Scaena Prima.

We will Syr, this way, follow honest Saylors.

Keepe of Sir and beware whom you embrace,

Why flyes your Lordship back?

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See, see, the vertuous Countesse hath bidden our day Good night, her starres are now visible: when was any Lady seene to be so constant in her vow, and able to for­beare the society of men so sinceerely?

Neuer in this world, at least exceeding seldome. What shame it is for men to see women so farre surpasse them: for when was any man knowne (out of iudgement) to performe so staied an abstinēce, from the society ef women.

Neuer in this world.

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What an excellent Creature an honest woman is? I warrant you the Countesse, and her Virgine sister, spend all their times in Contemplation, watching to see the sacred Spectacles of the night, when other Ladies lye drownd in sleepe or sensualitie, Ist not so think'st?

No question.

Come, come, lets forget we are Courtiers, and talke like honestmen, tell truth, and shame all trauay­lers and tradesmen: Thou beleeu'st alls naturall beautie that shewes faire, though the Painter enforce it, and suf­ferst in soule I know for the honorable Ladie.

Can any heart of Adamant not yeeld in com­passion to see spotlesse Innocencie suffer such bitter pen­nance?

A very fitte stocke to graffe on: Tush man thinke what she is, thinke where she liues, thinke on the villanous cunning of these times, Indeed did we liue now in old Saturnes time: when women had no other art, than what Nature taught am (and yet there needes little Art I wisse to teach a woman to dissemble) when Luxurie was vnborne, at least vntaught, the art to steale from a forbid­den tree: when Coaches, when Perwigges, and painting, when Maskes, and Masking: in a word when Court and Courting was vnknowne, an easie mist might then per­happes haue wrought vpon my sence as it does now on the poore Countesse and thine.

O world!

O flesh!

O Diuell!

I tell thee Mugeron, the Flesh is growne so great with the Diuell, as theres but a little Honestie left [...]th world. That, that is, is in Lawyers, they ingrosse all: S'foote what gaue the first fire to the Counts Iea­lousie?

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What but his misconstruction of her honou­rable affection to Uandome.

Honourable affection? first shees an ill huswife of her honour, that puts it vpon construction: but the presumption was violent against her, no speeche but of Vandome, no thought but of his memorie, no myrth but in his companie, besides the free entercourse of Letters, Fa­uours, and other entertainments, too too manifest signes that her heart went hand in hand with her tongue.

Why, was shee not his mistresse?

I, I, a Court tearme, for I wotte what, slight Vandome the Stallion of the Court, her deuoted Seruant, and forsoothe loues her honourablie: Tush, hees a foole that beleeues it: for my part I loue to offende in the better part still, and that is, to iudge charitablie: But now for­soothe to redeeme her Honour, shee must by a laborious and violent kinde of Purgation, Rubbe off the Skinne, to wash out the spotte, Turne her Chamber to a Cell, the Sunne into a Taper, And (as if shee liu'd in another worlde amongst the Antipodes,) make our night her day, and our day her night, that vnder this curtaine, shee may laye his iealousie a sleepe, whiles shee turnes poore Ar­gus to Acteon, and makes his Sheets common to her Ser­uaunt Vandome.

Uandome? Why hee was mette i'th streete but euen now, newly arriv'd after three yeares trauaile.

Newely arriv'd? hee has beene arriv'd this twelue-month, and has euer since lyne close in his mistresse cunning darkenesse, at her seruice.

[...]ye a the Deuill, who will not enuie slaunder? O the miserable condition of her Sexe: borne to liue vn­der all construction. If shee be courteous, shees thought to be wanton: if shee be kinde, shees too willing▪ if coye, too wilfull: if shee be modest: shees a clowne, if shee bee honest, shees a foole: And so is hee.

What Monsieur D'oliue, the onely admy­rer of wit and good words.

Morrowe wits, morrowe good wits: my little parcell of wit, I haue Roddes in pisse for you; how doest Iacke, may I call thee Syr Iack yet?

You may Syr: Syrs as commendable an addi­tion as Iacke, for ought I knowe.

I know it Iacke, and as common too.

Go too, you may couer; wee haue taken notice of your embroydered Beuer:

Looke you: by Heauen tha'art one of the mad­dest bitter slaues in Europe, I doe but wonder how I made shifte to loue thee all this while.

Go too what might such a parcell guilt couer be worth?

Perhappes more then the whole peece be­sides.

Good yfaith, but bytter, O you madde slaues, I thinke you had Satyres, to your syres, yet I must loue you, I must take pleasure in you, and yfaith tell mee, how ist? liue I see you doe, but how? but how? witts?

Faith as you see, like poore younger Bro­thers.

By your wittes?

Nay not turnd Poets neither.

Good soothe: but indeede to say truth, Time was when the sonnes of the Muses had the priuiledge to liue on­lie by their wits, but times are altered, Monopolies are nowe calld in, & wits become a free trade for all sorts to liue by, Lawyers liue by wit and they liue worshipfully: Souldiers liue by wit, and they liue honourably: Panders liue by wit, and they liue honestlie. In a word there are fewe trades but liue by wit, onely bawdes and Midwifes liue by Womens labours, as Fooles and Fidlers do by making myrth, Pages and Parasits by making legges: Paynters and Players by [Page] making mouthes and faces: [...]a doest well wits?

Faith thou followest a figure in thyiests, as coun­ttey Gentlemen followe fashions when they bee worne threed-bare.

Well, well, lets leaue these wit skirmishes, and say when shall we meete?

How thinke you, are we not met now?

Tush man, I meane at my chamber, where we may take free vse of our selues, that is, drinke Sacke, and talke Satyre, and let our wits runne the wilde Goose chase ouer Court and Countrey; I will haue my chamber the Rende-vo [...]s of all good wits, the shoppe of good wordes, the Mint of good lestes, an Ordinary of fine discourse, Critickes, Essayists, Linguists, Poets, and other professors of that facultie of wit, shall at certaine houres [...]th day resort thither, it shall be a second Sorbonne, where all doubts or differences of Learning, Honour, Duellisme, Criticisme, and Poetrie shall be disputed: and how wits, do ye follow the Court still?

Close at heeles sir, and I can tell you, you haue much to aunswere for your starres, that you doe not so too.

As why wits? as why?

VVhy sir, the Court's as twere the stage: and they that haue a good suite of parts and qualities, ought to presse thither to grace them, and receiue their due me­rite.

Tush, let the Court follow me: he that soares too neare the sunne, me [...]ts his wings many times: as I am, I pos­sesse my selfe, I enjoy my libertie, my learning, my wit, as for wealth and honor let am go, Ile not loose my learning to be a Lord, nor my wit to be an Alderman.

Admirable D'oliue.

And what! you stand gazing at this Comet here, and admire it, I dare say.

And do not you?

Not I, I admire nothing but wit.

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But I wonder how she entertaines time in that so­litarie Cell: does she not take Tabacco thinke you?

She does, she does: others make it their Physicke, she makes it her foode: her sister and she take it my turne, first one, then the other, and Vandome ministers to them both.

How sayest thou by that Helene of Greece, the Countesses sister, there were a Paragon Monsieur D'oliue, to admire and marrie too.

Not for me.

No, what acceptions lies against the choise.

Tush, tell me not of choise, if I stood affected that way, I would chuse my wife as men do Valentines, blindfold, or draw cuts for them, for so I shall be sure not to be de­ceiued in choosing: for take this of me, there's ten times more deceipt in women then in Horse-flesh: and I say still, that a prettie well pac'd Chambermaid is the only fashion, if she grow full or ful some, giue her but six pence to buy her a handbasket, and send her the way of all flesh, theres no more but so.

Indeed thats the sauingst way.

O me! what a hell tis for a man to be tied to the continuall charge of a Coach, with the appurtenances, horse, men, and so forth; and then to haue a mans house pestered with a whole countrey of Guests, Groomes, Pan­ders, wayting maides? &c. I carefull to please my wife, she carelesse to displease me, shrewish if she be honest, intolerable if shee be wise, imperious as an Emperesse, all she does must be law, all shee sayes Gospell: O what a pennance tis to endure her, I glad to forbeare still, all to keepe her loyall, and yet perhappes when all's done, my heyre shall be like my Horse-keeper: Fie on't▪, the very thought of marriage were able to coole the hottest liuer in France.

VVell, I durst venture twice the price of your guilt Connies wooll, we shall haue you change your coppy [...]re a twelue moneths day.

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We must haue you dubd ath order thers no re­medie, you that haue vnmarryed, done such honourable seruice in the common-wealth, must needes receyue the honour due [...]oot in marriage.

That hee may doe, and neuer marrie.

As how wits, yfaith as how?

For if hee can prooue his father was free ath or­der, and that hee was his fathers sonne, then by the lauda­ble custome of the Cittie, hee may bee a cuckold by his fa­thers coppie, and neuer serue fort.

Euer good yfaith:

Nay howe can hee pleade that, when [...] ▪is as well knowne his father dyed a batcheler.

Bitter, in verity, bitter. But good still in it kinde.

Goe too, we must haue you follow the lanthorne of your forefathers.

His forefathers? S▪body had hee more fathers then one.

Why this is right: heers wit canuast out ans coate, into's Iacket: the string sounds euer well, that rubs not too much ath frets: I must loue your Wits▪ I must take pleasure in you. Farewell good wits, you know my lodging, make an Errand thether now and than, and saue your ordinarie, doe wits, doe.

Wee shall be troublesome t [...].

O God Syr▪ you wrong me [...], to thinke I can, bee troubled with wit, I loue a good wit, as I loue my selfe, if you neede a brace or two of Crownes at any time Addresse but your Sonnet, it shall bee as sufficient as your bonde at all times, I carrie halfe a score byrdes in a [...]age, shall euer remaine at your call: Farewell wits, farewell good wits.

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Farewell the true mappe of a gull: by Heauen hee shall too'th Court: t'is the perfect model of an impu­dent vpstart: the compound of a Poet, and a Lawyer, hee shall sure too'th Court.

Naye for Gods sake, letts haue no fooles at Court.

Hee shall too't thats certaine, the Duke had a purpose to dispatch some one or other to the French King, to entreat him to send for the bodie of his Neece, which the melancoly Earle of Saint Anne, her husband hath kept so long vnburied, as meaning one graue should entombe himselfe and her together.

A very worthy subiect for an Ambassage, as D'oliue is for an Ambassador Agent, and t'is as sutable to his braine, as his parcell guilt Beuer to his fooles head.

Well it shall goe hard but hee shall bee employd, O tis a most accomplish [...] asse, the mugrill of a Gull, and a villaine, the very essence of his soule is pure villany: The substance of his braine-foolery: one that beleeues nothing from the starres vpward. A Pagan in beleefe, an Epicure beyond beleefe, Prodigious in lust, Prodigall in wastfull expence, in necessary most penurious, his wit is to admire and imitate, his grace is to censure, and detract▪ he shall to'th Court, yfaith hee shall thither, I will shape such em­ployement for him, as that hee himselfe shall haue no lesse contentment, in making myrth to the whole Court, then the Duke and the whole Court shall haue pleasure in en­ioying his presence. A knaue if hee be riche, is fit to make an Officer, As a Foole if hee bee a knaue is fit to make an Intelligencer.

Scena prima.

What an order is this? Eleuen a clooke at night is our Ladies morning, and her houre to rise at, as in the morning it is other Ladies houre: these Tapers are our Sunnes, with which we call her from her bed. But I pray thee Licette what makes the virgin Ladie, my Ladies s [...]ter, breake wind so continually, and sigh so tempestuously, I beleeue shees in loue?

With whom, can you tell?

Not very well, but certes thats her disease, a man may cast her water in her face: The truth is, t'is no matter what she is, for there is little goodnesse in her, I could neuer yet finger one Cardicue of her bountie: And indeed all bountie now adayes is dead amongst Ladies. This same Bonitas is quite put downe amongst am. But see, Now we shall discouer the heauinesse of this virgine Ladie, Ile caues­droppe, and if it be possible, heare who is her Louer: For when this same amorous spirit possesses these young peo­ple, they haue no other subiect to talke of.

O sister, would that matchlesse Earle euer haue wrongd his wife with iealousie?

Neuer.

Good Lord what difference is in men? but such a man as this was euer seen to loue his wife, euen after death so dearely, to liue with her in death? To leaue the world and all his pleasures: all his friends and honours, as all were nothing, now his wife is gone, is it not strange?

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Exceeding strange.

But sister should not the noble man [...]e Chro­nicled if he had right, I pray you sister, should [...] not?

Yes, yes he should.

But did you euer heare of such a Noble gentle­man: did you sister?

I tell you no:

And doe not you delight to heare him spoken of? and pra [...]'d, and honord?

Doe you not Madame?

What should I say? I doe;

Why very well and should not euery woman that loues the Soueraigne honour of her Sexe, delight to heare him pr [...]isd as well as wee?

Good Maddam answere hartely?

Yet againe who eu [...]r heard one talke so?

Let me come in; Sir you myst not enter:

What rude disordred none is that within?

I know not Maddam,

How now;

Whers my Lady?

What hast with you?

Maddame thers one at doore that askes to speake with you, admittes no answere but will enforce his passage to your honor.

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what insolent guest is that?

Maddam her sone hath drawne his rapier on vs and will come in he sayes.

No Maddam, tis too darke.

And keepe the dooresafe: what night­walker' this, that hath not light enough to see his rudenes.

Is it he? is he returnd?

Hast commend me to him tel him I may not no [...] will not see him: for I haue vowd the contrary to all.

Maddam, we told him so a hundred times yet he will enter:

Within: Hold, hold, keepe him back there:

What rudenes what strange insolence is this:

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Deare mistris heareme & forbeare these humors.

Forbeare your vaine disswasions

shall your iudgement?

I will not heare a word.

For her I would be sworne and for her husband,

No, ile be swome

Brother▪

Did you call▪

No 'tis no matter▪

So then:

O will you d [...]e so then▪

you will be secret?

Secret? ist a secret?

What tis no Treason is it?

Treason quorh he?

Well said put in that,

That noble gentleman?

Why [...]s he not?

Nay looke you now,

Why does he pray?

Why no:

Foorth then I pray, you louers are so captious

O with his mind?

I by my soule no more,

I will in sadnes; farewell happy brother.

How happens it, he liud conceald so long,

And will he practise his new state before vs?

Out vpon him, she will not let him kisse her

He will kisse her to doe your parson [...]ight,

See see, he comes,

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This is the man my Lord

It pleaseth your good excellence to say so

What was the point?

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But what was the matter?

Tis no matter be as it wil go to y point I pray,

Pray thee to the point

Was it that set him, and Tobacco first at such hot Enmitle for that nose of his (according to the Puritannick [...]ut] hau­ing a narrow bridge, and this Tobacco: being in drink durst not passe by and finding stopt his narrow passage fled backe as it came and went away in Pett.

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Iust cause of quarrell

But pray thee briefely say what said the weauer

A man of very open note it seemes

MVG: Rome for a speach there. Silence

I am amused, or I am in a qua [...]dari [...] gentlemen [for in good faith I remember not well whether of them was my words]

Tis no matter either of them will serue the turne

Whether I should (as the Poet sayes) eloquar, an siliam? whether by answering a foole I should my selfe seeme no lesse; or by giving way to his winde (for words are but winde) I might betray the cause; to the main­taynance whereof, all true Troya [...]s (from whose race we claime our decent] owe all their patrimonies; and if neede be their dearest blood, and their sweetest breath. I would not be tedious to your highnes:

You are not Sir: Proceede:

TABACCO that excellent plant, the vse where­of [as of fift Element] the world cannot want, is that little shop of Nature, wherein her whole workeman-ship is abridg'd, where you may see Earth-kindled into fier, the fire breath out an exhalation, which entring in at the mouth walkes through the Regions of a mans brayne, driues [Page] out all ill Vapours but it selfe [...]owne all bad Humors by the the mouth which in [...] might breed a Scabbe ouer the whole body if already they haue not; a plant of singular vse, f [...]r▪ on the one side▪ Nature be­ing an Enemie to Va [...]uitie and emp [...]es, and on the other, there beeing so many empty braines in the World as there are, how shall Natures course be continued? How shall thiese empty braines b [...] filled, but with ay [...] Natures immediate instrument to that purpose? If with [...]yre, what so proper as your sume▪ what sume so healthfull as your perfume? what perfume so soueraigne as Tabacco? Be­sides the excellent edge it giues a mans wit, [as they can best iudge that haue beene present at a feast of To­bacco where commonly all good witts are consorted] what varietie of discourse it begetts? What sparkes of wit it yeelds, it is a world to heare [...] as likewise to the cou­rage of a man, for if it be true, that Iohannes de sauo et sauo et writes, that hee that drinkes Veri [...]ice pisseth vi­negere, Then it must needs follow to be as true, that hoe that eates smoke, farts fire; for Garlicke I will not say because it is a plant of our owne country? but it may cure the diseases of the country, but for the diseases of the Court, they are out of the Element of Garlick to medi­cine▪ to conclude as there is no enemy to Tabacco but Garlick, so there is no friend to Garlick, but a sheeps head and so I conclude.

Farewell good Duke and GVEA [...]VIN to thee

How now you foole? out you presumptious [...]ull

What meanes your grace to suffer me abus'd thus

And giue me thine

Farewell againe

Farewell againe to thee

Now go thy ways for an ambassador

Now goe thy wayes for a Duke

Most excellent Lord,

A good cheape proofe of your Nobilitie

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Well sayd my Lord; this Lordship of yours wil worke a mighty alteration in you: do you not feele it begins to worke alreadie?

Fayth onely in this; it makes mee thinke, how they that were my Companions before, shall now be my fauorites: They that were my Friends before, shall now be my followers: They that were my Seruants before, shall now be my knau [...]s: But they that were my Creditors before, shall remaine my Cre­ditors still.

Excellent Lord: Come, will you shew your Lordship in the Presence now?

Faith I do not care, if I go and make a face or two there, or a few gracefull legges; speake a little Italian, and away; there's all a Presence doth require.

Saena prima.

Fayth Madam, my companie may well be spard at so mournefull a visitation: For, by my soule, to see Pigmalion dote vpon a Marble Picture, a senceles Statue, I should laugh and spoyle the Tragedie.

Oh, tis an obiect full of pittie my Lord.

Tis pittie in deed, that any man should loue a woman so constantly.

Bitterly turnd my Lord: we must still admire you.

Tush my Lord, true Manhood can neither mourne nor admire: It's fitt for Women, they can weepe at pleasure, euen to admiration.

But men vse to admire rare things, my Lord,

But this is nothing rare; Tis a vertue common for men to loue their Wiues after death: The value of a good Wife (as all good things else) are better knowne by their want, then by their fruition: for no man loues his Wife so well while she lines, but he loues her ten times better when shee's dead.

This is sound Philosophie, my Lord.

Faith, my Lord, I speake my thoughts; and for mine owne part, I should so ill indure the losse of a Wife (alwayes prouided, I lou'd her) that if I lost her this weeke, I'de haue an­other by the beginning a'th next: And thus resolu'd, I leaue your Highnes to deale with Atropos, for cutting my Ladyes threed: I am for France; all my care is for Followers to Imp out my Traine: I feare I must come to your Grace for a Presse; for I will be followd as becomes an honorable Lord: and that is, like an honest Squire: for with our great Lords, followers abrod, and Hospitalitie at home, are out of date: The world's now growne thriftie: He that fils a whole Page in folio, with his Stile; thinkes it veriest Noble, to be mand with one bare Page and a Pandare; and yet Pandare in auntient time, was the name of an honest Courtier▪ what tis now, Viderit vtilitas: Come Witts, let's to my Chamber.

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But didst note what a presence I came of with-all?

Your Lordship has the right garbe of an excellent Courtier, respects a Clowne, supple ioynted, courtesies a verie peagoose; tis stiffe ham'd audacity that carries it; get once with­in their distance, and you are in their bosoms instantly.

S'hart doe they looke? I should stande aloofe, like a Scholares, & make leggs at their greatnes: No Ile none of that; come vp close to him, giue him a clap a'th shoulder shall make him crie oh againe: it's a tender place to deale withal, and say, Well encounterd noble Brutus.

Thats the onely way indeed to be familiar.

S'foot Ile make leggs to none, vnlesse it be to a Iustice of peace when he speakes in's Chaire, or to a Cunstable when he leanes on's Staffe, thats [...]at: softnes and modestie sauors of the Cart, tis boldnes boldnes does the deed in the Court: and as your Camelion varries all cullours a'th Rainebow both white and red, so must your true Courtier be able to varrie his coun­tenance through all humors; State, Strangnes, Scorne, Mirth, Melanchollie, Flatterie, and so foorth: some cullours likewise his face may change vpon occasion, Blacke or Blew it may, Tawnie it may; but Redd and White at no hand, auoyde that like a Sergeant: keepe your cullour stiffe, vnguiltie of passion or disgrace, not changing White at sight of your Mercer, nor Red at sight of your Surgeon: aboue all sinnes, heauen sheild mee from the sinne of blushing; it does ill in a young Waighting-woman, [Page] but monstrous monstrous, in an old Courtier.

Well, all this while your Lordship forgets your Ambas­sage; you haue giuen out, you will be gone within this moneth, and yet nothing is readie.

Its no matter, let the Moone keepe her course: and yet to say trueth, t'were more then time I were gone, for by heauen I am so haunted with Followers, euerie day new offers of Fol­lowers: But heauen shield me from any more Followers.

How now, whats the newes?

My Lord, heere's two of my speciall Friends, whom I would gladly commend to follow you in the honorable action.

S'foote, my eares are double lockt against Followers, you know my number's full, all places vnder mee are bestowde: Ile out of towne this night tha'ts infallible; Ile no more Follo­wers, a mine honour.

S'light Lord, you must entertaine them, they haue paid me their income, and I haue vndertaken your Lordshippe shall grace them.

Well my Maisters, you might haue come at a time when your entertainement would haue proou'd better then now it is like: but such as it is, vpon the commendation of my Steward here

A pox a your Lor. Steward?

Y'are welcome in a word: deserne and spie out.

Wee humbly thanke your Lordship.

Mugeron, let'am be enterd.

In what rancke my Lord, Gentlemen or Yomen?

Gentlemen, Their bearing berayes no lesse, it goes not alwayes by apparrell: I do alow you to suite your selues anew in my Cullours at your owne charges.

Thanke your good Lordship.

Thy name first, I pray thee?

Cornelius, My Lord.

What profession?

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A Surgeon an't please your Lordship.

I had rather th'hadst been a Barber, for I thinke there wil be little blood-shed amongst my Followers, vnlesse it be of thy letting: Ile see their nailes parde before they goe. And yet now I bethinke my selfe, our Ambassage is into Fraunce, there may be employment for thee: hast thou a Tubbe?

I would be loth, my Lord, to be dislocated or vnfur­nisht of any of my properties.

Thou speak'st like thy selfe Corneliur: booke him downe Gentleman.

Verie well Sir.

Now your profession, I pray?

Fripperie, my Lord, or as some tearme it, Petty Prokery.

An honest man Ile warrant thee, I neuer knew other of thy trade.

I beleeue thee Pettie Broker: canst burne Gold-lace?

I can do anie thing, my Lord, belonging to my trade.

Booke him downe Gentleman, heele do good vpon the voyage I warrant him: prouide thee a Nagge Pettie Bro­ker, thou'l finde employment for him doubt not: keepe thy selfe an honest man, and by our returne I doe not doubt but to see thee a rich Knaue: Farewel Pettie Broker, prepare your selues against the day; this Gentleman shall acquaint you with my Cullours: Farewell Fripper, Farewell Pettie Broker: Deserue and spie out is my Motto.

God continue your Lordship.

And how like you my Chamber good Witts?

Excellent well Sir.

Nay beleeue it, it shall do well (as you will say) when you see't set foorth sutable to my proiect:

Here shall stand my Court Cupbord, with it furniture of Plate: Heere shall runne a Wind Instrument: Heere shall hang my base Vi [...]ll: Heere my Theorbo: and heere will I hang my selfe.

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Twill do admirable well.

What hangd and drawne too?

Good againe: I say I wilbe drawne, all in compleat Satten of some Gourtly cullour, like a Knight of Cupids band; On this side shalbe ranckt Chaires and Stooles, and other such complements of a Chamber: This corner will be a conuenient roome for my Close stoole: I acquaint you with all my priui­ties, you see.

I Sir, we smell your meaning.

Heere shalbe a Peartch for my Parrat, while I remaine vnmarried, I shall haue the lesse misse of my Wife: Heere a Hoope for my Munckie when I am married, my wife will haue the lesse misse of mee: Heere will I haue the statue of some ex­cellent Poet, and I will haue his Nose goe with a Vice (as I haue seene the experience) And that (as if t'had taken cold i'th head,)

For want of a guilt Nightcap.

Bitter still, shall like a Spout runne pure Witt all day long; and it shalbe fedd with a Pipe brought at my charge, from Hel [...]con, ouer the Alpes, and vnder the Sea by the braine of some great Enginer; and I thinke twill do excellent.

No question of that, my Lord.

Well, now Witts about your seueral charges touching my Ambassage: Rhoderique, is my Speach put out to making?

Its almost done.

Tis well, tell him he shall haue fourtie Crownes; pro­misse, promisse; want for no promising: And well remembred, haue I ere a Gentleman Vsher yet; a strange thing, amongst all my followers, not one has witt enough to be a Gentleman Vsher, I must haue one ther's no remedie; Fare-well: haue a care of my Followers, all but my pettie Broker, heele shift for him selfe.

Well, let vs alone for your followers.

Well said, deserne and spie out

Methanke your Lordship.

Heauen I beseech thee, what an abhorninable sort of [Page] Followers haue I put vpon mee: These Courtiers feed on'am with my countenaunce: I can not looke into the Cittie, but one or other makes tender of his good partes to me, either his Language, his Trauaile, his Intelligence, or something: Gen­tlemen send me their younger Sonnes furnisht in compleat, to learne fashions for-sooth; as if the riding of fiue hundred miles, & spending 1000. Crownes would make'am wiser then God meant to make'am. Others with-child with the trauailing hu­mor, as if an Asse for going to Paris, could come home a Cour­ser of Naples: Others are possest with the humor of Gallantrie, fancie it to be the onelie happinesse in this world, to be enabled by such a coolor to carrie a Feather in his Crest, weare Gold­lace, guilt Spurs, & so sets his fortunes ont: Turnes two or three Tenements into Trunckes, and creepes home againe with lesse then a Snayle, not a House to hide his head in: Three hundred of these Gold-finches I haue entertained for my Followers; I can go in no corner, but I meete with some of my Wifflers in their accoutraments; you may heare'am halfe a mile ere they come at you, and smell'am halfe an hower after they are past you; sixe or seauen make a perfect Morrice-daunce; they need no Bells, their Spurs serue their turne: I am ashamd to traine'am abroade, theyle say I carrie a whole Forrest of Feathers with mee, and I should plod afore'am in plaine stuffe, like a writing Schole-maister before his Boyes when they goe a fea­sting: I am afraid of nothing but I shall be Ballated, I and all my Wifflers: But its no matter, I [...]e fashion'am, Ile shew'am fashions: By heauen Ile giue three parts of'am the slipp, let'am looke sort: and yet to say trueth, I shall not need, for if I can but linger my Iorney another moneth, I am sure I shall mute halfe my Feathers; I feele'am begin to weare thinne alreadie: There's not tenne Crownes in twentie a their purses: And by this light, I was told at Court, that my greasie Host of the Por­cupine last Holiday, was got vp to the [...]ares in one of my Fol­lowers Satten suites; And Uandome went so farre, that he swore he saw two of them hangd: My selfe indeed passing yesterday by the Fripperie, spide two of them hang out at a stall with a gambrell thrust from shoulder to shoulder, like a [Page] Sheepe that were new flead: Tis not for nothing that this Pettie Broker followes me; The Vulture smels a pray; not the Carcases, but the Cases of some of my deceassed Followers; S'light, I thinke it were my wisest course, to put tenne poundes in stocke with him, and turne pettie Broker; certainelie there's good to be done vpon' [...]; if we be but a day or two out of towne heele be able to load euerie day a fresh Horse with Satten suites, and send them backe hither: indeed tis like to be hot trauaile, and therefore t'wilbe an case to my Followers to haue their cloathes at home afore'am; Theyle on, get off how they can: Little know they what Pikes their Feathers must passe: Before they goe the Sergeants, when they come home the Surgeons: but chuse them, Ile wash my hands on'am.

Saena prima.

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Oh I wish nothing more then lightning hast.

Pray thee no more of that.

Well then be gone, my Lord, her brother comes.

I am my Lord.

What Countrie man?

Borne i'th Cittie.

But begot i'th Court: I can tell your Lordship, he hath had as good Court breeding, as anie Impe in a Countrie: If your Lordship please to examine him in anie part of the Court Accidence, from a Noune to an Interiection, Ile vnder­take you shall finde him sufficient.

Saist thou so little Witt: Why then Sir, How manie Pronounes be there?

Faith my Lord there are more, but I haue learned but three sorts; the Goade, the Fulham, and the Stop-kater-tre; which are all demonstratiues, for heere they be: There are Relatiues too, but they are nothing without their Antecedents.

Well said, little Witt I'faith, How manie Antecedents are there?

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Faith my Lord, their number is vncertaine; but they that are, are either Squires, or Gentlemen vshers.

Verie well said: when all is done, the Court is the onely Schoole of good education; especially for Pages and Waighting women; Paris, or Padua, or the famous Schoole of England called Winchester, famous (I meane) for the Goose, Where Schollers weare Petticoates so long, till their Penn and Inckhorns k [...]cke against their knees: All these I say, are but Belfries to the Bodie or Schoole of the Court: Hee that would haue his Sonne proceed Doctor in three dayes, let him sende him thither; there's the Porge to fashion all the parts of them: There they shall learne the true vse of their good Partes indeed.

Well my Lord, you haue said well for the Court, What sayes your Lordshippe now to vs Courtiers, Shall we goe the voyage?

My little Hermophrodites, I entertaine you heere into my Chamber; and if need be, nearer: your seruice you know. I will not promise Mountaines, nor assure you Annuities of fourtie or fiftie Crownes; in a word, I will promise nothing: but I will be your good Lord, do you not doubt.

We do not my Lord, but are sure you will shew your selfe Noble: and as you promise vs nothing, so you will Hono­rably keepe promise with vs, and giue vs nothing.

Prettie little Witt, y'faith, Can he verse?

I and sett too, my Lord; Hee's both a Setter and a Verser.

Prettie in faith; but I meane, has he a vaine Naturall?

O my Lord, it comes from him as easelie,

As Suites from a Courtier, without money: or money from a Cittizen without securitie, my Lord.

Wel, I perceiue nature has suited your Witts; & Ile suite you in Guarded c [...]ates, answerable to your Witts: for Witt's as sutable to guarded Goates, as Wisedome is to welted Gownes▪ My other Followers Horse themselues▪ my selfe will horse you. And now tell me (for I will take you into my [...]oson [...]e) What's the opinion of the many headed Best touching my new adition [Page] of Honour?

Some thinke, my Lord, it hath giuen you adition of pride, and outer euidance.

They are deceaued that thinke so: I must confesse, it would make a Foole proude; but for me, I am semper idem.

We beleeue your Lordship.

I finde no alteration in my selfe in the world, for I am sure I am no wiser then I was, when I was no Lord, nor no more bountifull, nor no more honest; onely in respect of my state, I assume a kinde of State; to receiue Suters now, with the Nodd of Nobilitie; not (as before) with the Cappe of courtesie; the knee of Knighthood: And why knee of Knight­hood, little Witte? there's another Question for your Court Accidence.

Because Gentlemen, or Yoemen, or Pessantes, or so, receiue Knighthood on their knees.

The signification of the Knee of Knighthood in Heraldie an't please your Lordship, is, that Knights are tyed in honour to fight vp to the knees in blood, for the defence of faire Ladyes.

Verie good: but if it be so, what honour doe they de­serue, that purchase their Knighthood?

Purchase their Knighthood my Lord? Mary I thinke they come truely by't, for they pay well for't.

You cut mee off by the knees, little Witte: but I say, (if you will heare mee) that if they deserue to be Knighted, that purchase their Knighthood with fighting vp to the knee, What doe they deserue, that purchase their Knighthood with fighting aboue the knee?

Mary my Lord, I say the purchase is good, if the con­ueyance will hold water.

VVhy this is excellent: by heauen twentie poundes annuitie shal not purchase you from my heeles. But foorth now: VVhat is the opinion of the world touching this new Honour of mine? Doe not Fooles enuie it?

No my Lord, but wise men wonder at it: you hauing so buried your wisedome heretofore in Tauerns, and Vaulting­houses, [Page] that the world could neuer discouer you to be capable of Honour.

As though Achilles could hide himselfe vnder a Wo­mans clothes: was he not discouered at first? This Honor is like a Woman, or a Crocadile (chuse you whether) it flies them that follow it; and followes them that flie it: For my selfe, how euer my worth, for the time kept his bedd; yet did I euer pro­phecie to my selfe that it would rise, before the Sun-set of my dayes: I did euer dreame, that this head was borne to beare a breadth, this shoulder to support a State, this face to looke bigg, this bodie to beare a presence, these feete were borne to be reuellers, and these Calues were borne to be Courtiers: In a word, I was borne Noble, and I will die Noblie: neither shall my Nobilitie perish with death; after ages shall re [...]ounde the memorie thereof, while the Sunne sets in the East, or the Moone in the West.

Or the Seuen Starres in the North.

The Siege of Bullaine shall be no more a landmarke for Times: Agencourt Battaile, S. Iames his Fielde, the losse of Calice, & the winning of Cales, shal grow out of vse: Men shal reckon their yeares, Women their mariages, from the day of our Ambassage: As, I was borne, or married two, three, or foure yeares before the great Ambassage. Farmers shall count their Leases from this day, Gentlemen their Morgages from this day: Saint Dennis shall be rac't out of the Kallender, and the day of our Enstalment enterd in redd letters: And as St. Ualen­tines day is fortunate to choose Louers, St. Lukes to choose Husbandes; So shall this day be to the choosing of Lordes: It shall be a Critticall day, a day of Note: In that day it shall be good to quarrell, but not to sight: They that Marrie on that day, shall not repent; marie the morrow after perhappes they may: It shall be holsome to beat a Sergeant on that day: Hee that eates Garlicke on that morning, shall be a rancke Knaue till night.

What a day will this be, if it hold?

Hold▪ S'foote it shall hold, and shall be helde sacred to immortalitie: let all the Chroniclers, Ballet makers, and [Page] Almanackmunger [...], do what they dare.

S'foote (my Lord) al's dasht, your voyage is ouer­throwne.

What ayles the franticke Tro?

The Lady is entoombde, that was the Subiect of your Ambassage: and your Ambassage is beraid.

Dido is dead, and wrapt in lead.

O heauy herse!

Your Lordships honor must waite vpon her.

O scur [...]y verse! Your Lordship's welcome home: pray let's walke your horse my Lord.

A prettie gullery. Why my little wits, doe you beleeue this to be true?

For my part my Lord, I am of opinion you are guld.

And I am of opinion that I am partly guiltie of the same.

Where's this Lord foole here? S'light you haue made a prettie peece of seruice an't: raised vp all the countrey in gold lace and feathers; and now with your long stay, there's no employment for them.

Good still.

S'light I euer tooke thee to be a hammer of the right feather: but I durst haue layed my life, no man could euer haue cramd such a Gudgeon as this downe the throate of thee: To create thee a Christmas Lord, and make thee laughter for the whole Court: I am ashamde of my selfe that euer I chusde such a Grosseblocke to whet my wits on.

Good wityfaith.

I know all this is but a gullery now: But since you haue presumde to go thus farre with me, come what can come to the State, sincke or swimme, Ile be no more a father to it, nor the Duke; nor for the world wade one halfe steppe further in the action.

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But now your Lordship is gone, what shall become of your followers?

Followers? let them follow the Court as I haue done: there let them raise their fortunes: if not, they know the way to the pettie Brokers, there let them shift and hang. Exit cum sui [...].

Here we may strike the Plaudite to our Play, my Lord foole's gone: all our audience will forsake vs.

Page, after, and call him againe.

Let him go: Ile take vp some other foole for the Duke to employ: euery Ordinary affoords fooles enow: and didst not see a paire of Gallants sit not far hence like a couple of Bough­pots to make the roome smell?

Yes, they are gone: But what of them?

Ile presse them to the Court: or if neede [...]e, our Muse is not so barren, but she is able to deuise one tricke or other to retire D'oliue to Court againe.

Indeed thou toldst me how gloriously he apprehen­ded the fauour of a great Lady i [...]h Presence, whose hart (he said) stood a tipto in her eye to looke at him.

Tis well remembred.

O, a Loue-letter from that Ladie would retriue him as sure as death.

It would of mine honor: Weele faine one from her instantly: Page, fetch pen and inke here.

Now do you & your Muse engender: my barren skonce shall prompt something.

Soft then: The Lady I [...]ronime, who I said viewed him so in the Presence, is the Venus that must enamour him: Weele go no further for that. But in what likenesse must he come to the Court to her now? As a Lord he may not: in any other shape he will not.

Then let him come in his owne shape like a gull.

Well, disguisde he shall be: That shall be his mistrisses direction: this shall be my Helicon: and from this quiuer will I draw the shaft that shall wound him.

Come on: how wilt thou begin?

Faith thus: Dearely Beloued.

Ware ho, that's prophane.

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Go to then: Diuine D'oliue: I am sure that's not pro­phane.

Well, forward:

I see in the powre of thy beauties.

Breake of your period, and say, Twas with a sigh.

Content: here's a full pricke stands for a teare too.

So, now take my braine.

Poure it on.

I talke like a foole, but alas thou art wise and silent.

Excellent: And the more wise, the more silent.

That's something common.

So should his mistris be.

That's true indeed: Who breakes way next?

That will I sir: But alas, why art not thou noble, that thou mightst match me in Blood?

Ile answer that for her.

Come on.

But thou art noble, though not by birth, yet by creation.

Thats not amisse: forth now: Thy wit proues thee to be a Lord, thy presence showes it: O that word Presence, has cost me deare.

Well said, because she saw him ith Presence.

O do but say thou lou'st me.

Soft, there's too many OOs.

Not a whit: O's but the next doore to P. And his mistris may vse her O with with modestie: or if thou wilt, Ile stop it with another brachish teare.

No, no, let it runne on.

O do but say thou lou'st me, and yet do not neither, and yet do.

Well said, let that last stand, let him doe in any case: now say thus, do not appeare at Court.

So.

At least in my companie.

Well.

At lest before folkes.

Why so?

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For the flame will breake forth.

Go on: thou doest well.

Where there is fire ith harth:

What then?

There will be smoke ith chimn [...]y.

Forth.

Warme, but burne▪ me not: theres reason in all things.

Well said, now do [...] I vie it: Come to my chamber be­twixt two and three.

A very good number.

But walk not vnder my window: if thou doest, come dis­guisde: in any case we are not thy tu [...]t taffe [...]a [...]loke: if thou doest, thou killest me.

Well said, now to the L'envoye.

Thine, if I were worth ought; and yet such, as it skils not whose I am if I be thine; Ieronime: Now for a fit Pandar to transport i [...], and haue at him.

Scaena prima.

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S'light is hell broke loose? who's there?

A friend.

Sirra leaue your rogerie, and hearken to me: what Page, I say.

Tempt not disasters: take thy life: Be gone.

An excellent villani [...].

Sirra? I haue businesse of waight to impart to your Ladie.

If your businesse be of waight, let it waite till the after noone, for by that time my Ladie will be deliuered of her first sleepe: Be gone, for feare of watery meteors.

Go to sir, leaue your villany, and dispatch this newes to your Ladie.

Is your businesse from your selfe, or from some body besides?

From no body besides my selfe.

Very good; then Ile tel her, here's one besides himselfe has businesse to her from no body.

A perfect yong hempstring.

Peace least he ouer heare you.

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You are not the Constable sir, are you?

Will you dispatch sir? you know me well enough, I am Vandome.

Whats the matter? who's there? Brother Vandome.

Sister?

What tempest driues you hither at such an hower?

VVhy I hope you are not going to bed, I see you are not yet vnready: if euer you will deserue my loue, let it be now, by calling forth my mistris, I haue newes for her, that touch her nearely.

VVhat is [...] good brother?

The worst ofils: would any tongue but mine had bene the messenger.

VVhats that seruant?

O Mistris come downe with all speed possible, and leaue that mournfull cell of yours, Ile shew you another place worthy of your mourning.

Speake man, my heart is armed with a mourning habit of such proofe, that there is none greater without it, to pierce it.

If you please to come downe, Ile impart what I know: if not, Ile leaue you.

I warrant you, proceed.

Now heauen graunt all be well.

Why what man brother? I beleeue my speeches will proue true of him.

To wrong such a beautle, to prophane such vertue, [Page] and to proue disloyall.

Disloyall? nay nero gilde him ore with fine termes, Brother, he is a filthy Lord, and euer was, I did euer say so, I ne­uer knew any good ath haire, I do but wonder how you made shift to loue him, or what you saw in him to entertaine but so much as a peece of a good thought on him.

Good sister forbeare.

Tush sister, b [...]d me not forbeare: a woman may beare, and beare, and be neuer the better thought on neither: I would you had neuer seene the eyes of him, for I know he neuer lou'd you in's life.

Nay let him die, and all such as as he is, he lay a catter­walling not long since: O if it had bene the will of heauen, what a deare blessing had the world had in his ridda [...]ce?

What, that blaberlipt blouse?

Yes by my troth, if she were your cosin a thousand times, shees but a sallow freckld face peece when she is at the best.

Faith the Gentlewoman is a sweete Gentlewoman of her selfe, I must needs giue her her due.

But my cosin presently will tell you all, for she reiects his sute, yet I aduisde her to make a shew she did not. But point to meet him when you might surprise him, and this is iust the houre.

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Gods my life sister, loose not this aduantage, it wil be a good Trumpe to lay in his way vpon any quarrell: Come, you shall got S'bodie will you suffer him to disgrace you in this sort? dispraise your beautie? And I do not think too, but he has bin as bold with your Honor, which aboue all earthly things should be dearest to a woman.

Next to her Beautie.

True, next to her beautie: and I doe not thinke sister, but hee deuiseth slaunders against you, euen in that high kinde.

Infinite, infinite.

And I beleeue I take part with her too: would I knew that yfaith.

Make your account, your share's as deepe as hers: when you see my cosin, sheele tell you all: weele to her pre­sently.

Has she told you, she would tell vs?

Assurde me, on her oath.

S'light I would but know what he can saye I pray you brother tell me.

To what end? twill but stirre your patience.

No I protest: when I know my cariage to be such, as no staine can obscure, his slaunders shall neuer moue me, yet would I faine know what he faines.

It fits not me to play the gossips part [...] w [...]l to my cosin, sheele relate all.

S'light what can she say? pray let's haue a taste an't on­ward.

What can he not say, who being drunke with lust, and surfetting with desire of change, regards not what he sayes: and briefly I will tell you thus much now; Let my melancholy Lady (sayes he) hold on this course till she waste her selfe, and con­sume my reuenew in Tapers, yet this is certaine, that as long as she has that sister of hers at her elbow.

Me? why me? I bid defiance to his foule throate.

Hold there Vandome, now it begins to take.

What can his yellow iealousie surmise against me? if you loue me, let me heare it: I protest it shall not moue me.

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Marry forsooth, you are the shooing horne, he sayes, to draw on, to draw on sister.

The shooing horne with a vengeance? what's his mea­ning in that?

Nay I haue done, my cosin shall tell the rest: come shal we go?

Go? by heauen you bid me to a banquet: sister, resolue your selfe, for you shall go; loose no more time, for you shall a­broade on my life: his licorice chaps are walking by this time: but for heauens sweete hope what meanes he by that shooing horne? As I liue it shall not moue me.

Tell me but this, did you euer breake betwixt my mi­stris and your sister here, and a certaine Lord ith Court?

How? breake?

Go to, you vnderstand me: haue not you a Petrarch in Italian?

Petrarch? yes, what of that?

Well, he sayes you can your good, you may be waiting womā to any dame in Europe: that Petrarch does good offices.

Marry hang him, good offices? S foot how vnderstands he that?

As when any Lady is in priuate courtship with this or that gallant, your Petrarch helpes to entertaine time: you vnder­stand his meaning?

Sister if you resolue to go, so it is: for by heauen your stay shall be no barre to me, Ile go, that's infallible; it had bene as good he had slandered the diuell: shooing horne? O that I were a man for's sake.

But to abuse your person and your beautie too: a grace wherein this part of the world is happie: but I shall offend too much.

Not me, it shall neuer moue me.

But to say, ye had a dull eye, a sharpe nose (the visible markes of a shrow) a drie hand, which is a signe of a bad liuer, as he said you were▪ being toward a husband too: this was in­tolerable.

This strikes it vp to the head.

Indeed he said you drest your head in a pretie strange [Page] fashion [...] but you would dresse your husbands head in a far stran­ger; meaning the Count of saint Anne I thinke.

Gods precious, did he touch mine honor with him?

Faith nothing but that he weares blacke, and sayes tis his mistris colours: and yet he protests that in his eye your face shewes well enough by candle light, for the Count neuer saw it otherwise, vnlesse twere vnder a maske, which indeed he sayes becomes you aboue all things.

Marry is it, there you shall find him at it.

That's enough: let my sister go waste his reuenew in tapers, twill be her owne another day.

Good sister, seruant, if euer there were any loue or res­pect to me in you both.

Sister? there is no loue, nor respect, nor any coniuration, shall stay me: and yet by my part in heauen, Ile not be moued a whit with him: you may retire your selfe to your old coll, and there waste your eyes in teares, your heart in sighes, Ile away certaine.

But soft, let's agree first what course we shal take when we take him.

Marry euen raise the streetes on him, and bring him forth with a flocke of boyes about him, to whoote at him.

No, that were too great a dishonor: Ile put him out on's paine presently.

Nay good sir spare his life, cut of the offending part, and saue the Count.

So now the solemne votary is reuin'd.

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See Mugeron, our counterfait letter hath taken: who's yonder think'st?

Tis not Doliue:

Tis he by heauen, wrapt in his carelesse cloke: See the Duke enters▪ Let him enioy the benefite of the inchan­ted Ring, and stand a while inuisible: at our best oportunitie weele discouer him to the Duke.

Monsieur Vandome, yonders no Lord to be found: my Ladie stayes at hand and craues your speech.

Tell her she mistook the place, and conduct her hither: How will she looke when she findes her expectation mockt now?

What's that, Uandome?

Your wife and sister are comming hither, hoping to take you and my cosin together.

Alas, how shall we appease them, when they see them­selues so deluded?

Let me alone, and stand you off my Lord:

Madame, y'are welcome to the Court: doe you see your Lord [Page] yonder? I haue made him happie by training you forth: In a word, all I said was but a traine to draw you from your vow: Nay, there's no going backe: Come forward and keepe your temper. Sister, cloud not you your forhead: yonder's a Sunne will cleare your beauties I am sure. Now you see the shoo­ing-horne is expounded: all was but a shooing-horne to draw you hither: now shew your selues women, and say no­thing.

Let him alone awhile Uandome: who's there? what whisper you?

Sister, we must forgiue him.

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Now let's discouer our Ambassador, my Lord.

Do so.

My Lord? my Lord Ambassador?

My Lord foole, am I not?

Go to, you are he: you cannot [...]loke your Lordshippe from our knowledge.

Come come: could Achilles hide himselfe vnder a wo­mans clothes? Greatnesse will shine through clouds of any dis­guise.

Who's that Rhoderique?

Monsieur D'oliue, my Lord, st [...]lne hither disguisde, with what minde we know not.

Neuer striue to be gone sir: my Lord, his habite ex­pounds his heart: twere good he were searcht.

Well rookes wel, Ile be no longer a blocke to whet your dull wits on: My Lord, my Lord, you wrong not your selfe onely, but your whole state, to suffer such v [...]cers as these to gather head in your Court▪ neuer looke to haue any action sort to your honor, when you suffer such earewigs to creepe into your eares thus.

What's the matter Rhoderique?

Alas my Lord, only the lightnesse of his braine, because his hopes are lost.

For our parts, we haue bene trustie and secret to him in the whole manage of his ambassage.

Trustie? a plague on you both, there's as much trust in a common whore as in one of you▪ and as for secrecy, there's no more in you then in a profest Scriuener.

Why a Scriuener, Monsiour D'oliue?

Marry sir a man cannot trust him with borrowing so much as poore sortie shillings, but he will haue it Knowne to all men by these presents.

Thats true indeed, but you employed these gentlemen very safely.

Employed? I mary sir, they were the men that first kindled this humor of employment in me: a pox of employment I say: it has cost me, but what it has cost me, it skils not: they haue thrust vpon me a crew of thredbare, vnbutton'd fellowes, [Page] to be my followers: Taylers, Frippers, Brokers, casheerd Clarks, Petrifoggers, and I know not who I: S'light I thinke they haue swept all the bowling allies ith citie for them: and a crew of these, ra [...]t like old ragges out of dunghils by candle light, haue they presented to me in very good fashion, to be gentlemen of my traine, and solde them hope of raising their fortunes by me: A plague on that phrase, Raising of fortunes, it has vndone more men when ten dicing houses? Raise their fortunes with a ven­geance? And a man will play the foole and be a Lord, or be a foole and play the Lord, he shall be sure to want no followers, so there be hope to raise their fortunes. A burning feuer light on you, and all such followers. S'foote they say followers▪ are but shadowes, that follow their Lords no longer then the sunshines on them: but I finde it not so: the sunne is set vpon my employ­ment, and yet I cannot shake off my shadowes; my followers grow to my heeles like kibes, I cannot stir out of doores for am. And your grace haue any employment for followers, pray en­tertaine my companie: theyle spend their bloud in your seruice, for they haue little else to spend, you may soone raise their for­tunes.

Good Monsieur D'oliue.