A Bottle, a Bottle!

I am out of winde. So, so, are we all here? good men and true stand together, and heare your charge. Hum, hum.

Bottle has something in him. I knew him of a little one.

A very sucking Bottle.

Peace Scrip and Hobbinoll, Toad-stoole draw a little nearer,—you all know—

What doe you know?

Silence neighbour Crab,—which of you all is so wise, as to know what I would say now? [Page 2] why there's it, & yet you will be prating ignorant Pup­pies and a man should knock your braines out— You all know, I say—

I say agen, we know not. Bottle you forget your selfe, you call'd us all ignorant Puppies. But now, and now agen you say we all know.—

—The Prince excuse me, you all know Paris the Prince of Troy.

We know him now, but it was a mysterie for many yeares.

Our young Lord and Master?

Why very good then, and yet I must bee cor­rupted? No, no, Bottle is a drie coxcombe, an emptie foole. Bo'y te'e; make the Prince merrie your selves.

Nay Bottle, sweet Bottle, sweet Bottle; you will never leave this peevish humour Crabbe; come, he is sorrie.

Well, I am sorrie; but will you not give a man leave to speake?

Speake? yes, but then you must not talke and bolt such peremptorie questions, when I mis-call you for your owne good. What is't to me, and the Prince shall take a convenient twig, or drowne himselfe in one of his melancholy fits: I can live, when you have all betaken your selves to Hempe, I can. Only I preferre the publick good before all the world, and and the Prince before that, and my selfe before the Prince, and my wife before my selfe, and your wife neighbour before her: I know what's what. But what's all this? unlesse we be reconciled and perfect­ly divided among our selves. I know you all love me.

I love Bottle with my heart.

But the Prince is another manner of man, though I say't, and every day falls away with a hu­mour of melancholy; if we shall joyne our Panniers, to make him merry with some rare and pleasant de­vice —why; your old friend and Bottle, and so forth. Now let every man speake his opinion freely, as his owne want of discretion shall direct him.

Some new device? there be a thousand new devices, and a man could but remember one on 'em.

Stay some strange shapes Bottle.—Silence, what doe you thinke and wee should all be Fishes?

He sayes well for silence, this must consist of Mutes.

I can play a Mute rarely.

You the Mute? as if no-body could speake but you: you the Mute?

And the river hard by, will serve us rarely to act in.

And when we dance under water, no bodie can see our footing. And you love me, let me be a Whale: oh I can foot it curiously; and I can drinke like a Fish.

No. I doe not like these Water-works. I was in a faire election to be drown'd at the last sheep-shearing; and the Cramp is a thing to be considered. No Water-works.

What doe you say to Birds: a Device of Birds?

Birds? You'll be an Owle too.

I have been taken for one in a tree a hundred times.

No, I have thought of a conceit—dee hear? we scorne fishes, they are dull, phlegmatick things, and your Birds at best are melancholly matters. What doe you think of—

Beasts then: let us all be Beasts Bottle.

Be all Asses will you not? Bou'y tee agen. Play the fooles your selves, doe, and see how the Prince will like it, if Bottle be out. I am a puppy, I? no, no.

Nay, nay, honest Bottle: did you not bid e­very man speak according to his discretion?

I grant you; but is there discretion in a Beast? Let us all play the Beasts quotha? Oh, I could bee as musty as the Prince now; but I am of too sweet a nature to flie out: which makes you presume. Well, now or never, will you be rul'd yet?

Now, and never too, Bottle?

A Bottle, a Bottle. Silence, breake Si­lence.

Why then, I'le make you all Princes or Lords, or something else that shall bee little better: and be­cause we are all Shepheards, wee'll doe a thing pro­per to our callings.

That, that Bottle.

What doe you say? if we act the Tragedie of the golden Fleece?

How? a Tragedy to make the Prince merry?

There's the conceit: if he doe not laugh at e­very man of us, Ile lose my part of the next possit, neighbour.

He cannot choose.

You all remember the story of Jason, that sail'd to Colchos, with Hercules, and a Company of Blades, where he kill'd the Brazen-footed Bulls, and the fierie Dragons.

Let me see, how many Actors are wee?— The number will serve, well let me see, first, who shall doe Hercules in the Lions belly?

Belly?

Why in the Lions skinne, 'tis all one.

Ile doe Hercules.

Let Shrub doe Hercules, he has plaid afore.

I have a Club already, and I know where a terrible Lion is, if any man will but flea off his skin for me: Let me alone.

A Shrub a Hercules.

Who shall do Lady Medea the Kings daugh­ter, that fell in love with Jason, and bewitched the Dragon?

I'le doe the Lady, and the Kings daughter, and for a Witch I am right by the mothers side.

His very voice will conjure.

Who playes Jason my sweet-heart?

Is Jason a man or a woman?

Jason is a Kings sonne, and Captaine of a ship call'd Argo.

For a Prince or an Emperour, I know where a choice might be made. But I have no heart to the Captaine.

Your reason neighbour Crab.

I know not which limbe I can best spare, and Carpenters makes but scurvie legges. At Foot­ball, or Fifty-Cuffes, I feare no Prince under the Moon.

You fight against no bodie but Bulls, and fiery Dragons.

Doe I not?

And they must bee all fast asleep when you kill 'em; Nay, Hercules himselfe must take your part too.

Nay then let me alone.

Now my Masters, who shall doe the Dragon?

Is it a he, or a she Dragon?

No matter which.

What doe you think of my wife? she'll do't. She does the Dragon at home, 'twod do a mans heart good to be out of the house; no body is able to endure her; shee is a flying Dragon, and will fit yon rarely—

We wo'not be troubled with women; and you'll do't your self; well and good.

Rather then the play shall not goe forward my wife shall teach me my part.

Doe you meane I shall have no part? Shall Hobbinoll play nothing? Clout has no part neither.

You shall be Medeas Brother, Absirtus, a little childe.

I shall bee too tall.

You must be cut a peeces, and have your limbs throwne about the waves.

And when your legges, and your head are [Page 7] cut off, you will be no bigger then a childe: wee'll take a course to make you little enough. And Clout, doe you see? you shall be the ship, hung all round about with Flags, and fine things, we cannot come to Colchos without you.

Shall I play the Ship? let me alone to carrie my body swimming.

Have a care you doe not leake before the Prince; and bee sure to carry a good winde in your Poop-Clout. But stay, all this while, who shall doe the golden Fleece? Bottle, you forget that?

The chiefe part in the Play, and one that must weare the best cloathes too.

Why let some body else doe Jason, and Ile doe the golden Fleece.

Or I.

Or I.

Or any body—Or what if we left out the golden Fleece?

What if you left out the play? the golden Fleece out? why 'tis the name, and the onely rich thing in the Play.

Why then leave out the Ship.

Yes, and goe by land to Colchos. May not some­body doe two parts. Let Scrip doe the Dragon and the Kings daughter.

Or leave out the little boy; he has but a small part.

Ile be cut in pieces a hundred times first, leave out Hercules and you will, or Jason: if I doe not fit you Crab.

Why Hercules, left out, good-man Hobbinoll?

No mutiny Shrub, neighbour Crab.

So so, we shall have a Tragedy indeed; have a care of the Kings daughter among you. Hold, they'll teare Clout all to peeces, Have a care of the Ship.

Sinke or swim, I care not.

Oh my Ribs!

He that gives the next blow shall lose his share, if he be not turn'd out of the Company. What my Masters, you shal not fall out about this golden Fleece: I kept that part for my selfe I warrant you; you shall not fall out about sharing: I am resolved the golden Fleece is mine, as I am the best Actor, and Master of the Company.

Bottle indeed had no part before: So, so, then we are all friends, and fitted.

When shall we have out parts? oh Bottle how I thirst! when our parts?

Part? why you must doe it instantly, the Prince stayes for't.

How? the Lion is to be kill'd, whose skin I must weare when I play Hercules.

Doe you thinke, I can doe the ship, and have not halfe my [...]acklings about me?

And I have not practised to spit fire yet.

I knew what a company of sots you would be. You'll be Hercules, and you'll be a Whale, and you'll be a Ship, and you'll be a Dragon, and you will be a Lady. You Actors? you Animals, to undertake a Play, and aske when you shall have your parts; Oh I am asham'd! but there is no remedy, with [Page 9] such dull capacities: do you remember the Antick Dance, I taught you last? that shall serve for this time. The Prince Keeps his old walke: be sure to be within reach of my voice, when I call you. Get be­hinde the trees; I spy him.

So ho, ho, ho.

So ho, ho, ho.

So ho, ho, ho.

I thought we had lost you: why how now? still in [Page 10] this humour? will your highnesse never be a Change­ling? De'e heare Sir; I met your your Nurse at the bottome of the Hill.

What Nurse?

The charitable Beare that gave you suck; for though you be a Prince borne, your Parents would not be at the charge to bring you up at Court; Mistris Ursula, and I, have have been the best friends to your bloud Roiall.

I prethee leave me.

Leave my young Prince in a wood? A word to the wise—are not you in love?

In love? with what?

Nay, I doe not know what wilde beast hath entangled you: but I have a shrewd suspition; for thus simply did I look by all report, when I was in love too, it had almost undone me, for it infected me with Poetrie; and I grew witty to the admiration of all the Owles in Ida.

You shall heare my Verses.

And so forth. But I thank my dutifull father, hee cur'd me with a Flaile, and most learnedly thresh'd blinde Cupid out of my sides. I had been no Bottle of this world else.

If thou dost love mee, doe not interrupt me, I would be private.

I would be loath to be unmannerly, and hin­der a Princely recreation: but I see no temptations, nothing in the likenesse of a Petticote. What would you be private for?

I have some serious thoughts to examine, if thou wilt use thy diligence to keep off those that rudely would disturbe my present retirement: trust me, Ile reward thy care with my best weather.

Weather? You are wise; doe you think, Sir, I have so little honesty, to be Sir Pandarus to your Melancholy. Illo, ho.—

What, art thou mad?

You are little better: if you can get their consent.

Whose consent?

Hobinoll, Crab, Toad-stoole,— Illo ho, boyes. Some friends of yours, that sent me to hunt out your Highnesse, your humble Subjects and Play-fellowes, that have a minde to be merrie.—To tell you true, we have taken notice of your sullen disposition; and therefore halfe a dozen, have penn'd a dance to [Page 12] revile your spirits. Simple as I appeare, my head had a hand in it. If you doe heare an Oration over and above, by way of a preparative to the Physick we intend, so. I name no body: all the Shepheards wit is not a wool-gathering. Therefore stir not my deare Prince, as you will answer the contempt of our autho­rity at your perill.

Hold thou unlearned Bag-pipe: for now I am to act a Speech unto the sonne of Priam. Hum, hum.

Humbly I attend.

Juno and Pallas promise gallantly.

The goddesse of vexation we allow thee.

I pitie the fond youth.

They are both gone.

Displeased.

That name belongs to me.

You both make Paris happy.

Mother they both appeare.

Now let us dance, these pleasures are not active.

Which way.

Wee'll flye, and overtake the happy houres.