their nose yet, they knowe no more how to behaue themselues in this honest and needeful calling of Purse-taking, then I do to peece stockings.

Sfut what shal we do now?

See if they do not quake like a trembling. Asp-leafe, and look more miserable then one of the wicked Elders picturd in the painted cloth, should they but come to the credit to be arraind for their valor, before a worshipfull bench, their very lookes woulde hang 'em, and they were indighted but for stealing of Egs.

Butler.

Honest Butler.

Squat hart squat, creepe mee into these Bushes, [Page] lye me as close to the ground as you would do to a wench.

How good Butler, show v [...]how.

By the Moone patronesse of all purse-takers, who woulde be troubled with such Changelings, squat hart squat.

Thus Butler.

I so suckling, so, sturre not nowe, If the peering Rogues chance to goe ouer you, yet sturre not younger Brothers call you em and haue no more forecast, I am ashamd of you, these are such whose fathers had neede leaue them money, euen to make them ready withall, for by this hiltes, they haue not wit to butten theyr sleeues without teaching, close, squat close. Now if the lot of hau­ging do fall to my share, so, then the Fathers old man drops for his young maisters. If it chance it chances and when it chaunces, hea­uen and the Sheriffe send me a good rope, I wold not go vp the la­ther twice for any thing, in the meane time preuentious, honest preuentions do well, off with my skin, so you on the ground, and I to this tree to escape the Gallows.

Do follow, if I do not deceiue you, Ile bid a poxe of this wit, and hang with a good grace.

Vp to this wood they tooke, search neare my friendes, I am this morne robd of three hundred pound.

I am sorry there was not foure to ha [...] made euen money now by the Deuils hornes, tis Sir Iohn Harcop.

Leaue not a bush vnbeare, nor tree vnsearcht, as sure as I was robd the theeues went this way.

Theirs Nobody I perceiue but may lie at sometime for one of them climbd this wayes.

Stand, I heare a voice, and heres an Owle in an Iuy bush.

You lie, tis an old Seruingman in a Nut-tree.

Sirrah, sir, what make you in that tree.

Gathring of Nuts, that such fools as you are may cracke the shels, and I eat the kernels.

What fellowes that?

Sir Iohn Harcop, my Noble Knight, I am gladde of your good health, you heare your Age faier, you keep a good house, I ha fed at your boord, and bin drunke in your buttery.

A shrewd losse berlady sir, but your good worship may now see the fruit of being miserable: You will ride but with one man to saue hors-meat and mans meat at your Inne at night, & lose three hundred pound in a morning.

Sirha, I say I ha lost three hundred pound.

And I say sir, I wish all miserable knights might bee ser­ued so: For had you kept halfe a dozen tall fellowes, as a man of your coat should do, they woulde haue helpt now to keep your money.

But tell me sir, why lurkt you in that tree?

Mary, I will tell you sir, Comming to the top of the hill where you (Right worshipfull) wer robd at the bottome, & see­ing some a scuffling together, my mind strait gaue me ther were knaues abroad. Now sir, I knowing my selfe to be olde, tough, and vnwieldy, not being able to doe as I would, as muche as to say▪ Rescue you (right Worshipfull,) I like an honest man, one of the Kings liege people, and a good subiect

A sayes well Sir.

Got me vp to the top of that tree: The tree (if it could speake) would beare me witnesse, that there I might see which way the knaues tooke, then to tell you of it, and you right worshipfullie to send hue to cry after em.

Was it so.

Nay twas so sir.

Nay then I tell thee they tooke into this wood.

And I tell thee (setting thy worsh. knighthood aside) he lyes in his throat that sa [...]es so: Had not one of them a white Frocke? Did they not bind your worships knighthoode by the thumbs? then fagoted you and the fool your man, back to back.

He sayes true.

Why then so truly, came not they into this wood, but tooke ouer the Lawnes, & left Winno steeple on the left hand.

It may be so, by this they are out of reach, Well, farewell it.

Ride with more men, good knight.

It shall teach me wit.

So, If this bee not playd a weapon beyonde a Schollers Prize, let me be hist at. Now to the next. Come out you Hedg­hogs?

O Butler, thou deserust to be chronicled for this.

Do not bely me, If I had my right I deserue to be han­ged fort. But come, Downe with your dust, our mornings pur­chase.

Heer tis, Thou hast playd well, Thou de­serust two shares in it.

Three hundred pound: A pretty breakfast: Many a mā workes harde all his daies and neuer sees halfe the money. But come, Tho it be badly got, it shalbe better bestowd. But do ye heare Galants, I ha not taught you this trade to get your liuings by. Vse it not, for if you doe, though I scapt by the Nut tree, be sure youle speed by the Rope: But for your paynes at this tyme, Theres a hundred pounds for you, how you shall bestow it, Ile giue you instructions. But do you heare, Looke you goe not to your Gilles, your Punkes, and your Cock-tricks with it, If I hear you do: as I am an honest theefe, tho I helpt you now out of the Bryers, Ile be a meanes yet to helpe you to the Gallowes. How the rest shall be employd I haue determined, and by the way Ile make you acquainted with it.

Sure I ha sed my prayers, and liud vertuously a late, that this good fortunes befalne me. Looke Gallants: I am sent for to come downe to my Fathers buriall.

But dust meane to goe?

Troth no, Ile go down to take possession of his land, let the cūtry bury him & the wil: Ile stay here a while, to saue charg at his funerall.

And how dost feel thy selfe Franke, now thy father is dead?

As I did before, with my hands, how should I feel my selfe else? But Ile tell you newes Gallants.

Whats that? Dost meane now to serue God?

Faith partly, for I intend shortly to goe to Church, and from thence do faithfull seruice to one woman.

Good, I ha met my flesh-hooks together.

What, Dost meane to be marryed?

I Mungrell, Marryed.

Thats a bayt for me.

I will now be honestly marryed.

Its impossible, for thou hast bin a whoremayster this seauen yeare.

Tis no matter, I will now marry, And to som honest wo­man to, and so from hence her vertues shall be a countenance to my vices.

What shall she be, prethee?

No Lady, no widdow, nor no waiting gentlewoman, for vnder protection

Ladyes may larde their husbands heads, Widdows will Wood­cocks make, & chambermayds of seruīgmē learn that, theyle ner forsake.

Who wilt thou wed then, prethe?

To any mayd, so she be fayr: To any mayd, so she be rich To any mayd so she be young: and to any mayde

So she be honest.

Faith, its no great matter for her honestye, for in these dayes, thats a Dowrie out of request.

From these Crabes will I gather sweetnesse: wherin Ile imitate the Bee, that sucks her hony, not from the sweetest flow­ers, but Timb the bitterest: So these hauing beene the meanes to begger my mayster, shalbe the helpes to releeue his brothers and sister.

To whom shall I now be a suter?

Faire fall ye Gallants.

Nay, and she be fayre she shall fall sure enough. Butler, how Ist good Butler.

Wil you be made gallants?

I, but not willingly Cuckolds, tho we are now talking about wiues.

Let your wiues agree of that after, will you first be rich­ly married?

How Butler: richly married?

Rich in beauty, rich in purse, riche in vertue, riche in all things. But Mum, Ile say nothing, I know of two or three rich heyres. But Cargo, my fiddlestick cannot play without Rozen: Auant.

Butler.

Dost not know me Butler?

For Kex, dryde Kex, that in summer ha bin so liberal to fodder other mens cattle, and scarce haue inough to keepe your owne in Winter. Mine are precious Cabinets, and must haue pretious Iewels put into them, and I know you to he merchants of Stockfish, and not men for my market: Then vanish.

Come, ye old mad-cap you, what need all this? Cannot a man ha bin a little whoore-mayster in his youth, but you must vpbraide him with it, and tell him of his defects, which when he is maried, his wife shall finde in him? Why my fathers dead man now, who by his death has left me the better part of a thousand a yeare.

Tut, she of Lancashire has fifteen hundred.

Let me haue her then, good Butler.

And then shee the bright beauty of Leystershire, has a thousand, nay thirteen hundred a yeare, at least.

Or let me haue her, honest Butler.

Besides, she the most delicate, sweet countenanst, blacke browd gentlewoman in Northamptonshire, in substance equals the best of em.

Let me haue her then.

Or I.

Or I, good Butler.

You were best play the partes of right fooles, and most desperāte whore-maysters, and go together by the eares for thē ere ye see them. But they are the moste rare featurd, well faced, excellent spoke, rare qualited, vertuous, and worthy to be admired gentlewoman,

And rich Butler?

(I that must be one, tho they want all the rest) And rich Gallants, as are from the vtmost parts of Asya, to these present confines of Europe.

And wilt thou helpe vs to them Butler?

Faith, tis to be doubted, for pretious pearle will hardly be bought without pretious stones, and I think theres scarse one indifferent one to be found, betwixt you three: yet since there is some hope ye may proue honest, as by the death of your fathers. [Page] Fathers you are proued rich, walke seuerally, for I knowing you all three to be couetous Tug-muttons will not trust you with the sight of each others beawty but will seuerally, talke with you, and since you haue deignd in this needfull portion of wedlocke to bee ruld by mee Butler, will most bountifully prouide wiues for you generally.

Why that honestly said.

Why so, and now first to your Sir Knight

Godamercy.

You see this couple of abhominable Woodcocks heare.

A pox on them, absolute Coxcomes.

You heard me tel them, I had Intelligence to giue of three Gentlewomen.

True.

Now indeed Sit I ha but the performance of one.

Good.

And her I doe intende for you, onely for you.

Honest Butler.

Now sir, shee being but lately come to this towne, and so neerely watcht by the iealous eyes of her friends, she being a Rich heyre, least she should be stolne away by some disolute Prodigal, or desperat estated spend thrift, as you ha bin Sir.

O but thats past Butler.

True I knowt, & intend now but to make vse of them, flatter with them with hopefull promises, and make them needefull instruments.

To helpe me to the wench,

You ha hit it which thus must beeffected, first by keeping close your purpose.

Good.

Also concealing from them, the lodging beauty and riches of your new, but admirable Mistris.

Excellent.

Of which your following happines, if they should know either in enuy of your good, or hope of their owne aduancement theyd make our labours knowne to the gentlewomans Vncles, and so our benefit be frustrate.

Admirable Butler.

Which done, als but this, being as you shal be brought in­to hir company, and by my praising your vertues you get possessi­on of her Loue, one morning step to the tower, or to make al sure, hier some stipendary prieste for money: for Money in these dayes, what wil not be done, and what will not a man do for a rich wife, and with him make no more ado but marrie hit in hir lodging and being married, he with her and spare not.

Do they not see vs, do they not see vs, let mee kisse thee, let me kisse thee Butler, let but this be done, and all the benefit requi­tall and happines. I can promise thee fort, shall be this, Ile be thy rich maister, and thou shalt carry my purse.

Enough, meet me at her lodging some half an houre hence: harke she lies.

I hate.

Faile not.

Will I liue.

I will but shift of these two Rhinoceros,

Wigens, wingens, a couple of guls.

With some discourse of hope to wiue them two, and be with you straight.

Blest day, my loue shal be thy cushion honest Butler.

So now to my tother Gallants.

O Butler, we ha bin in passion at thy tediousnes,

Why looke you. I had al this talke for your good.

Hadst.

For you know the knight is but a scuruy-proud-prating-Prodigall, licentious vnnecessary.

An Asse, an Asse, an Asse.

Now you heard me tel him I had three Wenches in store,

And he would ha had them al would he.

Heare me, tho he may liue to be an Oxe, he had not now so much of the Goat in him, but onely hopes for one of the three when indeed I ha but two, and knowing you to bee men of more vertue, and deerer in my respect intend them to be yours.

We shal honor thee.

But how Butler.

I am now go­ing to their place of residence, scituate in the choisest place in the Citty, and at the signe of the Wolfe iust against Gold-smiths-row [Page] where you shal meet me, but ask not for me, only walk too and fro and to auoid suspition you may spende [...]ome conference w [...]h the Shop-keepers wiues, they haue seats built a purpose for such fami­liar entertainment, where from a bay window which is opposite, I wil make you knowne to your desired beauties, commende the good parts you haue.

Bith masse mine are very few.

And win a kind of desire, as women are soone wonne to make you bee beloued where you shall firste kisse, then Woe, at length Wed, and at last bed my Noble harts.

O Butler.

Wenches bona robes, blessed beauties, without colour or counterfet: Away, put on you best Cloaths, get you to the Bar­bers, Curle vp your haire, walke with the best strouts you can, you shal see more at the Window, and I ha vowd to make you.

Wilt thou.

Both Fooles, and Ile want of my wit but Ile doot.

We wil liue together as felowes.

As Brothers.

Butler.

O, are you come. And fit as I appointed: so, tis wel, you knowe you knes, and haue instructions howe to beare your selues: Al, al is fit, play but your part, your states from hence are firm.

What shal I tearme this creature not a man.

I, my shift of shirts and change of cloths knowt.

Gods preciour Sir, the hel Sir, euen as you had new kist, and were about to court her, if her Vncles be not come.

A plague on thee, spit out.

But tis no matter Sir, stay you heere in this vpper cham­ber, & Ile stay beneath with her, tis ten to one you shal hear them talke now, of the greatnes of her possessions, the care they haue to see her well bestowed, the admirablenes of her vertues, all which for all their comming, shall be but happines ordained for you, & by my meanes be your inheritance.

Then thou't shift them away, and keepe from the sighte of them.

Haue I not promist to make you.

Thou hast.

Go to then, rest heere with patience, and be confident in my trust, onely in my absence, you may praise God for the blessednes you haue to come, and say your prayers if you will, Ile but pre­pare her hart for entertainement of your loue, dismisse them, for your free accesse, and returne straight.

Honest-blest-natural-friend, thou dealest with mee like a Brother: Butler,

Sure heauen hath reserued this man to weare Grey-hairs to do me good, now wil I listen, listen close, and sucke in her Vncles words with a reioycing eare,

And that which my father, hath left me, will make it about fifteene, hundred admirable.

You may chance be deceiued old gray-beardes, [...]eares hee will spend some of it, thankes, thankes, honest Butler, now doe I see the happines of my future estate, I walke me as to morrow, be­ing the day after my marriage, with my fourteene men in Liuerie cloakes after me, and step to the wall in some cheefe streete of the Citty, tho I ha no occasion to vse it, that the Shop-keepers may take notice how many followers stand bare to mee, and yet in thys latter age, the keeping of men being not in request, I will turne my aforesaid fourteen into two Pages and two Coaches, I wil get me selfe into grace at Court, runne head-long into debt, and then looke scuruily vpon the Citty, I wil walke you into the presence in the afternoone hauing put on a richer sute, then I wore in the mor­ning, and call boy or sitrah, I wil ha the grace of some great Lady though I pay fort, and at the next Triumphes runne a Tilte, that when I runne my course, though I breake not my launce: she may whisper to her selfe, looking vppon my smell, wel run my knight [Page] I will now keepe great horses, scorning to haue a Queane to keep me, indeede I will practise all the Gallantry in vse, for by a Wyfe comes all my happines.

Now sir, you ha heard her Vnckles, and how do you lyke them.

O But. they ha made good thy words, & I am rauisht with thē.

And hauing seen & kist the gentlewo. how do you like hir?

O Butler beyonde discourse, shee's Paragon for a Prince, then a fit Implement for a Gentleman, beyond my Element.

Well then, since you like her, and by my meanes, she shall like you, nothing rests now but to haue you married.

True Butler, but withall to haue her portion.

Tut, thats sure yours when you are maried once, for tis hirs by Inheritance, but do you loue her?

O, with my soule.

Ha you sworne as much.

To thee, to her, and ha cald heauen to witnes.

How shall I know that.

Butler, heere I protest, make vowes Irreuocable.

Vpon your knees.

Vpon my knees, with my hart, and soule I loue her.

Will liue with her.

Will liue with her.

Marry her and maintaine her.

Marry her and maintaine hir.

For her forsake al other women.

Nay for her forsweare all other women.

In al degrees of Loue.

In all degrees of Loue, either to Court, kisse, giue priuate fauours, or vse priuate meanes, Ile doe nothing that married men being close whoremaisters do, so I may haue her.

And yet you hauing bin an open whoremaister, I will not beleeue you til I hear you sweare as much in the way of contract to her selfe, and call me to bee a witnesse.

By heauen, by earth, by Hell, by all that man can sweare, I will so I may haue her.

Mistris I hnow your worth is beyond my desert, yet by my praising of your virtues, I woulde not haue you as women vse to do, become proud.

None of my affections are prides children, nor a kin to them

Can you loue me them?

I can, for I loue al the world, but am in loue with none.

Sir the commendations I haue receiued from Butler of your byrth and worth, together with the Iudgement of mine owne eie, bids me beleeue and loue you.

Here about is the house sure.

We cannot mistake it, for heres the signe of the Wolfe and the Bay-window.

What so close? Tis well, I ha shifted away your Vncles Mistris, but see the spight Sir Francis, if you same couple of Smel-smockes, Wentloe and Bartley, ha not sented after vs.

Apoxe on em, what shall we do then Butler?

What but be married straight man.

I but how Butler.

Tut, I neuer faile at a dead lift, for to perfect your blisse, I haue prouided you a Priest.

Where, prethe Butler where?

Where? But beneath in her Chamber. I ha fild his hands with Coine, and he shall tye you fast with wordes, he shall close your hands in one, and then doe clap your selfe into her sheetes and spare not.

O sweete.

Sfut it is scuruy Walking, for vs so neare the two Coun­ters, would he would come once?

Masse hees yonder: Now Butler.

O Gallants are you here, I ha done wonders for you com­mended you to the Gentlewomen, who hauing taken note of your good legs, and good faces, haue a liking to you, meet me beneath.

Happy Butler.

Ho Sirrha, who would ha thought it, I perceiue now a wo­man may be a maid, be married, and loose her maiden-head, and all in halfe and an hower, and how doest like me now wench.

And there shal be no Loue lost, nor seruice neither, Ile do thee seruice at boord, and thou shalt do me seruice a bed: Nowe must I as yong married men vse to do, kisse my portion out of my yong wife. Thou art my sweet Rogue, my Lambe, my Pigsny, my play-fellow, my pretty pretty any thing, come a busse prethee, so tis my kind hart, and wats thou what now?

Not till you tel me Sir,

I ha got thee with Childe in my Conscience, and lyke a kind Husbande, methinkes I breede it for thee. For I am alreadie sicke at my stomacke and long extremely. Now must thou bee my helpful Physition, and prouide for me.

What a kind soule is this, could a man haue found a greater content in a wife, if he should ha sought thorough the worlde for her: Prethy hart as I said, I long, and in good troth I do, and me­thinkes thy first childe wil bee borne without a nose, if I loose my longing, tis but for a trifle too, yet methinkes it wil do me no good vnlesse thou effect it for me. I could take thy keyes my selfe, go in­to thy Closet, and read ouer the deeds and euidences of thy Land, & in reading ouer them, reioice I had such blest fortune to haue so fayre a wife with so much endowment, and then open thy Chests, and suruey thy Plate, Iewels, Treasure. But a pox ont, al will doe me no good, vnlesse thou effect it for me.

Good gentle hart, Ile giue thee another busse for that, for that giue thee a new gowne to morrow morning, by this hand do thou but dreame what stuffe and what Fashion thou wilt haue it on to night.

Loue I know that, and Ile answer thee loue for. Loue in a­bundance: but come prethee come, lets see these deedes and e­uidences, [Page] this Mony, Plate, and Iewels, with ha thy Childe borne without a nose▪ if thou beest so carelesse, spare not, why my little frappet you, I heard thy Vnckles talk of thy riches, that t [...]ou hadst hundreds a yeare, seuerall Lord-ships, Mannours Houles, Thou­sands of poundes in your great Chests, Iewels, Plate, and Ringes in your little Box.

And for that riches you did marry me.

Troth I did, as now adaies Batchelers do sware I lou'd thee but indeed married thee for thy wealth.

I am guld by this hand. An old Co [...]ichacher, and beguild; where the pox now are my two Coaches, choise of houses, seuerall [Page] sutes, a plague on them, and I knowe not what: Doe you heare Puppet, do you thinke you shal not be damned for this, to Cosen a Gentleman of his hopes, and compell your selfe into Matrimo­ny with a man, whether hee wil or no with you, I ha made a fayre match yfaith, wil any man buy my commodity out of my hand, as God saue me he shall haue her for halfe the money she cost me.

O, ha we met you Sir.

What, turnd Micher, steale a wife, and not make your old friends acquainted with it.

A pox on her, I would you had her.

Wel, God giue you Ioy, we can heare of your good for­tune, now tis done, tho we could not be acquainted with it afore­hand.

As that you haue two thousand pound a yeare.

Two or three mannor houses.

A wife, faire, rich, and vertuous.

Pretty infaith, very pretty.

Store of Gold.

Plate in abundance.

Better, better, better.

And so many Oxen, that their hornes are able to store al the Cuckolds in your Country.

Do not make me mad good Gentlemen, do not make me mad, I could be made a Cuckold with more patience, then indure this.

For we shal haue you turne proud now, grow respect­les of your Ancient acquaintance, why Butler told vs of it: Who was the maker of the match for you?

A pox of his furtheraunce, Gentlemen as you are Christi­ans, vex me no more, that I am married I confesse, a plague of the Fates, that wedding and hanging comes by desteny, but for the riches she has brought, beare witnes how Ile rewarde her.

Sir.

Whore, I and Iade, Witch, Ilfacst, stinking-breath, croo­ked-nose, worse then the Deuill, and a plague on thee that euer I saw thee.

A Comedy, a Comedy.

Whats the meaning of all this, is this the maske after thy marriage.

O Gentlemen, I am vndone, I am vndone, for I am marryed, I that could not abide a Woman, but to make her a whore, hated all Shee-creatures, fayre and poore, swore I would neuer marry but to one that was rich, and to be thus cun nicacht. Who do you thinke this is Gentlemen?

Why your wife, Who should it be else?

Thats my misfortune, that marrying her in hope she was rich, she prooues to be the beggerly Sister to the more beggerly Scarborrow.

How?

Ha, ha, ha.

I, you may laugh, but she shall cry as well as I for't,

Nay, do not weepe.

He dus but conterfeit now to delude vs, he has all her portion of Land, Coyne, Plate, Iewels: and now dissembles thus least we should borrow some Mony of him.

And you be kinde Gentlemen lend me some, for ha­uing payed the Priest, I ha not so much left in the world, as will higher me a horse to carry me away from her.

But art thou thus guld infaith.

Are you sure you ha eyes in your head.

Why then, By her brothers setting one in my conscience, who knowing thee now to ha somewhat to take to, by the death of thy father, and that hee hath spent her portion, and his owne possessions, hath laid this plot, for thee to marry her, and so he to be rid of her himselfe.

Nay, thats without question, but Ile be reuenged of em both, for you Minxe. Nay Sfut, giue em me, or Ile kicke else.

Good, sweete.

Sweete with a poxe, you stinke in my nose, giue me your Iewels? Nay Bracelets too.

O me, most miserable.

Out of my sight, I and out of my doores, for now, whats within this house is mine, and for your brother

A braue resolution.

In which wele second thee.

Away, whore, Out of my doores whore.

How now sister.

Vndone, vndone.

Why Mistris, how ist? how ist?

My husband has forsooke me.

O periury.

Has taine my Iewels, and my Bracelets from me.

Vengeance, I played the theefe for the mony that bought em.

Left me distrest, and thurst mee forth a doores.

O but Brother.

Hees here, draw Gentlemen.

Die Scarborrow.

Girt round with death.

How set vpon by three, Sfut feare not Brother, yon Co­wards, three to one, slaues, worse then Fensers that wear long wea­pons. You shall be fought withall, you shall be fought withall.

Where are you Sir?

Why starest thou, whats thy hast?

Heeres felowes swarme like flies to speake with you.

What are they?

Snakes I thinke Sir, for they come with stinges in theyr mouths, and their tongues are turnd to teeth to: They claw Villa­nously, they haue eate vp your honest name, and honourable re­putation by railing against you, and now they come to deuoure your possessions.

In playner Euargy, what are they, speake?

Mantichoras, monstrous beastes, enemies to mankinde, that ha double rowes of teeth in their mouthes. They are Vsurers, they come yawning for mony, & the Sheriffe with them, is come to serue an extent vppon you Lande, and then cease on your bo­die by force of execution, they ha begirt the house round.

Come with fire and water: teares in their eies, and burning greefe in their harts, and desire to speake with you.

My hart not suffer me to leaue my honest Mistris and hir pretty children.

Ile marke thee for a strumpet, and thy Bastards.

What will you do to them Sir.

The Deuill in thy shape come backe againe.

Ile read a Letter to the Doct. too, hees a Deuine? I hees a Deuine.

I see his mind is troubled, and haue made bold with dutie to reade a Letter tending to his good, haue made his Bro­thers friendes: both which I will conceale til better temper: He sends me for his wife and children, shall I fetch em.

Hees a Deuine, and this Deuine did marry mee, thats [Page] good, thats good,

Maister Scarborrow.

Ile be with you straight Sir,