Scen. 1.

I Prithee Frank lets have thy company to supper.

With all my heart if I can but give my Father here the slip by six a clock I will not fail.

Ile talk with him, I prithee old man lends thy son to night, wee'le borrow him but some two hours, and send him home agen to thee presently.

Faith do Mr. Forrest, he cannor spend his time in better com­pany.

Oh Gentlemen, his too much liberty breeds many strange outragious ills in youth, and fashions them to vice.

Nay school us not old man, some of us are too old to learn, and being past whipping too, there's no hope of profiting; if we shall have him say so? if not, I prithee keep him still, and God give the good of him.

Nay will you be gone, Ile be at the heels of you as I live.

'Tis enough, nay come, and if we shall go, let's go:

Nay Gentlemen do not mistake me pray, I love my son, but do not doat on him; nor is he such a darling in mine eye, that I am sought to have him from my sight; yet let me tell you, had you gen­tlemen called him to any fairer exercise, as practice of known weapons, or to back some gallant gennet; had it been to dance, leap in the fields, to wrestle, or to try masteries in any noble quality, I could have spared him to you half his age:

I told him you would still be urging him, and see what comes on't. I Per sequar.

Sir what we doe's in love, and let you know we do not need his purse nor his acquaintance, nor if you should mistake, can we be sor­ry nor wound to ask your pardon: fare ye well, come Gentlemen.

will you be gone? Ile come.

[Page 4]

Oh sonne that thou wilt follow rioting, surfeit by drin­king and unseasoned hours; these Gentlemen perhaps may do't they're rich, well landed, and their Fathers purchase dayly, where I heaven knowes the world still frowning on me, am forc'd to sell and Margage to keep you. His brother rancks himself with the best gallants that flourish in the Kingdom, thee not able to spend with them, yet for his vertuous parts he is borne out, his person woed and sought, and they more bound to him for hi [...] discourse then he to them for their expence and cost. Thy course is otherwise, all drinking healths, cups of muld Sack, and glasses elbow deep: drink in thy youth, maintain thee in thine age, no 'twill not hold out boy.

My company hath not been to your purse so chargeable; I do not spend so much.

Thou spendest thy time more pretious then thy coyn, consumest thy hopes, thy fortunes and thy after exyectations, in drow­ning surfeits, tell me canst thou cal that thrift to be in all these prodigal.

Brother be ruled, my Father grieves to see you given to these boundless riots, will you follow?

Lead you the way, Ile after you.

'Tis well, hee'l look for you within,

When? can you tel?

Boy my cloak.

Our cloaks sirrah.

Why Drawer.

Here Sir.

Some Canary Sack and Tobacco.

You shall Sir, wilt please you stay supper?

Yes marry will we Sir, lets have the best cheer the kitchin yeilds: the pipe sirrah [...]

Here Sir.

Will Frank be here at supper?

So Sir he promis'd, and presumes he wil not fail his hour.

Some Sack boy, I am all lead within, ther's no mirth in me, no [...] was I wont to be so lumpish sad: reach me the glasse: what's this?

Good Sherry Sack Sir.

I meant Canary Sir, what hast no brains?

[Page 5]

Pox a your brains, are your fingers so light.

Say sir.

You shall have Cannary presently.

When was he wont to be in this sad strain, excepting some few sudden melanchollies, there lives not one more free and sociable.

I am too well acquainted with his humour, to stir his blood in the least distemperature; Cose Ile be with you here.

Do, come to me; have you hit upon the right Cannary now [...] or could your Hogshead find a Spanish But? A health.

Were it my height Ile pledge it.

How do you now man?

Well, well, exceeding well, my melancholly sadness steals away, and by degrees shrinks from my troubled heart: Come let's be merry, more Tobacco boy, and bring in supper.

Frank, welcom, welcom, wilt thou be here old lad?

Or here?

Wherefore hath nature lent me two hands but to use them both at once (my cloak) I am for you here and here.

Bid them make haste of supper; some discourse to pass away the time.

Now Frank, how stole you from your Fathers arms? you have been schooled no doubt; fie, fie upon't, e'r I would live such base servitude to an old gray beard, Sfoot Ide hang my self. A man cannot be merry and drink drunk, but he must be controled by gravity.

O pardon him, you know he is my father, and what he doth is but paternal love; though I be wild, I am not so past reason, his person to despise [...] though I his counsel cannot severely follow.

Sfoot he's a fool.

A fool; y'ar a—

Nay Gentlemen.

Yet I restrain my tongue, hoping you speak out of some spleenful rashness, and no deliberate malice: And 'tmay be you are sorry that a word so unreverent to wrong so good an aged Gentleman should pass you unawares.

Sorry, Sir boy, you will not take exceptions.

Not again [...] you with willingness, whom I have loved so long; yet you might think me a most dutiless and ungracious Son to give smooth countenance unto my fathers wrong; come, I dare swear 'twas not your malice, and I take it so; lets frame some other talk, hear Gen­tlemen.

But hear me boy, it seems Sir you are angry.

Not throughly yet.

Then what would anger thee?

Nothing from you.

[Page 4]

Of all things under heaven what wouldest thou loathest have me do?

I would not have you wrong my reverent Father, and I hope you will not.

Thy Father's an old dotard.

I could not brook this at a Monarchs hands, much lesse at thine.

I boy, then take you that.

[...] [...]ot born to brook this, oh I am slain.

[...]ee [...] Cose what have you done; shift for your self.

Away.

Stay the Gentlemen, they have kild a man: O sweet Mr. Francis; one run to his Fathers.

Had not we Drawers enough in the house, but they must needs draw too?

They have drawn blood of this Gentleman that I have drawn many a quart of wine to: Oh sweet Mr. Francis; hark, hark, I hear his Fathers voice below, ten to one he is come to fetch him home to supper, and now he may carry him home to his grave: See here he comes.

You must take comfort, Sir.

Would heaven I could, or that I might beg patience.

Oh my brother.

Is he dead, is he dead girl.

Oh dead sir, Frank is dead.

Alass, alass my boy, I have not the heart to look upon his wide and gaping wounds: Hide them, oh hide them from me, le [...]t those mouthes through which his life past through swallow mine: Pray tell me, Sir, doth this appear to you fearful and pittiful, to you that are a stranger to my dead boy?

How can it otherwise?

Oh me most wretched of all wretched men, if to a stranger his warm bleeding wounds appear so griesly, and so lamentable, how will they seem to me that am his Father? will they not hale my eyeballs from their rounds, and with an everlasting blindness strike 'em.

Oh Sir, look here.

Do'st thou long to have me blind, then Ile behold them since I know thy mind: oh me is this my sonne that doth so sensless lye, and swims in blood, my soul shall fly with his

Alass my Father's dead too gentle Sir, help to retire his spirits over-travell'd with age and sorrow.

Mr. Forrest.

Father.

What saies my girl? good morrow; what's a clock that you are up so early? call up Frank, tell him he lies too long a bed this morning: was wont to call the Sun up, and to raise the early Lark, and mount her 'mongst the clouds; will he not up, rise, rise thou slug­gish boy.

Alass he cannot Father.

Cannot, why?

Do you not see his bloodless colour fail.

Perhaps he's sickly that he looks so pale.

Do you not feel his pulse no motion keep? how still he lies.

Then is he fast asleep?

Do you not see his fatal eye-lide close.

Speak softly, hinder not his soft repose.

Oh see you not these purple conduits run, know you these wounds?

Oh me my murdered Son.

Sister.

O brother, brother.

Father, how cheer you Sir? why you were wont to store for others comfort that by sorrow were any way distrest, have you all wasted, and spared none to your self.

Oh Son, son, son, see alass, see where thy brother lies, he dined with me to day, was merry, merry, eye that course was, he that lies here, see there thy murdered brother, and my son was, see doest not thou not weep for him.

But for the murderer, shall not he attend the sentence of the Law with all severity.

Have you but patience, should we urge the Law he hath such honourable friends to guard him, we should in that but bark against the Moon; nay do not look that way, take hence the body, let the Law sleep, the time ere it be long; may offer't self to a more just revenge: [Page 8] We are poor, and the world srowns on all our fortune, with patience then bear this amongst the rest: The heavens when they be pleased may turn the wheel of Fortune round, when we that are dejected, may be a­gain raised to our former height.

Scen. 2.

So things are as they should be, we have attained the height of solace and true joy, sweet Na [...] no, sooner married but a Mother of this my hopeful Issue, cheer thoughts, for what I want in youth I wil supply in true affection, and what age doth scant me in sprightly vigour, Ile make good in wealth.

Sir, you well know I was not easily wonne, and therefore not soon changed; advisedly, not rashly did [...] venter on your love. My young unsetled thoughts from their long travels have late attained unto their journeys end, and they are now at rest.

Here they have found a harbour to retire to.

'Twould become you to use my Father here respectively: you see how he receives you almost dowerless.

'True, where he out of his own abilities might have commanded Widdows richer farre, I, and perhaps each way as beautiful.

Upbraid me not, I do confess he might, nor was this match my seeking: If it hath pleased your father for some virtues known in me, to grace me with his free election: Me [...]thinks it worse becomes you being sonnes to blame a Fathers pleasure; howsoever better my self I cannot if he thought me

Nan [...], I am pleased they shall be satisfied; and boyes I tell you, though you be my sonnes, you much forget your duty to a Mother whom I hold worthy to be called my Wife; no more of this I charg you.

Sir, we have done.

No child to her, can be to me no Son.

[Page 9]

This is the end I aim'd at, were my eldest present among us much I had my height of wishes.

I have been there, Sir.

And foundest thou my Son Philip?

When you had given him me in charge, I had of him great care I have took of him great care, and I have took him napping, as you know who took his Mare: I found your son Philip like a Cocksparrow billing: if I had stayed but a little longer, I might have taken him and his h [...]n treading, I know not whether it be St. Valentines day or no, but I am sure they are coupled.

How coupled dost thou mean?

I see them one and one, and that you know makes two, and two makes a couple, and they well coupled, may in time make a third between 'em; I do not think but tis like to be a match.

I vow if e'r he match into that family, the Kindred being all begger'd, that forc'd union shall make a firm divorce 'twixt him and mine.

Here they are, Sir, coram nobis, you will find it a plain case if the matter be well searcht; I have spoke but what I have seen; and now let every one answer for themselves.

What means these hands?

Nothing Sir, save a meer interchange of hearts and souls doubly made fast by vows.

[...]Twixt her and thee!

So, and no otherwise.

Yet thou hast time to pause, and to repeat but after this no limit to consider; cast her off, or henceforth I disclaim thee for my Son.

Yet I shall ever hold you for my father.

Then shew in this thy duty, quite forsake her, and be resto­red into my family.

O Sir she is a virgin chaste and fair, unto whose bed I am by oath engaged; that power above that heard the contract pass, both heard, approved, and still records the same: Oh Sir I am of years, oft have you wisht to see me well bestowed, and now's the time your wish hath took effect: It was your prayer that heaven would send me a good Wife, and lo in her they have shewed their bounty.

Thou thy baseness, take one tha [...]'s of my chasing.

[Page 10]

Do men use by other hearts and eyes their wives to chuse?

She's poor.

Yet virtuous.

Virtue, a sweet dower.

Yet that when Mammon fails retains her power.

Possest of virtue then thou need ought else.

Will virtue make the pot [...]eeth, or the [...]ack turn a spit laden? tell me, will your Landlord at quarter day take virtue for his rent? will your Wives virtue yeeld you ten i'th hundred? a good stock would do all this: Come, come Son, Ile find thee a rich match and turn her off.

Faith doe brother, the onely way to thrive is to be ruled by my Father.

Do you think I being but the youngest, would marry under the degree of a Gentlewoman, and that without my fathers consent too?

I wish you may not, but withall advise you to make a conscience how you break a vow: And Sir, for you, with pardon, I could trace you even in that path in which I stnnd condemned: This Gentlewoman my beauteous Mother-in-law, whose virtues I both honour, and admire, whom in no kind I envy, I presume you married not for riches; for if so, Where is that wealthy Dower she brought along? being your self ex­ample blame me not to make a father my strict president.

The Gentleman speaks well, pray let me mediate between you a reconcilement.

Good Sir do.

Since 'tis my Mothers pleasure to take't well, wee'l be joynt sui­t [...]rs with her.

And I too good Master.

the boy's inflexible, and I obdure, he cannot be more saucy to object that which I would not hear then I perverse, in yeelding to a knave so obs [...]inate.

He is your Son, and of your blood the first; brand him not with a name so odious, you cannot write your self a Gentleman, but l [...]ave him of that name inheritor, though you have power to take away his means, deprive him both your blessing and your love,

Bated on all sides: have I been thus long a Father and a Master to direct, to be at these years pupil'd by a girle? a begga [...], one that all the welth she has, bears on her back, and shall I suffer this? whilest these that ought to a [...]m me with just rage, preach to me pati­ence; Ile endure no more, come leave them sweet wife, gentle sonn [...]s away.

Ile have thee yet though all the world say nay.

Now which of these parties shall I cleave to and follow: we [...]l now I remember my self Ile shew my self a true Citizen and stick to the stronger side.

Scen. 3.

Pray let me speak with you.

With me Sir?

With you.

Say on.

Do you not know me?

Keep off upon the peril of thy life, come not within my swords length least this Arm prove fatal to thee, and bereave thy life, as it hath done thy brothers.

Why now thou knowest me truely by that token, that thou hast slain my brother, put up, put up, so great a quarrel as a brothers life must not be made a street brall, 'tis not fit that every Apprentice should with his shop-club, betwixt us play the sticklers, sheath thy sword.

Swear thou wilt act no suddaine violence, or this sharp sword shall still be enterpos'd 'twixt me and thy known hatred.

Sheath thy sword, by my religion and that interest I have in Gentry I will not be guilty of any base revenge.

Say on.

Let's walk, trust me let not thy guilty soul be jealous of my fury this my hand's curbed and governed by an honest heart, not by just anger, Ile not touch thee [...]oully for all the world: let's walk.

Proceed.

Sir, you did kill my brother, had it been in faire and even en­counter, though a child, his death I had not questioned.

Is this all?

Hee's gone, the Law is past, your life is cleared, for none of all our kindred laid against you evidence to hang you; y'are a Gen­tleman, and pity 'twere a man of your discent should dye a Fellons death: See Sir, thus far we have demeaned fairly like our selves: but [Page 10] think you though we winck at base revenge, a brothers death can be so soon forgot, our Gentry bas [...]el'd and our name disgrac'd? no t'must not be, I am a Gentleman well known; and my demeaner hitherto hath promist somewhat: should I swallow this, the scandal would out live me: briefly then Ile fight with you.

I am loath.

Answer directly whether you dare to meet me on even termes, or mark how i'le proceed.

Say I deny't.

Then I say thou art a villaine and I challenge thee, where ere I meet thee next, in field or town, thy Fathers manners or thy Tennants grange, saving the Church, there is no priviledge in all this land for thy despised life; no guard of friends, no night walks, or [...]ly stealth, no jealous fear which in a murtherers eye keeps hourly watch, shall have the priviledge: this even and ballanc'd fight body to body; Ile kill thee be it in thy bed, at meat, in thy wives arms; as thou tookest my bro­ther, with thy back towards me, basely: answer me.

Ile meet with thee; the hour?

By six to morrow morning, 'tis your priviledge to appoint the place and weapon.

Hownse low the place, my choice of weapon this.

I can except at neither; fail the place, or suit your weapons length, farewel.

Yes 'tis thou meetest thy last farewel on earth, the appoynted hour's to morrow: let the same fate obscure his desperate head that fell upon his brothers.

Now Cozen Raynsforth.

Ile so swinge my yonker.

Why who hath raysed this storm Sir?

Wat' [...]t thou what? The elder Forrest parted but even now, call'd me to question 'bout his brothers death, and since hath challeng'd me.

Challenged?

Challenged me.

Why hee's too wea for you.

Yes, I shall weak him, my purpose is to teach the stripling [...] And you be honest Gentlemen stand but a loofe to morrow, and observe how I will swinge my youth about the field.

And please Heaven ile be there.

And so will I.

He seekes his fate, and murderers once being in Wad [...] farther till they drown; sin pulls on sin.

Scen. 1.

TIs true upon my life.

Say what thou wilt Ile not beleeve it boy.

Do you beleeve me to be your Son William.

Wel.

Do you beleeve I stand here?

On.

That this Gentlewoman is your wife?

So.

That Iack Harding here is my brother?

Good.

That I speak to you, that you list to me? Do you believe any think that is to be believed?

What of all this?

Then beleeve my brother Phillip has married Mistresse Susan. I saw them in the Church together; I heard them pronounce the words together, whether it be better or worse for them I know not, but they are in for better and worse, that I am sure.

As sure as thou art certain this is true, so sure Ile disinhe­rit the proud boy: and all the Magazin that I enjoy, devide 'tween you my sons.

Not all Father, alass, allow him some smal legacy to live on.

If't be but a cast Farm, or some poor Cottage rather then no­thing, it may be hee'l content himself with a little, you know some­what hath some [...]avour.

He that hath set me and my love at nothing [...] Ile leave him worth as little.

Chide him you may, but yet not cast him off; For Fathers ought most chastise where they love; Parents as I have read, their rage should hide where children fall through weaknesse, not through pride.

See where the four bare legs that belong to a bed come, I could almost pity him.

And why pity him, all the while that marriage is the first step to our making?

See Sir 'tis done

And thou undone.

In losing your kind favour more undone then in your casual wealth.

By all that I enjoy.

Oh swear not, spare that oath, Ile credit you, although you speak but mildely.

[Page 14]

So thrive I, if for this marriage made in dispight of me I make thee partner of any substance that's accounted mine.

Not made in spight of you, unsay that language, and then you chide me truely as I live. And though on earth by your disherited hope to be heir to heaven; I matcht with her in sincere love, but in no spleen to you, though you have sworn to give my fortunes from me; you have not sworn to reave me of your love, that let me have, let others take the land.

My love goes with my land, and in this marriage thou hast lost both.

Your substance I despise, but to lose that draws rivers from my eyes.

Oh bear a soft and more relenting soul, and look upon the vertues of your sonne, this Gentlewomans birth.

Wife, wife, if he have married her for birth, then let her birth maintain him.

My kind sons speak to your fath.

Alass Mother, you hear my Father hath sworn, and do you love him, and would make him break's oath.

Ingage his soul, that were a wives part indeed.

As I live I would not wish him now he has sworn to alter his minde in the least circumstance, for more then Ile speak.

I am a kinder son then you be brothers, have you renounc't me for your son?

I have.

You see he has.

You have not yet renounc't me for your servant, that title let me bear, Ile be your man, and wear your Livery, since my poverty in­forces me to serve, let it be you.

Grant him that good Father, when you want imployment for him, I may sometimes have occasion to use him my selfe.

A reasonable motion, you want a serving-man, since you must hire one on force, as good him as another.

He wants a Maid too, let him hire this woman, his servant not his daughter, give us but as you would do to strangers we are pleased.

The motion's not amisse, can you milk sweet heart.

I can.

And sweep a house, serve a hog, grope a hen, feel a duck, wash and wring.

what I have used, my soft hand best can shew, but what I cannot Ile be glad to learn.

[Page 15]

A good willing mind in troth, and can you bake and brew?

I shal be easily taught.

Y'ad best look too't, for as you brew, so y'are like to drink.

Sirrah, sirrah, can you hold the plough and thrash, sow, reap, load a cart, drive a Teem.

These or what else Ile practice.

Come then of with these gay cloaths, no habit's fit for hyndes; help boys to suit them as their fortunes are; go search in the clowns wardrobe.

Fear not wee'l fit 'em as wel as if we had tane measure of 'em.

To see this misery with such patience born, makes me to pity where these others scorn.

Here Sir is that wil serve the turn if you employ him in the corn fields, Ile warrant him fright the birds, here's that wil make him look like a scarecrow.

And here's that will change the coppy of her case, though not of her countenance.

Too good for drudges, live now by your sweat, and at your labour make account to eat.

Here's but a sorry wedding day.

My sweet Philip that thou shouldst suffer these extreams for me, onely for me.

Let that betwixt my soule and thine be witnesse of my constant love; Alass for thee that thou must drudge and toyl, and having been a Mistress all thy life, must now become a servant.

This being the wedding day of my Masters eldest Son, I ex­pect rare cheer. As first, the great spic'd Cake to go in, Cake-bread fashion, drawn out with Currans, the Jealious Formety must put on his yellow hose agen, and hot Pies come mincing after, the boyl'd Mutton must swim in a River of stew'h broth, where the channel's made of Prunes. Instead of peables, and prime reasons, and Currans in the stead of checker stones and gravel, to omit Geese and Guls, Ducks and Do [...]erels [...] Widgins and Woodcocks, of which there will be plenty. At our wedding dinner we shall have the Bride in her tiffety taffeties most sumptuous, and the Bridegroom as wel in brancht Sattin as brancht Rosemary most couragious. Ile in and see them in all their beauty, and give them the Joy, the boon Jour, the Besilus Manus, or to be more vulgar to the Incpaable, the God give you good morrow.

Good morrow fellow simkin.

'Tis he, no, no, 'tis not he.

[Page 14]

Good simkin.

Her face, the trick o [...] her eye, her leer, her blink, her askue, but to say it is she, Proh deum atque hominum fidem.

Art thou amazed to [...]ee me thus transformed, or her thus al­terd, none but such a Father, such a remorseless and hard hearted Fa­ther, could so translated his children.

Oh Mr. Philip, I see your Father is no Scholer, but a meer Dun [...]e, [...] protest I never red a more vilde translation.

Nor see so suddain and unmeet a change.

O young Mistris, Ovids Metamorphosis could never show the the like; but how comes this to passe [...] the manner, the manner, my heart begins to condole, and my conduit pipes to open, we shall have a showre presently; the manner?

This morning having married my betrothed, for could I less do having vowed so much? I came to him and most submissively entreated pardon for my self and her.

Kind young man — hold good heart.

He presently revises us, then renounc'd us, nor would he give us, should he see us starve and famish at his gate, no not a crust of his [...]indes bread, or of his smallest beer not a bare crusful should we dye for thirst.

'Twil out, 'twil out, but now for the apparel.

When he renounc'd us for his children, we had no meanes re­served unless with baseness to beg our victuals, were resolved to work, so he at our entreaty hired us both to be his hindes and drudges.

Your apron good Mistris, and so and so, you were stript out of your silks and sattens, and forc'd to put on these russets and sheepskins.

Even so.

O most tyrannical old Fornicator (old Master I would say) Well since 'tis so, no more young Master, but fellow servant; no more Master Philip but Phil; here's my hand Ile do two mens labours in one to save you a labour, and to spare your shoulders Ile help at many a dead li [...]e: Come Ile go teach ye hayte and ree, gee and whoe [...] and which i [...] to which hand; next Ile learn you the name of all our Teeme, and [...]cquaint you with Jocke the fore-horse, and Fibb the fil-horse, and with all the godamercy fraternity.

Succeed it as heaven please.

To see so brave a Gentleman turn Clown.

Scen. 1.

Are we not somwhat too early think you?

It appears so, for neither challenger nor defendant are yet in field.

Which way doe you think the day will goe? or whether of them do you hold to be the better man?

That I am not able to judge, but if the opinion of the world hold currant, he that kild one brother, is thought will be the death of the other, but these things are beyond us: lye close for being seen.

Your resolution holds then?

Men that are easily moved, are soon removed from reso­lution, but when with advice and with foresight we purpose, our intents are not without considerate reasons altered.

Thou art resolved, and I prepared for thee, yet thus much know, thy state is desperate, and thou art now in dangers throat already even half devoured; if I subdue thee, know thou art a dead man; for this fatal steel that searcht thy brothers entrails is prepared to doe as much to thee; if thou survivest [...] and I be slain, th'art dead too, my alliance and greatness in the world will not endure my slaughter unrevenged. Come, I am for thee.

I would my brother liv'd that this our difference might end in an embrace of folded love; but 'twas heavens will that for some guilt of his he should be scourged by thee, and for that guilt in scourging him thou by my vengeance punisht, come I am both waies armed against thy steel, if I be pierc'd by it, or against thy greatness mine pierce thee.

Have at thee.

I will not bid thee hold, but if thy breath be as much short as mine look to thy weakness.

The breath thou drawst but weakly, thou now shalt draw no more.

That heaven knows, he guard my body that my spirit ows.

My Cosens faln, persue the murderer.

But not too near I pray, you see he's armed, and in this deep a­mazement may commit some desperate outrage.

Had I but known the terrour o [...] this deed, I would have left it done imperfectly, rather then in this guilt of conscience laboured so far, [Page 18] but I forget my safety, the Gentleman is dead, my desperate life, will be oversway'd by his Allies and friends, and I have now no safety but by flight.

now will trusse me that point Phil, I could find in my heart to beg thee of my Father to wait upon me, but that I am afraid he cannot spare thee from the plough: besides I heard him say but the last day, thou wast more fit to make a hind then a serving man.

Sir, you were once my brother.

True, but that was when you were a son to my father.

I and my younger brother, I had then priority of birth.

But now it seems we have got the start of you, for being but a servant you are taken a button-hole lower.

When wil this tedious night give place to day?

I hope I may command.

I must obey.

My string Sue, are these shooes well mundified, down a your ma­ribones good Sue, I hope you are not so straight l [...]c'd but you can stoop: you acknowledg me one of your young Masters, if not, [...]tis not unknown to you that I know the way to my father.

Yes Sir, and can tell tales, I know you can, and I have felt the smart on't.

Whip me if you shall not if you begin once to grow stubborn: why when?

As humble as your feet.

Why how now naid is this work fitting you? and you Sir, you are lookt for in the stable, and should not loyter here, will you be gone?

I am for any service.

And I too.

We shall find other things for you to doe.

If you cannot here be they that can, a drudge, a groom, Ile send him of my errand.

And if I do not find work for her, Ile doe nothing but take To­bacco [Page 19] in every room, because twice a day Ile make her make clean house the.

These think because I am their Stepmother, their chiefest torture is most my content, when I prote [...], to see them thus afflicted it grates my very heart-strings every hour: For though before their Fa­thers rathless eye, and their remorsless brothers, I seem stern, yet pri­vately they taste of my best bounty,

I am pursued, and there is no place of refuge left to my de­sperate life, but here's a woman, oh if she harbour soft effeminate pitty she may redeem me from a shameful death.

A man thus arm'd to leap my garden wall; help [...] help.

As you are fair, and should be pittifull, a woman there­fore to be moved; a Christian, and therefore one that should be charitable, pitty a poor distressed Gentleman, who gives his desperate fortune, life and freedom into your hand.

What are you Sir, that with your weapon drawn affright me thus?

If you protect my life, fair creature, I am a free Gentleman, but if betray me, then a poor man doomed unto a shame­ful death.

What's your offence that such suspitious fear, and timerous doubts waits on your guilty steps?

I have kild a man, but fairly as I am a Gentleman, with­out all base advantage in even tryal of both our desperate fortunes.

Fairly?

And though I say it, valiantly.

And hand to hand?

In single opposition.

In a good quarrel?

Else let the hope I have in you of safety turn to my base confusion. Gentle creature

I cannot now stand to expostulate; for hark the breath of my pursuers blow a fearful air upon my flying heel, and I am almost in their fatal gripe. Say will you save me?

I will, then climb into that hovel.

Oh any where.

Nay quickly then.

Your hand fair Lady.

Away, leave me to answer for you.

Over my garden wall, is't possible?

Over this wall I see him leap it lightly.

[Page 20]

That shall we quickly know, see here's my wife, she can inform us best.

Saw you not Mistris Harding, a young man mount o'r this gar­den wall with his sword drawn?

My eyes were stedfast on my work in hand, and trust me I saw none.

Perhaps he took down to the neighbour vill [...]ge, and when he saw my wife, altered his course.

'Tis very like so, for I heard a bustling about that hedge, be­sides a sudden noise of some that swiftly ran towards your fields, make haste, 'twas now, he cannot be far off.

Gentlemen, take my word, I am high Constable; it is part of my office, Ile be no shelter for any man that shall offend the Law: if we surprise him, I will send him bound to the next Justice, follow you your search.

On what quarrel?

I had smal leisure to importune that, onely this much I learnt, the man that's dead was great in fault, and he that now survives, subject unto the danger of this search, bare himself fairly, and his for­tune being to kill a man Ally'd to Noble men, and greatly friended: is much pittyed. But Law me [...]t have his course.

Sir, ile but end this flower and follow you, I this should be some bloody murderer, great were my guilt to shrowd him from the [...]aw; but if a gentleman by fortune crost, 'tis pitty one so vallient and so young should be given up into his enemies hands, whilst greatness may perhaps weigh down his cause and ballance him to death, who thus escaping may when he hath, by means obtain his peace, Redeem his desperate fortunes, and make good th' forfeit made unto th' offended

[Page 21]

Could you now wish him alive agen.

With his hands loose, and yet he slew my brother.

Heaven hath sent this gentleman because hee's pe­nitent, to me for succor, therefore till the violence of all his search be past, Ile shrowd him here, and bring you meat and wine to comfort you, free I protest from all unchast pretence, till by some means I may conveigh you hence.

The life you saw if I orecome this plunge shall be for ever yours, all my endeavours to your devoted service I will store, and carefully hoard up.

Sir, now no more.

Scen. 1.

COme good fellow Phil, what nothing but mourning and mowing, thy melancholy makes our teems to vaile their fore­tops, and all our Jades crest faln, and to see thee wail in woe in the deep cart roots up to the bellies plunge in pain: my Mistris Susan shee's in the same pittiful pickle too.

Oh if this hand could execute for her all that my cruel father hath imposed, my toyl would seem a pleasure, labour ease.

Ease, what's that? there's little to be found in our house, now we have loosed the plough in the fields, they'l find work enough about home to keep us from the scurvey. Your hat Phil, see here comes our Mistris.

The place is clear, none sees me, now's the time to bear my sorrowful charge bread, meat, and wine: these six daies I have kept him undiscovered, neither my husbands, nor my servants eyes have any way discovered him. How now fellows, whither so fast this way?

Nay we do not use to go too fast for falling: our businesse at this present is about a little houshold service.

[Page 22]

What businesse have you this way?

We are going, as they say, to remove, or according to the vul­gar, to make clean, where Chanticleer and Damepartlet the henne have had [...]ome doings.

What doest thou mean by that?

By my Masters appoyntment, I must not say my Fathers, he hath commanded us first to make clean this hen-roost, and after to re­move the hay out of that hay-loft.

Oh me, I fear the Gentleman's betray'd, what shift shall I de­vise.

By your leave Mistress, pray let's come by you.

Wel double dilegence your labour's saved, 'tis done already, go and take your pleasure. Son Philip, when I hear my Husband speak of such a base employment, I streight hired a labourer to prevent it, and 'tis done.

You are kinder Mother then my Father cruel, and save me ma­ny a toyle and teadious travail imposed on me by your husband.

O'r this place, Ile bear a jealous and a watchful eye to prevent this discovery; and wil you be gone?

Yes sweet Mistress, if you would but give a wink, a word to the dayry maid for a mess of cream betwixt my fellow Philip and I, It's good to be doing something, for you know my Master does not love we should be idle.

Wel Sir, perhaps I shal remember you.

Come Phil let's be gone, and if you chance to blush at what my Mistress hath promis'd, Ile tel you who cast milk in your face.

Shal I compare his present misery with the

misfortunes of this Gentleman, which might I rec­kon greater, but leave them;

Oh through what greater plunges can I pass then I have done already; A fathers penury, the good old man dejected and cast down, my Husband even swept from the family where he was born, quite for­sook by him, by whom he should be fostered, made a servant

Agen prevented.

How [...]ath this meditation drawn my thoughts from my intended [Page 23] business I forgot what I was sent about? my Master bade me scatter this Wheat and Barley 'mongst the hens, and I will soon dispatch it.

What makes thee so neer the place that I so strictly guard, what business have you there?

Forsooth my Master bade me go serve the poultry.

Come you shall not, for this time Ile doe't for you.

Mother and Mistress too, 'tis courtesie in you to profer it, but should I suffer, you might hold it justly in me small manners.

I say it shall be so.

Shall any servant stand stil and see her Mistresse do her work [...] pray pardon me, I should condemn my self beyond imagination: I shal I stand idely and see the work done by your hand?

Think not that Ile betray you, nor shall she, if she respect my love or her own life.

Betray my brother? it shall nere be said I stopt his flight when he had means to scape.

What change hath brought you to this downcast state?

Nay what mishap hath ruinated you?

You both forget your dangers, then leave off these passive fits, and study for the safety of this distressed Gentleman your brother, now in the ratheless mercy of the Law.

Sister you have heard my fortunes.

[Page 24]

With sad cheer, little surmising you had layed so neer, deare. Mother let us crave your farther assistance in furthering his escape.

I am all yours.

My safety lies in suddain expedition, debar me I am dead.

I ha' a brother lives at Gravesend an Owner and a Merchant, and could we but convey you safe to him; he soon would ship you over into France.

All ways are loud, and hue and cry sent forth through e­very hundred, how shall I reach thither withont discovery?

Here stands an empty trunk in the next room, which should be sent by water to Gravesend to your brother, what if we should lock him fast in that?

I like it wel, but whom shal we employ to bear it safe?

Give it my husband and your man in charge, they two wil see it carefully delivered.

By them Ile write unto him earnestly in your behalfe, and doubt not of your usage.

The trunck, the trunk, Oh quickly, if you love me.

Come Ile to write.

Ile finde those that shal bear it.

The plot is likely, but heaven knows I fear it.

Now boys no question but you think it long to have my state made over to your use.

Oh Lord Sir.

To have your eldest brother quite disabled of any chal­lenge of inheritance.

We think it not long Sir, but if you should use all expedition possible, I should say beshrew their hearts that would hinder it, we do not wish our brother disinherited, but if it be your pleasure, Heaven forbid that we being your sonnes should any way contradict it [...]

We should not shew our selves obedient sons to perswad you to infringe your former vow; For, Father if you remember you swore long since to do it; And heaven forbid you should break your oath.

Boyes of mine own free spirit, mine one heart, and will you see him pine, beg, starve, nay perish ere you will once relieve him.

I' [...] be your will, wee'le swear to do it.

And though the beggars brat, his Wife I mean, should for the w [...] of lodgi [...]g sleep on st [...]ls or lodg in stocks or cages, would you [...] [...] her to better harbor?

[Page 25]

Unlesse too cold harbor where of twenty chimneys standing, you shal scarce in a whole winter see two smoaking; we harbor her? Bridewel shal first.

Lads of my own condition, my own humour, cal me a Scrivner, reach me pen and ink Ile doe' [...] imediately.

Run for a Scrivener Iack.

Mean time post thou for Pen and Inck.

Stay no such haste, sweet husband there be fitter times then these made choice for such affairs, there's no enforcement to make your Will, being in such perfect health; pray if you love me do not talke of death, nor to your safety give such ill presage, besides this expediti­on in your sons, shews that they covet more your Lands then life; de­ [...]er't then somewhat longer for my sake.

Then for thy sake I will, but my kinde boys 'tis rather to sooth her, then your least wrong, I will delay a little though not long.

It hath been long a doing, I would it were once done, if he should peak over the pearch now, and all fall to our elder Brother, we have used him so doggedly, the least he can do is to thrust us out of doors by head and shoulders.

Let him alone now, wee'l urge him too't at more convenient leisure.

When heard you from your brother at Gravesend, or how falls out his voyage, can you tell.

I had a letter from him two days since, in which he writes me all his goods are Shipt, his wares in hold well stowed, and nothing wants save a fair gale to bring him to the Straits.

Heaven make his voyage prosperous, for thou knowest I have a venture of five hundred p [...]und enterred with him, my fortune joyns with his; If he succeed it falls out well with me, if not, I am like­ly to impart his losse.

You are well found Sir.

I what art thou fellow.

You knew me in my pride and flourishing state, have you forgot me now, as I remember we two were bred together, Schoole fellows, boorded together in one Masters house, both of one forme and like degree in School.

Oh thy name's Forrest.

Then in those days your Father Mr. Hardi [...]g was a good [Page 26] honest Farmer, Tennant too unto my Father. All the wealth he pur­chast, far be upbraiding from me, came from us as your first raiser; and you called me then your Landlord and young Master: then was then, but now the course of fortunes wheele is turned; you climbed, we fell, and that inconstant fate that hurled us down, hath lift you where we sate.

Well, we are Lord of all those Mannors now, you then possest. Have we not bought them deerly? Are they not ours?

I no way can deny't, I rather come as a poor suitor to you, [...]o entreat you for heavens sake and charities, to p [...]ty my lost daughter, your cast sonne. Sir, I in all had but three Children left me, Crutches to bear up my penurious age; one of these three was butchered cruel­ly, his body piteously, alass pierc't through. Then had I but two left, my eldest So [...], and hee's or dead, or fled to save his life; If he still live, I have wasted, [...]old a [...]d spent even all that little that my fortunes left; and now I have but one, one onely daughter, and her I am not able to relieve with ought save [...]ears and pity, to these helps oh [...]end your fair as [...]istance; shee's yours as well as mine.

All my part I disclaim, both in my son and her; they crost my pleasure, and they shall tast the smart, I was derided,

See [...] see, alass [...] those that seven Somers since saw thy estate and look up [...]n thee now, would at lest pity, if not help thy wants; how happy was [...]hy Mother and my Wife, that slept their last sleep long be­f [...]re thes [...] [...] take their birth.

Dear [...]ather succour us, help to redeem us from this cruel man that [...] upon our m [...]sseries.

[...] daughter adde not to my tedious woes, thou bidst a [...] man gu [...]de th [...] on thy way, and ta [...]est a broken staffe to be thy [...].

Good Sir release us.

It m [...]st be then with tears, for other help I have none, and [...]h [...]y heaven knows can little ease, but never help your woes. Sir, if [...]our heart be not of Adamant, or some hard mettal that's impe­ [...]rable, [...] your blood and mine, so soon grown deaf. Kinde Gentle­men, [Page 27] speak to your wrathless Father, shew your selves brothers, do you turn aside. Fair Mistress what say you, I see your eyes in all things with our passions sympathize, and you are doubtlesse sprung from Gen­tle blood:

Thou growest too tedious, prithee friend be gone.

I hope you do not scorn me.

The truth is, I feign would have thee leave me.

'Tis no disparagement unto your birth, that you converse with me, if I mistake not, sure, sure I am as wel born.

And yet sure, sure, 'tis ten to one I shall be better buried.

I am as honest.

Are all such honest then that riches have.

Yes rich and good, a poor man and a knave. Away about thy business, loyter not about my gates, I shal compel thee else, for thy request my will is peremptory, thy softness makes me much more violent, whom thou the more commisseratest I contemn, they are in my deepest hate: Wife, Sons, let's go.

With eyes in tears sunk, heart circumvolved in woe.

What shal we now do?

What? but endure the worst, when comfort's b [...]nish'd, wel­come a [...]l extreams, yet I have sent my fellow, or my man [...] prove some friends to help to stock a Farm, I have not yet their answer, 'tis the last of all our hopes, that failing we have run our latest course, out­cast, end quite undone.

My Sister writes how your occasions stand, and how you are to use my secresie in a strange business that concerns your life. She hath left nothing unremembred here, or slightly urged to make me provident and care [...]ul of your safety: gentle Sir, though I am a stran­ger to your fortunes, y [...]t [...]or her sake whose love I tender deer [...]y, I am-all yours, my hou [...]e to entertain you, my purse to furnish you in any course, my Ship if you'l to Sea, is at your service, make choice in which of these, in all, or any you will employ my faithful industry.

Oh Sir your unexpected courtesie to a poor stranger, challenges the name of brother to the kindest Gentlewoman that [...]er breathed this air, you cannot chuse but be of one strain that such [...]ind­ness [Page 28] use; you bade me to make choice of all your favours, my pover­ty and my necessity do both of them in my ext [...]eams concerve to make me think the meanest of any meanes that can unplunge me from t [...]is gulf of trouble, to be much better then I can deserve, to be much grea­ter then I dare desire, being too poor to merit, too dejected to aim at any hopes.

You wrong your worth, you have desert sufficient, that she writes in your behalf, and I commend her for't, me thinks I see such honest parts in you, that upon weaker urgence then these lines, I would build much affection [...] on these gifts that I see nature hath endowed you with, [...]ndeed I flatter not, none flatter those they do not mean to gain by, 'tis the guise of siccophants, such great men to ador [...] by whom they mean to rise disdain the poor; my object is much otherwise in­tended, I fain would lose by him whom I commended.

If ever this my weak ability grow strong age [...], I will em­ploy it solely to shun the base sin of ingratitude towards you and your fair sister.

Will you use me?

But what shall I return you in exchange of those great favours.

Come your love, your love, 'tis more then all I can attempt for you amounts unto, pray let me know the most of my employment.

Then will you but provide me a safe waftage over to France, to Flanders, or to Spain or any forraign coast; I dare not trust my native country with my forfeit life. Sir, this is all I would entreat of you.

Y'are modest in your suit, the more you use me, the more I think you love me, therefore this night [...]le get you waftage ore for France, such Sea apparrel as I use my self, you shall accept part, here's ten pounds in gold, and wheresoever you shall live hereafter, pray let me once a year receive from you some brief or noat [...] Ile not return your love idle [...] or empty handed.

My life's yours, and lesser satisfaction then my life is much too little.

Much too much, no more, no more I do entreat you, I am now upon a voyage to the Straits my selfe, but 'twill be two days hence.

Heaven be your guide, as I find you, so find friends in your need, blushing I run into your co [...]ntless detbts, more sums of love then all my hord can pay, but if these black adventures I survive,

Scen. 4.

Speak with us, why what's the businesse?

Nay, that's more then I can resolve you upon the suddain, it may be there's some great fortune fallen to him of late, and he would impart the benefit to you.

Nay then let's go, where shall we find him?

A word to the wise, it may be that hee's in some monstrous ex­tream necessity, and would gladly borrow some money of you, or so.

I, saidst thou so? now I remember me, I needs must home, I have some business, Ile see him at some other time.

Nay but one word more.

We cannot stay now.

Nor I, a great occasio [...] calls me hence.

Nay then I see you are apt to take a man at the worst still, if you knew what little need he hath to borrow, borrow quoth he, a good jest, you know he and I, my fellow Phil and I 'mongst other works that my Master uses to put us to, we use to dig and delve; now if we have found a pot a money, and would trust you with the laying of it out, why so?

How?

Marry even so, you know his Father is such a dogged old Cor­mudgeon, he dares not for his [...]ars acquaint him with.

Prithee go on.

'Twere kindness in him to chuse you out of all the friends he hath in the world to impart this benefit to, were't not? and say true.

Troth he was always a kind honest youth, and would it lay in me to pleasure him.

Introth or me, he should command my purse and credit both.

Where might we speak with him;

Hard by Sir, hard by, but stay Gentlemen, suppose there is no such matter as finding of money, but what we mist in digging to supply his present necessities he hopes to find from you, I promise you I partly doobt such a matter.

How I forgot my selfe, I needs must home.

Troth nor can I stay.

In sooth nor I.

[Page 31]

Gentlemen whither so fast, I sent to speak with you.

I can assure you Sir, they are better to speak withall then to borrow money of, one word or two with you my friends (by your leave Master) Gentlemen I love you well, and that you may know I love you, I would ma [...]e bold to reveal a secret to you, my young Ma­ster here, though you see him in these homely Accoutraments, simple as you stand here, he has more to take to then Ile speak of, he might, I marry might he, he might go brave and shine in pearle and gold; he hath now in his instan [...] possession a thousand pound thick.

A thousand pounds?

Nay old lads, he hath learnt his 1, 2, 3, 4, & 5. And never cost him ten shillings.

Five thousand pound?

You know where you hear it, Mum, here's your tale and your tales Man.

Good, good, proceed.

Now lift up your large ears and listen; to whom should he reveal all this wealth, but to some friend? and how should he know a friend but by trying of him; and how should he try a friend but by troubling of him? and how should he trouble a friend but by borrow­ing money of him? now Gentlemen it may be at first hee'l make his case poor and pitiful to you.

Onely to try us.

Onely to try you, have you no brains? do you think we have need of money? has any of you occasion to use a hundred pound? need of money, as I said afore, so I say agen, onely to try you, be has done the like to four or five that I know; now because they would not pity his supposed poverty, he would not acquaint them with this infi­nite mass of wealth; you have wi [...]s, brains, apprehension, if he makes his case known to you lay it on, if I said lay it on, lay it on, you are not every body, if I had not seen some sparks in you, you had not been the men, lay it on.

Enough, enough, I understand thee fully, kind Master Phi [...]ip will you use my aid in my fair employment.

Sir or mine.

Or mine.

Worthy friends, even one as all freely to speak, as you are Gentlemen, and I from my childhood have protested love, as you are Christians; therefore to the poor, such as I am, should be most charita­ble, help with your plenty to releeve my wants, you know my labor, and have seen my need, then take some pity of my poor estate, and help to [Page 30] ransome me from slavery, by lending me some money.

Did I not tell you so? Lay it on.

Sir you shall have a hundred pound of me.

What need you use him and my selfe so neer.

Trouble not them Sir, you shall hate of me:

Take't Master, take't all.

Oh Heavens! where slept this friendship all this while? who said that charity was fled to heaven, and had no known abiding here on earth; see these that know me disinherited, and to have no means to supply my wants, strive who should most engage his purse and credit to one so much opprest with poverty.

Alas sir, you see their kindness, I told you how strange he would make it; Lay it on.

Pray Sir accept my kindnesse,

Pray take mine.

Pray Master take their courtesies.

Ile use them all, and onely borrow twenty pounds a pee [...]e to stock a poor farm for my wife and me, some threescore pounds will do't.

Now, now, lay it on.

Take it all of me.

Why all of you Sir, is not mine as ready?

When one can do't, what need you trouble three? but for the thousand pound Sir, do not think but you may trust me with the whole employment of all such moneys, and never trouble these.

What thousand pound?

Though it be six thousand I durst be steward of so great a sum.

Why Master Fellow Phil?

Do you mock me Gentlemen, my wealth amounts not to a thousand straws.

I told you he would make it strange; lay it on.

Make not your wealth so dainty, for we know you have at least six thousand pound in banck, you may impart it unto us your friends.

Who hath deluded you, derided me, and make a mockery of my poor estate, now I protest I have not in the world more riches then these garments on my back.

If possible, why here's my tale and my tales man.

No Sir you are deceiv'd, here is your tale and you your selfe are your tales man, for you carry it about you; the truth is Gentlemen [Page 32] that we have betwixt us both no more crosses then you see.

Onely the late hope of those sixty pounds promis'd by you [...]urged and uncompelled may raise my ruined fortunes.

Will you disburst it all that were so forward?

I have no money, do it you for me.

It is but one mans labour do't your self, if you have none I have less, God be with you, one staies for me at home.

Nay take me with you Sir:

Why Gentlemen will you revault your words.

I have no money.

But now you strived which man should lend me most.

Whither away so fast sirrah in the Queens name, I command you stay,

What are you that look so big?

A Pursevant.

If you be so pursey, can you lend's any money, I assure you it was the last business we were about; or else tell me the reason why you stay my passage.

Sirrah I have a Proclamation to publish, and because my self am somwhat hoarse, and thou hast a large wide mouth, and a laudible voice I charge thee for the better understanding of the multitude to speak after me word by word.

If it be nothing else, do but advance me and Ile speak high e­nough, come now, and teach me my new lesson.

Whereas two famous Rovers on the Sea.

Whereas two famous Rogues upon the Sea.

Pus [...]r and Clinton:

That lost their purses at the Clink.

[Page 33]

Long since proclaimed Pirates.

Long since proclai­med spirats.

Notwithstanding her Majesties commission.

Notwithstanding her Majesties condition.

Stil keep out.

And will not come in.

And have of late spoyled a Ship of Exet [...]r.

And have of late spoyled all the sheep in the Exchequer.

And thrown the chief Merchant over board.

And thrown the Merchants cheeses over-board.

I therefore in her Majesties name.

I therefore in the name of her Majesty.

Proclaim to him or them.

Proclaim to them or him.

That can bring in these Pirates Ships or Heads.

That can bring in these Pye [...]rusts or Sheeps-heads.

A thousand pound sterling.

A thou­sand Stares and Starlings.

If a banisht man his country.

If a man he shall be banisht his country.

If a con­demned man liberty.

I a man at liberty condemned.

Besides her Majesties especial favour.

Besides her Majesties spectacles and favour.

And so God save the Queen.

And have you done now Sir?

I have, farewel.

Farewel Mr. Pursevant: he hath so fill'd my head with procla­mations.

Scen. 1.

NOw valiant mates you have maintained this fight with cou­rage and with woonted hardiment: the spoyl of this rich ship we will divide in equal shares, and not the meanest of any, but by the custom of the sea may challenge according to his place, rights in the spoyl: though Out-laws, we keep laws amongst our selves, else we could have no certain government.

A gallant prize, and bravely purchast too, with loss of blood on both sides. A sea fight was never better managed nor exployted with more exchange of hostile opposition, we did not look for such a valiant spirit in any Merchants breast; nor did we think a ship of such small burden, so weakly man'd, would have endur'd so hot and proud a fight.

Nor did I think the providence of heaven would so have favour­ed men of base condition, such as profess wrong, pyracie and theft, have spoyled my men, and ransackt every corner of my surprised bark; seised all my substance, and shared amongst you my best merchandise; and not alone undone me, and in me all that are mine, but in overwhel­ming us shook the estate of all my creditors.

Whats that to us? men of our known condition must cast behind [Page 34] our hacks all such respects, we left our consciences upon the land when we began to rob upon the sea.

We know we are Pirates, and profess to rob, and wouldst not have us freely use our trade? If thou and thine be quite undone by us, we made by thee, impute it to thy fortune, and not to any injury in us;

If you must needs possess this thriving trade, yet since the seas afford such choice of store, you might methinks have spar'd your own countrymen.

Nay since our country have proclaim'd us pyrats, and cut us off from any claim in England, we'l be no longer now call'd English men.

Clinton I know thee, and have us'd thy skil, ere now in a good vessel of my own, before thou tookest this desperate course of life, per­haps if now thou do'st me a good office, time may enable me to quit thy love.

Troth I could wish we had light of any other, but since thy fate hath cast thee upon us, we must neglect no opportunity; for they that intermit advantages, must know occasions head is bald behind. My mer­ry mates come top your cans apace, pile up your chests with prizes to the lids, and stuffe the vast hold of our empty ship with such rich wares as this our prize affords; supple your biskets with such choice of wines

Let cans of wine pass round in healths through all, such golden prizes come not every day, nor can we alwaies meet such choice of spoils: First bind the Merchant, lay him fast in hold, and having seised all his best Merchandise, pierce with your ordnance through his ships crased keele, and sink her down into the deep abyss, whence not all the Cranes in Europe or the world can weigh her out agen.

Let it be so, Lest she prove prize unto a second foe.

Be't as my fate shall please, my loss I value but as goods lent me, now to be paid back, but that which most afflicts my sorrowful soul, is that my friends have ventured largely with me, especially my Sister, who I fear will brook that ill which I with patience bear.

P [...]ace him below the hatches as our prisoner, and now to part our purchase bravely won, even with the hazard of our dearest lives.

The danger past stil makes the purchase swee [...]. Come first drink round my merry mates, that done, devide in peace what we by war have [...]

Gentlemen, and my merry mates at sea, those special sa­vours you have crowned me with, can never be deserved upon my part, so weak is my ability and knowledge in navigation and exploits at sea; yet since your loves so far exceeds my worth, that of an unexperienc [...]d Gentleman you have prefered me above many other, to be your Cap­tain, and command your Ship, I hope to bear my self so even and up­right in this my charge, that it shall not repent you of the least honour to my grace decreed.

Our Captain being lately slain in fight, we by your valour scap'd our enemies, and made their ship our prize, since we first knew you all our attempts succeeded prosperously, and heaven hath better blest us for your sake.

When first we took you to our fellowship, we had a poor bark of some fifteen tun, and that was all our riches, but since then we have took many a rich prize from Spain, and got a gallant vessel stoutly man'd, and well provided of Ordnance and small shot, men and ammu­nition, that we now dare coap with any Carract that do's trade for Spain.

We dare do any thing that stands with justice, our countries honour, and the reputation of our own names; but amongst all our spoils I wonder we have scap'd the valiant Pirats that are so much renowned upon the sea, that were a conquest worth the hazarding, besides a thou­sand pounds reward proposed to that adventurer that can bring them in, my peace and pardon though a man condemned, is by the proclamati­on ratified.

The ocean scarce can bear their outrages, they are so violent, confounding all, and sparing none, not their own countrimen, we could not do our country greater service then in their pursuit to en [...]age our lives.

I could we meet those Rovers on the sea, so famous for their piracies and thefts, so fear'd of all that trade for Merchandise, so proud of their strong vessels and stout ging, that man her with their proud Artillery that thunders wrack to every ship alike; oh with what ardour and enflamed desire would we in the mid sea encounter them! Climb to the main-top, boy, see what you kenne there.

I shall, I shall Sir.

We seek for purchase, but we tak't from foes, and such is held amongst us lawful spoy [...]; but such as are our friends & countrymen we succour with the best supply we have of victuals or munition being distrest.

[Page 36]

Ho there.

Ha boy.

A sayl.

Whence is she?

That I cannot kenne; she appeares to me out of our hemisphear no bigger then a Crow.

Discry her better, oh that it were the desperate Pirates Ship, on that condition we might grapple straight, and try our desperate fortunes on even change, but I that have been born to misery can never be so happy; oh my fate when shall I pass away this tedious night,

Boatswain, ho.

Whence comes thy kenne?

She makes from South to West.

How bears she?

To the Lee ward.

Clap on more sails and quickly fetch her up. What colours bears her main-top?

She's not so near in kenne.

Discover her more amply, now my mates prepare your selves, for it may be some prize; you Master Gunner load your ordnance wel, and look wel to your cartridges and fire; see that your gunner room be clear and free, your matches bear good coals, your priming powder pounded, not dank; next charge your Murderers for fear of boarding: Stearsman part the Helm, and bear up towards them, be they friends or foes we'l hale them if heaven please; and Master you heed wel your compass, Boatswain with your whistle command the Say­lors to the upper deck to know their quarters, and to hear their charge.

Captain, ho.

The news? whence is her flag?

She bears the Cross of England and St. George.

Then she's a friend for England, and St. George our gallant vessel in her main-top bears, and all our preparations needless then.

Arm rather, for I see them from a far make all provision for a present fight, they have managed their hatches, hung their pendants out, display'd their Ensignes, up with all their feights, their matches in their cocks, their smoaking Linstocks are likewise fired within their Gunners hands; and hark they shoot already.

Come descend; the Pirat, Fortune thou art then my friend. Now valiant friends and souldiers man the deck, draw up your feights, and lace your drablers on, whilst my self make good the Forecastle, and ply my Musket in the front of death, quarter your selves in order, some abaft, some in the Ships waste, all in martial order; our Spright-sayl [...] Top sail, and Top-gallant, our Main-sail, Boar-spright, and our Mizen too are hu [...]g with waving pendants, and the colours of England and St. Geo [...]g ply in the Stern. We fight against the foe we all desire,

Give them a full broad-side; oh Mr. Gunner your upper tire of Ordnance shot over; you gave not one shot betwixt wind and water in all this skirmish.

Sir, you speak not wel, I pierc'd them with my chase piece through and through; part of their Capstring too I with a Piece abaft shot over­board.

Oh 'twas a gallant shot, I saw it shatter some of their limbs in pieces: Shall we grapple, and lay their Ship aboard? where be these Irons to hook 'em fast?

I fear they'r too well man'd; for see the Gunner ready to give fire unto their Murderers if we stay to board 'em: Shall we set sayl and leave 'em.

How can we when our Ship has sprung a leak? being ready now to founder in the sea; some ply the Pump: oh for one lucky bullet to take their Mainmast off; he that can make it shall have a treble share in this next prize.

I shall go near it from my lower tyre.

Gunner do that, 'tis all that we desire.

Where is the Gunner Captain?

Where he should not be, at his prayers I think: Is this a time to pray, when the Seas mouth seems to spit fire, and all the billows burn. Come hand with me, and we will board the Pirates instantly.

Hoyst up more sails, and fetch 'em roundly up, and with their gallant vessel grapple straight.

I spy the Pirats in the very prow and forehead of their Ship, both wafting us with their bright swords: now Steersman take thy turn; and Boatswain with your baser trumpets sound mingle your whistles shril, oh 'tis a Musick the Maremaids love.

Who hates it thats a souldier?

It blows a stiffe gale, it makes all for us, every Commander once more to his charge, he that this day shall dye dies honourably; the Canon [...] Basilisks, and Ordnance shall tooll his funeral peale, and some now sound, shall dye three deaths in one, shot, burnt, and drown'd.

First thankes to heaven for this great victory bought with the fearful hazard of our lives, and larg expence of blood on either part.

Such prisoners as these Pirats keep in hold, release them straight, the riches of their ship we 'mongst you will divide in equal shares, to every mans desart, estate, and place.

Fortune I spit defiance in thy face: Thy best we have tasted, an thy worst we know, we can but pay what we to nature owe.

Surprised agen, whose prisoner am I now? I am Fortunes ball, whither am I bandied, having lost al before, is't possible that I can now be made a second prize? I lost my wealth in my first hostile strife,

These prisoners we will at our further leasure peruse and know their fortunes and estates.

That captain I should know [...] that face of his is with mine eye fa­miliar, sure 'tis he whose life I by my Sisters means preserved, with mony and apparel furnisht him, and got him place at sea and hath he now for­got me, what not know me, the world right, when rich we honour, be [...]ing poor we spight: ne'r look so strange, I do not mean to claim ac­quaintance of such men as are ingrate: All my good deeds once done I throw behind, whose meed in heaven, not earth I look to find.

That Merchant I have known, and now I better surveigh him, 'tis the man to whom I owe all that I have, my fortunes, nay my life; what reason have you Sir to fly me so, since unto you, and to my brothers wife, my hopes, my power, my whole estate is due,

Thin [...] you I can forget, or slightly cancel such a countless debt, behold my ship, my conquest, and my prize, these prisoners with my full command is yours;

These Pirates robbed me, and have ceised my goods with which they have stuft their hold; my brothers venter with mine own substance th [...] have made their spoyl.

[Page 39]

All which behold I re-deliver you, and to the utmost far­thing will restore; besides I make you partner in our prize, and herein am I onely fortunate to prove a grateful debtor.

Your gratitude exceeds all curtesie, both of my Sisters party and my own.

It comes much short of either; oh dear Sir should I forget your friendship shewed in want, and done in my extreamest po­verty, it were a sin, of heaven unpardonable; this Pirats Ship load with your merchandise you shall streight man for England; where arrived, commend me to the mirror of her sex, your Sister, in the humblest phrase you can, to whom deliver, as from me, this jewel, the best our voyage yeelds; tel her from me, that Gentleman whose innocent life she saved, hath by that token her remembrance craved, to my brother, and my Sister this small summe to buy their service from their fathers hand, and free them from his slavish servitude.

Y'ar welcom Gentlemen, come take your places as your de­grees are: wife the chair is yours; my loving boyes sit, let th' servants wait.

Brother, that's you.

This day I do entreat you Gentlemen after the Tables ended, to be witness unto some deeds that must inherit these, and him that is my eldest quite disable, to which I must entreat your friendly hands.

Mine stil is at your service.

So is mine Sir.

O day long lookt for.

Now shall we live like two young Emperors; oh day worthy to be writ in the Almanack in red Letters for a most famous holyday.

Wait at my elbow with a clean trencher Phil: doe your duty, and have your due, you know your place, be ready with a glass of beer, and when I say fil, fil.

If please your worship here is a manner, or a kind of some foul desire to have some conference with you.

A sea foul?

Yes a Sea-gul, I mean a Mariner, he saies he hath some news to tell you from my Mistris her brother at sea.

Touching my venter, prithee guide him in.

He smels as they say of pitch and tar, if you will have him to perfume the room with his sea musk. Ile shew him the way iustantly.

I prethee do, and that with expedition.

I did not look thus soon to hear from him.

I fear some strange mishap hath late befaln him.

Now honest friend the news, how fares my brother?

How doth my venter prosper?

Sir, your Ship is taken, all your goods by Pirats seised, your bro­ther prisoner, and of all your venter there's not the value of one penny saved.

That news hath pierc'd my soul, and enter'd me quite through my heart, I am on the sudden sick, sick of I fear a mortal ma­lady; oh, oh.

How is it with my father?

Worse and worse, the news of such a great and weighty loss kils all my vitals in me.

Father, for heavens sake father dye not yet before you have made over your land.

That were a jest indeed, why [...]ather, father?

Trouble me not, if I survive this nig [...], you two shal be my heirs.

This night if it be thy will.

Alass, how fare you Sir?

Take courage father.

Son lead me hence, and bear me to my bed, my strength doth fail, I cannot help my self.

Run, run for the writings, they are ready drawn at the Scrive­ners, bid him bring them quickly with a vengeance.

Let them alone, my hand hath not the strength to guide my pen, let them alone I say, support me to my bed, and my kind neighbors,

Marry heaven forbid, can he find no time to die but now? come let's in, & haunt his ghost about the writings.

'Tis strange the bare report of such a loss should strike a man so deeply to the heart.

I oft have read the like, how some have dyed with sudden joy, some with exceeding grief.

If he should dye Intestate, all the land falls to the elder brother, [Page 41] and the younger have nothing save meer from his curtesie.

I know it, neither lands nor moveables. Come lets hear what further news within.

O my Master, my Master, what shal I do for my poor Master, the kind churl is departed, never did poor hard-hearted wretch part out of the world so like a lamb; alass for my poor usuring, extortioning Master, many an old widdow hast thou turned into the street, and many an orphan made beg their bread; oh my sweet, crul, kind, pittiless, lo­ving, hard hearted Master, he's dead, he's dead, he's gone, he's fled and now full low must lye his head. Oh my sweet, vild, kind flinty, mild, un­charitable master.

Dead on the suddain! 'tis exceeding strange, yet for the eldest son it happens well.

Ill for the younger brother.

Iack.

Will.

The land's gon.

Fathers dead.

We have made a fair hand on't, have we not? who shall fil the glass now, and wait upon our trenchers?

Nay who must go to plough, and make clean the hen-roust, rub horse-heels, lead the wains, remove the billets, clense the shoules, and and indeed who must do all the drudgery about the house?

Could he find no time to dye but now? I could even cry for an­ger: here they come.

My fathers dead.

Alass for my dear husband.

Comfort your self, although he die intestate it shall not hurt you; we have found you kind, and shall be now as willing to requite you, as able: How now brothers, do you weep? and bear a part with us in hea­viness? no, no, your griefs and ours is contrary; I grieve I have lost a father, she a husband, this doth not move you; you lamenting stand, not for a fathers loss, but loss of land: do you remember with what rude de­spight, what base contempt, and slavish contumelie you have despis'd me and my dear lov'd wife.

We partly remember it.

So do not I; I have forgot it quite, in sign whereof, though had you got my lands, heaven knows how ill you would have dealt with me, thus Ile use you receive your patrimony.

No more fellow Phil now, but here receive your proportions.

Your diet if you please is at my table, or where you please if you refuse my kindness.

Kindness unlookt for, thanks gentle brother. Iack, why this gold will never be spent.

Oh it is an easie thing to bring this mountain to a molehil.

[Page 42]

This is more of your curtesie then our deserving, to trouble your table being so many Ordinaries in town, were somwhat superfluous.

Spend but in compass, rioting eschew, waste not, but seek to encrease your patrimony, beware of dice and women; company with men of best desert and qualitie; lay but these words in your hearts inrold, you'l find them better then these bags of gold.

Thanks for your coyn and counsel: Come Iack this shall be la­visht among the suburbs; here [...]s drink mony, dice mony, and drab mo­ny, here's mony by the back, and mony by the belly; here's that shall make us merry in Claret. Muskadine, and Sherrey: farewel, brother.

My most bounteous brother.

Farewel young Masters.

And now my vilde friends, such as fawn on plenty, and cannot bear the very name of want.

We have found the Mine now.

You that disabled once the power of heaven, and scorn'd my state unable to be rais'd.

You see here's your Tale, and your Talesman.

Take heed lest here for your unthankfulness, that once rais'd, doe not remove your estates (God be with you) henceforth howe'r you speed, trust not in riches, and despise not need.

One threescore pound will do't.

Mother, the thirds of all my Fathers lands are yours; with what­soever you like else; and now sweet Sue it glads me I shall make thee partner of all this plenty that borest part with me in all extream neces­sities.

You are all my wealth, nor can I tast of want whilst I keep you; O would these fortunes raise my down cast Father, or repeal my Brother, my banisht brother to his native home, I were in all my thoughts at peace with heaven.

All that I have is theirs; my only sorrow, next to my father, is in part for them, and next for your dear brother tane at Sea, whose losse if he survive we will repair even with the best of our ability; but come unto our fathers burial first, whom though his life brought sorrow, death content, we cannot but with funeral tears lament.

And now no fellows unless it be at footbal.

Heaven being just could not deal longer roughly with one so virtuous and compleatly honest, he merits all he hath, but to my state. I am at once doubly unfortunate, I have lost a husband and a brother [...]oo.

A husband, Sister, but no brother, lo that brother lives.

And can it heaven be so?

You are the cause I live.

[Page 43]

I brother? how? tidings were brought into this place but now your ship was spoyl'd, you prisoner.

And 'twas true, yet all these losses I regain'd by you.

By me?

By you and Sister thus it was; you sav'd the life of a young Gentleman [...] whom for your sake I furnisht out to sea, he when my ship was taken, I surpris'd, and bound, and cast in hold, restor'd my fortunes, and besides all my merchandise restor'd, wherein you bare chief venter, made me sharer of the rich Pirats prize.

That Gentleman!

The self same in whose life you did save your self some thousand pounds, I have as further token of his gratitude, in this choice jewel he commends to you millions of gratulations and kind thanks, besides un­to his Sister store of gold to redeem her wretched husband and her selfe from my deceased brothers slavery, which now I see pale death hath done for them.

You speak of unexspected novelties, with which we will ac­quaint their sorrowful souls; these tokens will be joyful to them both, and tydings of his safety welcomer then that great summe by him re­gain'd at [...]ea.

Scen. 1.

NOW how is't with thee Clinton?

Well, vvell.

But vvas't not bet [...]er vvhen vve raign'd as Lords, nay Kings at Sea, the Ocean vvas our realm, and the light billows in the which we sayl'd our hundreds, nay our shires, and provinces, that brought us an­nual profit, those were daies.

Yes golden daies, but now our last night's come, and we must sleep in darkness.

Worthy mate we have a flash left of some half hour long, that let us burn out bravely, not behind us leave a black noysom snuf of cow­ardise ith' nostrils of our noble countrymen; lets dye no base example.

Thinks Tom wanton, whom storms could never move, tempests daunt, rocks terrifie nor swallowing gulphs affright, to whom the base abysse in roughest rage shew'd like a pleasant Garden in a calm, and the Sea-monsters but like beasts at land of profit or pleasure Clinton can be affrighted with a halter? hemp him strangle that thinks of him so basely.

[Page 44]

In that word thou hast put a second sentence of our lives; yet Clinton never was't my thoughts of thee: oh the naval triumphs thou and I have seen, nay our selves made, when on the seas at once have been as many bonefires as in Towns, kindled upon a night of Jubilee, as many Ordnance thundring in the Clouds as a [...] Kings Coronations, and dead bodies heav'd from the hatches, and cast over-board, as fast and thick as in some common Pest when the Plague sweeps Cities.

That it had swept us then too, so the seas had been to us a glo­rious monument, where now the fates have cast us on the shelf to hang 'twixt air and water.

Gentlemen, your limited hour draws nigh.

I that's the plague we spoke of, yet no greater then some before have tasted, and hereafter many be bound to suffer (and if Purser, as dying men seldom deeme amiss) presage not wrong, how many gallant spirits, equal with us in fame, shall this gulf swallow, and make this sil­ver oare to blush in blood? how many Captains that have aw'd the seas shall fal on this infortunate peece of land? some that commanded Ilands, some to whom the Indian Mines pay'd Tribute, Turk vayl'd: but when we that have quak'd, nay troubled flouds, and made Armadoes fly be­fore our stream, shall founder thus, be split and lost,

What is our Ship wel tackled? we may lanch upon this desperate voyage.

Corded bravely.

Call up the Boatswain, soundly lash the slave with a ropes end; have him unto the Chest, or duck him at the Mainyard.

Have me to the chest, I must first have you to the Gallows, and for Ducking, I'm afraid I shall see you duckt and drakt too.

Oh you brave Navigators that have seen, or ever had your selves command aboard, that knew our Empire there, and our fall now, pitty at least us that are made the scorn of a base common Hangman.

Thou doest ill to offend them in their deaths.

I have, and long to make an end of them.

Hadst thou but two months since wrinkled a brow, look'd but askew, much less unloos'd thy lips to speak, speak said I? nay but lodg'd a thought, or murmur of the least affront to us, thee, basest of all worms meat, I had made unwholsom food for Hadocks: but I ha' done.

Enough Tom Watton, with these sheets not sailes, a stiff gale blows to split us on yo [...] rock.

And set sail from the fatal Marshal seas, and Wapping is our har­bour, [Page 45] a quick sand that shall swallow many a brave Marine souldier, of whose valour, experience, skil, and Naval discipline, being lost, I wish this land may never have need: but what s [...]ar must we sail by? or what compass?

I know not the star, but here's your compass.

Yes that way points the Needle, that way we steer a sad course, plague of the Pilot; hear you Mr. Sherif, you see we wear good clothes, they are payd for, and our own, then give us leave our own amongst our friends to distrib [...]te: There's, Sir, for you.

And you.

The work man made them took never measure on a Hangmans back; wear them for our sakes, and remember us; there's some content for him too.

Thank your worships.

I would your knaveship had our worships place, if hanging now be held so worshipful.

But now our Sun is all setting, night comes on, the watery wil­derness ore which we raign'd, proves in our ruins peaceful, Mr. Chantes trade fearless abroad as in the rivers mouth, and free as in a harbor, then fair Thames, Queen of fresh water, famous through the world, and not the least through us, whose double tides must o'rflow our bodies, and being dead, may thy clear waves our scandals wash away, but keep our valours living; now lead on Clinton, thus arm in arm lets march to death, and wheresoe'r our names are memoriz'd,

A fathers blessing, more then all thy honours crown thee, and make thy fortunes growing stil: Oh heavens I shall be too impor­tunate to ask more earthly favours at your hands; now that you after all these miseries have still reserv'd my son safe and unscorn'd. Besides thy pardon and thy countries freedom, what favours hath her Grace conferr'd on thee?

More then my pardon and the meed propos'd, to grace the re [...]t, she styl'd me with the order of Knighthood, and for the service of my country, with promise of employments of more weight: the Pirats were committed to the Marshalseas, condemn'd already, and this day to dye: and now as part of my neglected dutie, it rests I visit that fair Gen­tlewoman to whom I stand indebted for my life; that necessary duty once perform'd, out of my present fortunes to distribute some present comfort to my Sisters wants.

A grateful friend thou art, a kind dear brother, and a most loving son.

Sir, more then all these fortunes now befaln me, a fate 'midst all disaster unexpected, my noble brothers late success at sea hath fild me with a surplusage of joy, nor am I least of all endear'd to you, to be the first reporter.

'Tis most true, and I the man that in the most distress had first share of his bounty.

Of his goodness we have had sufficient tast already, but to be made more happy in his sight would plenally rejoyce us.

It would prove like surfet after sweet meats.

See all my friends, but rst let me salute her to whom I am most bouud.

My most dear father.

My blessings meeting with a husbands love make thy yeares long and happy.

You are most grateful, and much beyond my merit.

O sp [...]re me, Sir, to [...]y into his arms that hath so long fled from me.

My s [...]eet S [...]ster.

Bar me not all the best frui [...]ion of what in part you have tasted: Sir, I am one amongst the rest that love you.

I take' [...] my Sisters husband, unto me therefore one most intir'd.

Sir the [...]am [...], and I though last in my acknowledge­ment, yet first in due arrear [...]ge.

You I know to be a worthy Merchant and my friend, to whose, next to your sisters [...]urtesie I stand engag'd most for a forfeit life: But he next to the powers divine above, I ever must adore; and now fai [...] [...]reature I dare more boldly look upon the face of your good man then when I saw you last.

And that's some question.

Wherefore hath that word struck you with sudden sadness.

My husband!

He's late dead, and yet hath left her none of the poorest widdows.

Dead did you say, and I a Batchelor, now on whom better or just [...]ier can I confer my self, then to be hers by whom I have my be­ing, and live to her that freely gave me life? there is a providence that prompts t [...]o't, and I will give it motion: Gentle Lady, by you I am, and what I am by you, be then to me as I have stil'd you last, a Lady [...] hea­vens have made you my preserver, to preserve me for your self, loosing a husband, who knows but you have sav'd me to that end, that lost name to recover; and by me sweet enterchange and double gratitude: I left you sped, but find you now d [...]spoyl'd: Married you venter'd for my single life; Widdow'd, by me to gain the name of wife.

[Page 47]

What, pause you at the motion? you are not my Sister if you deny him.

Let me plead for him.

O doubly link me to you, be you stil'd my Brother and my Fa­ther.

With you let my age joyn, and make me proud to say, that in my last of daies, barren of issue, I have got so fair a daughter.

Sweet, your answer.

I yours the same, and Lady now I kisse you by that name.

What kissing already! then I smel another wedding towards, and in no fitter time then now: prepare your selves Gentlemen and Gentlewomen; make a hall; for I come to present you with a Mask.

What Mask?

Not such as Ladies wear upon their faces, to keep the foul from the fair, but a plain Mask, or rather more properly I may call it a Mum­ing, because the presenters have scarce a word to speak for themselves.

If there be any that appear as friends, and come to grace our feast in courtesie, admit 'em prithee.

These two lines shall serve for the Prologue: now enter scena prima, Dramatis personae; these be the Actors, yet let me entreat you not to condemn them before you hear them speak.

Amazement startles me: are these my brothers?

By the Fathers side it should seem; for you know he was a hard man, and it should seem 'tis but a hard world with them.

And these my false friends that distrusted heaven, and put their faith in riches; I pray Gentlemen how comes this change?

How comes this change say you? no chang of pastors, which they say makes fat calves, but change of drink, change of women, change of ordinaries, change of gaming, and one wench in the change [...] all these helpt to make this change in us.

And change is no robbery, I have been robbed, but not at ruffe, yet they that have robbed you see what a poor stock they have left me: A whore stole away my Maidenhead, ill company my good conditions, a broaker robbed me of my apparel, drink of my wits, and dice of my money.

This is no more then expectation: but how come you thus al­tered?

[Page 48]

If you had said hal [...]red, Sir, you had gone more roundly to the business.

Sir, there was coyning laid to my charge, for which (though I acquit my self) I made my estate over unto a friend (for so I thought him) but now he has cosened me, and turned me out of all.

In dead of night my counting house was broak ope by theeves, and all my coyn (which was my whole estate, and god I then did trust in) stole away, I left a forlorn beggar.

O wondrous, why this passes.

It may pass amongst the rest for a scurvey jest, but never like Mother Passes Ale, for that was knighted.

Ale knighted! how I prithee?

You have heard of Ale Knights, therefore it is not improbable that Ale may be knighted.

Thy reason?

Why there is Ale in the town that passes from man to man, from lip to lip, and from nose to nose, but mother Passes double Ale I assure you, Sir-passes, therefore knighted.

Leave trifling, for more serious is the object offered before our eyes: In these heavens justice, in these a most remarkable president to teach within our height to know our selves; of which I make this use; you are my brothers (a name you once disdained to call me by) your wants shal be relieved: you that distrusted heavens providence, and made a mock of want and others misery, no more deride; part of your losse shall be by me supplyed according to my power.

My noble brother, you teach us virtue, of which I could wish all those that see good daies make happy use, so those distrest; for both theres president, but to our present nuptials; reverent Father dear Lady, Sister, Friend, nay brothers too, but you Sir, most conjoyned and endeared.