The bloody brother A tragedy. By B.J.F.

Act II. Scene II.

Enter the Master Cook, Butler, Pantler, Yeoman of the Cellar, with a Iack of Beere and a Dish.

Coo.

A Hot day, a hot day, vengeance hot day boyes•• Give me some drink, this fire's a plaguy fretter••

Body of me, I'm dry still; give me the Iack boy; This woodden Skiffe holds nothing.

Pant.

And faith master, what brave new meats? for here will be old eating.

Coo.

Old and young, boy, let 'em all eat, I have it; I have ballasse for their bellies, if they eate a gods name, Let them have ten tire of teeth a peice, I care not;

But.

But what new rare munition?

Coo.

Pish, a thousand; Ile make you piggs speake French at table, and a fat swan Come sayling out of England with a challenge; Ile make you a dish of calves-feet dance the Canaries, And a consort of cramm'd capons fiddle to 'hem; A calves head speak an Oracle, and a dozen of Larks Rise from the dish, and sing all supper time; Tis nothing boyes: I have framed a fortification Out of Rye paste, which is impregnable, And against that, for two long houres together, Two dozen of marrow-bones shall play continually: For fish, Ile make you a standing lake of white broth, And pikes come ploughing up the plums before them; Arion, like a Dolphin, playing Lachrymae, And brave king Herring with his oyle and onyon Crownd with a Limon pill, his way prepard With his strong Guard of Pilchers.

Pant.

I marry master.

Coo.

All these are nothing: Ile make you a stubble Goose Turne o'th' toe thrice, doe a crosse point presently, And sit downe agen, and cry come eat me: These are for mirth. Now sir, for matter of mourning, Ile bring you in the Lady Loyne of Veale, With the long love she bore the Prince of Orenge.

All.

Thou boy, thou.

Coo.

I have a trick for thee too, And a rare trick, and I have done it for thee.

Yeo.

What's that good master?

Coo.

'Tis a sacrifice.

A full Vine bending, like an Arch, and under The blowne god Bacchus, sitting on a Hogshead, His Altar Beere: before that, a plumpe Vintner Kneeling, and offring incense to his deitie, Which shall be only this, red Sprats and Pilchers.

But.

This when the Table's drawne, to draw the Wine on.

Coo.

Thou hast it right, and then comes thy Song, Butler.

Pant.

This will be admirable.

Yeo.

Oh sir, most admirable.

Coo.

If youle have the pasty speak, 'tis in my power, I have fire enough to work it; come, stand close, And now rehearse the Song, We may be perfect, The drinking Song, and say I were the Brothers.

They sing.

Well have you borne your selves; a red Deare Pye, Boyes, And that no leane one, I bequeath your vertues; What friends hast thou to day? no citizens?

Pant.

Yes father, the old Crew.

Coo.

By the masse true wenches: Sirra, set by a chine of Beefe, and a hot Pasty, And let the Joll of Sturgeon be corrected: And doe you marke sir, stalke me to a Pheasant, And see if you can shoot her in the Sellar.

Pant.

God a mercy Lad, send me thy roaring bottles, And with such Nectar I will see 'em filld•• That all thou speak'st shall be pure Helicon.

Enter Latorche.

Monsieur Latorche? what newes with him? Save you.

Lat.

Save you Master, save you gentlemen, You are casting for this preparation; This joyfull supper for the royall Brothers: I'm glad I have met you fitly, for to your charge My bountifull brave Butler, I must deliver A Bevie of young Lasses, that must looke on This nights solemnity, and see the two Dukes, Or I shall lose my credit; you have Stowage?

But.

For such freight Ile find roome, and be your servant.

Coo.

Bring them, they shal not starve here Ile send'em victuals Shall work you a good turne, though't be tend a yes hence, sir.

Lat.

God-a-mercy noble Master.

Coo.

Nay, Ile do't.

Yeo.

And wine they shal not want, let'em drink like Ducks.

Lat.

What misery it is that minds so royall, And such most honest bounties, as yours are, Should be confind thus to uncertainties.

But.

I, were the State once setled, then we had places.

Yeo.

Then we could shew our selves, and help our friends, sir.

Coo.

I, then there were some savour in't, where now We live between two stooles, every houre ready To tumble on our noses; and for ought we know yet, For all this Supper, ready to fa••t the next day.

Lat.

I would faine speak unto you out of pitie, Out of the love I beare you, out of honesty, For your owne goods; nay, for the generall blessing.

Coo.

And we would as faine heare you, pray goe forward.

Lat

Dare you but think to make your selves up certainties Your places, and your credits ten times doubled, The Princes favour, Rollos.

But.

A sweet Gentleman.

Yeo.

I, and as bountious, if he had his right too.

Coo.

By the masse, a Royall gentleman, indeed Boyes, He`de make the chinmeyes smoake.

Lat.

He would do`t friends, And you too, if he had his right, true Courtiers; What could you want then? dare you?

Coo.

Pray you be short sir.

Lat.

And this my soule upon't, I dare assure you, If you but dare your parts.

Coo.

Dare not mee Monsieur: For I that feare nor fire, nor water, sir, Dare doe enough, a man would think.

Yeo.

Beleev't, sir, But make this good upon us you have promis'd,

You shall not find us flinchers.

Lat.

Then Ile be sudden.

Pant.

What may this mean? and whither would he drive us?

Lat.

And first, for what you must doe, because all danger Shall be apparantly ty'd up and mussell'd, The matter seeming mighty: there's your pardons.

Pant.

Pardons? I'st come to that, gods defend us.

Lat.

And here's five hundred Crownes in bountious earnest, And now behold the matter.

But.

What are these, sir?

Yeo.

And of what nature? to what use?

Lat.

I imagine.

Coo.

Will they kill Rats? they eat my pyes abominably•• Or work upon a woman cold as Christmas: I have an old Jade sticks upon my fingers, May I taste them?

Lat.

Is your will made? And have you said your prayers? for theyle pay you: And now to come up to you, for your knowledge, And for the good you never shall repent you If you be wisemen now.

Coo.

Wise as you will, sir.

Lat.

These must be put then into the severall meats Young Otto loves, by you into his wine, sir, Into his bread by you, Into his linnen. Now if you desire, you have found the meanes To make you, and if you dare not, you have Found your ruine; resolve me ere you goe.

But.

Youle keepe your faith with us.

Lat.

May I no more see light else

Coo.

Why tis done then?

But.

Tis done.

Pant.

Tis done which shall be undone.

Lat.

About it then, farewell, y'are all of one mind.

Coo.

All? All: All: All.

Lat,

Why then all happie.

Exit.

But.

What did wee promise him?

Yeo.

Doe you aske that now?

But.

I would be glad to know what 'tis.

Pan.

Ile tell you. It is to be all villanes, knaves, and traytors.

Coo.

Fine wholsome titles.

Pan.

But if you dare, goe forward.

Co••.

Wee may be hang'd, drawne, and quarter'd.

Pan.

Very true, sir.

Coo.

What a goodly swing I shall give the gallowes? yet I think too, this may be done, and yet wee may be rewarded, not with a rope, but with a royall master: and yet wee may be hang'd too.

Yeo.

Say it were done; who is it done for? is it not for Rollo? And for his right?

Coo.

And yet we may be hang'd too.

But.

Or say he take it, say wee be discover'd? Is not the fame man bound to still protect us? Are we not his?

But.

Sure, he will never fayle us.

Coo.

If he doe, friends, we shall finde that will hold us; And yet me thinks, this prologue to our purpose, These crownes should promise more: tis easily done, As easie as a man would roast an egge, If that be all; for look you, gentlemen, Here stand my broths, my finger slips a little, Downe drops a dose, I stir him with my ladle, And there's a dish for a Duke: ••lla Podrid••. Here stands a bak'd meat, he wan•••• a little seasoning, A foolish mistake; my Spice-box, gentlemen, And put in some of this, the matter •• ended; Dredge you a dish of plovers, there's the Art on't.

Yeo.

Or as I fill my wine.

Coo.

Tis very true, sir. Bl••ssing it with your hand, thus quick and neatly first, tis past And done once, tis as easie For him to thank us for it, and reward us.

Pan.

But tis a•• damnd sinne.

Coo.

O, never feare that. The fire's my play-fellow, and now I am resolvd, boyes.

But.

Why then, have with you.

Yeo.

The same for mee.

Pan.

For mee too.

Coo.

And now no more our worships, but our lordships.

Pan.

Not this yeere, on my knowledge, Ile unlord you.

Exeunt.