Bartholmew fayre : a comedie, acted in the yeare, 1614 by the Lady Elizabeths seruants, and then dedicated to King Iames, of most blessed memorie ; The diuell is an asse : a comedie acted in the yeare, 1616, by His Maiesties seruants ; The staple of newes : a comedie acted in the yeare, 1625, by His Maiesties seruants by the author, Beniamin Iohnson.

ACT. III. SCENE. I.

FITTON. CYMBAL, to them PICKLOCKE. REGISTER. CLERKE. THO: BARBER.

YOu hunt vpon a wrong scent still, and thinke The ayre of things will carry 'hem, but it must Be reason and proportion, not fine sounds, My cousin Cymball, must get you this Lady. You haue entertain'd a petty-fogger here, Picklocke, with trust of an Emissartes place, And he is, all, for the young Prodigall, You see he has left vs.

CYM.

Come, you doe not know him, That speake thus of him. He will haue a tricke, To open vs a gap▪ by a trap-doore, When they least dreame on't. Here he comes. What newes?

PICK.

Where is my brother Buz? my brother Ambler: The Register, Examiner, and the Clerkes? Appeare, and let vs muster all in pompe, For here will be the rich Infanta, presently, To make her visit. Peny-boy the heyre, My Patron, has got leaue for her to play With all her traine, of the old churle, her Guardian. Now is your time to make all court vnto her; That she may first but know, then loue the place, And shew it by her frequent visits here: And afterwards, get her to soiourne with you. She will be weary of the Prodigall, quickly.

CYM.

Excellent newes!

FIT.

And counsell of an Oracle!

CYM.

How say you cousin Fitton?

FIT.

brother Picklock, I shall adore thee, for this parcell of tidings, It will cry vp the credit of our Office, Eternally, and make our Staple immortall!

PICK.

Looke your addresses, then, be faire and fit,

And entertaine her, and her creatures, too, With all the migniar dise, and quaint Caresses, You can put on 'hem.

FIT.

Thou seem'st, by thy language, No lesse a Courtier, then a man o' Law. I must embrace thee.

PIC.

Tut, I am Vertumnus, On euery change, or chance, vpon occasion, A true Chamaelion, I can colour for't. I moue vpon my axell, like a turne-pike. Fit my face to the parties, and become Streight, one of them.

CYM.

Sirs, vp, into your Desks, And spread the rolls vpon the Table, so. Is the Examiner set?

REG.

Yes, Sir.

CYM.

Ambler, and Buz, Are both abroad, now.

PIC.

Wee'll sustaine their parts. No matter, let them ply the affayres without,

Fitton puts on the office cloake, and Cymbal the gowne.

Let vs alone within, I like that well. On with the cloake, and you with the Staple gowne, And keep your state, stoupe only to the Infanta; We'll haue a flight at Mortgage, Statute, Band, And hard, but we'll bring Wax vnto the retriue: Each know his seuerall prouince, and discharge it.

FIT.

Fitton is brought a∣bent.

I do admire this nimble ingine, Picklock.

CYM.

Cuz, What did I say?

FIT.

You haue rectified my errour!

ACT. III. SCENE. II.

PENI-BOY. IV. P. CANTER. PECVNIA. STA∣TVTE. BAND. MORTGAGE. WAX. BROKER. CVSTOMERS.

BY your leaue, Gentlemen, what newes? good, good still? I'your new Office? Princesse, here's the Staple! This is the Gouernor, kisse him, noble Princesse, For my sake. Thom, how is it honest Thom? How does thy place, and thou? my Creature, Princesse? * 1.1 This is my Creature, giue him your hand to kisse, He was my Barber, now he writes Clericus! I bought this place for him, and gaue it him.

P. CA.

He should haue spoke of that, Sir, and not you: Two doe not doe one Office well.

P. IV.

'Tis true, But I am loth to lose my curtesies.

P. CA.

So are all they, that doe them, to vaine ends,

And yet you do lose, when you pay you selues.

P. IV.

No more o' your sentences, Canter, they are stale, We come for newes, remember where you are. I pray thee let my Princesse heare some newes, Good Master Cymbal.

CYM.

What newes would she heare? Or of what kind, Sir?

P. IV.

Any, any kind. So it be newes, the newest that thou hast, Some newes of State, for a Princesse.

CYM.

Read from Rome, there.

THO.

They write, the King of Spaine is chosen Pope.

P. IV.

How? * 1.2

THO.

And Emperor too, the thirtieth of February.

P. IV.

Is the Emperor dead?

CYM.

No, but he has resign'd, * 1.3 And trailes a pike now, vnder Tilly.

FIT.

For pennance.

P. IV.

These will beget strange turnes in Christendome!

THO.

And Spinola is made Generall of the Iesuits. * 1.4

P. IV.

Stranger!

FIT,

Sir, all are alike true, and certaine.

CYM.

All the pretence to the fifth Monarchy, Was held but vaine, vntill the ecclesiastique, And secular powers, were vnited, thus, Both in one person.

FIT.

'T has bin long the ayme Of the house of Austria.

CYM.

See but Maximilian, His letters to the Baron of Bouttersheim, Or Scheiter-huyssen.

FIT.

No, of Liechtenstein, Lord Paul, I thinke.

P. IV.

I haue heard of some such thing. Don Spinola made Generall of the Iesuits! A Priest!

CYM.

O, no, he is dispenc'd with all, And the whole society, who doe now appeare The onely Enginers of Christendome.

P. IV.

They haue bin thought so long, and rightly too.

FIT.

Witnesse the Engine, that they haue presented him, To winde himselfe with, vp, into the Moone: And thence make all his discoueries!

CYM.

Read on.

THO.

And Vittellesco, he that was last Generall, Being now turn'd Cooke to the society, Has drest his excellence, such a dish of egges—

P. IV.

What potch'd?

THO.

No, powder'd. * 1.5

CYM.

All the yolke is wilde fire, As he shall need beleaguer no more townes, But throw his Egge in.

FIT.

It shall cleare consume, Palace, and place; demolish and beare downe, All strengths before it!

CYM.

Neuer be extinguish'd! Till all become one ruine!

F••.

And from Florence,

THO.

They write was found in Galileos study, A burning Glasse (which they haue sent him too) * 1.6 To fire any Fleet that's out at Sea—

CYM.

By Mooneshine, is't not so?

THO.

Yes, Sir, i'the water.

P. IV.

His strengths will be vnresistable, if this hold! * 1.7 Ha'you no Newes against him, on the contrary?

CLA.

* 1.8 Yes, Sit, they write here, one Cornelius-〈◊〉〈◊〉, Hath made the Hollanders an inuisible Ecle, To swimme the hauen at Dunk••••ke, and sinke all The shipping there.

P. IV.

Why ha••not you this, Thom?

〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Because he keeps the Pontificiall side.

P. IV.

* 1.9 How, change sides, Thom. 'Twas neuer in my thought To put thee vp against our selues. Come downe, Quickly.

CYM.

Why, Sir?

P. IV.

I venter'd not my mony Vpon those termes: If he may change; why so. I'll ha him keepe his owne side, sure.

FIT,

Why, let him, 'Tis but writing so much ouer againe.

P. IV.

For that I'll beare the charge: There's two Pieces,

FIT.

Come, do not stick with the gentleman.

CYM.

I'l take none Sir▪ And yet he shall ha'the place.

P. IV.

They shall be 〈…〉〈…〉, * 1.10 Vp, Thom: and th'Office shall take 'hem. Keep your side, Thom. Know your owne side, doe not forsake your side, Thom.

CYM.

Read.

THO.

They write here one Cornelius-〈◊〉〈◊〉, Hath made the Hollanders an inuisible Ecle, To swimme the Hauen at Dunkirke, and sinke all The shipping there.

P. IV.

But how is't done?

CYM.

I'll shew you Sir It is an A••toma, runnes vnder water, With a s••••g nose, and has a nimble taile Made like an anger, with which taile she wrigles Betwixt the coasts of a Ship, and sinkes it streight.

P. IV.

Whence ha'you this newes.

FIT.

From a right hand I assure you, The Ecle-boats here, that lye before Queen-Hyth, Came out of Holland.

P. IV.

A most braue deuice, To murder their flat bottomes.

FIT.

I doe grant you▪ * 1.11 But what if Spinola haue a new Proiect: To bring an army ouer in corke-shooes, And land them, here, at Harwich? all his horse Are shod with corke, and fourescore pieces of ordinance, Mounted vpon cork-carriages, with bladders, In stead of wheeles to runne the passage ouer At a spring-tide.

P. IV.

Is't true?

FIT.

As true as the rest▪

P. IV.

He'll neuer leaue his engines: I would heare now Some curious newes.

CYM.

As what?

P. IV.

Magick, or 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Or flying i'the ayre, I care not what.

CLA.

They write from Libtzig (reuerence to your 〈◊〉〈◊〉) The Art of drawing farts out of dead bodies, * 1.12 Is by the Brotherhood of the Rosie Crosse, Produc'd vnto perfection, in so sweet And rich a tincture—

FIT.

As there is no Princesse, But may perfume her chamber with th'extraction.

P. IV.

There's for you, Princesse.

P. CA.

What, a fart for her?

P. IV.

I meane the spirit.

P. CA.

Beware how she r••sents it.

P. IV.

* 1.13 And what hast thou, Thom?

THO.

The perpetuall Motion▪

Is here found out by an Alewife in Saint Katherines, At the signe o' the dancing Beares▪

P. IV.

What, from her tap? I'll goe see that, or else I'll send old Canter. He can make that discouery.

P. CA.

Yes, in Ale.

P. IV.

Let me haue all this Newes, made vp, and seal'd▪

REG.

The people presse vpon vs, please you, Sir,

The Regi∣ster offers him a roome.

Withdraw with your faire Princesse. There's a roome Within, Sir, to retyre too.

P. IV.

No, good Register, We'll stand it out here, and obserue your Office; * 1.14 What Newes it issues.

REG.

'Tis the house of fame, Sir, Where both the curious, and the negligent; The scrupulous, and carelesse; wilde, and stay'd; The idle, and laborious; all doe meet, To tast the Cornu copiae of her rumors, Which she, the mother of sport▪ pleaseth to scatter Among the vulgar: Baites, Sir, for the people! And they will bite like fishes.

P. IV.

Let's see't.

DOP.

Ha'you in your prophane Shop, any Newes O'the Saints at Amsterdam?

REG.

Yes, how much would you? * 1.15

DOP.

Six peny worth.

REG.

Lay your mony down, read, Thomas.

THO.

The Saints do write, they expect a Prophet, shortly, The Prophet Baal, to be sent ouer to them, * 1.16 To calculate a time, and halfe a time, And the whole time, according to Naömetry.

P. IV.

What's that?

THO.

The measuring o'the Temple: a Cabal Found out but lately, and set out by Archie, Or some such head, of whose long coat they haue heard, And being black, desire it.

DOP.

Peace be with them! * 1.17

REG▪

So there had need, for they are still by the eares One with another.

DOP.

It is their zeale.

REG.

Most likely.

DOP.

Haue you no other of that species?

REG.

Yes, But dearer, it will cost you a shilling.

DOP.

Verily, There is a nine-pence, I will shed no more.

REG.

Not, to the good o'the Saints?

DOP.

I am not sure, That, man is good.

REG.

Read, from Constantinople, Nine penny'orth.

THO.

They giue out here, * 1.18 the grand Signior Is certainely turn'd Christian, and to cleare The controuersie'twixt the Pope and him, Which is the Antichrist; he meanes to visit The Church at Amsterdam, this very Sommer, And quit all marks o'the beast.

DOP.

Now ioyfull tydings. Who brought in this? Which Emissary?

REG.

Buz. Your countrey-man.

DOP.

Now, blessed be the man, And his whole Family, with the Nation.

REG.

Yes, for Amboyna, and the Iustice there! This is a Doper, a she Anabaptist! Seale and deliuer her her newes, dispatch.

C. 2.

Ha'you any newes from the Indies? any mirac•• * 1.19 Done in Iapan, by the Iesuites? or in China?

CLA.

* 1.20 No, but we heare of a Colony of cookes To be set a shore o'the coast of America, For the conuersion of the Caniballs, And making them good, eating Christians. Here comes the Colonell that vndertakes it.

C. 2.

* 1.21 Who? captaine Lickfinger?

LIC.

Newes, newes my boyes! I am to furnish a great feast to day, And I would haue what newes the Office affords.

CLA.

We were venting some of you, of your new proiect,

REG.

Afore 'twas paid for, you were somewhat too hasty.

P. IV.

What Lickfinger! wilt thou conuert the Caniballs, With spit and pan Diuinity?

LIC.

Sir, for that I will not vrge, but for the fire and zeale To the true cause; thus I haue vndertaken: With two Lay-brethren, to my selfe, no more, One o'the broach, th'other o'the boyler, In one sixe months, and by plaine cookery, No magick to't, but old Iap••ets physicke, The father of the Europaean Arts, To make such sauces for the Sauages, And cookes their meats, with those inticing steemes, As it would make our Caniball-Christians, Forbeare the mutuall eating one another, Which they doe doe, more cunningly, then the wilde Anthropophagi; that snatch onely strangers, Like my old Patrons dogs, there.

P. IV.

O, my Vncles! Is dinner ready, Lickfinger?

LIC.

When you please, Sir. I was bespeaking but a parcell of newes, To strew out the long meale withall, but't seemes You are furnish'd here already.

P. IV.

O, not halfe!

LIC.

What Court-newes is there? any Proclamations, Or Edicts to come forth.

THO.

Yes, there is one. That the Kings Barber has got, for aid of our trade: Whereof there is a manifest decay. * 1.22 A Precept for the wearing of long haire, To runne to seed, to sow bald pates withall, And the preseruing fruitfull heads, and chins, To help a mistery, almost antiquated. Such as are bald and barren beyond hope, Are to be separated, and set by For Vshers, to old Countesses.

LIC.

And Coachmen. To mount their boxes, reuerently, and driue, Like Lapwings, with a shell vpo' their heads. Thorow the streets. Ha'you no Newes o the St••ge? They'll aske me about new Playes, at dinner time.

And I should be as dumbe as a fish.

THO.

O! yes. There is a Legacy left to the Kings Players, * 1.23 Both for their various shifting of their Scene, And dext'rous change o'their persons to all shapes, And all disguises: by the right reuerend Archbishop of Spalato.

LIC.

He is dead, That plai'd him!

THO.

Then, h'has lost his share o' the Legacy.

LIC.

What newes of Gundomar?

THO.

A second Fistula, Or an excoriation (at the least) For putting the poore English-play, was writ of him, * 1.24 To such a sordid vse, as (is said) he did, Of cleansing his posterior's.

LIC.

Iustice! Iustice!

THO.

Since when, he liues condemn'd to his share, at Bruxels. And there sits filing certaine politique hinges, To hang the States on, h'has heau'd off the hookes.

LIC.

What must you haue for these?

P. IV.

Thou shalt pay nothing, But reckon 'hem in i'the bill. There's twenty pieces, Her Grace bestowes vpon the Office, Thom,

Hee giues 20. pieces, to the Of∣fice. Doubles it.

Write thou that downe for Newes.

REG.

We may well do't, We haue not many such.

P. IV.

There's twenty more, If you say so; my Prin••cesse is a Princesse! And put that too, vnder the Office Seale.

CYM.

If it will please your Grace to soiourne here,

Cymbal takes Pecu∣nia aside, courts and wooes her, to the Office.

And take my roofe for couert, you shall know The rites belonging to your blood, and birth, Which few can apprehend: these sordid seruants, Which rather are your keepers, then attendants, Should not come neere your presence. I would haue You waited on by Ladies, and your traine Borne vp by persons of quality, and honour, Your meat should be seru'd in with curious dances, And set vpon the boord, with virgin hands, Tun'd to their voices; not a dish remou'd, But to the Musicke, nor a drop of wine, Mixt, with his water, without Harmony,

PEC.

You are a Courtier, Sir, or somewhat more; That haue this tempting language!

CYM.

I'm your seruant, Exellent Princesse, and would ha'you appeare That, which you are. Come forth State, and wonder, Of these our times, dazle the vulgar eyes. And strike the people blind with admiration.

P. CAN.

Why, that's the end of wealth! thrust riches outward, And remaine beggers within: contemplate nothing But the vile sordid things of time, place, money, And let the noble, and the precious goe, Vertue and honesty; hang 'hem; poore thinne membranes Of honour; who respects them? O, the Fates!

How hath all iust, true reputation fall'n,

Fitton hath beene cour∣ting the wai∣ting-women, this while, and is ieered by them.

Since money, this base money 'gan to haue any!

BAN.

Pitty, the Gentleman is not immortall.

WAX.

As he giues out, the place is, by description.

FIT.

A very Paradise, if you saw all, Lady.

WAX.

I am the Chamber-maid, Sir, you mistake, My Lady may see all.

FIT.

Sweet Mistresse Statute, gentle Mistresse Band, And Mother Mortgage, doe but get her Grace To soiourne here.—

PIC.

I thanke you gentle Waxe,

MOR.

If it were a Chattell, I would try my credit.

PIC.

So it is, for terme of life, we count it so.

STA.

She meanes, Inheritance to him, and his heyres▪ Or that he could assure a State, of yeeres: I'll be his Statute-Staple, Statute-Merchant, Or what he please.

PIC.

He can expect no more.

BAN.

His cousin Alderman Security, That he did talke of so, e'en now—

STA.

Who, is The very broch o'the bench, gem o'the City.

BAN.

He and his Deputy, but assure his life For one seuen yeeres.

STA.

And see what we'll doe for him, Vpon his scarlet motion.

BAN.

And old Chaine, That drawes the city-eares.

WAX.

When he sayes nothing, But twirles it thus.

STA.

A mouing Oratory!

BAN.

Dumb Rethoricke, and silent eloquence! As the fine Poet saies!

FIT.

Come, they all scorne vs, Doe you not see't? the family of scorne!

BRO.

Doe not belieue him! gentle Master Picklocke, They vnderstood you not: the Gentlewomen, They thought you would ha'my Lady soiourne, with you, And you desire but now and then, a visit?

PIC.

Yes, if she pleas'd, Sir, it would much aduance Vnto the Office, her continuall residence! (I speake but as a member)

BRO.

'Tis inough. I apprehend you. And it shall goe hard, But I'll so worke, as some body shall worke her!

PIC.

'pray you change with our Master, but a word about it.

P. IV.

Well, Lickfinger, see that our meat be ready, Thou hast Newes inough.

LIC.

Something of Bethlem Gabor, And then I'm gone.

THO.

We heare he has deuis'd * 1.25 A Drumme, to fill all Christendome with the sound: But that he cannot drawe his forces neere it, To march yet, for the violence of the noise. And therefore he is faine by a designe, To carry 'hem in the ayre, and at some distance, Till he be married, then they shall appeare.

LIC.

Or neuer; well, God b'wi'you (stay, who's here?)

A little of the Duke of Bauier, and then—

CLA.

H••has taken a gray habit, * 1.26 and is turn'd The Churches Millar, grinds the catholique grist With euery wind: and Tilly takes the toll.

CVS. 4.

Ha'you any newes o'the Pageants to send downe? Into the seuerall Counties. * 1.27 All the countrey Expected from the city most braue speeches▪ Now, at the Coronation.

LIC.

It expected More then it vnderstood: for, they stand mute, Poore innocent dumb things; they are but wood. As is the bench and blocks, they were wrought on, yet If May-day come, and the Sunne shine, perhaps, They'll sing like Memnons Statue, and be vocall.

CVS. 5.

Ha'you any Forest-newes?

THO.

None very wild, Sir, Some tame there is, out o'the Forrest of fooles, * 1.28 A new Parke is a making there, to seuer Cuckolds of Antler, from the Rascalls. Such, Whose wiues are dead, and haue since cast their heads, Shall remaine Cuckolds-pollard.

LIC.

I'll ha'that newes.

CVS. 1.

And I.

2.

And I.

3.

And I.

4.

And I.

5.

And I.

CYM.

Sir, I desire to be excus'd; and, Madame: * 1.29 I cannot leaue my Office, the first day. My Cousin Fitton here, shall wait vpon you. And Emissary Picklocke.

P. IV.

And Thom: Clericus?

CYM.

I cannot spare him yet, but he shall follow you, When they haue ordered the Rolls. Shut vp th'Office, When you ha'done, till two a clocke.

ACT. III. SCENE. III.

SHVNFIELD. ALMANACK. MADRI∣GAL. CLERKES.

BY your leaue, Clerkes, Where shall we dine to day? doe you know? the Ieerers.

ALM.

Where's my fellow Fitton?

THO.

New gone forth.

SHV.

Cannot your Office tell vs, what braue fellowes Doe eat together to day, in towne, and where?

THO.

Yes, there's a Gentleman, the braue heire, yong Peny-boy, Dines in Apollo.

MAD.

Come, let's thither then, I ha' supt in Apollo!

ALM.

With the Muses?

MAD.

No, But with two Gentlewomen, call'd, the Graces▪

ALM.

They' were euer three in Poetry.

MAD.

This was truth, Sir.

THO.

Sir, Master Fitton's there too!

SHV.

All the better!

ALM.

We may haue a ieere, perhaps.

SHV.

Yes, you'll drink, Doctor. (If there be any good meat) as much good wine now, As would lay vp a Dutch Ambassador.

THO.

If he dine there, he's sure to haue good meat, For, Lickfinger prouides the dinner.

ALM.

Who? The glory o'the Kitchin? that holds Cookery, A trade from Adam? quotes his broths▪ and sallads? And sweares he's not dead yet, but translated In some immortall crust, the past of Almonds?

MAD.

The same. He holds no man can be a Poet, That is not a good Cooke, to know the palats, And seuerall tastes o'the time. He drawes all Arts Out of the Kitchin, but the Art of Poetry, which he concludes the same with Cookery.

SHV.

Tut, he maintaines more heresies then that. He'll draw the Magisterium from a minc'd-pye, And preferre Iellies, to your Iulips, Doctor▪

ALM.

I was at an Olla Podrida of his making, Was a braue piece of cookery! at a funerall! But opening the pot-lid, he made vs laugh, who'had wept all day! and sent vs such a tickling Into our nostrills, as the funerall feast Had bin a wedding-dinner.

SHV.

Gi'him allowance, And that but moderate, he will make a Syren Sing i'the Kettle, send in an Arion, In a braue broth, and of a watry greene, Iust the Sea-colour, mounted on the backe Of a growne Cunger, but, in such a posture, As all the world would take him for a Dolphin.

MAD.

Hee's a rare fellow, without question! but He holds some Paradoxes.

ALM.

I, and Pseudodoxes. Mary, for most, he's Orthodox i'the Kitchin.

MAD.

And knowes the Clergies tast!

ALM.

I, and the Layties!

SHV.

You thinke not o'your time, we'll come too late, If we go not presently.

MAD.

Away then.

SHV.

Sirs, You must get o'this newes, to store your Office, VVho dines and sups i' the towne? where, and with whom? 'Twill be beneficiall: when you are stor'd; And as we like our fare, we shall reward you.

CLA.

A hungry trade,'twill be.

THO.

Much like D. Humphries, But, now and then, as th'holesome prouerb saies, 'Twill obsonare samem ambulando.

CLA.

Shut vp the Office: gentle brother Thomas.

THO.

Brother, Nathaniel, I ha'the wine for you. I hope to see vs, one day, Emissaries.

CLA.

Why not? S'lid, I despaire not to be Master!

ACT. III. SCENE. IV.

PENI-BOY. SE. BROKER. CYMBAL.

HOw now? I thinke I was borne vnder Hercules starre! Nothing but trouble and tumult to oppresse me?

He is started with Bro∣ker's com∣ming back.

Why come you backe? where is your charge?

BRO.

I ha'brought A Gentleman to speake with you?

P. SE.

To speake with me? You know 'tis death for me to speake with any man. What is he? set me a chaire.

BRO.

He's the Master Of the great Office.

P. SE.

What?

BRO.

The Staple of Newes, A mighty thing, they talke Six thousand a yeere.

P. SE.

Well bring your sixe in. Where ha' you left Pecunia?

BRO.

Sir, in Apollo, they are scarce set.

P. SE.

Bring sixe.

BRO.

Here is the Gentleman.

P. SE.

He must pardon me, I cannot rise, a diseas'd man.

CYM.

By no meanes, Sir, Respect your health, and ease.

P. SE.

It is no pride in me! But paine, paine; what's your errand, Sir, to me?

Hee sends Broker backe.

Broker, returne to your charge, be Argus-eyed, Awake, to the affaire you haue in hand, Serue in Apollo, but take heed of Bacchus. Goe on, Sir.

CYM.

I am come to speake with you.

P. SE.

'Tis paine for me to speake, a very death, But I will heare you!

CYM.

Sir, you haue a Lady, That soiournes with you.

P. SE.

Ha?

He pretends infirmity.

I am somewhat short In my sense too—

CYM.

Pecunia.

P. SE.

O' that side, Very imperfect, on—

CYM.

Whom I would draw Oftner to a poore Office, I am Master of—

P. SE.

My hearing is very dead, you must speake quicker.

CYM.

Or, if it please you, Sir, to let her soiourne In part with me; I haue a moyety We will diuide, halfe of the profits.

P. SE.

Ha? I heare you better now, how come they in? Is it a certaine businesse, or a casuall? For I am loth to seeke out doubtfull courses, Runne any hazardous paths, I loue streight waies, A iust, and vpright man! now all trade totters. The trade of money, is fall'n, two i'the hundred. That was a certaine trade, while th' age was thrifty, And men good husbands, look'd vnto their stockes, Had their mindes bounded; now the publike Riot Prostitutes all, scatters away in coaches, In foot-mens coates, and waiting womens gownes, They must haue veluet hanches (with a pox)

Now taken vp, and yet not pay the vse;

Hee talkes vehemently and aloud.

Bate of the vse? I am mad with this times manners.

CYM.

You said e'en now, it was death for you to speake.

P. SE.

I, but an anger, a iust anger, (as this is) Puts life in man. Who can endure to see The fury of mens gullets, and their groines?

Is mou'd more and more.

What fires, what cookes, what kitchins might be spar'd? What Stewes, Ponds, Parks, Coupes, Garners, Magazines? What veluets, tissues, scarfes, embroyderies? And laces they might lacke? They couet things— Superfluous still; when it were much more honour They could want necessary! What need hath Nature Of siluer dishes? or gold chamber-pots? Of perfum'd napkins? or a numerous family, To see her eate? Poore, and wise she, requires Meate onely; Hunger is not ambitious: Say, that you were the Emperour of pleasures, The great Dictator of fashions, for all Europe, And had the pompe of all the Courts, and Kingdomes, Laid forth vnto the shew? to make your selfe Gaz'd, and admir'd at? You must goe to bed, And take your naturall rest: then, all this vanisheth. Your brauery was but showen; 'twas not possest: While it did boast it selfe, it was then perishing.

CYM.

This man has healthfull lungs.

P. SE.

All that ex∣cesse Appear'd as little yours, as the Spectators. It scarce fills vp the expectation Of a few houres, that entertaines mens liues.

CYM.

He has the monopoly of sole-speaking.

He is angry.

Why, good Sir? you talke all.

P. SE.

Why should I not? Is it not vnder mine owne roofe? my feeling?

CYM.

But I came hete to talk with you.

P. S.

Why, an'I will not Talke with you, Sir? you are answer'd, who sent for you?

CYM.

* 1.30 No body sent for me—

P. SE.

But you came, why then Goe, as you came, heres no man holds you, There, There lies your way, you see the doore.

CYM.

This's strange!

P. Se.

'Tis my ciuility, when I doe not rellish The party, or his businesse. Pray you be gone, Sir. I'll ha' no venter in your Ship, the Office Your Barke of Six, if'twere sixteene, good, Sir,

CYM.

You are a rogue.

P. SE.

I thinke I am Sir, truly.

CYM.

* 1.31 A Rascall, and a money-bawd.

P. SE.

My surnames:

CYM.

A wretched Rascall!

P. S.

You will ouerflow— And spill all.

CYM.

Caterpiller, moath, Horse-leach, and dung-worme—

P. SE.

Still you lose your labor. I am a broken vessell, all runnes out: A shrunke old Dryfat. Fare you well, good Sixe.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Hee tells Pe∣cunia of Thom.
• * 1.2

  Newes from Rome.
• * 1.3

  Newes of the Emperor, and Tilly.
• * 1.4

  Newes of Spinola. The fifth Monarchy, vniting the Ecclesia∣sticke and Secular power. A plot of the house of Au∣stria. More of Spinola.
• * 1.5

  His Egges.
• * 1.6

  Galilaeo's study.
• * 1.7

  The burning glasse, by Moon-shine.
• * 1.8

  〈…〉〈…〉 Ecle.
• * 1.9

  Peny-boy will haue him change sides▪
• * 1.10

  though hee pay for it.
• * 1.11

  Spinola's new proiect: an army in cork-shooes.
• * 1.12

  Extraction of farts
• * 1.13

  The perpetu∣all Motion.
• * 1.14

  The Office call'd the house of fame.
• * 1.15

  1. Cust. Ashe baptist.
• * 1.16

  Prophet Ba∣al expected in Helland.
• * 1.17

  Archie mourn'd then.
• * 1.18

  The great Turk turn'd Christian▪
• * 1.19

  2. Cust.
• * 1.20

  A Coloney ••e Cookes sent ouer to con••ert the Canniballs.
• * 1.21

  3. Cust. By Colonel Lickfinger.
• * 1.22

  T•• let long hayre runne to seed▪ to sow bald pates.
• * 1.23

  Spalato's Legacy to the Players.
• * 1.24

  Gundo∣mar's vse of the game at Chesse, or Play so cal∣led.
• * 1.25

  Bethlem Gabors Drum.
• * 1.26

  The Duke of Bauier.
• * 1.27

  4. Cust. The Page∣ants.
• * 1.28

  5. Cust. The new Parke in the Forrest of Fooles.
• * 1.29

  Peny-boy would inuite the Master of the Office
• * 1.30

  Bids him get out of his house.
• * 1.31

  Cymbal railes at him. He ieeres him.