The workes of Beniamin Ionson

Act IIII. (Book 4)

Scene I.

TRVE-WIT, CLERIMONT, DAVPHINE.

WAs there euer poore bride-groome so tormented? or man indeed?

CLE.

I haue not read of the like, in the chronicles of the land.

TRV.

Sure, hee cannot but goe to a place of rest, after all this purgatorie.

CLE.

He may presume it, I thinke.

TRV.

The spitting, the coughing, the laughter, the neesing, the far∣ting, dauncing, noise of the musique, and her masculine, and lowd com∣manding, and vrging the whole family, makes him thinke he has married a furie.

CLE.

And shee carries it vp brauely.

TRV.

I, shee takes any occasion to speake: that's the height on't.

CLE.

And how soberly DAVPHINE labours to satisfie him, that it was none of his plot!

TRV.

And has almost brought him to the faith, i' the article. Here he comes. Where is he now? what's become of him, DAVPHINE?

DAV.

O, hold me vp a little, I shall goe away i' the iest else. Hee has got on his whole nest of night-caps, and lock'd himselfe vp, i' the top o' the house, as high, as euer he can climbe from the noise. I peep'd in at a crany, and saw him fitting ouer a crosse-beame o' the roofe, like him o' the sadlers horse in Fleetstreet, vp-right: and he will sleepe there.

CLE.

But where are your collegiates?

DAV.

With-drawne with the bride in priuate.

TRV.

O, they are instructing her i' the colledge-Grammar. If shee haue grace with them, shee knowes all their secrets instantly.

CLE.

Methinks, the lady HAVGHTY lookes well to day, for all my dispraise of her i' the morning. I thinke, I shall come about to thee againe, TRVE-WIT.

TRV.

Beleeue it, I told you right. Women ought to repaire the losses, time and yeeres haue made i' their features, with dressings. And an intel∣ligent woman, if shee know by her selfe the least defect, will bee most cu∣rious, to hide it: and it becomes her. If shee be short, let her sit much, lest when shee stands, shee be thought to sit. If shee haue an ill foot, let her weare her gowne the longer, and her shoo the thinner. If a fat hand, and scald nailes, let her carue the lesse, and act in gloues. If a sowre breath, let

her neuer discourse fasting: and alwaies talke at her distance. If shee haue black and rugged teeth, let her offer the lesse at laughter, especially if shee laugh wide, and open.

CLE.

O, you shall haue some women, when they laugh, you would thinke they bray'd, it is so rude, and —

TRV.

I, and others, that will stalke i' their gait like an Estrich, and take huge strides. I cannot endure such a sight. I loue measure i' the feet, and number i' the voice: they are gentlenesses, that oft-times draw no lesse then the face.

DAV.

How cam'st thou to studie these creatures so exactly? I would thou would'st make me a proficient.

TRV.

Yes, but you must leaue to liue i'your chamber then a month to∣gether vpon AMADIS de Gaule, or Don QVIXOTE, as you are wont; and come abroad where the matter is frequent, to court, to tiltings, publique showes, and feasts, to playes, and church sometimes: thither they come to shew their new tyres too, to see, and to be seene. In these places a man shall find whom to loue, whom to play with, whom to touch once, whom to hold euer. The varietie arrests his iudgement. A wench to please a man comes not downe dropping from the seeling, as he lyes on his backe dro∣ning a tobacco pipe. He must goe where shee is.

DAV.

Yes, and be neuer the neere.

TRV.

Out heretique. That diffidence makes thee worthy it should bee so.

CLE.

He sayes true to you, DAVPHINE.

DAV.

Why?

TRV.

A man should not doubt to ouer-come any woman. Thinke he can vanquish 'hem, and he shall: for though they denie, their desire is to be tempted. PENELOPE her selfe cannot hold out long. Ostend, you saw, was taken at last. You must perseuer, and hold to your purpose. They would sollicite vs, but that they are afraid. Howsoeuer, they wish in their hearts we should sollicite them. Praise 'hem, flatter 'hem, you shal neuer want eloquence, or trust: euen the chastest delight to feele them∣selues that way rub'd. With praises you must mixe kisses too. If they take them, they'll take more. Though they striue, they would bee o∣uer-come.

CLE.

O, but a man must beware of force.

TRV.

It is to them an acceptable violence, and has oft-times the place of the greatest courtesie. Shee that might haue beene forc'd, and you let her goe free without touching, though shee then seeme to thanke you, will euer hate you after: and glad i' the face, is assuredly sad at the heart.

CLE.

But all women are not to be taken alwaies.

TRV.

'Tis true. No more then all birds, or all fishes. If you appeare learned to an ignorant wench, or iocund to a sad, or witty to a foolish, why shee presently begins to mistrust her selfe. You must approch them i' their owne height, their owne line: for the contrary makes many that feare to

commit themselues to noble and worthy fellowes, run into the imbraces of a rascall. If shee loue wit, giue verses, though you borrow 'hem of a friend, or buy 'hem, to haue good. If valour, talke of your sword, and be frequent in the mention of quarrels, though you be staunch in fighting. If actiuitie, be seene o' your barbary often, or leaping ouer stooles, for the credit of your back. If shee loue good clothes or dressing, haue your lear∣ned counsell about you euery morning, your french taylor, barber, lin∣nener, &c. Let your poulder, your glasse, and your combe, be your dearest acquaintance. Take more care for the ornament of your head, then the safetie: and wish the common-wealth rather troubled, then a haire about you. That will take her. Then if shee be couetous and crauing, doe you promise any thing, and performe sparingly: so shall you keepe her in ap∣petite still. Seeme as you would giue, but be like a barren field that yeelds little, or vnlucky dice, to foolish, and hoping gamesters. Let your gifts be slight, and daintie, rather then pretious. Let cunning be aboue cost. Giue cherries at time of yeere, or apricots; and say they were sent you out o' the countrey, though you bought 'hem in Cheap-side. Admire her tyres; like her in all fashions; compare her in euery habit to some deitie; inuent excellent dreames to slatter her, and riddles; or, if shee bee a great one, performe alwaies the second parts to her: like what shee likes, praise whom she praises, and faile not to make the houshold and seruants yours, yea the whole family, and salute 'hem by their names: ('tis but light cost if you can purchase 'hem so) and make her physitian your pensioner, and her chiefe woman. Nor will it bee out of your gaine to make loue to her too, so shee follow, no vsher, her ladies pleasure. All blabbing is taken a∣way, when shee comes to be a part of the crime.

DAV.

On what courtly lap hast thou late slept, to come forth so sud∣den and absolute a courtling?

TRV.

Good faith, I should rather question you, that are so harkning after these mysteries. I begin to suspect your diligence. DAVPHINE. Speake, art thou in loue in earnest?

DAV.

Yes by my troth am I: 'twere ill dissembling before thee.

TRV.

With which of 'hem, I pray thee?

DAV.

With all the collegiates.

CLE.

Out on thee. Wee'll keepe you at home, beleeue it, i' the stable, and you be such a stallion.

TRV.

No. I like him well. Men should loue wisely, and all women: some one for the face, and let her please the eye; another for the skin, and let her please the touch; a third for the voice, and let her please the eare; and where the obiects mixe, let the senses so too. Thou wouldst thinke it strange, if I should make 'hem all in loue with thee afore night!

DAV.

I would say thou had'st the best philtre i' the world, and couldst doe more then madame MEDEA, or Doctor FOREMAN.

TRV.

If I doe not, let me play the mounte-banke for my meate while I liue, and the bawd for my drinke.

DAV.

So be it, I say.

Act IIII. Scene II.

OTTER, CLERIMONT, DAW, DAVPHINE, MOROSE, TRVE-WIT, LA-FOOLE, M^rs. OTTER.

O Lord, gentlemen, how my knights and I haue mist you here!

CLE.

Why, Captaine, what seruice? what seruice?

OTT.

To see me bring vp my bull, beare, and horse to fight.

DAW.

Yes faith, the Captaine saies we shall be his dogs to baite 'hem.

DAV.

A good imployment.

TRV.

Come on, let's see a course then.

LA-F.

I am afraid my cousin will be offended if shee come.

OTT.

Be afraid of nothing. Gentlemen, I haue plac'd the drum and the trumpets, and one to giue 'hem the signe when you are ready. Here's my bull for my selfe, and my beare for sir IOHN DAW, and my horse for sir AMOROVS. Now set your foot to mine, and yours to his, and —

LA-F.

Pray god my cousin come not.

OTT.

Saint GEORGE, and saint ANDREW, feare no cousins. Come, sound, sound. Et rauco strepuerunt cornua cantu.

TRV.

Well said, Captaine, yfaith: well fought at the bull.

CLE.

Well held at the beare.

TRV.

Low, low, Captayne.

DAV.

O, the horse has kickt off his dog alreadie.

LA-F.

I cannot drinke it, as I am a Knight.

TRV.

Gods so, off with his spurres, some-body.

LA-F.

It goes againe my conscience. My cousin will bee angrie with it.

DAW.

I ha' done mine.

TRV.

You fought high and faire, sir IOHN.

CLE.

At the head.

DAV.

Like an excellent beare-dog.

CLE.

You take no notice of the businesse, I hope.

DAW.

Not a word, sir, you see we are iouiall.

OTT.

Sir AMOROVS, you must not aequiuocate. It must bee pull'd downe, for all my cousin.

CLE.

Sfoot, if you take not your drinke, they'll thinke you are dis∣contented wit some thing: you'll betray all, if you take the least notice.

LA-F.

Not I, I'll both drinke, and talke then.

OTT.

You must pull the horse on his knees, sir AMOROVS: feare no cousins. Iacta est alea.

TRV.

O, now hee's in his vaine, and bold. The least hint giuen him of his wife now, will make him raile desperately.

CLE.

Speake to him of her.

TRV.

Doe you, and I'll fetch her to the hearing of it.

DAV.

Captaine hee-OTTER, your shee-OTTER is comming, your wife.

OTT.

Wife! Buz. Titiuilitium. There's no such thing in nature. I confesse, gentlemen, I haue a cook, a laundresse, a house-drudge, that serues my necessary turnes, and goes vnder that title: But hee's an asse that will be so vxorious, to tie his affections to one circle. Come, the name dulls appetite. Here, replenish againe: another bout. Wiues are nasty sluttish animalls.

DAV.

O, Captaine.

OTT.

As euer the earth bare, tribus verbis. Where's master TRVE-WIT?

DAW.

Hee's slipt aside, sir.

CLE.

But you must drinke, and be iouiall.

DAW.

Yes, giue it me.

LA-F.

And me, too.

DAW.

Let's be iouiall.

LA-F.

As iouiall as you will.

OTT.

Agreed. Now you shall ha' the beare, cousin, and sir IOHN DAW the horse, and I'll ha' the bull still. Sound Tritons o' the Thames. Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero—

MOR.

Morose speakes from aboue: the trumpets sounding.

Villaines, murderers, sonnes of the earth, and traitors, what doe you there?

CLE.

O, now the trumpets haue wak'd him, we shall haue his com∣panie.

OTT.

A wife is a sciruy clogdogdo; an vnlucky thing, a very foresaid beare-whelpe, without any good fashion or breeding: mala bestia.

DAV.

His wife is brought out to beare him.

Why did you marry one then, Captaine?

OTT.

A poxe—I married with sixe thousand pound, I▪ I was in loue with that. I ha' not kist my furie, these fortie weekes.

CLE.

The more to blame you, Captaine.

TRV.

Nay, mistris OTTER, heare him a little first.

OTT.

Shee has a breath worse then my grand-mothers, profecto.

M^rs. OT.

O treacherous lyar. Kisse mee, sweet master TRVE-WIT, and proue him a slaundering knaue.

TRV.

I'll rather beleeue you, lady.

OTT.

And shee has a perruke, that's like a pound of hempe, made vp in shoo-thrids.

M^rs. OT.

O viper, mandrake!

OTT.

A most vile face! and yet shee spends me fortie pound a yeere in mercury, and hogs-bones. All her teeth were made i' the Blacke-Friers: both her eye-browes i' the Strand, and her haire in Siluer-street. Euery part o' the towne ownes a peece of her.

M^rs. OT.

I cannot hold.

OTT.

She takes her selfe asunder still when she goes to bed, into some

twentie boxes; and about next day noone is put together againe, like a great Germane clocke: and so comes forth and rings a tedious larum to the whole house, and then is quiet againe for an houre, but for her quar∣ters. Ha' you done me right, gentlemen?

M^rs. OT.

Shee falls vpon him and beates him.

No, sir, I'll do you right with my quarters, with my quarters.

OTT.

O, hold, good Princesse.

TRV.

Sound, sound.

CLE.

A battell, a battell.

M^rs. OT.

You notorious stinkardly beareward, do's my breath smell?

OTT.

Vnder correction, deare Princesse: looke to my beare, and my horse, gentlemen.

M^rs. OT.

Doe I want teeth, and eye-browes, thou bull-dog?

TRV.

Sound, sound still.

OTT.

No, I protest, vnder correction—

M^rs. OT.

I, now you are vnder correction, you protest: but you did not protest before correction, sir. Thou IVDAS, to offer to betray thy Princesse! I'll make thee an example—

MOR.

Morose descends with a long sword.

I will haue no such examples in my house, lady OTTER.

M^rs. OT.

Ah—

MOR.

M^rs. MARY AMBREE, your examples are dangerous. Rogues, Hell-hounds, Stentors, out of my dores, you sonnes of noise and tumult, begot on an ill May-day, or when the Gally-foist is a-floate to Westminster! A trumpetter could not be conceiu'd, but then!

DAV.

What ailes you, sir?

MOR.

They haue rent my roofe, walls, and all my windores asunder, with their brazen throates.

TRV.

Best follow him, DAVPHINE.

DAV.

So I will.

CLE.

Where's DAW, and LA-FOOLE?

OTT.

They are both run away, sir. Good gentlemen, helpe to paci∣fie my Princesse, and speake to the great ladies for me. Now must I goe lie with the beares this fortnight, and keepe out o' the way, till my peace be made, for this scandale shee has taken. Did you not see my bull-head, gentlemen?

CLE.

Is't not on, Captayne?

TRV.

No: but he may make a new one, by that, is on.

OTT.

O, here 'tis. And you come ouer, gentlemen, and aske for TOM OTTER, wee'll goe downe to Rat••liffe, and haue a course ysaith: for all these disasters. There's bona spes left.

TRV.

Away, Captaine, get off while you are well.

CLE.

I am glad we are rid of him.

TRV.

You had neuer beene, vnlesse wee had put his wife vpon him. His humour is as tedious at last, as it was ridiculous at first.

Act IIII. Scene III.

HAVGHTY, M^rs. OTTER, MAVIS, DAW, LA-FOOLE, CENTAVRE, EPICOENE, TRVE∣WIT, CLERIMONT.

WE wondred why you shreek'd so, M^rs. OTTER.

M^rs. OT.

O god, madame, he came downe with a huge long naked weapon in both his hands, and look'd so dread∣fully! Sure, hee's beside himselfe.

MAV.

Why what made you there, mistris OTTER?

M^rs. OT.

Alas, mistris MAVIS, I was chastising my subiect, and thought nothing of him.

DAW.

Faith, mistris, you must doe so too. Learne to chastise. Mi∣stris OTTER corrects her husband so, hee dares not speake, but vnder correction.

LA-F.

And with his hat off to her: 'twould doe you good to see.

HAV.

In sadnesse 'tis good, and mature counsell: practise it, MO∣ROSE. I'll call you MOROSE still now, as I call CENTAVRE, and MAVIS: we foure will be all one.

CEN.

And you'll come to the colledge, and liue with vs?

HAV.

Make him giue milke, and hony.

MAV.

Looke how you manage him at first, you shall haue him e∣uer after.

CEN.

Let him allow you your coach, and foure horses, your woman, your chamber-maid, your page, your gentleman-vsher, your french cooke, and foure groomes.

HAV.

And goe with vs, to Bed'lem, to the China houses, and to the Exchange.

CEN.

It will open the gate to your fame.

HAV.

Here's CENTAVRE has immortaliz'd her selfe, with taming of her wilde male.

MAV.

I, shee has done the miracle of the kingdome.

EPI.

But ladies, doe you count it lawfull to haue such pluralitie of seruants, and doe 'hem all graces?

HAV.

Why not? why should women denie their fauours to men? Are they the poorer, or the worse?

DAW.

Is the Thames the lesse for the dyers water, mistris?

LA-F.

Or a torch, for lighting many torches?

TRV.

Well said, LA-FOOLE; what a new one he has got?

CEN.

They are emptie losses, women feare, in this kind.

HAV.

Besides, ladies should be mindfull of the approach of age, and let no time want his due vse. The best of our daies passe first.

MAV.

We are riuers, that cannot be call'd backe, madame: shee that

now excludes her louers, may liue to lie a forsaken beldame, in a fro∣zen bed.

CEN.

'Tis true, MAVIS: and who will wait on vs to coach then? or write, or tell vs the newes then? Make anagrammes of our names, and in∣uite vs to the cock-pit, and kisse our hands all the play-time, and draw their weapons for our honors?

HAV.

Not one.

DAW.

Nay, my mistris is not altogether vn-intelligent of these things; here be in presence haue tasted of her fauours.

CLE.

What a neighing hobby-horse is this!

EPI.

But not with intent to boast 'hem againe, seruant. And haue you those excellent receits, madame, to keepe your selues from bearing of children?

HAV.

O yes, MOROSE. How should we maintayne our youth and beautie, else? Many births of a woman make her old, as many crops make the earth barren.

Act IIII. Scene IIII.

MOROSE, DAVPHINE, TRVE-WIT, EPICOENE, CLERIMONT, DAW, HAVGHTY, LA-FOOLE, CENTAVRE, MAVIS, M^rs. OTTER, TRVSTY.

O My cursed angell, that instructed me to this fate!

DAV.

Why, sir?

MOR.

That I should bee seduc'd by so foolish a deuill, as a barber will make!

DAV.

I would I had beene worthy, sir, to haue partaken your coun∣sell, you should neuer haue trusted it to such a minister.

MOR.

Would I could redeeme it with the losse of an eye (nephew) a hand, or any other member.

DAV.

Mary, god forbid, sir, that you should geld your selfe, to an∣ger your wife.

MOR.

So it would rid me of her! and, that I did supererogatorie pe∣nance, in a bellfry, at Westminster-hall, i' the cock-pit, at the fall of a stagge; the tower-whar••e (what place is there else?) London-bridge, Paris-gar∣den, Belins-gate, when the noises are at their height and lowdest. Nay, I would sit out a play, that were nothing but fights at sea, drum, trumpet, and target!

DAV.

I hope there shall be no such need, sir. Take patience, good vncle. This is but a day, and 'tis well worne too now.

MOR.

O, 'twill bee so for euer, nephew, I foresee it, for euer. Strife and tumult are the dowrie that comes with a wife.

TRV.

I told you so, sir, and you would not beleeue me.

MOR.

Alas, doe not rub those wounds, master TRVE-WI••, to bloud againe: 'twas my negligence. Adde not affliction to affliction. I haue per∣ceiu'd the effect of it, too late, in madamme OTTER.

EPI.

How doe you, sir?

MOR.

Did you euer heare a more vnnecessary question? as if she did not see! Why, I doe as you see, Empresse, Empresse.

EPI.

You are not well, sir! you looke very ill! something has distem∣pered you.

MOR.

O horrible, monstrous impertinencies! would not one of these haue seru'd? doe you thinke, sir? would not one of these haue seru'd?

TRV.

Yes, sir, but these are but notes of female kindnesse, sir: cer∣taine tokens that shee has a voice, sir.

MOR.

O, is't so? come, and 't be no otherwise—what say you?

EPI.

How doe you feele your selfe, sir?

MOR.

Againe, that!

TRV.

Nay, looke you, sir: you would be friends with your wife vp∣on vn-conscionable termes, her silence—

EPI.

They say you are run mad, sir.

MOR.

Not for loue, I assure you, of you; doe you see?

EPI.

O lord, gentlemen! Lay hold on him for gods sake: what shal I doe? who's his physitian (can you tel) that knowes the state of his body best, that I might send for him? Good sir, speake. I'll send for one of my doctors else.

MOR.

What, to poyson me, that I might die intestate, and leaue you possest of all?

EPI.

Lord, how idly he talkes, and how his eyes sparkle! He lookes greene about the temples! Doe you see what blue spots he has?

CLE.

I, it's melancholy.

EPI.

Gentlemen, for heauens sake counsell me. Ladies! Seruant, you haue read PLINY, and PARACELSVS: Ne're a word now to comfort a poore gentlewoman? Ay me! what fortune had I to marry a distra∣cted man?

DAW.

I'll tell you, mistris—

TRV.

How rarely shee holds it vp!

MOR.

What meane you, gentlemen?

EPI.

What will you tell me, seruant?

DAW.

The disease in Greeke is called 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, in Latine, Insania, Furor, vel Ecstasis melancholica, that is, Egressio, when a man ex melancholico, eua∣dit fanaticus.

MOR.

Shall I haue a lecture read vpon me aliue?

DAW.

But he may be but Phreneticus, yet, mistris? and Phrenetis is on∣ly delirium, or so—

EPI.

I, that is for the disease, seruant: but what is this to the cure? we are sure inough of the disease.

MOR.

Let me goe.

TRV.

Why, wee'll intreat her to hold her peace, sir.

MOR.

O, no. Labour not to stop her. Shee is like a conduit-pipe, that will gush out with more force, when shee opens againe.

HAV.

I'll tell you, MOROSE, you must talke diuinitie to him altoge∣ther, or morall philosophie.

LA-F.

I, and there's an excellent booke of morall philosophie, ma∣dame, of RAYNARD the foxe, and all the beasts, call'd, DONES philosophie.

CEN.

There is, indeed, sir AMOROVS LA-FOOLE.

MOR.

O miserie!

LA-F.

I haue read it, my lady CENTAVRE, all ouer to my cousin, here.

M^rs OT.

I, and 'tis a very good booke as any is, of the Modernes.

DAW.

Tut, hee must haue SENECA read to him, and PLVTARCH, and the Ancients; the Modernes are not for this disease.

CLE.

Why, you discommended them too, to day, sir IOHN.

DAW.

I, in some cases: but in these they are best, and ARISTOTLES Ethicks.

MAV.

Say you so, sir IOHN? I thinke you are deceiu'd: you tooke it vpon trust.

HAV.

Where's TRVSTY, my woman? I'll end this difference. I pr'ythee, OTTER, call her. Her father and mother were both mad, when they put her to me.

MOR.

I thinke so. Nay, gentlemen, I am tame. This is but an exer∣cise, I know, a marriage ceremonie, which I must endure.

HAV.

And one of 'hem (I know not which) was cur'd with the Sick∣mans salue; and the other with GREENES groates-worth of wit.

TRV.

A very cheape cure, madame.

HAV.

I, it very faesible.

M^rs. OT.

My lady call'd for you, mistris TRVSTY: you must decide a controuersie.

HAV.

O TRVSTY, which was it you said, your father, or your mo∣ther, that was cur'd with the Sicke-mans salue?

TRVS.

My mother, madame, with the salue.

TRV.

Then it was the Sicke-womans salue.

TRVS.

And my father with the Groates-worth of wit. But there was o∣ther meanes vs'd: we had a Preacher that would preach folke asleepe still; and so they were prescrib'd to goe to church, by an old woman that was their physitian, thrise a weeke—

EPI.

To sleepe?

TRVS.

Yes forsooth: and euery night they read themselues asleepe on those bookes.

EPI.

Good faith, it stands with great reason. I would I knew where to procure those bookes.

MOR.

Oh.

LA-F.

I can helpe you with one of 'hem, mistris MOROSE, the groats∣worth of wit.

EPI.

But I shall disfurnish you, sir AMOROVS: can you spare it?

LA-F.

O, yes, for a weeke, or so; I'll reade it my selfe to him.

EPI.

No, I must doe that, sir: that must be my office.

MOR.

Oh, oh!

EPI.

Sure, he would doe well inough, if he could sleepe.

MOR.

No, I should doe well inough, if you could sleepe. Haue I no friend that will make her drunke? or giue her a little ladanum? or opium?

TRV.

Why, sir, shee talkes ten times worse in her sleepe.

MOR.

How!

CLE.

Doe you not know that, sir? neuer ceases all night.

TRV.

And snores like a por••pisce.

MOR.

O, redeeme me, fate, redeeme me, fate. For how many causes may a man be diuorc'd, nephew?

DAV.

I know not truely, sir.

TRV.

Some Diuine must resolue you in that, sir, or canon-Lawyer.

MOR.

I will not rest, I will not thinke of any other hope or comfort, till I know.

CLE.

Alas, poore man.

TRV.

You'll make him mad indeed, ladies, if you pursue this.

HAV.

No, wee'll let him breathe, now, a quarter of an houre, or so.

CLE.

By my faith, a large truce.

HAV.

Is that his keeper, that is gone with him?

DAW.

It is his nephew, madame.

LA-F.

Sir DAVPHINE EVGENIE.

CEN.

He lookes like a very pittifull knight—

DAW.

As can be. This marriage, has put him out of all.

LA-F.

He has not a penny in his purse, madame—

DAW.

He is readie to crie all this day.

LA-F.

A very sharke, he set me i' the nicke t'other night at primero.

TRV.

How these swabbers talke!

CLE.

I, OTTERS wine has swell'd their humours aboue a spring∣tide.

HAV.

Good MOROSE, let's goe in againe. I like your couches ex∣ceeding well: wee'll goe lie, and talke there.

EPI.

I wait on you, madame.

TRV.

'Slight, I wil haue 'hem as silent as Signes, & their posts too, e're I ha' done. Doe you heare, lady-bride? I pray thee now, as thou art a noble wench, continue this discourse of DAVPHINE within: but praise him ex∣ceedingly. Magni••ie him with all the height of affection thou canst. (I haue some purpose in't) and but beate off these two rookes, IACK DAW, and his fellow, with any discontentment hither, and I'll honour thee for euer.

EPI.

I was about it, here. It angred mee to the soule, to heare 'hem

beginne to talke so malepert.

TRV.

Pray thee performe it, and thou win'st mee an idolater to thee, euerlasting.

EPI.

Will you goe in, and heare me doe it?

TRV.

No, I'll stay here. Driue 'hem out of your companie, 'tis all I aske: which cannot bee any way better done, then by extolling DAV∣PHINE, whom they haue so slighted.

EPI.

I warrant you: you shall expect one of 'hem presently.

CLE.

What a cast of kastrils are these, to hawke after ladies, thus?

TRV.

I, and strike at such an eagle as DAVPHINE.

CLE.

He will be mad, when we tell him. Here he comes.

Act IIII. Scene V.

CLERIMONT, TRVE-WIT, DAVPHINE, DAW, LA-FOOLE.

O Sir, you are welcome.

TRV.

Where's thine vncle?

DAV.

Run out o' dores in's night-caps, to talke with a Casuist about his diuorce. It workes admirably.

TRV.

Thou would'st ha' said so, and thou had'st beene here! The ladies haue laught at thee, most comically, since thou wentst, DAVPHINE.

CLE.

And askt, if thou wert thine vncles keeper?

TRV.

And the brace of Babouns answer'd, yes; and said, thou wert a pittifull poore fellow, and did'st liue vpon posts: and had'st nothing but three sutes of apparell, and some few beneuolences that lords ga' thee to foole to 'hem, and swagger.

DAV.

Let me not liue, I'll beate 'hem. I'll binde 'hem both to grand Madames bed-postes, and haue 'hem bayted with monkeyes.

TRV.

Thou shalt not need, they shall be beaten to thy hand, DAV∣PHINE. I haue an execution to serue vpon 'hem, I warrant thee shall serue: trust my plot.

DAV.

I, you haue many plots! So you had one, to make all the wen∣ches in loue with me.

TRV.

Why, if I doe not yet afore night, as neere as 'tis; and that they doe not euery one inuite thee, and be ready to scratch for thee: take the morgage of my wit.

CLE.

'Fore god, I'll be his witnesse; thou shalt haue it, DAVPHINE: thou shalt be his foole for euer, if thou doest not.

TRV.

Agreed. Perhaps 'twill bee the better estate. Doe you obserue this gallerie? or rather lobby, indeed? Here are a couple of studies, at each end one: here will I act such a tragi-comoedy betweene the Guelphes, and the Ghibellines, DAW and LA-FOOLE—which of 'hem comes out first, will I

seize on: (you two shall be the chorus behind the arras, and whip out be∣tweene the acts, and speake.) If I doe not make 'hem keepe the peace, for this remnant of the day, if not of the yeere, I haue faild once—I heare DAW comming: Hide, and doe not laugh, for gods sake.

DAW.

Which is the way into the garden, trow▪

TRV.

O, IACK DAW! I am glad I haue met with you. In good faith, I must haue this matter goe no furder betweene you. I must ha' it ta∣ken vp.

DAW.

What matter, sir? Betweene whom?

TRV.

Come, you disguise it—Sir AMOROVS and you. If you loue me IACK, you shall make vse of your philosophy now, for this once, and de∣liuer me your sword. This is not the wedding the CENTAVRES were at, though there be a shee-one here. The bride has entreated me I will see no bloud shed at her bridall, you saw her whisper me ere-while.

DAW.

As I hope to finish TACITVS, I intend no murder.

TRV.

Doe you not wait for sir AMOROVS?

DAW.

Not I, by my knight-hood.

TRV.

And your schollership too?

DAW.

And my schollership too.

TRV.

Goe to, then I returne you your sword, and aske you mercy; but put it not vp, for you will be assaulted. I vnderstood that you had ap∣prehended it, and walkt here to braue him: and that you had held your life contemptible, in regard of your honor.

DAW.

No, no, no such thing I assure you. He and I parted now, as good friends as could be.

TRV.

Trust not you to that visor. I saw him since dinner with an∣other face: I haue knowne many men in my time vex'd with losses, with deaths, and with abuses, but so offended a wight as sir AMO∣ROVS, did I neuer see, or read of. For taking away his guests, sir, to day, that's the cause: and hee declares it behind your backe, with such threatnings and contempts— He said to DAVPHINE, you were the errandst asse—

DAW.

I, he may say his pleasure.

TRV.

And sweares, you are so protested a coward, that hee knowes you will neuer doe him any manly or single right, and therefore hee will take his course.

DAW.

I'll giue him any satisfaction, sir—but fighting.

TRV.

I, sir, but who knowes what satisfaction hee'll take? bloud he thirsts for, and bloud he will haue: and where-abouts on you he will haue it, who knowes, but himselfe?

DAW.

I pray you, master TRVE-WIT, be you a mediator.

TRV.

He puts him vp.

Well, sir, conceale your selfe then in this studie, till I returne. Nay, you must bee content to bee lock'd in: for, for mine owne reputa∣tion I would not haue you seene to receiue a publique disgrace, while I haue the matter in managing. Gods so, here hee comes: keepe your

breath close, that hee doe not heare you sigh. In good faith, sir AMO∣ROVS, hee is not this way, I pray you bee mercifull, doe not murder him; hee is a christian as good as you: you are arm'd as if you sought a reuenge on all his race. Good DAVPHINE, get him away from this place. I neuer knew a mans choller so high, but hee would speake to his friends, hee would heare reason. IACK DAW, IACK DAW! a-sleepe?

DAW.

Is he gone, master TRVE-WIT?

TRV.

I, did you heare him?

DAW.

O god, yes.

TRV.

What a quick eare feare has?

DAW.

But is he so arm'd, as you say?

TRV.

Arm'd? did you euer see a fellow, set out to take possession?

DAW.

I, sir.

TRV.

That may giue you some light, to conceiue of him: but 'tis nothing to the principall. Some false brother i' the house has furnish'd him strangely▪ Or, if it were out o' the house, it was TOM OTTER.

DAW.

Indeed, hee's a Captayne, and his wife is his kinswoman.

TRV.

Hee has got some-bodies old two-hand-sword, to mow you off at the knees. And that sword hath spawn'd such a dagger!—but then he is so hung with pikes, halberds, peitronells, calliuers, and muskets, that he lookes like a Iustice of peace's hall: a man of two thousand a yeere, is not sess'd at so many weapons, as he has on. There was neuer fencer chal∣leng'd at so many seuerall foiles. You would thinke hee meant to mur∣der all Saint PVLCHRES parish. If hee could but victuall himselfe for halfe a yeere, in his breeches, hee is sufficiently arm'd to ouer-runne a countrie.

DAW.

Good lord, what meanes he, sir! I pray you, master TRVE∣WIT, be you a mediator.

TRV.

Well, I'll trie if he will be appeas'd with a leg or an arme, if not, you must die once.

DAW.

I would be loth to loose my right arme, for writing madrigalls.

TRV.

Why, if he will be satisfied with a thumb, or a little finger, all's one to me. You must thinke, I'll doe my best.

DAW.

Good sir, doe.

CLE.

He puts him vp againe, and then came forth.

What hast thou done?

TRV.

He will let me doe nothing, man, he do's all afore me, he offers his left arme.

CLE.

His left wing, for a IACK DAW.

DAV.

Take it, by all meanes.

TRV.

How! Maime a man for euer, for a iest? what a conscience hast thou?

DAV.

'Tis no losse to him: he has no employment for his armes, but to eate spoone-meate. Beside, as good maime his body as his repu∣tation.

TRV.

He is a scholler, and a Wit, and yet he do's not thinke so. But he looses no reputation with vs, for we all resolu'd him an asse before. To your places againe.

CLE.

I pray thee, let me be in at the other a little.

TRV.

Looke, you'll spoile all: these be euer your tricks.

CLE.

No, but I could hit of some things that thou wilt misse, and thou wilt say are good ones.

TRV.

I warrant you. I pray forbeare, I'll leaue it off, else.

DAV.

Come away, CLERIMONT.

TRV.

Sir AMOROVS!

LA-F.

Master TRVE-WIT.

TRV.

Whether were you going?

LA-F.

Downe into the court, to make water.

TRV.

By no meanes, sir, you shall rather tempt your breeches.

LA-F.

Why, sir?

TRV.

Enter here, if you loue your life.

LA-F.

Why! why!

TRV.

Question till your throat bee cut, doe: dally till the enraged soule find you.

LA-F.

Who's that?

TRV.

DAW it is: will you in?

LA-F.

I, I, I'll in: what's the matter?

TRV.

Nay, if hee had beene coole inough to tell vs that, there had beene some hope to attone you, but he seemes so implacably enrag'd.

LA-F.

'Slight, let him rage. I'll hide my selfe.

TRV.

Doe, good sir. But what haue you done to him within, that should prouoke him thus? you haue broke some iest vpon him, afore the ladies—

LA-F.

Not I, neuer in my life, broke iest vpon any man. The bride was praising sir DAVPHINE, and he went away in snuffe, and I followed him, vnlesse he tooke offence at me, in his drinke ere while, that I would not pledge all the horse full.

TRV.

By my faith, and that may bee, you remember well: but hee walkes the round vp and downe, through euery roome o' the house, with a towell in his hand, crying, where's LA-FOOLE? who saw LA-FOOLE? and when DAVPHINE, and I, demanded the cause, wee can force no an∣swere from him, but (Ô reuenge, how sweet art thou! I will strangle him in this towell) which leads vs to coniecture, that the maine cause of his furie is for bringing your meate to day, with a towell about you, to his discredit.

LA-F.

Like inough. Why, and he be angrie for that, I'll stay here, till his anger be blowne ouer.

TRV.

A good becomming resolution, sir. If you can put it on o' the sudden.

LA-F.

Yes, I can put it on. Or, I'll away into the country presently.

TRV.

How will you get out o' the house, sir? Hee knowes you are i' the house, and hee'll watch you this se'n-night but hee'll haue you. Hee'll out-wait a sargeant for you.

LA-F.

Why, then I'll stay here.

TRV.

You must thinke, how to victuall your selfe in time, then.

LA-F.

Why, sweet master TRVE-WIT, will you entreat my cousin OTTER, to send me a cold venison pasty, a bottle or two of wine, and a chamber pot.

TRV.

A stoole were better, sir, of sir A-IAX his inuention.

LA-F.

I, that will be better indeed: and a pallat to lie on.

TRV.

O, I would not aduise you to sleepe by any meanes.

LA-F.

Would you not, sir? why, then I will not.

TRV.

Yet, there's another feare—

LA-F.

Is there, sir? What is't?

TRV.

No, he cannot breake open this dore with his foot, sure.

LA-F.

I'll set my backe against it, sir. I haue a good backe.

TRV.

But, then if he should batter.

LA-F.

Batter! if he dare, I'll haue an action of batt'ry, against him.

TRV.

He faines, as if one were present, ••o fright the o∣ther, who is run in to hide him∣selfe.

Cast you the worst. He has sent for poulder alreadie, and what he will doe with it, no man knowes: perhaps blow vp the corner o' the house, where he suspects you are. Here he comes, in quickly. I protest, sir IOHN DAW, he is not this way: what will you doe? before god, you shall hang no petarde here. I'll die rather. Will you not take my word? I neuer knew one but would be satisfied. Sir AMOROVS, there's no stan∣ding out. He has made a petarde of an old brasse pot, to force your dore. Thinke vpon some satisfaction, or termes, to offer him.

LA-F.

Sir, I'll giue him any satisfaction. I dare giue any termes.

TRV.

You'll leaue it to me, then?

LA-F.

I, sir. I'll stand to any conditions.

TRV.

He calls forth Clerimont, and Dauphine.

How now, what thinke you, sirs? wer't not a difficult thing to determine, which of these two fear'd most.

CLE.

Yes, but this feares the brauest: the other a whiniling da∣stard, IACK DAW! but LA-FOOLE, a braue heroique coward! and is a∣fraid in a great looke, and a stout accent. I like him rarely.

TRV.

Had it not beene pitty, these two should ha' beene conceal'd?

CLE.

Shall I make a motion?

TRV.

Briefly. For I must strike while 'tis hot.

CLE.

Shall I goe fetch the ladies to the catastrophe?

TRV.

Vmh? I, by my troth.

DAV.

By no mortall meanes. Let them continue in the state of igno∣rance, and erre still: thinke 'hem wits, and fine fellowes, as they haue done. 'Twere sinne to reforme them.

TRV.

Well, I will haue 'hem fetch'd, now I thinke on't, for a priuate purpose of mine: doe, CLERIMONT, fetch 'hem, and discourse to hem all that's past, and bring 'hem into the gallery here.

DAV.

This is thy extreme vanitie, now: thou think'st thou wert vn∣done, if euery iest thou mak'st were not publish'd.

TRV.

Thou shalt see, how vniust thou art, presently. CLERIMONT, say it was DAVPHINE'S plot. Trust me not, if the whole drift be not for thy good. There's a carpet i' the next roome, put it on, with this scarfe o∣uer thy face, and a cushion o' thy head, and bee ready when I call AMO∣ROVS. Away—IOHN DAW.

DAW.

What good newes, sir.

TRV.

Faith, I haue followed, and argued with him hard for you. I told him, you were a knight, and a scholler; and that you knew fortitude did consist magis patiendo quam faciendo, magis ferendo quam feriendo.

DAW.

It doth so indeed, sir.

TRV.

And that you would suffer, I told him: so, at first he demanded, by my troth, in my conceipt, too much.

DAW.

What was it, sir.

TRV.

Your vpper lip, and sixe o'your fore-teeth.

DAW.

'Twas vnreasonable.

TRV.

Nay, I told him plainely, you could not spare 'hem all. So af∣ter long argument (pro & con, as you know) I brought him downe to your two butter-teeth, and them he would haue.

DAW.

O, did you so? why, he shall haue 'hem.

TRV.

But he shall not, sir, by your leaue. The conclusion is this, sir, because you shall be very good friends hereafter, and this neuer to bee re∣membred, or vp-braided; besides, that he may not boast, he has done any such thing to you in his owne person: hee is to come here in disguise, giue you fiue kicks in priuate, sir, take your sword from you, and lock you vp in that studie, during pleasure. Which will be but a little while, wee'll get it releas'd presently.

DAW.

Fiue kicks? he shall haue sixe, sir, to be friends.

TRV.

Beleeue mee, you shall not ouer-shoot your selfe, to send him that word by me.

DAW.

Deliuer it, sir. He shall haue it with all my heart, to be friends.

TRV.

Friends? Nay, and he should not be so, and heartily too, vp∣on these termes, he shall haue me to enemie while I liue. Come, sir, beare it brauely.

DAW.

O god, sir, 'tis nothing.

TRV.

True. What's sixe kicks to a man, that reads SENECA?

DAW.

I haue had a hundred, sir.

TRV.

Dauphine comes forth, and kick him.

Sir AMOROVS. No speaking one to another, or rehearsing old matters.

DAW.

One, two, three, foure, fiue. I protest, sir AMOROVS, you shall haue sixe.

TRV.

Nay, I told you should not talke. Come, giue him six, & he will needs. Your sword. Now returne to your safe custody: you shall presently meet afore the ladies, and be the dearest friends one to another—Giue me

the scarfe, now, thou shalt beat the other bare-fac'd. Stand by, sir A∣MOROVS.

LA-F.

What's here? A sword.

TRV.

I cannot helpe it, without I should take the quarrell vpon my selfe: here he has sent you his sword—

LA-F.

I'll receiue none on't.

TRV.

And he wills you to fasten it against a wall, and breake your head in some few seuerall places against the hilts.

LA-F.

I will not: tell him roundly. I cannot endure to shed my owne bloud.

TRV.

Will you not?

LA-F.

No. I'll beat it against a faire flat wall, if that will satisfie him: If not, he shall beat it himselfe, for AMOROVS.

TRV.

Why, this is strange starting off, when a man vnder-takes for you! I offered him another condition: Will you stand to that?

LA-F.

I, what is't.

TRV.

That you will be beaten, in priuate.

LA-F.

Yes. I am content, at the blunt.

TRV.

Then you must submit your selfe to bee hood-wink'd in this skarfe, and bee led to him, where hee will take your sword from you, and make you beare a blow, ouer the mouth, gules, and tweakes by the nose, sans numbre.

LA-F.

I am content. But why must I be blinded?

TRV.

That's for your good, sir: because, if hee should grow insolent vpon this, and publish it hereafter to your disgrace (which I hope he will not doe) you might sweare safely and protest, hee neuer beat you, to your knowledge.

LA-F.

O, I conceiue.

TRV.

I doe not doubt, but you'll be perfect good friends vpon't, and not dare to vtter an ill thought one of another, in future.

LA-F.

Not I, as god helpe me, of him.

TRV.

Nor he of you, sir. If he should— Come, sir. All hid, sir IOHN.

LA-F.

Dauphine enters to tweake him.

Oh, sir IOHN, sir IOHN. Oh, Ô-Ô-Ô-Ô-Ô-Oh—

TRV.

Good, sir IOHN, leaue tweaking, you'll blow his nose off. 'Tis sir IOHN'S pleasure, you should retire into the studie. Why, now you are friends. All bitternesse betweene you, I hope, is buried; you shall come forth by and by, DAMON & PYTHIAS vpon't: and embrace with all the ranknesse of friendship that can be. I trust, wee shall haue 'hem ta∣mer i' their language hereafter. DAVPHINE, I worship thee. Gods will, the ladies haue surpris'd vs!

Act IIII. Scene VI.

HAVGHTY, CENTAVRE, MAVIS, M^rs. OT∣TER, EPICOENE, TRVSTY, DAV∣PHINE, TRVE-WIT, &c.

Hauing disco∣uerd part of the past scene, above.

CENTAVRE, how our iudgements were impos'd on by these adul∣terate knights!

CEN.

Nay, madame, MAVIS was more deceiu'd then we, 'twas her commendation vtter'd 'hem in the colledge.

MAV.

I commended but their wits, madame, and their braueries. I neuer look'd toward their valours.

HAV.

Sir DAVPHINE is valiant, and a wit too, it seemes?

MAV.

And a brauerie too.

HAV.

Was this his proiect?

M^rs. OT.

So master CLERIMONT intimates, madame.

HAV.

Good MOROSE, when you come to the colledge, will you bring him with you? He seemes a very perfect gentleman.

EPI.

He is so, madame, beleeue it.

CEN.

But when will you come, MOROSE?

EPI.

Three or foure dayes hence, madame, when I haue got mee a coach, and horses.

HAV.

No, to morrow, good MOROSE, CENTAVRE shall send you her coach.

MAV.

Yes faith, doe, and bring sir DAVPHINE with you.

HAV.

Shee has promis'd that, MAVIS.

MAV.

He is a very worthy gentleman, in his exteriors, madame.

HAV.

I, he showes he is iudiciall in his clothes.

CEN.

And yet not so superlatiuely neat as some, madame, that haue their faces set in a brake!

HAV.

I, and haue euery haire in forme!

MAV.

That weare purer linnen then our selues, and professe more neatnesse, then the french hermaphrodite!

EPI.

I ladies, they, what they tell one of vs, haue told a thousand, and are the only theeues of our fame: that thinke to take vs with that per∣fume, or with that lace, and laugh at vs vn-conscionably when they haue done.

HAV.

But, sir DAVPHINES carelesnesse becomes him.

CEN.

I could loue a man, for such a nose!

MAV.

Or such a leg!

CEN.

He has an exceeding good eye, madame!

MAV.

And a very good lock!

CEN.

Good MOROSE, bring him to my chamber first.

M^rs. OT.

Please your honors, to meet at my house, madame?

TRV.

See, how they eye thee, man! they are taken, I warrant thee.

HAV.

You haue vnbrac'd our brace of knights, here, master TRVE-WIT.

TRV.

Not I, madame, it was sir DAVPHINES ingine: who, if he haue disfurnish'd your ladiship of any guard, or seruice by it, is able to make the place good againe, in himselfe.

HAV.

There's no suspition of that, sir.

CEN.

God so, MAVIS, HAVGHTY is kissing.

MAV.

Let vs goe too, and take part.

HAV.

But I am glad of the fortune (beside the discouerie of two such emptie caskets) to gaine the knowledge of so rich a mine of vertue, as sir DAVPHINE.

CEN.

We would be al glad to stile him of our friendship, and see him at the colledge.

MAV.

He cannot mixe with a sweeter societie, I'll prophesie, and I hope he himselfe will thinke so.

DAV.

I should be rude to imagine otherwise, lady.

TRV.

Did not I tell thee, DAVPHINE? Why, all their actions are go∣uerned by crude opinion, without reason or cause; they know not why they doe any thing, without reason or cause; they know not why they doe any thing: but as they are inform'd, beleeue, iudge, praise, con∣demne, loue, hate, and in aemulation one of another, doe all these things alike. Onely, they haue a naturall inclination swayes 'hem generally to the worst, when they are left to themselues. But, pursue it, now thou hast 'hem.

HAV.

Shall we goe in againe, MOROSE?

EPI.

Yes, madame.

CEN.

Wee'll entreat sir DAVPHINES companie.

TRV.

Stay, good madame, the inter-view of the two friends, PYLA∣DES and ORESTES: I'll fetch 'hem out to you straight.

HAV.

Will you, master TRVE-WIT?

DAV.

I, but noble ladies, doe not confesse in your countenance, or outward bearing to 'hem any discouerie of their follies, that wee may see, how they will beare vp againe, with what assurance, and erection.

HAV.

We will not, sir DAVPHINE.

CEN. MAV.

Vpon our honors, sir DAVPHINE.

TRV.

Sir AMOROVS, sir AMOROVS. The ladies are here.

LA-F.

Are they?

TRV.

Yes, but slip out by and by, as their backs are turn'd, and meet sir IOHN here, as by chance, when I call you. IACK DAW.

DAW.

What say you, sir?

TRV.

Whip out behind me suddenly: and no anger i' your lookes to your aduersarie. Now, now.

LA-F.

Noble sir IOHN DAW! where ha' you beene?

DAW.

To seeke you, sir AMOROVS.

LA-F.

Me! I honor you.

DAW.

I preuent you, sir.

CLE.

They haue forgot their rapiers!

TRV.

O, they meet in peace, man.

DAV.

Where's your sword, sir IOHN?

CLE.

And yours, sir AMOROVS?

DAW.

Mine! my boy had it forth, to mend the handle, eene now.

LA-F.

And my gold handle was broke too, and my boy had it forth.

DAV.

Indeed, sir? How their excuses meet!

CLE.

What a consent there is, i' the handles?

TRV.

Nay, there is so i' the points too, I warrant you.

M^rs. OT.

O me! madame, he comes againe, the man man, away.

Act IIII. Scene VII.

MOROSE, TRVE-WIT, CLERIMONT, DAVPHINE.

He had found the two swords drawne within.

VVHat make these naked weapons here, gentlemen?

TRV.

O, sir! here hath like to been murder since you went! A couple of knights fallen out about the brides fauours: wee were faine to take away their weapons, your house had beene beg'd by this time else—

MOR.

For what?

CLE.

For man-slaughter, sir, as being accessary.

MOR.

And, for her fauours?

TRV.

I, sir, heretofore, not present. CLERIMONT, carry 'hem their swords, now. They haue done all the hurt they will doe.

DAV.

Ha' you spke with a lawyer, sir?

MOR.

O, no! there is such a noyse i' the court, that they haue frighted mee home, with more violence then I went! such speaking, and coun∣ter-speaking, with their seuerall voyces of citations, appellations, allega∣tions, certificates, attachments, intergatories, references, conuictions, and af∣flictions indeed, among the Doctors and Proctors! that the noise here is silence too 't! a kind of calme mid-night!

TRV.

Why, sir, if you would be resolu'd indeed, I can bring you he∣ther a very sufficient Lawyer, and a learned Diuine, that shall inquire in∣to euery least scruple for you.

MOR.

Can you, master TRVE-WIT?

TRV.

Yes, and are very sober graue persons, that will dispatch it in a chamber, with a whisper, or two.

MOR.

Good sir, shall I hope this benefit from you, and trust my selfe into your hands?

TRV.

Alas, sir! your nephew, and I, haue beene asham'd, and oft-times mad since you went, to thinke how you are abus'd. Goe in, good sir, and lock your selfe vp til! we call you, wee'll tell you more anon, sir.

MOR.

Doe your pleasure with me, gentlemen; I beleeue in you: and that deserues no delusion—

TRV.

You shall find none, sir: but heapt, heapt plentie of vexation.

DAV.

What wilt thou doe now, WIT?

TRV.

Recouer me hether OTTER, and the Barber, if you can, by a∣ny meanes, presently.

DAV.

Why? to what purpose?

TRV.

O, I'll make the deepest Diuine, and grauest Lawyer, out o' them two, for him—

DAV.

Thou canst not man, these are waking dreames.

TRV.

Doe not feare me. Clap but a ciuill gowne with a welt, o' the one; and a canonical cloake with sleeues, o' the other: and giue 'hem a few termes i' their mouthes, if there come not forth as able a Doctor, and compleat a Parson, for this turne, as may be wish'd, trust not my election. And, I hope, without wronging the dignitie of either profession, since they are but persons put on, and for mirths sake, to torment him. The Barber smatters latin, I remember.

DAV.

Yes, and OTTER too.

TRV.

Well then, if I make 'hem not wrangle out this case, to his no comfort, let me be thought a IACK DAW, or LA-FOOLE, or any thing worse. Goe you to your ladies, but first send for them.

DAV.

I will.