The nevv inne. Or, The light heart A comoedy. As it was neuer acted, but most negligently play'd, by some, the Kings Seruants. And more squeamishly beheld, and censured by others, the Kings subiects. 1629. Now, at last, set at liberty to the readers, his Maties seruants, and subiects, to be iudg'd. 1631. By the author, B. Ionson.

THE NEVV INNE.

Act 1.

Scene 1.

Host. Ferret.

I Am not pleas'd, indeed, you are i'the right; Nor is my house pleas'd, if my signe could speake, The signe o'the light Heart. There, you may read it; So may your master too, if he looke on't. A heart weigh'd with a fether, and out weigh'd too: A brayne-child o'mine owne! and I am proud on't! And if his worship thinke, here, to be melancholy, In spight of me or my wit, he is deceiu'd; I will maintayne the Rebus' gainst all humors, And all complexionsi'the body of Man, That's my word, or i'the Isle of Britaine! You haue reason good mine host.

Hos.

Sir I haue rime too.

Whether it be by chance or art, A heauy purse makes a light Heart. There 'tis exprest! first, by a purse of gold, A heauy purse, and then two Turtles, makes, A heart with a light stuck in't, a light heart! Old Abbot Islip could not inuent better, Or Prior Bolton with his bolt and Ton. I am an Innekeeper, and know my grounds, And study 'hem; Brayne o'man, I study 'hem: I must ha' iouiall guests to driue my ploughs, And-whistling boyes to bring my haruest home, Or I shall hea•• no Flayles thwack. Here, your master, And you ha'beene this fornight, drawing fleas Out of my mattes, and pounding 'hem in cages Cut out of cards, & those rop'd round with pack-thred, Drawne thorow birdlime! a fine subtilty! Or poring through a multiplying glasse, Vpon a captiu'd crab-louse, or a cheese-mite To be dissected, as the sports of nature, With a neat Spanish needle! Speculations That doe become the age, I doe consesse! As measuring an Ants egges, with the Silke-wormes, By a phantallique instrument of thred, Shall giue you their iust difference, to a haire! Or else recouering o'dead flyes, with crums! (Another queint conclusion i'the physicks) Which I ha seene you busie at, through the key-hole- But neuer had the fate to see a fl••e—

Ent. L••

Aliue i'your cups, or once heard, drinke mine host, Or such a chearfull chirping charme come from you.

Act 1. Scene 2.

Lovet. Ferret. Host.

What's that? what's that?

Fer.

A buzzing of mine About a flye! a murmure that he has.

Host.

Sir I am telling your Stote here, Monsieur Ferret, host For that I heare's his name) and dare tell you, Sir, ••f you haue a minde to be melancholy, and musty, There's Footmans Inne, at the townes end, the stockes, Or Carriers Place, at signe o'the broken Waine, Mansions of State! Take vp your harbour there; There are both flyes and fleas, and all variety Of vermine, for inspection, or dissection.

Lov.

We ha set our rest vp here, Sir, ••'your Heart.

Host.

Sir set your heart at rest, you shall not doe it: ••nlesse you can be iouiall. Brayne o'man, ••e iouiall first, and drinke, and dance, and drinke. Your lodging here, and wi'your daily dumps, ••s a mere libell 'gayn' my house and me; And, then, your s••andalous commons.

Lov.

How mine host?

Host.

Sir, they doe scandall me, vpo'the road, here A poore quotidian rack o'mutton, roasted, ••rie, to be grated! and that driuen downe VVith beare, and butter-milke, mingled together, Or clarified whey, instead of Claret! It is against my free-hold, my inheritance,

My Magna charta, Cor laetificat, To drinke such balder dash, or bonny clabbee! Gi'me good wine, or catholique, or christian, Wine is the word, that glads the heart of man: And mine's the house of wine, Sack, say's my bush, Be merry, and drinke Sherry; that's my po••sie! For I shall neuer ioy i'my light heart, So long as I conceiue a sullen ghest, Or any thing that's earthy!

Lov.

Humerous Host.

Host.

I care not if I be.

Lov.

But airy also, Not to defraud you of your rights, or trench Vpo'your priviledges, or great charter, (For those are euery hostlers language now) Say, you were borne beneath those smiling starres, Haue made you Lord, and owner of the Heart, Of the Light Heart in Barnet; suffer v•• Who are more Saturnine, t'enioy the shade Of your round roofe yet.

Host.

Sir I keepe no shades Nor shelters, I: for either Owles or Rere-mise.

Act 1. Scene 3.

Ferret. Host. Louel.

He'll make you a bird of night, Sir.

Host.

Blesse you child, You'l make your selues such.

Lov.

'That your son mine host?

En. Fra. to his child o'the by the Host speak••

Host.

He's all the sonnes I haue Sir.

Lov.

Pretty boy! Goes he to schoole?

Fer.

O Lord, Sir, he prates Latine

••d 'twere a parrat, or a play. boy.

Lov.

Thou— ••ommend'st him fitly.

Fer.

To the pitch, he flies, Sir, ••ee'l tell you what is Latine for a looking-glasse, ••beard-brush, rubber, or quick-warming pan.

••v.

What's that?

Fer.

a wench, i'the Inn-phrase, is al these;

A looking-glasse in her eye, A beard-brush with her lips, A rubber with her hand, And a warming pan with her hips.

Host.

This, in your scurrile dialect. But my Inne ••owes no such language.

F.

That's because, mine host, ••u doe professe the teaching him your selfe.

Host.

Sir, I doe teach him somewhat. By degrees, ••d with a funnell, I make shift to fill ••e narrow vessell, he is but yet, a bottell.

Lov

O let him lose no time, though.

Hos.

Sir, he do's not.

Lov.

And lesse his manners.

Hos.

I prouide for those, too. ••me hither Franke, speake to the gentleman Latine: He is melancholy; say, ••ong to see him merry, and so would treat him.

Fra.

Subtristis vis••' es esse aliquantulùm patri, ••ite lautè excipere, etiam a•• tractare ge••tit.

Lov.

Pulchr••.

Host.

Tell him, I feare it bodes vs some ill luck, ••s too reseruednesse.

Fra.

Veretur pa••er, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 quid nobis mali ominis apportet iste ••mis praeclusus vultus.

Lov.

Bellè. A fine child! ••u wou'not part with him, mine host?

H.

Who told you ••ould not?

Lov.

I but aske you.

Hos.

And I answere. ••o whom? for what?

Lov.

To me, to be my Page.

Host.

I know no mischiese yet the child hath done,

To deserue such a destiny.

Lov.

Why?

H••.

Go down boy, And get your break-fast. Trust me, I had rather Take a faire halter, wash my hands, and hang him My selfe, make a cleane riddance of him: then.

Lo.

What?

Host.

Then dam him to that desperate course of life.

Lov.

Call you that desperate, which by a line Of institution, from our Ancestors, Hath beene deriu'd downe to vs, and receiu'd In a succession, for the noblest way Of breeding vp our youth, in letters, armes, Faire meine, discourses, ciuill exercise, And all the blazon of a Gentleman? Where can he learne to vault, to ride, to fence, To moue his body gracefuller? to speake His language purer? or to tune his minde, Or manners, more to the harmony of Nature Then, in these nourceries of nobility?—

Host.

I that was, when the nourceries selfe, was nobl•• And only vertue made it, not the mercate, That titles were not vented at the drum, Or common out-cry; goodnesse gaue the greatnesse, And greatnesse worship: Euery house became An Academy of honour, and those parts— We see departed, in the practise, now, Quite from the institution.

Lov.

Why doe you say so? Or thinke so enviously? doe they not still Learne there, the Centaures skill, the art of Thrace, To ride? or Pollux my stery, to fence? The Pyrrhick gestures, both to dance, and spring In armour, to be actiue for the Warres?

To study figures, numbers, and proportions, May yeeld 'hem great in counsels, and the arts Graue Nestor, and the wise Vlysses practis'd? To make their English sweet vpon their tongue! As reu'rend Chaucer sayes?

Host.

Sir you mistake, To play Sir Pandarus my copy hath it, And carry messages to Madam Cresside. instead of backing the braue Steed, o'mornings, To mount the Chambermaid; and for a leape O'the vaulting horse, to ply the vaulting house: For exercise of armes, a bale of dice, Or two or three packs of cards, to shew the cheat, And nimblenesse of hand: mistake a cloake From my Lords back, and pawne it. Ease his pockets Of a superfluous Watch, or geld a iewell Of an odde stone, or so. Twinge three or foure buttons From off my Ladyes gowne. These are the arts, Or seuen liberall deadly sciences Of Pagery, or rather Paganisme, As the tides run. To which, if he apply him, He may, perhaps, take a degree at Tiburne, A yeare the earlier: come to read a lecture Vpon Aquinas at S. Thomas a Waterings, And so goe forth a Laureat in hempe circle!

Lov.

Yo'are tart, mine host, and talke aboue your sea∣soning, Ore what you seeme: it should not come, me thinkes, Vnder your cap, this veine of salt, and sharpnesse! These strikings vpon learning, now and then? How long haue you, (if your dul ghest may aske it,) Droue this quick trade, of keeping the light-heart,

Your Mansion, Palace here, or Hostelry.

Host.

Troth, I was borne to somewhat, Sir, aboue it.

Lov.

I easily suspect that: Mine host, your name.

Hos.

They call me Good-stock.

Lov.

S••r, and you con∣feffeit, B••th i'your language, treaty, and your bearing.

Hos.

Yet all, Sir, are not sonnes o'the white Hen; Nor can we, as the Songster say••s, come all To be wrapt soft and warme in fortunes smock: When she is pleas'd to trick, or trompe mankinde: Some may be Cotes, as in the cards; but, then Some must be knaues, some varlets, baudes, and ostlers, As aces, duizes, cards o'ten, to face it Out, i'the game, which all the world is.

Lov.

But, It being i'your free will (as 'twas) to choose What parts you would sustaine, me thinkes, a man Of your sagacity, and cleare nostrill, should Haue made, another choise, then of a place So sordid, as the keeping of an Inne: Where euery Iouial Tinker, for his chinke, May cry, mine host, to crambe, giue vs drinke; And doe not slinke, but skinke, or else you stinke. Rogu••, Baud, and Cheater, call you by the surnames, And knowne Synonyma of your profession.

Hos.

But if I be no such; who then's the Rogue, In vnderstanding, Sir, I meane? who erres? Who tinkleth then? or personates Thom. Tinker? Your weazill here may tell you I talke baudy, And teach my boy it; and you may beleeue him: But Sir at your owne peril, if I doe not: And at his too, if he doe lie, and affirme it.

No slander strikes, lesse hurts, the innocent: If I be honest, and that all the cheat Be, of my selfe, in keeping this Light Heart, VVhere, I imagine all the world's a Play; The state, and mens affaires, all passages Of life, to spring new, scenes come in, goe out, And shift, and vanish; and if I haue got A seat, to sit at ease here, i'mine Inne, To see the Comedy; and laugh, and chuck At the variety, and throng of humors, And dispositions, that come iustling in, And out still, as they one droue hence another: VVhy, will you enuy me my happinesse? Because you are sad, and lumpish; carry a L••ade stone I'your pocket, to hang kniues on; or let••rings, T'entice light strawes to leape at 'hem: are not taken VVith the alacrities of an host! 'Tis more, And iustlier, Sir, my wonder, why you tooke My house vp, Fidlers Hall, the Seate of noyse, And mirth, an Inne here, to be drousie in, And lodge your lethargie in the Light Heart, As if some cloud from Court had beene your Harbinger, Or Cheape-side debt-Bookes, or some Mistresse charge, Seeing your loue grow corpulent, gi' it a dyet, By absence some, such mouldy passion!

Lo.

'Tis guess'd vnhappily.

Fe.

Mine host, yo'are cal'd.

H.

I come, boyes.

L.

Ferret haue not you bin ploughing VVith this mad Oxe, mine host? nor he with you?

Fer.

For what Sir?

Lov.

VVhy, to finde my riddle out.

Fer.

I hope, you doe beleeue, Sir, I can finde

Other discourse to be at, then my Master With Hostes, and Host'lers.

Lou.

If you can, 'tis well. Goe downe, and see, who they are come in, what ghests; And bring me word.

Act. 1. Scene 4.

Lovel.

O loue, what passion art thou! So tyrannous! and trecherous! first t'en-slaue, And then betray, all that in truth do serue thee! That not the wisest, nor the wariest creature, Can more dissemble thee, then he can beare Hot burning coales, in his bare palme, or bosome! And lesse, conceale, or hide thee, then a flash Of enflam'd powder, whose whole light doth lay it Open, to all discouery, euen of those, Who haue but halfe an eye, and lesse of nose! An Host, to find me! who is, commonly, The log, a little o' this side the signe-post! Or, at the best, some round growne thing! a Iug, Fac'd, with a beard, that fills out to the ghests, And takes in, fro' the fragments o'their iestes? But, I may wrong this, out of sullennes, Or my mis-taking humor? Pray thee, phant'sie,

Be lay'd, againe. And, gentle-Melancholy, Do not oppresse me. I will be as silent, As the tame louer should be, and as foolish.

Act 1. Scene. 5.

Host. Ferret. Louel.

My Ghest, my Ghest, be Iouiall, I beseech thee. I' haue fresh golden ghests, ghests o'the game: Three coach-full! Lords! and Ladies! new come in. And I will cry them to thee, 'and thee, to them, So I can spring a smile, but ••his brow, That like the rugged Roman Alderman,— Old master Grosse, surnam'd 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.

Ent. Ferret.

Was neuer seene to laugh, but at an Asse.

Fer.

Sir here's the Lady Frampul.

Lou.

How!

Fer.

And her train. Lord Beaufort, & Lord Latimer, the Coronel Tipto', with Mistris Cis, the Chamber-mayd: Trundle, the Coachman—

Lou.

Stop, discharge the house: And get my horses ready, bid the Groome Bring 'hem to the back gate.

Hos.

What meane you Sir?

Lou.

To take faire leaue, mine Host.

Hos.

I hope, my Ghest, Though I haue talked somwhat aboue my share, At large, and bene i'the altitudes, th'extrau••gants, Neither my selfe, nor any of mine haue gi'n you The cause, to quit my house, thus, on the sodaine,

Lou.

No, I affirme it, on my faith. Excuse me,

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From such a rudenes; I was now beginning To tast, and loue you: and am heartily sory, Any occasion should be so compelling, To vrge my abrupt departure, thus. But— Necessity's a Tyran, and commands it.

Hos.

She shall command me first to fire my bush; Then breake vp house: Or, if that will not serue, To breake with all the world. Turne country bankrupt. I' mine owne towne, vpo' the Mercat-day, And be protested, for my butter, and egges, To the last bodge of oates, and bottle of hay; Ere you shall leaue me, I will breake my heart: Coach, and Coach-horses, Lords, and Ladies pack? All my fresh ghests shall stinke! I'le pul my signe, down Conuert mine Inne, to an Almes-house! or a Spittle, For lazers, or switch-sellers! Turne it, to An Academy o'rogues! or gi'it away For a free-schoole, to breed vp beggers in, And send 'hem to the canting Vniuersities Before you leaue me.

Lov.

Troth, and I confesse, I am loath, mine host, to leaue you: your expressions Both take, and hold me. But, in case I stay, I must enioyne you and your whole family To priuacy, and to conceale me. For, The secret is, I would not willingly, See, or be seene, to any of this ging, Especially, the Lad••.

Hos.

Braine o'man, What monster is she? or Cocatrice in veluet, That kils thus?

Lov.

O good words, mine host. She is A noble Lady! great in blood! and fortune!

Faire! and a wit! but of so bent a phant'sie, As she thinks nought a happinesse, but to haue A multitude of seruants! and, to get them, (Though she be very honest) yet she venters Vpon these precipices, that would make her Not seeme so, to some prying, narrow natures. We call her, Sir, the Lady Frances Frampul, Daughter and heire to the Lord Frampul.

Hos.

Who? He that did loue in Oxford, first, a student, And, after, married with the daughter of—

Lo.

Silly.

Hos.

Right, of whom the tale went, to turne Puppet-m^r.

Lov.

And trauell with Yong Goose, the Motion-man.

Hos.

And lie, and liue with the Gipsies halfe a yeare Together, from his wife.

Lo.

The very same: The mad Lord Frampul! And this same is his danghter! But as cock-brain'd as ere the father was! There were two of 'hem, Frances and Laetitiae; But Laetice was lost yong; and, as the rumor Flew then, the mother vpon it lost her selfe. A fond weake woman, went away in a melancholy, Because she brought him none but girles, she thought Her husband lou'd her not. And he, as foolish, Too late resenting the cause giu'n, went after; In quest of her, and was not heard of since.

Hos.

A strange diuision of a familie!

Lov.

And scattered, as i'the great confusion!

Hos.

But yet the Lady, th'heire, enioyes the land.

Lov.

And takes all lordly wayes how to confume it As nobly as she can; if cloathes, and feasting, And the authoriz'd meanes of riot will doe it.

Ent. Fer.

Host.

She shewes her extract, and I honor her for it.

Act. 1. Scene. 6

Ferret. Lovel. Host. Cicelie.

Your horses Sir are ready; and the house Dis-

Lou.

Pleas'd, thou thinkst?

Fer.

Icannot tel, dis∣chargd I'am sure it is.

Lou.

Charge it again, good Ferret. And make vnready the horses: Thou knowst how. Chalke, and renew the rondels. I am, now Resolu'd to stay.

Fer.

I easily thought so, When you should heare what's purpos'd.

L.

What?

Fer.

To throw The house out o'the windo?

Host.

Braine o'man, I shall ha'the worst o'that! will they not throw My houshold stuffe out, first? Cushions, and Carpets, Chaires, stooles, & bedding? is not their sport my ruine?

Lov.

Feare not, mine host, I am not o'the fellowship.

Fer.

I cannot see, Sir, how you will auoid it; They know already all, you are i'the house.

Lov.

Who know?

F.

The Lords: they haue seene me, & en∣quir'd it.

Lov.

Why were you seene••

Fer

Because indeed I had No med'cine, Sir, to goe inuisible: No Ferne-seed in my pocket; Nor an Opal Wrapt in a B••y-leafe, i'my left fist, To charme their eyes with.

H.

He dos giue you reasons As round as Giges ring: which, say the Ancients, Was a hoop ring; and that is, round as a hoop!

Lov.

You will ha'your Rebus still, mine host.

Hos.

I must:

Fer.

My Lady, too, lookt out o'the windo, & cal'd me. And see where Secretary

Pru.

comes from her,

Ent. Pru.

Emploi'd vpon some Ambassy vnto you—

Host.

Ile meet her, if she come vpon emploiment; Faire Lady, welcome, as your host can make you.

Pru.

Forbeare, Sir, I am first to haue mine audience, Before the complement. This gentleman Is my addresse to.

Host.

And it is in state.

Pru.

My Lady, Sir, as glad o'the encounter To finde a seruant, here, and such a seruant, Whom she so values; with her best respects, Desires to be remembred: and inuites Your noblenesse, to be a part, to day, Of the society, and mirth intended By her, and the yong Lords, your fellow-seruants. Who are alike ambitious of enioying The faire request; and to that end haue sent Me, their imperfect Orator, to obtaine it: Which if I may, they haue elected me, And crown'd me, with the title of a soueraigne Of the dayes sports deuised i'the Inne, So you be pleas'd to adde your suffrage to it.

Lov.

So I be pleas'd, my gentle mistresse Prudence? You cannot thinke me of that course condition, T'enuy you any thing.

Host.

That's nobly say'd! And like my ghest!

Lov.

I gratulate your honor; And should, with cheare, lay hold on any handle, That could aduance it. But for me to thinke, I can be any rag, or particle

O'your Ladyes care, more then to fill her list, She being the Lady, that professeth still To loue no soule, or body, but for endes; Which are her sports: And is not nice to speake this, But doth proclame it, in all companies: Her Ladiship must pardon my weake counsels, And weaker will, if it decline t'obay her.

Pru.

O master Louel you must not giue credit To all that Ladies publiquely professe, Or talke, o'th vollee, vnto their seruants. Their tongues and thoughts, oft times lie far asunder. Yet, when they please, they haue their cabinet-counsels And reserud thoughts, and can retire themselues As well as others.

Host.

〈◊〉〈◊〉, the subtlest of vs! Al that is borne within a Ladies lips—

Pru.

Is not the issue of their hearts, mine host.

Hos.

Or kisse, or drinke afore me.

Pru.

Stay, excuse me; Mine errand is not done. Yet, if her Ladyships Slighting, or disesteeme, Sir, of your seruice, Hath formerly begot any distaste, Which I not know of: here, I vow vnto you, Vpon a Chambermaids simplicity, Reseruing, still, the honour of my Lady, I will be bold to hold the glasse vp to her, To shew her Ladyship where she hath err'd, And how to tender satisfaction: So you vouchsafe to proue, but the dayes venter.

Ho.

What say you, Sir? where are you? are you within?

Lov.

Yes: I will waite vpon her, and the company.

Hos.

It is enough, Queene Prudence; I will bring him:

And, o'this kisse. I long'd to kisse a Queene!

Lov.

There is no life on earth, but being in loue! There are no studies, no delights, no businesse, No entercourse, or trade of sense, or soule, But what is loue! I was the laziest creature, The most vnprositable signe of nothing, The veriest drone, and slept away my life Beyond the Dormouse, till I was in loue! And, now, I can out-wake the Nightingale, Out-watch an vsurer, and out-walke him too, Stalke like a ghost, that haunted bout a treasure, And all that phant'si'd treasure, it is loue!

Host.

But is your name Loue-ill, Sir, or Loue-well? I would know that.

Lov.

I doe not know't my selfe, Whether it is. But it is Loue hath beene The hereditary passion of our house, My gentle host, and, as I guesse, my friend; The truth is, I haue lou'd this Lady long, And impotently, with desire enough, But no successe: for I haue still forborne To expresse it, in my person, to her.

Hos.

How then?

Lov.

I ha' sent her toyes, verses, and Anagram's, Trials o' wit, mere trifles she has commended, But knew not whence they came, nor could she guesse.

Host.

This was a pretty ridling way of wooing!

Lov.

I oft haue bene, too, in her company; And look'd vpon her, a whole day; admird her; Lou'd her, and did not tell her so; lou'd still, Look'd still, and lou'd: and lou'd, and look'd, and sigh'd; But, as a man neglected, I came of,

And vnregarded—

Host.

Could you blame her, Sir, When you were silent, and not said a word?

Lov.

O but Ilou'd the more; and she might read it Best, in my silence, had she bin—

Host.

As melancholique As you are. 'Pray you, why would you stand mute, Sir?

Lov.

O thereon hangs a history, mine host. Did you euer know, or heare, of the Lord Beaufort, Who seru'd so brauely in France? I was his page, And, ere he dy'd, his friend! I follow'd him, First, i'the warres; and i'the times of peace, I waited on his studies: which were right. He had no Arthurs, nor no Rosicleer's, No Knights o'the Sunne, nor Amadis de Gaule's, Primalions, and Pantagruel's, publique Nothings; Abortiues of the fabulous, darke cloyster, Sent out to poison courts, and infest manners: But great Achilles, Agamemnons acts, Sage Nestors counsels, and Vlysses slights, Tydides fortitude, as Homer wrought them In his immortall phant'sie, for examples Of the Heroick vertue. Or, as Virgil, That master of the Epick poeme, limn'd Pious Aeneas, his religious Prince, Bearing his aged Parent on his shoulders, Rapt from the flames of Tr••y, with his yong sonne. And these he brought to practise, and to vse. He gaue me first my breeding, I acknowledge, Then showr'd his bounties on me, like the Howres, That open-handed sit vpon the Clouds, And presse the liberality of heauen

Downe to the laps of thankfull men! But then! The trust committed to me, at his death, Was aboue all! and left so strong a tye On all my powers! as time shall not dissolue! Till it dissolue it selfe, and bury all! The care of his braue heire, and only sonne! Who being a vertuous, sweet, yong, hopefull Lord, Hath cast his first affections on this Lady. And though I know, and may presume her such, As, out of humor, will returne no loue; And therefore might indifferently be made The courting-stock, for all to practise on. As she doth practise on all vs, to scorne: Yet, out of a religion to my charge, And debt profess'd, I ha'made a selfe-decree, Nere to expresse my person; though my passion Burne me to cinders.

Host.

Then yo'are not so subtle, Or halfe so read in loue-craft, as I tooke you. Come, come, you are no Phoenix, an' you were, I should expect no miracle from your ashes. Take some aduice. Be still that rag of loue, You are. Burne on till you turne tinder. This Chambermaid may hap to proue the steele, To strike a sparkle out o'the flint, your mistresse May beget bonfires yet, you doe not know, What light may be forc'd out, and from what darknes.

Lov.

Nay, I am so resolu'd, as still Ile loue Tho' not confesse it.

Host.

That's, Sir, as it chances: Wee'll throw the dice for it: Cheare vp.

Lov.

I doe.

Act 2.

Scene 1.

Lady. Prudence.

Come wench, this sute will serue: dispatch, make ready. It was a great deale with the biggest for me; Which made me leaue it off after once wearing. How do's it fit? wilt come together?

Pru.

hardly.

Lad.

Thou must make shift with it. Pride feeles no pain•• Girt thee hard,

Pru.

Pox o' this errand Taylour, He angers me beyond all marke of patience. These base Mechanicks neuer keepe their word, In any thing they promise. Pru. 'Tis their trade, madam; To sweare and breake, they all grow rich by breaking, More then their words; their honesties, and credits, Are still the first commodity they put off.

Lad.

And worst, it seemes, which makes ••hem do't so often. If he had but broke with me, I had not car'd, But, with the company, the body politique-

Pru.

Frustrate our whole designe, hauing that time, And the materials in so long before?

Lad.

And he to faile in all, and disappoint vs? The rogue deserues a torture-

Pru.

To be crop'd With his owne Scizzer••.

Lad.

Let's deuise him one.

Pru.

And ha' the stumpssear'd vp with his owne sea∣ring candle?

Lad.

Close to his head, to trundle on his pillow? Ple ha' the Leasse of his house cut out in measures.

Pru.

And he be strangl'd with 'hem?

Lad.

No, no life I would ha'touch't, but stretch'd on his owne yard He shold be alittle, ha' the strappad••?

Pru.

Or an ell of taf∣fata Drawne thorow his guts, by way of glister, & fir'd With aqua vitae?

Lad.

Burning i'the hand With the pressing iron cannot saue him.

Pru.

Yes, Now I haue got this on: I doe forgiue him, What robes he should ha' brought.

Lad.

Thou art not cruell, Although streight-lac'd, I see, Pru!

Pru.

This is well.

Lad.

'Tis rich enough! But 'tis not what I meant thee! I would ha' had thee brauer then my selfe, And brighter farre. 'Twill fit the Players yet, When thou hast done with it, and yeeld thee somwhat.

Pru.

That were illiberall, madam, and mere sordid In me, to let a sute of yours come there.

Lad.

Tut, all are Players, and but serue the Scene. Pru, Dispatch; I feare thou dost not like the prouince, Thou art so long a fitting thy selfe for it. Here is a Scarfe, to make thee a knot finer.

Pr.

You send me a feasting, madame.

La.

Weare it wenc••

Pru.

Yes. but, with leaue o'your Ladiship, I would tel you This can but beare the face of an odde iourney.

Lad.

Why Pru?

Pru.

A Lady of your ranke and quality, To come to a publique Inne, so many men, Yong Lords, and others, i'your company! And not a woman but my selfe, a Chamber-maid!

Lad.

Thou doubt'st to be ouer-layd Pru? Feare it not, I le beare my part, and share with thee, i'theventer.

Pru.

O but the censure, madame, is the maine, What will they say of you? or iudge of me?

To be translated thus, 'boue all the bound Of fitnesse, or decorum?

Lad.

How, now! Pru! Turn'd foole vpo'the suddaine, and talke idly I'thy best cloathes! shoot bolts, and sentences T'affright babies with? as if I liu'd To any other scale then what's my owne? Or sought my selfe, without my selfe, from home?

Pru.

Your Ladyship will pardon me, my fault, If I haue ouer-shot, I'le shoote no more.

Lad.

Yes shoot againe, good Pru, Ile ha' thee shoot, And aime, and hit: I know 'tis loue in thee, And so I doe interpret it.

Pru.

Then madame, Il'd craue a farther leaue.

Lad.

Be it to licence, It sha'not want an eare, Pru, Say, what is it?

Pru.

A toy I haue, to raise a little mirth, To the designe in hand.

Lad.

Out with it Pru. If it but chime of mirth.

Pru.

Mine host has, madame, A pretty boy i'the house, a deinty child, His sonne, and is o'your Ladiships name too, Frances, Whom if your Ladiship would borrow of him, And giue me leaue to dresse him, as I would, Should make the finest Lady, and kins-woman, To keepe you company, and deceiue my Lords, Vpo'the matter, with a fountaine o'sport.

Lad.

I apprehend thee, and the source of mirth That it may br••ed, but is he bold enough, The child? and well assur'd?

Pru.

As I am, madame, Haue him in no suspicion, more then me: Here comes mine host: will you but please to aske him, Or let me make the motion?

Lad.

Which thou wilt, Pr••

Act 2. Scene 2.

Host. Lady. Prudence. Franke.

Your Ladiship, and all your traine are welcome.

Lad.

I thank my hearty host.

Host.

So is your souerainty, Madame, I wish you ioy o'your new gowne.

Lad.

It should ha'bin, my host, but Stuffe, our Taylor Has broke with vs, you shall be o'the counsell.

Pru.

He will deserue it, madame, my Lady has heard You haue a pretty sonne, mine host, she'ld see him.

Lad.

I very faine, I pr'y thee let me see him, host.

Host.

Your Ladiship shall presently, Bid Franke come hither, anone, vnto my Lady, It is a bashfull child, homely brought vp, In a rude hostelry. But the light Heart Is his fathers, and it may be his. Here he comes. Frank salute my Lady.

Fra.

I doe. What, madame, I am desin'd to doe, by my birth right, As heire of the light Heart, bid you most welcome.

Lad.

And I beleeue your most, my prettie boy, Being so emphased, by you.

Fra.

Your Ladiship, If you beleeue it such, are sure to make it.

Lad.

Pretily answer'd! Is your name Francis?

Fra.

Yes madame.

Lad.

I loue mine own the better.

Fra.

If I knew yours, I should make haste to doe so too, good madame.

Lad.

It is the same with yours.

F.

Mine then acknowledg∣eth

The lustre it receiues, by being nam'd, after.

Lad.

You will win vpon me in complement.

Fra.

By silence.

Lad.

A modest, and a faire well spoken-child.

Hos.

Her Ladiship, shall haue him, soueraigne Pru, Or what I haue beside: diuide my heart, Betweene you and your Lady. Make your vse of it: My ••ouse is yours, my sonne is yours. Behold, I tender him to your seruice; Franke, become What these braue Ladies would ha' you. Only this, There is a chare-woman i'the house, his nurse, An Irish woman, I tooke in, a beggar, That waits vpon him; a poore silly foole, But an impertinent, and sedulous one, As euer was: will vexe you on all occasions, Neuer be off, or from you, but in her sleepe; Or drinke which makes it. She doth loue him so, Or rather doate on him. Now, for her, a shape, As we may dresse her (and I'le helpe) to fit her, With a tuft-taffata cloake, an old French hood, And other pieces, heterogene enough.

Pru.

We ha'brought a standard of apparrell, down, Because this Taylor ••ayld vs i'the maine.

Hos.

She shall aduance the game.

Pru.

About it then. And send but Trundle, hither, the coachman, to me.

Hos.

I shall: But Pr••, let Louel ha'faire quarter.

Pru.

The best.

Lad.

Our Host (me thinks) is very game some!

Pru.

How like you the boy?

Lad.

A miracle!

Pru.

Good Madame But take him in, and sort a sute for him, ••e giue our Trundle his instructions; And wayt vpon your Ladiship, i'the instant.

Lad.

But Pru, what shall we call him, when we ha'drest him?

Pr.

My Lady-No-body, Any thing what you wil.

Lad.

Call him Laetitia, by my sisters name, And so t'will minde our mirth too, we haue in hand.

Act 2. Scene. 3.

Prudence. Trundle.

Good Trundle, you must straight make ready the Coach, And lead the horses out but halse a mile, Into the fields, whether you will, and then Driue in againe, with the Coach-leaues put downe, At the backe gate, and so to the backe stayres, As if you brought in some body, to my Lady, A Kinswoman, that she sent for, Make that answer If you be askd; and giue it out ••'the house, so.

Tru.

What trick is this, good Mistrisse Secretary, Youl'd put vpon vs?

Pru.

Vs? Do you speake pl••rall?

Tru.

Me and my Mares are vs.

Pru.

If you so ioyne 'hem. Elegant Trundle, you may vse your figures. I can but vrge, it is my Ladies seruice.

Tru.

Good Mistrisse Prudence, you can vrge inough. I know you 'are Secretary to my Lady, And Mistresse Steward.

Pru.

You'l still be trundling, And ha' your wages stopt, now at the Audite.

Tru.

Tis true, you 'are Gentlewoman o'the horse too. Or what you will beside, Pru, I do thinke it:

My best to' obey you.

Pru.

And I thinke so too, Trundl••.

Act. 2. Scene. 4.

Beaufort. Latimer. Host.

Why here's returne inough of both our venters, If we doe make no more discouery.

Lat.

what? Then o' this Parasite?

Bea.

O he's a deinty one. The Parasite o' the house.

Lat.

here comes mine host.

Hos.

My Lords, you both are welcome to the Heart.

Bea.

To the light heart we hope.

Lat.

And mery I sweare. We neuer yet felt such a fit of laughter, As your glad heart hath offerd vs, sin' we entred.

Bea.

How came you by this propertie?

Hos.

who! my Fly!

Bea.

Your Fly if you call him so.

Hos.

nay, he is that. And will be still.

Beau.

In euery dish and pot?

Hos.

In euery Cup, and company, my Lords, A Creature of all liquors, all complexions, Be the drinke what it will, hee'l haue his sip.

Lat.

He'is fitted with a name.

Hos.

And he ioyes in't: I had him when I came to take the Inne, here, Assign'd me ouer, in the Inuentory, As an old implement, a peice of houshold-stuffe, And so he doth remaine.

Bea.

Iust such a thing, We thought him,

Lat.

Is he a scholler?

Hos.

Nothing lesse. But colours for it, as you see: wear's black; And speakes a little taynted, fly-blowne Latin,

After the Schoole.

Bea.

Of Stratford o' the Bow. For Lillies Latine, is to him vnknown.

Lat.

What calling has' he?

Hos.

Only to call in, still. Enflame the reckoning, bold to charge a bill, Bring vp the shot i'the reare, as his owne word is,

Bea.

And do's it in the discipline of the house? As Corporall o' the field, Maestro del Campo,

Hos.

And visiter generall, of all the roome, He has' form'd a fine militia for the Inne too.

Bea.

And meanes to publish it?

Hos.

With all his titles. Some call him Deacon Fly, some Doctor Fly. Some Captaine, some Leiutenant, But my folkes Doe call him Quarter-master, Fly, which he is.

Act. 2. Scene. 5.

Tipto. Host. Flie. L. Bea. L. Lati.

Come Quarter-master Fly.

Hos.

Here's one, already, Hath got his Titles.

Tip.

Doctor!

Fly.

Noble Colonel! No Doctor, yet. A poore professor of ceremony, Here i'the Inne, retainer to the host, I discipline the house.

Tip.

Thou read'st a lecture. Vnto the family here, when is the day?

Fli.

This is the day.

Tip.

I'le heare thee, and I'le ha'thee a Doctour, Thou shalt be one, thou hast a Doctors looke!

A ••ace disputatiue, of Salamanca.

Hos.

Who's this?

Lat.

The glorious Colonel Tipto, Host,

Bea.

One talkes vpon his tiptocs, if you'l heare him.

Tip.

Thou hast good learning in thee, macte Fly.

Fly.

And I say macte, to my Colonel.

Host.

Well macted of'hem both.

Bea.

They are match'd i'saith.

Tip.

But Fly, why macte?

Fly.

Quasi magis a••cte, My honourable Colonel.

Tip.

What a Critique?

Host.

There's another accession, Critique Fly.

Lat.

I feare a taynt here i'the Mathematiques. They say, lines paralell doe neuer meet; He has met his paralell in wit, and schole-craft.

Bea.

They side, not meet man, mend your metaphor, And saue the credit of your Mathematiques.

Tip.

But Fly, how cam'st thou to be here, committed Vnto this Inne? Fly, Vpon suspicion o'drinke, Sir, I was taken late one night, here, with the Tapster, And the vnder-officers, and so deposited.

Tip.

I will redeeme thee, Fly, and place thee better, With a faire Lady.

Fly.

A Lady, sweet Sir Glorious!

Tip.

A Sou'raigne Lady. Thou shalt be the Bird To Soueraigne Pru, Queene of our sports, her Fly, The Fly in houshold, and in ordinary; Bird of her care, and she shall weare thee there! A Fly of gold, enamel'd, and a schoole-Fly.

Host.

The schoole, then are my stables, or the cellar, VVhere he doth study, deepely, at his houres, Cases of cups, I doe not know how spic'd VVith conscience, for the Tapster, and the Hostler: as VVhose horses may be cossen'd? or what Iugs Fil'd vp with froth? that is his way of learning,

Tip.

VVhat antiquated F••ther's that, that talkes?

Fly.

The worshipfull host, my ••atron, M^r. Good-stock: A merry Greke, and cants in Latine, comely. Spins like the parish top.

Tip.

I'le set him vp, then. Art thou the Dominus?

Host.

Fac-totum here, Sir.

Tip.

Host reall o'the house? and Cap of Maintenance?

Host.

The Lord o'the light Heart, Sir, Cap a pie; VVhereof the Fether is the Embleme, Colonel, Put vp, with the Ace of Hearts!

Tip.

But why in Cuerpo? I hate to see an host, and old, in Cuerpo.

Host.

Cuerpo? what's that?

Tip.

Light, skipping hose and doublet, The horse boyes garbe! poore blank, and halfe blank Cuerpo, They relish not the grauity of an host, VVho should be King at Armes, and ceremonies, In his owne house! know all, to the goldweights.

Bea.

VVhy that his Fly doth for him here, your Bird.

Tip.

But I would doe it my selfe, were I my Host, I would not speake vnto a Cooke of quality, Your Lordships footman, or my Ladies Trundle, In Cuerpo! If a Dog but stay'd below That were a dog of fashion, and well nos'd, And could present himselfe; I would put on The Savoy chaine about my neck; the ruffe; And cuffes of Flanders; then the Naples hat; VVith the Rome hatband; and the Florentine Agate; The Millan sword; the cloake of Genoa; set With Brabant buttons; all my giuen pieces: Except my gloues, the natiues of Madrid, To entertaine him in! and complement With a tame cony, as with a Prince that sent it.

Hos.

The same deeds, though, become not euery man, That fits a Colonel, will not fit an host,

Tip.

Your Spanish host is neuer seen in Cuerpo, Without his Paramento's cloake, & sword.

Fli.

Sir he has the father Of swords, within a long sword; Blade cornish stil'd Of Sir Rud Hughdibras.

Tip.

And with a long sword, bully bird? thy sence?

Fli.

To note him a tall-man, and a Master offence:

Tip.

But doth he teach the Spanish way of Don Lewis?

Fli.

No, the Greeke Master he.

Tip.

what cal you him?

Fli.

Euclide.

Tip.

Fart vpon Euclide, he is stale, & antique, Gi'me the modernes.

Fli.

Sir he minds no modernes, Go by, Hieronymo!

Tip.

What was he?

Fli.

The Italian, That plaid with Abbot Antony, i'the Friars, And Blinkin-sops the bold.

Tip.

I mary, those, Had fencing names, what's become o'them?

Hos.

They had their times, and we can say, they were So had Caranza-his: so had Don Lewis.

Tip.

Don Lewis of Madrid, is the sole Master Now, of the world.

Hos.

But this, o' the other world Euclide demonstrates! he! Hee's for all! The only fencer of name, now in Elysium.

Fli.

He do's it all, by lines, and angles, Colonel. By parallels, and sections, has his Diagrammes!

Bea.

Wilt thou be flying, Fly?

Lat.

At all, why not? The ayre's as free for a fly, as for an Eagle.

Bea

A Buzzard! he is in his contemplation!

Tip.

Euclide a fencer, and in the Elysium!

Hos.

He play'd a prize, last weeke, with Archimedes, And beate him I assure you.

Tip.

Doe you assure me?

For what?

Hos.

For foure i'the hundred. Gi'me fiue, And I assure you, againe.

Tip.

Host, Peremptory, You may be tane, But where? whence ••ad you this?

Hos.

Vpo' the road, A post, that came from thence, Three dayes agoe, here, left it with the Tapster.

Fli.

Who is indeede a thorough fare ofnewes, Iack I••g with the broken belly, a witty fellow!

Hos.

Your Bird here heard him.

Tip.

Did you heare him Bird?

Hos.

Speake i'the faith of a flie.

Fli.

Yes, and he told vs, Of one that was the Prince of Oranges fencer,

Tip.

Steuinus?

Fli.

Sir the same, had challeng'd Euclide A thirty weapons more then Archimedes Ere saw; and engines: most of his owne Inuention:

Tip.

This may haue credit, and chimes reason, this! If any man endanger Euclide, Bird, Obserue, that had the honor to quit Europe This forty yeare, tis he. He put downe Scaliger.

Fli.

And he was a great Master.

Bea.

Not of fence, Fly.

Tip.

Excuse him, Lord, he went o' the same grounds.

Bea.

On the same earth I thinke, with other Mortals?

Tip.

I meane, sweete Lord, the Mathematiques. Basta! When thou know'st more, thou wilt take lesse, greene honor. He had his circles, semicircles, quadrants—

Fli.

He writ a booke o' the quadrature o' the Circle,

Tip.

Cyclometria, I read—

Bea.

The title onely.

Lat.

And Indice.

Bea.

If it had one of that quare What insolent, halfe-witted things, these are?

Lat.

So are all smatterers, insolent, and impudent.

Bea.

They lightly go together.

Lat.

T'is my wonder! Two animals should hawke at all discourse thus!

Flie euery subiect to the Marke, or retriue—

Bea.

And neuer ha' the lucke to be i'the right!

Lat.

T'is fome folkes fortune!

Bea.

Fortune's a Ba••d And a blind Begger: 'tis their vanity! And shewes most vilely!

Tip.

I could take the heart now. To write vnto Don Lewis, into Spaine, To make a progresse to the Elysian fields, Next summer—

Bea.

And perswade him die for same, Of fencing with a shadow! Where's mine Host? I would he had heard this buble breake, i'fayth.

Act. 2. Scene 6.

Host. Ti••. Prudence. Beaufort. Latimer. Franke. Nurse. Lady. Flie. Lovel.

Make place, stand by, for the Queene Regent, Gentle∣men.

Tip.

This is thy Queen, that shalbe, Bird, our Soueraign.

Bea.

Translated Prudence!

Pru.

Sweet my Lord, hand off; It is not now, as when plaine Prudence liu'd, And reach'd her Ladiship—

Host.

The Chamber-pot.

Pru.

The looking-glasse, mine Host, loose your hous•• Metaph•• You' haue a negligent memory, indeed; Speake the host's language. Here's a yong Lord, Will make't a precedent else.

Lat.

Well acted Pru.

Host.

First minute of her raigne! what will she doe Forty yeare hence? God blesse her!

Pru.

If you'll kisse, Or complement, my Lord, behold a Lady, A stranger, and my Ladyes kinswoman.

Bea.

I doe confesse my rudenesse, that had need To haue mine eye directed to this beauty.

Fra.

It was so little, as it ask'd a perspicill.

Bea.

Lady, your name?

Fra.

My Lord, it is Laetitia.

Bea.

Laetitia! a faire omen! And I take it. ••et me haue still such Lettice for my lips: But that o' your family, Lady?

Fra.

Silly, Sir.

Bea.

My Ladyes kinswoman?

Fra.

I am so honour'd.

Host.

Already, it takes!

Lad.

An excellent fine boy.

Nur.

He is descended of a right good stock, Sir.

Bea.

What's this? an Antiquary?

Host.

An Antiquity, By th' dresse, you'ld sweare! An old Welsh Heralds wid∣dow: She's a wild-Irish borne! Sir, and a Hybride, That liues with this yong Lady, a mile off here, And studies Vincent against Yorke.

Bea.

She'l conquer, If she read Vincent. Let me study her.

Host.

She's perfect in most pedigrees, most descents.

Bea.

A Baud, I hope, and knowes to blaze a coate.

Host.

And iudgeth all things with a single eye, Fly, come you hither; No discouery Of what you see, to your Colonel Toe, or Tip, here, But keepe all close, tho'you stand i'the way o'prefer∣ment,

Seeke it, off from the roade; no flattery for't: No lick-foote, paine of loosing your proboscis: My Licorish Fly.

Tip.

What sayes old veluet-head?

Fli.

He will present me himselfe, Sir, if you will not.

Tip.

Who? he present? what? whom? An Host? A Groome? Diuide the thanks with me? share in my glories? Lay vp. I say no more.

Hos.

Then silence Sir, And heare the sou'raigne.

Tip.

Hostlers? to vsurpe Vpon my Sparta' or Prouince, as they say? No broome but mine?

Hos.

Still Colonel, you mutter?

Tip.

I dare speake out, as Cuerpo.

Fli.

Noble Colonel.

Tip.

And carry what I aske-

Hos.

Ask what you can S^r. So't be i'the house.

Tip.

I ask my rights & priuiledges, And though for forme I please to cal't a suit, I haue not beene accustomed to repulse.

Pru.

No sweet Sir Glorious, you may still command.

Hos.

And go without.

Pru.

But yet Sir being the first, And call'd a suit, you'll looke it shall be such As we may grant.

Lad.

It else denies it selfe.

Pru.

You heare the opinion of the Court.

Tip.

I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 No Court opinions.

Pru.

T'is my Ladies, though.

Tip.

My Lady is a Spinster, at the Law, And my petition is of right.

Pru.

What is it?

Tip.

It is for this poore learned bird.

Hos.

The Fly?

Tip.

Professour in the Inne, here, of small matters:

Lat.

How he commends him!

Hos.

As, to saue himselfe ••n him.

Lad.

So do all Politiques in their commendations.

Hos.

This is a State-bird, and the verier flie?

Tip.

Heare him problematize.

Pr.

Blesse vs, what's that?

Tip.

Or syllogize, elenchize.

Lad.

Sure, petard's, To blow vs vp.

Lat.

Some inginous strong words!

Hos.

He meanes to erect a castle i'the ayre, And make his flie an Elephant to carry it.

Tip.

Bird of the Arts he is, and Fly by name!

Pru.

Buz.

Hos.

Blow him off good Pru, they'l mar all else.

Tip.

The Soueraigne's honor is to cherish learning.

Pru.

What in a Fly?

Tip.

In any thing industrious.

Pr.

But Flies are busie!

Lad.

Nothing more troublesom, Or importune!

Tip.

Ther's nothing more domestick, Tame, or familiar then your Flie in Cuerpo.

Hos.

That is when his wings are cut, he is tame in∣deed, else Nothing more impudent, and greedy; licking:

Lad.

Or sawcy, good Sir Glorious.

Pr.

Leaue your Ad∣uocate-ship Except that we shall call you Orator Flie, And send you downe to the dresser, and the dishes.

Hos.

A good flap, that!

Pru.

Commit you to the steem!

Lad.

Or ••s condemn you to the bottles.

Pr.

And pots. There is his quarry.

Hos

He will chirp, far better, Your bird, below.

Lad.

And make you finer Musique.

Pru.

His buz will there become him.

Tip.

Come away. Buz, in their faces: Giue 'hem all the Buz, Dor in their eares, and eyes, Hum, Dor, and Buz! I will statuminate and vnder prop thee. If they scorne vs, let vs scorne them- Wee'll finde The thorough-fare below, and Quaere him, Leaue these relicts, Buz; they shall see that I, Spight of their jeares, dare drinke, and with a Flie.

Lat.

A faire remoue at once, of two impertinents!

Excellent Pru! I loue thee for thy wit, No lesse then State.

Pru.

One must pres••rue the other.

Lad.

Who's here?

Pru.

O Lovel, Madam, your sad seruant.

Lad.

Sad? he is sollen still, and weares a cloud About his browes; I know not how to approach him.

Pru.

I will instruct you, madame, if that be all, Goe to him and kisse him.

Lad.

How, Pru?

Pru.

Goe, and kisse him, I doe command it.

Lad.

Th'art not wilde, wench!

Pru.

No, Tame, and exceeding tame, but still your Sou'raigne.

Lad.

Hath too much brauery made thee mad?

Pru.

Nor proud Doe, what I doe enioyne you. No disputing Of my prerogatiue, with a front, or frowne; Doe not detrect: you know th'authority Is mine, and I will exercise it, swiftly, If you prouoke me.

Lad.

I haue wouen a net To snare my selfe in! Sir I am enioyn'd To tender you a kisse; but doe not know Why, or wherefore, onely the pleasure royall Will haue it so, and vrges—Doe not you Triumph on my obedience, seeing it forc't thus. There 'tis.

Lov.

And welcome. Was there euer kisse That relish'd thus! or had a sting like this, Of so much Nectar, but, with Aloës mixt.

Pru.

No murmuring, nor repining, I am fixt.

Lov.

It had, me thinks, a quintessence of either, But that which was the better, drown'd the bitter. How soone it pass'd away! how vnrecouered! The distillation of another soule Was not so sweet! and till I meet againe,

That kisse, those lips, like relish, and this taste, Let me turne all, consumption, and, here waste.

Pru.

The royall assent is past, and cannot alter.

Lad.

You'l turne a Tyran.

Pru.

Be not you a Rebell, It is a name is alike odious.

Lad.

You'l heare me?

Pru.

No, not o'this argument. Would you make lawes, and be the first that break'hem? The example is pernicious in a subiect, And of your quality, most.

Lat.

Excellent Princesse!

Host.

Iust Queene!

Lat.

Braue Sou'raigne.

Host

A she-Traian! this!

Bea.

What is't? Proceede incomparable Pru! I am glad I am scarce at leasure to applaud thee.

Lat.

It••s well for you, you haue so happy expressio••s.

Lad.

Yes, cry her vp, with acclamations, doe, And cry me downe, runne all with soueraignty. Prince Power will neuer want her Parasites.

Pru.

Nor Murmure her pretences: Master Lovel, For so your libell here, or bill of complaint, Exhibited, in our high Court of Sou'raignty, At this first hower of our raigne, declares Against this noble Lady, a dis-respect You haue conceiu'd, if not receiu'd, from her.

Host.

Receiued, so the charge lies in our bill.

Pru.

We see it, his learned Councell, leaue your planing, We that doe loue our iustice, aboue all Our other Attributes; and haue the nearnesse, To know your extraordinary merit; As also to discerne this Ladyes goodnesse; And finde how loth shee'd be, to lose the honour,

And reputation, she hath had, in hauing So worthy a seruant, though but for few minutes. Do here enioyne.

Hos.

Good!

Pru.

Charge, will, & com∣maud Her Ladiship, pain of our high displeasure And the committing an extreame contempt, Vnto the Court, our crowne and dignity.

Host.

Excellent Soueraigne! And egregious Pru••

Pru.

To entertaine you for a payre of howres, (Choose, when you please, this day) with all respects, And valuation of a principall seruant, To giue you all the titles, all the priuiledges, The freedomes, fauours, rights, she can bestow.

Hos.

Large, ample words, of a braue latitude!

Pru.

Or can be expected, from a Lady of honor, Or quality, in discourse, accesse, addresse.

Hos.

Good.

Pru.

Not to giue eare, or admit conference With any person but your selfe. Nor there, Of any other argument, but loue, And the companion of it, gentile courtship. For which your two howres seruice, you shall take Two kisses.

Hos.

Noble!

Pru.

For each howre, a kisse, To be tane freely, fully, and legally; Before vs; in the Court here, & our presence.

Hos.

Rare?

Pru.

But those howres past, and the two kisses paid, The binding caution is, neuer to hope Renewing of the time, or of the suit, On any circumstance.

Hos.

A hard condition!

Lat.

Had it beene easier, I should haue suspected The sou'raignes iustice.

Hos.

O you are seruant, My Lord, vnto the Lady, and a Riuall:

In point of law, my Lord, you may be challeng'd.

Lat.

I am not iealous!

Host.

Of so short a time Your Lorship needs not, and being done, in foro.

Pru.

What is the answer?

Host.

He craues respite, ma∣dame, To aduise with his learned Councell.

Pru.

Be you he, And goe together quickly.

Lad.

You are, no Tyran?

Pru.

If I be madam, you were best appeale me!

Lat.

Beaufort—

Bea.

I am busie, pr'y thee let me alone: I haue a cause in hearing too.

Lat.

At what Barre?

Bea.

Lou's Court o'Requests!

Lat.

Bring't into the Souerainty: It is the nobler Court, afore Iudge Pru, The only learned mother of the Law! And Lady o' conscience, too!

Bea.

'Tis well enough Before this mistresse of Requests, where it is.

Host.

Let 'hem not scorne you. Beare vp master Lovel, And take your howres, and kisses, They are a fortune.

Lov.

Which I cannot appr••ue, and lesse make vse of:

Host.

Still i'this cloud! why cannot you make vse of?

Lov.

Who would be rich to be so soone vndone? The beggars best is wealth, he doth not know: And, but to shew it him, in flames his want:

Host.

Two howers at height?

Lov.

That ioy is too too narrow, Would bound a loue, so infinite as mine: And being past, leaues an eternall losse. Who so prodigiously affects a feast, To forfeit health, and appetite, to see it? Or but to taste a spoone-full, would forgoe

All gust of delicacy euer after?

Host.

These, yet, are houres of hope.

Lov.

But all houres following Yeares of despaire, ages of misery! Nor can so short a happinesse, but spring A world of feare, with thought of loosing it; Better be neuer happy, then to feele A lit••e of it, and then loose it euer.

Host.

I doe confesse, it is a strict iniunction; But, then the hope is, it may not be kept. A thousand things may interuene, We see The winde sh••ft often, thrice a day, sometimes; Decrees may alter vpon better motion, And riper hearing. The best bow may start, And th'hand may vary. Pru may be a sage In Law, and yet not soure, sweet Pru, smooth Pru, Soft, debonaire, and amiable Pru, May doe as well as rough, and rigid Pru; And yet maintayne her, venerable Pru, Maiestique Pru, and Serenissimous Pru. Trie but one hower first, and as you like The loose o'that, Draw home and prove the other.

Lov.

If one howre could, the other happy make, I should attempt it.

Hos.

Put it on: and doe.

Lov.

Or in the blest attempt that I might die!

Hos.

I mary, there were happinesse indeed; Transcendent to the Melancholy, meant. It were a fate, aboue a monument, And all inscription, to die so. A Death For Emperours to enioy! And the Kings

Of the rich East, to pawne their regions for; To sow their treasure, open all their mines, Spend all their spices to embalme their corps, And wrap the inches vp in sheets of gold, That fell by such a noble destiny! And for the wrong to your friend, that feare's awa••, He rather wrongs himselfe, following fresh light, New eies to sweare by. If Lord Beaufort change, It is no crime in you to remaine constant. And vpon these conditions, at a game So vrg'd vpon you.

Pru.

Sir your resolution—

Hos.

How is the Lady affected?

Pru.

Sou'••aignes vse not To aske their subiects suffrage where 'tis due; But where conditionall.

Host.

A royall Sou'raigne!

Lat.

And a rare States-woman. I admire her bearing In her new regiment.

Host.

Come choose your h••ures, Better be happy for a part of time, Then not the whole: and a short parr, then neuer. Shall I appoint 'hem, pronounce for you?

Lov.

Your pleasure.

Host.

Then he designes his first houre after dinner; His second after supper. Say yee? Content?

Pru.

Content.

Lad.

I am content.

Lat.

Content.

Fra.

Con∣tent.

Bea.

What's that? I am content too.

Lat.

You haue rea∣son, You had it on the by, and we obseru'd it.

Nur.

Trot I am not content: in fait' I am not.

Host.

Why art not thou content, Good shelee-nien?

Nur.

He tauk so desperate, and so debausht, So baudy like a Courtier, and a Lord, God blesse him, one that tak'th Tobacco.

Host.

Very well mixt.

What did he say?

Nur.

Nay, nothing to the purposh, Or very little, nothing at all to purposh.

Host.

Let him alone Nurse.

Nur.

I did tell him of Ser•• Was a great family come out of Ireland, Descended of O Neale, Mac Con, Mac Dermot, Mac Murrogh, but he mark'd not.

Host.

Nor doe I, Good Queene of Heralds, ply the bottle, and sleepe.

Act 3.

Scene 1.

Tipto. Flie. Iug. Peirce. Iordan. Ferret. Trundle.

I like the plot of your Militia, well! It is a fine Militia, and well order'd! And the diuision's neat! 'Twill be desir'd Only, the'expressions were a little more Spanish: For there's the best Militia o'the world! To call 'hem Tertias. Tertia of the kitchin, The Tertia of the cellar, Tertia of the chamber, And Tertia of the stables.

Fly.

That I can, Sir, And find out very able, fit commanders. In euery Tertia.

Tip.

Now you are i'the right! As i'the Tertia o'the kitchin, your selfe Being a person, elegant in sawces, There to command, as prime Maestro del Campo, Chiefe Master of the palate, for that Tertia: Or the Cooke vnder you, 'cause you are the Marshall; And the next officer i'the field, to the Host.

Then for the cellar, you haue young Ano ne, Is a rare fellow, what's his other name?

Fly.

Pierce, Sir.

Tip.

Sir Pierce, I'le ha'him a Caualier. Sir Pierce Anon, will peirce vs a new hogs-head! And then your thorow-fare, l••g here, his Alferez: An able officer, giu'me thy beard, round Iug, I take thee by this handle, and doe loue One of thy inches! I'the chambers, Iordan, here. He is the Don, del Campo o'the beds. And for the stables, what's his name?

Fly.

old Peck.

Tip.

Maestro del Campo, Peck! his name is curt, A monosyllabe, but commands the horse well.

Fly.

O, in an Inne, Sir, we haue other horse, Let those troopes rest a while. Wine is the horse, That wee must charge with here.

Tip.

Bring vp the troopes, Or call sweet Fly, 'tis an exact Militia, And thou an exact professor, Lipsius Fly, Thou shalt be cal'd, and Iouse: lack Ferret, welcome, Old Trench-master, and Colonel o'the Pyoners, What canst thou bolt vs now? a Coney? or two Out of Thom: Trundles burrow, here, the Coach? This is the master of the carriages! How is thy driuing Thom: good, as twas?

Tru.

It serues my Lady, and our officer Pru. Twelue mile an houre! ••hom has the old trundle still.

Tip.

I am taken with the family, here, fine fellowes? Viewing the muster roll.

Tru.

They are braue men!

Fer.

And of the Fly, blowne discipline all, the Quarter-Master!

Tip.

The Fly's a rare bird, in his profession! Let's sip a priuate pinte with him, I would haue him

Quit this light signe of the light heart, my bird: And lighter house. It is not for his tall And growing grauity so Cedar-like, To be the second to an Host in Cuerpo, That knowes no elegancies, vse his owne Dictamen, and his Genius, I would haue him Flie high, and strike at all. Heer's yong Anone, too.

Pei.

What wine is't Gentlemen, white or claret?

Tip.

White. My briske Anone.

Pei.

I'le draw you Iuno's milke That died the Lilies, Colonel.

Tip.

Do so Peirce.

Pec.

A plague of all Iades, what a clap he has gi'n m••

Fli.

Why how now Cossen?

Tip.

Who's that?

Fer.

The Hostler.

Fli.

What ayl'st thou Cossen Peck?

Pec.

O me, my hanches! As sure as you liue, Sir, he knew perfectly I meant to Cossin him. He did leere so on me, And then he sn••erd. As who would say take heed S'ah, And when he saw our halfe-pecke, which you know Was but an old court-dish, Lord how he stamp't? I thought, 't had beene for ioy. When suddainly He cuts me a backe caper with his heeles, And takes me iust o'the crouper. Downe come I And my whole ounce of oates! Then he neighed out, As if he had a Mare by the tayle.

Fli.

Troth Cossin, You are to blame to vse the poore dumbe Christians, So cruelly, defraud 'hem o'their dimensum, Yonder's the Colonels horse (there I look'd in) Keeping our Ladies Eue! The diuell a bit He ha's got, sin'e he came in yet! There he stands,

And lookes and lookes, but t'is your pleasure, Cosse, He should looke leane enough.

Pec.

He ha's hay before him.

Fli.

Yes, but as grosse as hempe, and assoone will choake him, Vnlesse he eat it butter'd. H'had foure shoes, And good ones, when he came in: It is a wonder, With standing still he should cast three.

Pec.

Troth Quarter-Master, This trade is a kind of mystery, that corrupts Our standing manners quickely: Once a weeke, I meet with such a brush to mollifie me. Sometimes a brace, to awake my Conscience, Yet still, I sleepe securely.

Fli.

Cossin Peck, You must vse better dealing, fayth you must.

Pec.

Troth, to giue good example, to my successors, I could be well content to steale but two girths, And now and then a saddle cloth, change a bridle, For exercise: and stay there.

Fli.

If you could There were some hope, on you, Cosse. But the fate is You' are drunke so early, you mistake whole Saddles: Sometimes a horse.

Pec.

I there's—

Fli.

The wine, come Cosse, Ile talk with you anone.

Pec.

Doe, loose no time, good Quarter-Master.

Tip

There are the horse, come, Flie.

Fli.

Charge, in Boyes, in; Lieutenant o'the ordinance. Tobacco, & pipes.

Tip.

Who's that? Old Iordan, good! A comely vessell, and a necessary. New-scour'd he is: Here's to thee, Martiall Fly. In milke, my yong Anone sayes.

Pei.

Cream o'the grape! That drop't from Iuno's breasts, and sprung the Lilly!

I can recite your fables,

Fly.

Here is, too, The blood of Venus, mother o'the Rose!

Ior.

The dinner is gone vp.

Iug.

I heare the whistle.

Ior.

I, and the fidlers. We must all goe waite.

Pei.

Pox o'this waiting, Quarter Master, Fly.

Fly.

When Chambermaids are soueraignes, waite their Ladi•• Fly scornes to breath.

Pec.

or blow vpon thē, he.

Pei.

Old Parcel Peck! Art thou there? how now? lam••

Pec.

Yes faith: it is ill halting afore criples, I ha' got a dash of a Iade, here, will stick by me.

Pei.

O you haue had some phant'sie, fellow Peck, Some reuelation—

Pec.

What?

Pei.

To steale the hay, Out o'the racks againe:

Fly.

I told him so, When the ghests backs were turn'd.

Pei.

Or bring 〈◊〉〈◊〉 pe•• The bottome vpwards, heap'd with oates; and cry. Here's the best measure vpon all the roade! when You know the ghest, put in his hand, to feele, And smell to the oates, that grated all his fingers Vpo'the wood—

Pec.

Mum!

Pei.

And foūd out your 〈◊〉〈◊〉

Pec.

I ha'bin i'the cellar, Peirce.

Pei.

You were th•• there, Vpo' your knees; I doe remember it: To ha'the fact conceald. I could tell more, Soping of saddles, cutting of horse tailes, And cropping—pranks of ale, and hostelry—

Fly.

Which he cannot forget, he sayes, yong Knight: No more then you can other deeds of darknesse, Done i'the cellar.

Tip.

Well said, bold professor.

Fer.

We shall ha'some truth explain'd.

Pei.

We are all mortall, And haue our visions.

Pec.

Truly it seemes to me

That euery horse has his whole peck, and tumbles ••p to the eares in littour,

Fly.

When, indeed There's no such matter; not a smell of prouander.

Fer.

Not so much straw as would tie vp a horse-taile!

Fly.

Nor any thing i'the rack, but two old cob webs! ••nd so much rotten hay, as had beene a hens riest!

Tru.

And yet he's euer apt to sweepe the mangers!

••er.

But puts in nothing.

Pei.

These are fits, and fancies, Which you must leaue, good Peck.

Fly.

And you must pray ••t may be reueal'd to you, at some-times, Whose hōrse you ought to cosen; with what conscience; The how; and when; a Parsons horse may suffer—

Pei.

Who's master's double benefic'd; put in that.

Fly.

A little greasing i'the teeth; 'tis wholesome: And keepes him in a sober shuffle.

Pei.

His saddle too May want a stirrop.

Fly.

And, it may be sworne, His learning lay o' one side, and so broke it.

Pec.

They haue euer oates i'their cloake-bags, to affront vs.

Fly.

And therefore 'tis an office meritorious, To tith such soundly.

Pei.

And a graziers may.

Fer.

O they are pinching puckfists!

Tru.

And suspicious.

Pei.

Suffer before the masters face, sometimes.

Fly.

He shall thinke he sees his horse eate halfe a bushell,

Pei.

When the slight is, rubbing his gummes with salt, Till all the skin come off, he shall but mumble, Like an old woman that were chewing brawne, And drop 'hem out againe.

Tip.

Well argued Caualier,

Fly.

It may doe well: and goe for an example: But Cosse, haue care of vnderstanding horses, Horses with angry heeles, Nobility horses.

Horses that know the world; let them haue meat Till their teeth ake; and rubbing till their ribbes Shine like a wenches forehead: They are Diuels else Will looke into your dealings.

Pec.

For mine own part, The next I cossen o'the pampred breed, I wish he may be found'red.

Fli.

Foun-de-red. Prolate it right.

Pec.

And of all foure, I wish it, I loue no crouper complements.

Pei.

Whose horse w•• it?

Pec.

Why, M^r Bursts.

Pei.

Is Bat Burst come?

Pec.

An howre he has beene heere.

Tip.

What Burst?

Pei.

Mas, Bartolmew Burst. One that hath beene a Citizen, since a Courtier, And now a Gamester. Hath had all his whirles, And bouts of fortune, as a man would say, Once a Bat, and euer a Bat! a Rere-mouse, And Bird o' twilight, he has broken thrice

Tip.

Your better man, the Geno'way Prouerbe say, Men are not made of steele.

Pei.

Nor are they 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Alwayes to hold.

Fli.

Thrice honourable Colonel! Hinges will crack-

Tip.

Though they be Spanish iro••

Pei.

He is a merchant still, Aduenturer, At in, and in: and is our thorough-fares friend.

Tip.

Who? lugs?

Pei.

The same: and a fine gentl•• Was with him!

Pec.

M^r Huffle.

Pei.

Who? Hodge H••

Ti.

What's he?

Pei.

A cheater, & another fine gentl•• A friend o' the Chamberlaynes! Iordans! M^r Huf•• He is Bursts protection.

Fli.

Fights, and vapors for him

Pei.

He will be drunk so ciuilly-

Fli.

So discreetly-

Pei.

And punctually! iust at his houre.

Fli.

And then

Call for his Iordan, with that hum and state, As if he pis••'d the Politiques!

Pei.

And sup With his tuft-taffata night-geere, heere, so silently!

Fli.

Nothing but Musique!

Pei.

A dozen of bawdy songs.

Tip.

And knowes the Generall this?

Fl.

O no, S^r. Dormis, Dormit Patronus, still, the master sleepes. They'll steale to bed.

Pei.

In priuate Sir, and pay, The Fidlers with that modesty, next morning.

Fli.

Take a disiune of muscadell, and egges!

Pei.

And packe away i' their trundling cheats, like Gipsies••

Tru.

Mysteries, mysteries, Ferret.

Fer.

I we see, Trun∣dle, What the great Officers, in an Inne may doe; I doe not say the Officers of the Crowne But the light heart.

Tip.

I'le see the Bat, and Huffl••.

Fer.

I ha' some busines Sir, I craue your pardon-

Tip.

What?

Fer.

To be sober.

Tip.

Pox, goe get you gone then. Trundle shall stay.

Tru.

No I besech you Colonel, Your Lordship ha's a minde to bee drunke priuate, With these braue Gallants; I will step ••side Into the stables, and salute my Mares.

Pei.

Yes doe: and sleepe with 'hem, let him go-base whip-stocke. Hee'•• as drunke as a fish now, almost as dead.

Tip.

Come, I will see the flicker mouse, my Flie.

Act 3. Scene 2.

Prudence vsher'd by the Host, takes her seat of Iudica∣ture, Nurse, Franke, the two Lords Beaufort, and Latimer, assist of the Bench: The Lady and Louel are brought in, and sit on the two sides of the stage, confron∣ting each the other.

Ferret. Trundle.

Pru.

Heere set the hower; but first produce the par∣ties: And cleere the court. The time is now of price.

Hos.

Iug, get you down, and Trundle get you vp, You shall be Crier. Ferret here, the Clearke. Iordan, smell you without, till the Ladies call you; Take downe the Fidlers too, silence that noyse, Deepe, i'the cellar, safe.

Pru.

Who keepes the watch?

Hos.

Old Sheelinin heere, is the Madame Tel-clocke.

Nur.

No fait and trot, sweet Maister, I shall sleep; I fait, I shall.

Bea.

I p••'y thee, doe then, Schrich. O••. She brings to mind the fable o'the Dragon, That kept the Hesperian fruit. Would I could charme her.

Hos.

Trundle will do it with his hum. Come Trundle. Precede him Ferret, i'the forme.

Fer.

Oyez, oyez, oyez. Whereas there hath beene awarded, By the Queene Regent of Loue, In this high court of soueraig••ty, Two speciall howers of addresse, To Herebert Lovel, appellant, Against the Lady Frampul, defendant Herebert Lovel, Come into the Court. Make challenge to thy first hower, And saue thee, and thy bayle.

Tru.

O yez, &c. Whereas, &c. By the Qu. &c. ••n this high, &c. Two speciall, &c To Herebert, &c. Against the, &c. Herebert Lov. &c. Make, &c. And ••aue, &c.

Hos.

Loe, louting where he comes into the Court! Clearke' of the sou'raignty take his apparance. And how accoutred, how design'd he comes!

Fer.

T's done. Now Crier, c••ll the Lady Frampul, And by the name of, Francis, Lady Frampul, defendant, Come into the Court, Make answer to the award, And saue thee, and thy bayle.

Tru.

Francis &c. Come into the, &c. Make answer, &c. And saue thee, &c.

Enter Lady

Hos.

She makes a noble, and a just apparance. Set it downe likewise, and how armd she comes.

Pru.

Vsher of Loues Court, giue 'hem their oath. According to the f••rme, vpon Loue's Missal.

Hos.

Arise, and ••ay your hands, vpon the Booke.

Herebert Lovel Appellant, and Lady Frances Fram∣pul, Defendant, you shall sweare vpon the Liturgie of Loue, Ouid de arte a••andi, that you neither haue, ne will haue, nor in any w••se beare about you, thing, or things, pointed, or blunt, within these theselists, other then

what are naturall, and allow'd by the Court: No in∣chanted Armes, or weapons, Stones of vertue, Herbe of Grace, Charme, Character, Spel, Philtre, or other power, then Loues only, and the iustneste of your cause. So helpe you Loue, his Mother, and the contents of this Booke: Kisse it. Returne vnto yourseats. Crier bid si∣lence.

Tru.

Oyez. Oyez. Oyez.

Fe.

I'the name o'the Soueraigne of Loue Notice is giuen by the Court, To the Appellant, and Defendant, That the first houre of addresse proceeds. And Loue saue the Soueraigne.

Tru.

I'the &c. Notice is &c. To the Ap &c. That the &c. And loue &c.

Tru.

Euery man, or woman keep silence paine of impri∣sonment.

Pru.

Do your endeuours, in the name of Loue.

Lov.

To make my first approaches, then, in loue.

Lad.

Tell vs what Loue is, that we may be sure There's such a thing, and that it is in nature.

Lov.

Excellent Lady, I did not expect To meet an Infidell! much lesse an Atheist! Here in Loue's lists! of so much vnbeleefe! To raise a question of his being—

Host.

Well-charg'd!

Lov.

I rather thought, and, with religion, thinke, Had all the character of loue beene lost, His lines, demensions, and whole signature Raz'd, and defac'd, with dull humanity: That both his nature, and his essence might Haue found their mighty instauration he••e, Here where the confluence of faire, and good, Meets to make vp all beauty. For, what else

Is Loue, but the most noble, pure affection Of what is truly beautifull, and faire? Desire of vnion with the thing beloued?

(Beau.

Haue the assistants of the Court their votes, And writ of priuiledge, to speake them freely?

Pru.

Yes, to assist; but not to interrupt.

Bea.

Then I haue read somwhere, that man and woman Were, in the first creation, both one piece, And being cleft asunder, euer since, Loue was an appetite to be reioyn'd. As for example—

N••r.

Cramo-cree! what meansh' tou?

Bea.

Only, to kisse, and part.

Hos.

So much is law∣full.

Lat.

And stands with the prerogatiue of loues Court!

Lov.

It is a fable of Plato's, in his Banquet, And vtter'd, there, by Aristophanes.

Hos.

'Twas well remembred here, and to good vse.) But on with your description, what Loue is. Desire of vnion with the thing belou'd.

Lov.

I meant a definition. For I make The efficient cause, what's beautifull, and faire. The formall cause, the appetite of vnion. The finall cause, the vnion it selfe. But larger, if you'l haue it, by description, It is a flame, and ardor of the minde, Dead, in the proper corps, quick in anothers: Trans-ferres the Louer into the Loued. The he, or she, that loues, engraues, or stamps Th' Idea of what they loue, first in themselues: Or, like to glasses, so their mindes take in

The formes of their belou'd, and them reflect, It is the likenesse of affections, Is both the parent, and the nurse of loue. Loue is a spirituall coupling of two soules, So much more excellent, as it least relates Vnto the body; circular, eternall; N•• fain'd, or made, but borne: And then, so pretious, As nought can value it, but it selfe. So free, As nothing can command it, but it selfe. And in it selfe, so round, and liberall, As where it fauours, it bestowes it selfe.

(Bea.

And, that doe I; here my whole selfe, I tender, According to the practise o'the Court.

Nur

I'tish a naughty pract••sh, a lewd practish, Be quiet man, dou shalt not leip her, here.

Bea.

Leape her? I lip her, foolish Queene at Armes, Thy blazon's false: wilt thou blaspheme thine office?)

Lov.

But, we must take, and vnderstand this loue Along still, as a name of dignity; Not pleasure.

(Hos.

Mark you that, my light yong Lord?)

Lov.

True loue hath no vnworthy thought, no light, Loose, vn-becoming appetite, or straine, But fixed, constant, pure, immutable.

(Bea.

I relish notthese philosophicall feasts: Giue me a banquet o'sense, like that of Ovid: A forme, to take the eye; a voyce, mine care; Pure aromatiques, to my sent; a soft, Smooth, deinty hand, to touch; and, for my taste, Ambrosiack kisses, to melt downe the palat.)

Lov.

They are the earthly, lower forme oflouers,

Are only taken with what strikes the senses! And loue by that loose scale. Although I grant, We like, what's saire and gracefull in an obiect, And (true) would vse it, in the all we tend to, Both of our ciuill, and domestick deedes. In ordering of an army, in our style, Apparell, gesture, building, or what not? All arts, and actions doe affect their beauty. But put the case, in trauayle I may meet Some gorgeous Structure, a braue Frontispice, Shall I stay captiue ••'the outer court, Surpris'd with that, and not aduance to know Who dwels there, and inhabiteth the house? There is my friendship to be made, within; With what can loue me againe: not, with the walles, Dores, windo'es, architrabes, the frieze, and coronice. My end is lost in louing of a face, An eye, lip, nose, hand, foot, or other part, Whose all is but a statue, if the mind Moue not, which only can make the returne. The end of loue is, to haue two made one In will, and in affection, that the mindes Be first inoculated, not the bodies.

Bea.

Gi' me the body, if it be a good one.

Fra.

Nay, sweet my Lord, I must appeale the Soue∣raigne For better quarter; If you hold your practise; Tru. Silence, paine of imprisonment: Heare the Court.

Lov.

The bodyes loue is fraile, subiect to change, And alter still, with it: The mindes is firme, One, and the same, proceedeth first, from weighing,

And well examining, what is faire, and good; Then, what is like in reason, fit in manners; That breeds good will: good will desire of vnion. So knowledge first, begets beneuolence, Beneuolence breeds friendship, friendship loue. And where it starts or steps aside from this, It is a mere degenerous appetite, A lost, oblique, deprau'd affection, And beares no marke, or character of Loue.

Lad.

How am I changed! By what alchimy Of loue, or language, am I thus translated! His tongue is tip'd with the Philosophers stone, And that hath touch'd me through euery vaine! I feele that transmutation o'my blood, As I were quite become another creature, And all he speakes, it is proiection!

Pru.

Well fain'd, my Lady: now her parts begin!

Lat.

And she will act 'hem subtilly.

Pru.

She fails me else.

Lov.

Nor doe they trespasse within bounds of pardon, That giuing way, and licence to their loue, Di-uest him of his noblest ornaments, Which are his modesty, and shamefac'tnesse: And so they doe, that haue vnfit designes, Vpon the parties, they pretend to loue. For, what's more monstrous, more a prodigie, Then to heare me protest truth of affection Vnto 〈◊〉〈◊〉 person that I would dishonor? And what's a more dishonor, then defacing Anothers good, with forfeiting mine owne? And drawing on a fellowship of sinne;

From note of which, though (for a while) we may Be both kept safe, by caution, yet the conscience Cannot be cleans••d. For what was hitherto Cal'd by the name of loue, becomes destroyd Then, with the fact: the innocency lost, The bating of affection soone will follow: And Loue is neuer true, that is not lasting. No more then any can be pure, or perfect, That entertaines more then one obiect. Dixi.

Lad.

O speake, and speake for euer! let min'eare Be feasted still, and filled with this banquet! No sense can euer surfet on such truth! It is the marrow of all louers tenents! Who hath read Plato, Heliodore, or Tatius, Sydney, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, or all Loues Fathers, like him? He, is there the Master of the Sentences, Their Schoole, their Commentary, Text, and Glosse, And breathes the true diuinity of Loue!

Pru.

Excellent actor! how she hits this passion!

Lad.

Where haue I liu'd, in heresie, so long Out o'the Congregation of Loue, And stood irregular, by all his C••nons?

L••.

But doe you thinke she playes?

Pru.

Vpo'my Soue∣raignty, Marke her anon.

Lat.

I shake, and am halfe iealous.

Lad.

What penance shall I doe, to be receiu'd, And reconcil'd, to the Church of Loue? Goe on procession, bare-foot, to his Image, And say some hundred penitentiall verses, There, out of Chaucers Troilus, and Cr••ide? Or to his mothers shrine, vow a Waxe-candle

As large as the Towne May-pole is, and pay it! Enioyne me any thing this Court thinks fit, For I haue trespass'd, and blasphemed Loue. I haue, indeed, despis'd his Deity, Whom (till this miracle wrought on me) I knew not. Now I adore Loue, and would kisse the rushes That beare this reuerend Gentleman, his Priest, If that would expiate—but, I feare it will not. For, tho' he be somewhat strooke in yeares, and old Enough to be my father, he is wise, And onely wise men loue, the other couet. I could begin to be in loue with him, But will not tell him yet, because I hope T'enioy the other houre, with more delight, And proue him farther.

Pru.

Most S••cratick Lady! Or, if you will Ironick! gi' you ioy O' you Platonick loue here, M^r Lovel. But pay him his first kisse, yet, i'the Court, Which is a debt, and due: For the houre's run.

Lad.

How swift is time, and s••ly steales away From them would hug it, value it, embrace it? I should haue thought it scarce had run ten minutes, When the whole houre is fled. Here, take your kisse, Sir, Which I most willing tender you, in Court.

(Bea.

And we doe imitate—)

Lad.

And I could wish, It had bene twenty—so the Soueraignes Poore narrow nature had decreed it so— But that is past, irreuocable, now: She did her kind, according to her latitude—

Pru

Beware, you doe not coniure vp a spirit

You cannot lay.

Lad.

I dare you, doe your worst, Shew me but such an iniustice: I would thanke you To alter your award.

Lat.

Sure she is serious! I shall haue another fit of iealousie! I feele a grudging!

Host.

Cheare vp, noble ghest, We cannot guesse what this may come to, yet; The braine of man, or woman, is vncertaine!

Lov.

T••t, she dissembles! All is personated, And counterfeit comes from her! If it were not, The Spanish Monarchy, with both the Indies, Could not buy off the treasure of this kisse, Or halfe giue balance for my happinesse.

Host.

Why, as it is yet, it glads my light Heart To see you rouz'd thus from a sleepy humor, Of drouzy, accidentall melancholy; And all those braue parts of your soule awake, That did before seeme drown'd, and buried in you! That you expresse your selfe, as you had back'd The Muses Horse! or got Bellerophons armes! What newes with Fly?

Fly.

Newes, of a newer Lady, A finer, freshe••, brauer, bonnier beauty, A very bona-Roba, and a Bouncer! In yeallow, glistering, golden Satten.

Lad.

Pru, Adiourne the Court.

Pru.

Cry Trundle-

Tru.

Oyez, Any man, or woman, that hath any personal attendance To giue vnto the Court; Keepe the second houre, And Loue saue the Sou'raigne.

Act 4.

Scene 1.

Iug. Barnabe. Iordan.

O Barnabe!

Ior.

Welcome Barnabe! Where ha•• thou beene?

Bar.

I'the foule weather.

Iug.

Which has wet thee, B••.

Bar.

As dri•• as a chip! Good Iug, a cast o'thy name, As well as thy office; two iugges!

Iug.

By, and by.

Ior.

What Lady's this thou hast brought here?

Bar.

A great Lad•• I know no more: one, that will trie you, Iordan. Shee'll finde your gage, your circle, your capacity, How do's old Staggers the Smith? and Tree, the Sadler? Keep they their peny-club, stil?

Ior.

And th'old catch too, Of whoop Barnaby-

Bar.

Doe they sing at me?

Ior.

They'are reeling at it, in the parlour, now:

Bar.

Ile to 'hem: Gi' mee a drinke first.

Ior.

Wher•• thy 〈◊〉〈◊〉

Bar.

I lost it by the way-Gi'me another.

Iug.

A hat?

Bar.

A drinke.

Iug.

Take heed of taking cold, Ban-

Bar.

The wind blew't off at High-gate, and my Lady Would not endure mee, light, to take it vp, But made me driue bare-headed i'the raine.

Ior.

That she might be mistaken for a Countesse?

Bar.

Troth, like inough! She might be an o're-grown Dutchesse, For ought I know.

Iug.

What! with one man!

Bar.

At a time, They cary no more, the best of'hem.

I••.

Nor the brauest.

Bar.

And she is very braue!

I••r.

A stately gowne!

And p••ticote, she has on!

Bar.

Ha'you spi'd that, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 You'are a notable peerer, an old Rabbi, At a smocks hem, boy.

Iug.

As he is Chamberlane, He may doe that, by his place.

Ior.

Whats her Squire?

Bar.

A toy, that she allowes eight pence a day. A slight Man-net, to port her, vp, and downe. Come shew me to my play-fellowes, old Staggert, And father Tree.

Ior.

Here, this way, Bar••abe.

Act 4. Scene 2.

Tipto. Burst. Huffle. Fly.

Come, let'vs take in fresco, here, one quart.

Bur.

Two quarts, my man of war, let'vs not be stinted.

Huf.

Aduance three iordans, varlet o'the house:

Tip.

I do not like your Burst, Bird; He is sawcy: Some Shop-keeper he was?

Fly.

Yes, Sir.

Tip.

I knew it. A broke-wing'd Shop-keeper? I nose 'hem, streight. He had no Father, I warrant him, that durst own him; Some foundling in a stall, or the Church porch; Brought vp it'he Hospitall; and so bound Prentise; Then Master of a shop; then 'one o'th Inquest; Then breakes out Bankrupt; or starts Alderman: The originall of both is a Church-porch—

Fli.

Of some, my Colonel.

Tip.

Good fayth, of most! O'your shop Citizens, th'are rud•• Animals! And let'hem get but ten mile out a towne Th'out swagger all the wapen-take.

Fli.

What's that?

Tip.

A Saxon word, to signifie the hundred.

Bur.

Come let vs drinke, Sir Glorious, some braue health Vpon our tip-toos.

Tip.

To the health o'the Bursts.

Bu.

Why Bursts?

Ti.

Why Tipto's?

Bu.

O' I cry you mercy!

Tip.

It is sufficient.

Huf.

What is so sufficient?

Tip.

To drinke to you is sufficient.

Huf.

On what terms?

Tip.

That you shall giue security to pledge me.

Huf.

So you will name no Spaniard, I will pledge you.

Tip.

I rather choose to thirst: and will thirst euer, Then leaue that creame of nations, vn-cry'd vp. Perish all wine, and gust of wine.

Huf.

How spill it? Spill it at me?

Tip.

I wrek not, but I spilt it.

Fli.

Nay pray you be quiet, noble bloods.

Bur.

No Spa∣niards, I crie, with my cossen Huffle.

Huf.

Spaniards? Pilchers?

Tip.

Do not prouoke my patient blade. It sleep's, And would not heare thee: Huffle, thou art rude, And dost not know the Spanish composition.

Bur.

What is the Recipe? Name the ingredients.

Tip.

Valor.

Bur.

Two ounces!

Tip.

Prudence.

Bur.

Half a dram!

Tip.

Iustice,

Bur.

A peny weight!

Tip.

Religion.

Bur.

Three scruples!

Tip.

And of grauida'd

Bur.

A face∣full!

Tip.

He carries such a dose of it in his lookes, Actions, and gestures, as it breeds respect, To him, from Sauages, and reputation With all the sonnes of men.

Bur.

Will it giue him credit With Gamesters, Courtiers, Citizens, or Tradesmen?

Tip.

Hee'll borrow money on the stroke of his beard! Or turne off his Mustaccio! His meere cuello, Or Ruffe about his necke is a Bill of Exchange

In any Banke, in Europe! Not a Marchant That fees his gate, but straight will furnish him Vpon his pa••e!

Huf.

I haue heard the Spanish name Is terrible, to children in some Countries; And vs'd to make them eat—their bread and butter: Or take their worm-seed.

Tip.

Huffle, you doe shuffle: —to them: Stuffe, Pinnacia.

Bur.

Slid heers a Lady!

Huf.

And a Lady gay!

Tip.

A well-trimm'd Lady!

Huf.

Lett's lay her a boord.

Bur.

Lett's haile her first.

Tip.

By your sweet fauour Lady,

Stu.

Good Gentlemen be ciuill, we are strangers.

Bur.

And you were Flemings, Sir!

Huf.

Or Spaniards!

Tip.

The'are here, haue beene at Seuil i'their dayes, And at Madrid too!

Pin.

He is a foolish fellow, I pray you minde him not, He is my Protection.

Tip.

In your protection, he is safe, sweet Lady. So shall you be, in mine.

Huf.

A share, good Coronell.

Tip.

Of what?

Huf.

Of your fine Lady! I am H••dge, My name is Huffle.

Tip.

Huffling Hodge, be quiet.

Bur.

And I pray you, be you so, Glorious Coronel, Hodge Huffle shall be quiet.

Huf.

A Lady gay, gay. For she is a Lady gay, gay, gay. For ••he's a Lady gay.

Tip.

Bird o'the Vespers, Vespertilio, Burst; You are a Gentleman, o' the first head, But that head may be broke, as all the Body is— Burst, if you tie not vp your Huffle, quickly.

Huf.

Tie dogs, not man.

Hur.

Nay pray thee, Hodge, be still.

Tip.

This steele here rides not, on this thigh, in vaine.

Huf.

Shew'st thou thy steele, & thigh, thou glorious Dirt,

Then Hodg•• sings Sampson, and no ties shall hold. —Peirce. Iug. Iorden.

To them.

Pei.

Keepe the peace gentlemen: wha•• do you m••

Tip.

I will not discompose my selfe, for Hu••e.

Pin.

You ••ee what your entreaty, and pressure still Of gentlemen, to be ciuill, doth bring on? A quarrell? and perhaps man-slaughter? You Will carry your goose about you, stil? your pla••ing 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Your tongue to smooth all is not here fine stuffe?

Stu.

Why wife?

Pin.

Your wife? ha'not I for••iden you that•• Doe you thinke I'le call you husband ••'this gowne, Or any thing, in that iacket, but Protection? Here tie my shooe; and shew my vellute petticote, And my silke stocking! why doe you make me a Lady, If I may not doe like a Lady, in fine clothes.

Stu.

Sweet heart, you may doe what you will, with me.

Pin.

〈◊〉〈◊〉; I knew that at home; what to doe with you; But why was I brought hither? to see fashions?

Stu.

And weare them too, sweet heart, but this wild Company

Pin.

Why doe you bring me in wild Company? You'd ha' me tame, and ciuill, in wild Company? I hope I know, wild Company are fine Company, And in fine Company, where I am fine my selfe, A Lady may doe any thing, deny nothing To a fine party, I haue heard you say't. —To them Pierce.

Pei.

There are a Company of Ladies aboue Desire your Ladiships Company, and to take The surety of their lodgings, from the affront

Of these halfe-beasts, were heere een now, the Centaures,

Pin.

Are they fine Ladies?

Pei.

Some very fine Ladies.

Pin.

As fine as I?

Pei.

I dare vse no comparisons, Being a seruant, sent—

Pin.

Spoke, like a fine fellow! I would thou wert one; I'de not then deny thee: But, thank thy Lady. —To them Host.

Hos.

Madam, I must craue you To afford a Lady a visit, would excuse Some harshnesse o'the house, you haue receiu'd From the brute ghests.

Pin.

This's a fine old man! I'ld goe with him an' he were a little finer! Stu•• You may sweet heart, it is mine Host.

Pin.

mine Host!

Host.

Yes madame, I must bid you welcom.

Pin.

Do then.

Stu.

But doe not stay.

Pin.

I'le be aduil'd by you, yes!

Act 4. Scene. 3.

—To them Latimer. Beaufort. Lady. Pru. Frank. Host. Pinnacia. Stuffe.

What more then Thracian Barbarisme was this!

Bea.

The battayle o'the Centaures, with the Lapithes!

Lad.

There is no taming o'the Monster drinke.

Lat.

But what a glorious beast our Tipto shew'd! He would not discompose himselfe, the Don! Your Spaniard, nere, doth discompose himselfe.

Bea.

Yet, how he talkt, and ror'd i'the beginning!

Pru.

And ran as fast, as a knock'd Marro'bone.

Bea.

So they did all at last, when Lovel went downe, And chas'd hem bout the Court.

Lat.

For all's Don Lewis! Or fencing after Euclide!

Lad.

I nere saw A lightning shoot so, as my seruant did, His rapier was a Meteor, and he wau'd it Ouer 'hem, like a Comet! as they fled him! I mark'd his manhood! euery stoope he made Was like an Eagles, at a flight of Cranes! (As I haue read somewhere.)

Bea.

Brauely exprest:

Lat.

And like a Louer!

Lad.

Of his valour, I am! He seem'd a body, rarifi'd, to ayre! Or that his sword, and arme were of a peece, They went together so! Here, comes the Lady.

Bea.

A bouncing Bona-roba! as the Flie sayd.

Fra.

She is some Giantesse! Ile stand off, For feare she swallow me.

La.

Is not this our Gown, Pru? That I bespoke of Stuffe?

Pru.

It is the fashion!

Lad.

I, and the Silke! Feele, sure it is the same!

Pru.

And the same Peticote, lace, and all!

Lad.

Ile sweare it. How came it hither? make a bill of inquiry.

Pru.

Yo'haue a fine sute on, Madam! and a rich one!

Lad.

And of a curious making!

Pru.

And a new!

Pin.

As new, as Day.

Lat.

She answers like a fish-wife.

Pin.

I put it on, since Noone, I doe assure you,

Pru.

Who is your Taylor?

Lad.

'Pray you, your Fashioners name.

Pin

My Fashioner is a certaine man o' mine owne, He' is i'the house: no matter for his name.

Host.

O, but to satisfie this beuy of Ladies: Of which a brace, here, long'd to bid you well-come

Pin.

He'••s one, in truth, I title my Protection: Bid him come vp.

Host.

Our new Ladies Protection! What is your Ladiships stile?

Pin.

Countesse Pinnaccia.

Host.

Countesse Pinnacias man, come to your Lady,

Pru.

Your Ladiships Taylor! mas, Stuffe!

Lad.

How Stuffe? He the Protection!

Hos.

Stuffe lookes like a remnant.

Stu.

I am vndone, discouerd!

Pru.

Tis the suit, Ma∣dame, Now, without scruple! and this, some deuise To bring it home with.

Pin.

Why, vpon your knees? Is this your Lady Godmother?

Stu.

M••m, Pinnacia. It is the Lady Frampol: my best customer.

Lad.

What shew is this, that you present vs with?

Stu.

I doe beseech your Ladiship, forgiue me. She did but say the suit on.

Lad.

Who? Which she?

Stu.

My wife forsooth.

Lad.

How? Mistresse Stuffe? Your wife! Is that the riddle?

Pru.

We all look'd for a Lady, A Dutchesse, or a Countesse at the least.

Stu.

She is my owne lawfully begotten wife, In wedlocke. We ha'beene coupled now seuen yeares.

Lad.

And why thus mas'qd? You like a footman, ha! And she your Countesse!

Pin.

To make a foole of him∣selfe And of me too.

Stu.

I pray thee, Pinnace, peace.

Pin.

Nay it shall out, since you haue cald me wife, And openly dis-Ladied me! though I am dis-Countess'd I am not yet dis-countenanc'd. These shall see.

Hos

si∣lence!

Pi.

It is a foolish tricke Madame, he has; For though he be your Taylour, he is my beast.

I may be bold with him, and tell his story. When he makes any fine garment will fit me, Or any rich thing that he thinkes of price, Then must I put it on, and be his Countesse, Before he carry it home vnto the owners. A coach is hir'd, and foure horse, he runnes In his veluet I ackat thus, to Rumford, Croyden, Hounslow, or Barnet, the next bawdy road: And takes me out, carries me vp, and throw's me Vpon a bed.

Lad.

Peace thou immodest woman: She glori••s in the brauery o'the vice.

Lat.

Tis a queint one!

Bea.

A fine species, Of sornicating with a mans owne wife, Found out by (what's his name?)

Lat.

M^r Nic. Stuffe!

Host.

The very figure of preoccupation In all his customers best clothes.

Lat.

He lies With his owne Succuba, in all your names.

Bea.

And all your credits.

Host.

I, and at all their costs.

Lat.

This gown was then bespoken, for the Souer aig••

Bea.

I marry was it.

Lad.

And a maine offence, Committed 'gainst the soueraignty: being not brought Home i'the time. Beside, the prophanation, Which may call on the censure of the Court.

Host.

Let him be blanketted. Call vp the Quarter-ma∣ster. Deliuer him ore, to Flie.

Stu.

O good my Lord.

Host.

Pillage the Pinnace.

Lad.

Let his wife be stript.

Bea.

Blow off her vpper deck.

Lat.

Teare all her tackle,

Lad.

Pluck the polluted robes ouer her eares; Or cut them all to pieces, make a fire o'them:

Pru.

To rags, and cinders, burn th'idolatrous vestures.

Hos.

Flie, & your fellowes, see that the whole censure Be throughly executed.

Fly.

Weel tosse him, brauely. Till the stuffe stinke againe.

Host.

And send her home, Diuested to her flanell, in a cart.

Lat.

And let her Footman beat the bason afore her.

Fli.

The Court shall be obei'd.

Hos.

Fly, & his office••s Will doe it fiercely.

Stu.

Mercifull queene Pru.

Pru.

I cannot help you.

Bea.

Go thy wayes Nic. Stuffe, Thou hast nickt it for a fashioner of Venery!

Lat.

For his owne hell! though he run ten mile for't.

Pru.

O here comes Lovel, for his second houre.

Bea.

And after him, the tipe of Spanish valour.

Act 4. Scene 4.

Lady. Lovel. Tipt••. Latimer. Beaufort. Pru. Franke. Nurse. Host.

Seruant, what haue you there?

Lou.

A meditation, Or rather a vision, Madam, and of Beauty Our former subiect.

Lad.

Pray you let vs heare it.

Lov.

It was a beauty that I saw So pure, so perfect, as the frame Of all the vniuerse was lame, To that one figure, could I draw, Or giue least line of it a law!

A skeine of silke without a knot! A faire march made without a halt! A curious forme without a fault!

A printed booke without a blot. All beauty, and without a spot.

Lad.

They are gentle words, and would deserue a note, Set to 'hem, as gentle.

Lov.

I haue tri'd my skill. To close the second houre, if you will heare them, My boy by that time will haue got it perfect.

Lad.

Yes, gentle seruant. In what calme he speakes, After this noise, and tumult, so vnmou'd, With that serenity of c••untenance, As i•• his thoughts did acquies••e in that Which is the obiect of the second houre, And nothing else.

Pru.

Well then summon the Court.

Lad.

I haue a sute to the Soueraigne of loue, If it may stand with the honour of the Court, To change the qu••stion but from loue, to valour, To heare, it said, but, what true valour is, Which oft begets true loue.

Lat.

It is a question Fit for the Court, to take true knowledge of, And hath my iust assent.

Pru.

Content.

Bea.

Content.

Fra.

Content. I am content, giue him his oath.

Host.

Herebert Lovel, Thou shalt sweare vpon the testa∣ment of loue, To make answer to this question pro∣pounded to thee by the Court, What true valour is. And therein to tell the truth, the whole truth, and no∣thing but the truth. So help thee loue, and thy bright sword at need.

Lov.

So help me loue and my good sword at need. It is the greatest vertue, and the safety Of all mankinde, the obiect of it is danger. A certaine meane 'twixt feare, and confidence:

No inconsiderate rashnesse, or vaine appetite Of false encountring formidable thing••; But a true science of distinguishing What's good or euill. It springs out of reason, And tends to perfect honesty, the scope Is alwayes honour, and the publique good: It is no valour for a priuate cause.

Bea.

No? not sor reputation?

Lov

That's mans Idoll, Set vp 'gainst God, the maker of all lawes, Who hath commanded vs we should not kill; And yet we say, we must for reputation. What honest man can either feare his owne, Or else will hurt anothers reputation? Feare to doe base, vnworthy things, is valour, If they be done to vs, to suffer them, Is valour too. The office of a man Thats truly valiant, is considerable Three wayes: The first is in respect of matter, Which still is danger; in respect of forme, Wherein he must preserue his dignity; And in the end, which must be euer lawfull.

Lat.

But men, when they are heated, and in passion, Cannot consider.

Lov.

Then it is not valour. I neuer thought an angry person valiant: Vertue is neuer ayded by a vice. What need is there of anger, and of tumul••? When reason can do•• the same things, or more?

Bea.

O yes, 'tis profitable, and of vse, It makes vs fierce, and fit to vndertake.

Lov.

Why so will drink make vs both bold, and rash.

Or phrensie if you will, doe these make valiant? They are poore helps, and vertue needs them not. No man is valianter by being angry, But he that could not valiant be without: So, that it comes not in the aid of vertue, But in the stead of it.

Lat.

He holds the right.

Lov.

And 'tis an odious kinde of remedy, To owe our health to a disease.

Tip.

If man Should follow the dictamen of his passion, He could not scape—

Bea.

To discompose himselfe.

Lat.

According to Don Lewis!

Host.

Or Caranza!

Lov.

Good Colonel Glorious, whilst we treat of valour, Dismisse your selfe.

Lat.

You are not concern'd.

Lov.

Go drink, And congregate the Hostlers, and the Tapsters, The vnder-officers o' your regiment; Compose with them, and be not angry valiant!

Tipto goes out.

Bea.

How do's that differ from true valour?

Lov.

Thus. In the efficient, or that which makes it, For it proceeds from passion, not from iudgement: Then brute beasts haue it, wicked persons, there It differs in the subiect: in the forme, 'Tis carried rashly, and with violence: Then i'the end, where it respects not truth, Or publique honesty; but mere reuenge. Now confident, and vndertaking valour, Swayes from the true, two other wayes; as being A trust in our owne faculties, skill, or strength, And not the right, or conscience o'th•• cause,

That workes it: Then i'the end, which is the victory, And not the honour.

Bea.

But the ignorant valour That knowes not why it undertakes, but doth it T'escape the infamy merely—

Lov.

Is worst of all: That valour lies, i'the eyes o'the lookers on; And is cal'd valour with a witnesse.

Bea.

Right:

Lov.

The things true valour is exercis'd about, Are pouerty, restraint, captiuity, Banishment, losse of children, long disease: The least is death. Here valour is beheld, Properly seene; about these it is present: Not triuiall things, which but require our confidence. And, yet to those, we must obiect our selues, Only for honesty: if any other Respect be mixt, we quite put out her light. And as all knowledge, when it is remou'd Or separate from iustice, is cal'd craft, Rather then wisdome: so a minde affecting, Or vndertaking dangers, for ambition, Or any selfe pretext, not for the publique, Deserues the name of daring, not of valour, And ouer-daring is as great a vice, As ouer-fearing.

Lat.

Yes, and often greater.

Lov.

But as is not the mere punishment, But cause that, makes a martyr, so it is not Fighting, or dying; but the manner of it Renders a man himselfe. A valiant man Ought not to vndergoe, or tempt a danger, But worthily, and by selected wayes: He vndertakes with reason, not by chance.

His valour is the salt to his other vertues, They are all vnseason'd without it. The waiting maids, Or the concomitants of it, are his patience, His magnanimity, his confidence, His constancy, security, and quiet; He can assure himselfe against all rumour! Despaires of nothing! laughs at contumelies! As knowing himselfe, aduanced in a height Where iniury cannot reach him, nor aspersion Touch him with soyle!

Lad.

Most manly vtterd all! As if Achilles had the chaire in valour, And Hercules were but a Lecturer! Who would not hang vpon those lips for euer! That strike such musique? I could run on them; But modesty is such a schoole mistresse, To keepe our sexe in awe.

Pru.

Or you can faine! my Subtill and dissembling Lady mistresse.

Lat.

I feare she meanes it, Pru, in too good earnest!

Lov.

The purpose of an iniury 'tis to vexe And trouble me: now, nothing' can doe that, To him that's valiant. He that is affected With the least iniury, is lesse then it. It is but reasonable, to conclude That should be stronger, still, which hurts, then that Which is hurt. Now no wickednesse is stronger, Then what opposeth it: Not Fortunes selfe, When she encounters vertue, but comes off Both lame, and lesse! why should a wise man then, Confesse himselfe the weaker, by the feeling Of a fooles wrong? There may an iniury

Be meant me, I may choose, if I will take it. But we are, now, come to that delicacie, And tendernesse of sense, we thinke an insolence Worse then an iniury, beare words worse then deeds; We are n••t so much troubled with the wrong, As with the opinion of the wrong! like children, We are made afraid with visors! Such poore sounds As is the lie, or common words of spight. Wise lawes thought neuer worthy a reuenge; And 'tis the narrownesse of humane nature, Our pouerty, and beggery of spirit, To take exception at these things. He laugh'd at me! He broke a iest! a third tooke place of me! How most ridiculous quarrels are all these? Notes of a queasie, and sick stomack, labouring With want of a true iniury! the maine part Of the wrong, is, our vice of taking it.

Lat.

Or our interpreting it to be such.

Lov.

You take it rightly. If a woman, or child Giue me the lie, would I be angry? no, Not if I were i'my wits, sure I should thinke it No spice of a disgrace. No more is theirs, If I will thinke it, who are to be held In as contemptible a ranke, or worse. I am kept out a Masque, sometime thrust out, Made wait a day, two, three, for a great word, Which (when it comes forth) is all frown, and forehead! What laughter should this breed, rather then anger! Out of the tumult, of so many errors, To feele, with contemplation, mine owne quiet?

If a great person doe me an affront, A Giant of the time, sure, I will beare it Or out of patience, or necessity! Shall I doe more for feare, then for my iudgement? For me now to be angry with Hodge Huffle, Or Burst (his broken charge) if he be sawcy, Or our owne type of Spanish valour, Tipto, (Who were he now necessited to beg Would aske an almes, like Conde Oliuares) Were iust to make my selfe, such a vaine Animal As one of them. If light wrongs touch me not, No more shall great; if not a few, not many. There's nought so sacred with vs but may finde A sacrilegious person, yet the thing is No lesse diuine, cause the prophane can reach it. He is shot free, in battayle, is not hurt, Not he that is not hit. So he is valiant, That yeelds not vnto wrongs; not he that scapes 'hem They that do pull downe Churches, and deface The holiest Altars, cannot hurt the God-head. A calme wise man may shew as much true valour, Amid'st these popular prouocations, As can an able Captaine shew security, By his braue conduct, through an enemies country. A wise man neuer goes the peoples way, But as the Planets still moue contrary To the worlds motion; so doth he, to opinion: He will examine, if those accidents (Which common fame cals iniuries) happen to him Deseruedly, or no? come they deseruedly,

They are no wrongs then, but his punishments: If vndeseruedly, and he not guilty, The doer of them, first, should blush, not he.

Lat.

Excellent!

Bea.

Truth, and right!

Fra.

An Oracle Could not haue spoken more!

Lad.

Beene more beleeu'd!

Pru.

The whole Court runnes into your sentence, Sir! And see, your second houre is almost ended.

Lad.

It cannot be! O clip the wings of time, Good Pru, or make him stand still with a charme. Distill the gout into it, cramps, all diseases T'arrest him in the foot, and fix him here: O, for an engine, to k••epe backe all clocks! Or make the Sunne forget his motion! If I but knew what drinke the Time now lou'd, To set my Trundle at him, mine owne Barnabe!

Pru.

Why? I'le consult our Shelee ni••n, To-mas.

Nur.

Er grae Chreest.

Bea.

Wake her not.

Nur.

Tower een Cuppan D'vsque bagh doone.

Pru.

Vsque bagh's her drinke. But'twi' not make the time drunke.

Host.

As't hath her, Away with her, my Lord, but marry her first. Pru,

Pru.

I, that 'll be sport anone too, for my Lady. But she hath other game to fly at yet: The houre is come, your kisse.

Lad.

My seruants song, first.

Pru.

I ••ay the kisse, first; and I so enioyn'd it: At your owne perill, doe, make the contempt.

Lad.

Well Sir, you must be pay'd, and legally.

Pru.

Nay nothing, Sir, beyond.

Lov.

One more-I except. This was but halfe a kisse, and I would change it.

Pur.

The Court's dissolu'd, remou'd, and the play ended.

No sound, or aire of Loue more, I decree it.

Lov.

From what a happinesse hath that one word Throwne me, into the gulfe of misery? To what a bottomlesse despaire? how like A Court remoouing, or an ended Play Shewes, my abrupt precipitate estate, By how much more my vaine hopes were encreas'd By these false houres of conuersa••ion? Did not I prophesie this, of my selfe, And gaue the true prognosticks? o my braine! How art thou turned! and my blood congeald! My sinewes slackned! and my marrow melted! That I remember not where I haue bin, Or what I am? Only my tongue's on fire; And burning downward, hurles forth coales, & cinders, To tell, this temple of loue, will soone be ashes! Come Indignation, now, and be my mistresse, No more of Loues ingratefull tyranny. His wheele of torture, and his pits of bird-lime, His nets of nooses, whirle-pooles of vexation, His mils, to grind his seruants into powder— I will goe catch the wind first in a sieue, Weigh smoak, and measure shadowes, plough the wa••, And sow my hopes there, ere I stay in Loue.

La••.

My iealousie is off, I am now secure.

Lov.

Farewell the craft of crocodiles, womens piety, And practise of it, in this art of flattering, And fooling men. I ha' not lost my reason, Though I haue lent my selfe out, for two howres, Thus to be baff••ld by a Chambermaid,

And the good Actor, her Lady, afore mine Host, Of the light Heart, here, that hath laught at all—〈◊〉〈◊〉,

Host.

Who I?

Lov.

Laugh on, Sir, Ile to bed, and sleepe, And dreame away the vapour of Loue, if th'house And your leere drunkards let me. Lad. ••ru.

Pru.

Sweet Madame.

Lad.

Why would you let him goe thus?

Pru.

In whose power Was it to stay him, prop'rer then my Ladies!

Lad.

Why, in her Ladies? Are not you the Soueraigne?

Pru.

Would you, in conscience, Madame, ha me vexe His patience more?

Lad.

Not but apply the cure, Now it is vex't.

Pru.

That's but one bodies worke. Two cannot doe the same thing handsomely.

Lad.

But had not you the authority, absolute?

Pru.

And were not you i'rebellion, Lady Frampal, From the beginning?

Lad.

I was somewhat froward, I must confesse, but frowardnesse sometime Becomes a beauty, being but a visor Put on. You'l let a Lady weare her masque, Pru.

Pru.

But how do I know, when her Ladiship is pleas'd To leaue it off, except she tell me so?

Lad.

You might ha' knowne that by my lookes, and language, Had you beene or regardant, or obseruant. One woman, reads anothers character, Without the tedious trouble of deciphering: If she but giue her mind to't, you knew well, It could not sort with any reputation Of mine, to come in ••st, hauing stood out So long, without conditions, f••r mine honor.

Pru.

I thought you did expect none, you so jeer'd him,

And put him off with scorne-

Lad.

Who, I, with scorn? I did expresse my loue, to idolatry rather, And so am iustly plagu'd, not vnderstood.

Pru.

I sweare, I thought you had dissembled, Madam, And doubt, you do so yet.

Lad.

Dull, stupid, wench! Stay i'thy state of ignorance still, be damn'd, An idiot Chambermayd! Hath all my care, My breeding thee in fashion, thy rich clothes, Honours, and titles wrought no brighter effects On thy darke soule, then thus? Well! go thy waye••, Were not the Tailors wife, to be demolish'd, Ruin'd, vncas'd, thou shouldst be she, I vow.

Pru.

Why, take your spangled properties, your gown, And scarfes.

Lad.

Pru, Pru, what doest thou meane?

Pru.

I will not buy this play-boyes brauery, At such a price, to be vpbraided for it, Thus, euery minute.

Lad.

Take it not to heart so.

Pru.

The Taylors wife? There was a word of sco••

Lad.

It was a word fell from me, Pru, by chance.

Pru.

Good Madame, please to vndeceaue your selfe, I know when words do slip, and when they are darted With all their bitternesse: vncas'd? demolish't? An idiot—Chambermaid, stupid, and dull? Be damn'd for ignorance? I will be so. And thinke I doe deserue it, that, and more, Much more I do.

Lad.

Here comes mine Host! No cry∣ing! Good Pru. Where is my seruant Lovel, Host?

Hos.

Yo ha sent him vp to bed, would, you would fol∣low him! And make my house amends!

Lad.

Would you aduise it?

Hos.

I would I could command it. My light heart

Should leape till midnight.

Lad.

Pray thee be not ••llen, I yet must ha' thy counsell. Thou shalt weare, Pru, The new gowne, yet.

Pru.

After the Taylours wise?

Lad.

Come, be not angri••, or grieu'd: I haue a pro••ct.

Hos.

Wake Shele••en Thomas! Is this your Heraldri••? And keeping of records, to loose the maine? Where is your charge?

N••r.

Gra ••hreest!

Hos.

Goe aske, th'oracl•• O'the bottle, at your girdle, there you lost it: You are a sober setter of the watch.

Act. 5.

Scene 1.

Host. Fly.

Come Fly, and legacie, the Bird o'the heart: Prime insect of the ••nne, Prosessor, Quarter-master, As euer thou deserued'st thy daily drinke, Padling in sacke, and licking i'the same, Now shew thy selfe an implement of price, And helpe to raise a nap to vs, out of nothing, Thou saw'st'hem married?

Fly.

I doe thinke, I did, And heard the words, Philip, I take thee, L••tice, I gaue her too, was then the father Flie, And heard the Priest do his part, far as fiue nobles Would lead him i'the lines of matrimonie.

Host.

Where were they married?

Fly.

••'th ne•• stable,

(Hos.

Omin••! I ha' knowne many a church beene made a stable, But not a stable made a church till now

I wish 'hem ioy. Fly, was he a full priest?

Fly.

He belly'd for it, had his veluet sleeues, And his branch'd cassock, a side sweeping gowne, All his for malities, a good cramm'd diuine! I went not farre to fetch him, the next Inne, Where he was lodg'd, for the action.

Hos.

Had they a licence?

Fly.

Licence of loue, I saw no other, and purse, To pay the duties both of Church, and house, The angels flew about.

Host.

Those birds send luck: And mirth will follow. I had thought to ha' sacrific'd, To m••rriment to night, i'my light Heart, Fly, And like a noble Poet, to haue had My last act best: but all failes i'the plot. Lovel is gone to bed; the Lady Frampull And Soueraigne Pru falne out: Tipto, and his Regiment Of mine-men, al drunk dumbe, from his whop Barnaby, To his hoope Trundle: they are his two Tropick••. No proiect to reare laughter on, but this, The marriage of Lord Beaufort, with Laetitia. Stay! what's here! The sattin gowne redeem'd! And Pru restor'd in't, to her Ladyes grace!

Fly.

She is set forth in't! rig'd for some imployment!

Hos.

An Embassy at least!

Fly.

Some treaty of state!

Host.

'Tis a fine tack about! and worth the obseruing.

Act 5. Scene 2.

Lady. Prudence. Host. Fly.

Sweet Pru, I, now thou art a Queene indeed! These robes doe royally! and thou becom'st 'hem! So they doe thee! rich garments only fit The partyes they are made for! they shame others. How did they shew on good'y Taylors back! Like a Caparison for a Sow, God saue vs! Thy putting hem on hath purg'd, and hallow'd 'hem From all pollution, meant by the Mechanicks.

Pru.

Hang him poore snip, a secular shop-wit! H' hath nought but his sheeres to claime by, & his mea∣sures, His prentise may as well put in, for his needle, And plead a stitch.

Lad.

They haue no taint in 'hem, Now o'the Taylor.

Pru.

Yes, of his wiues hanches, Thus thick of fat; I smell 'hem, o'the say.

Lad.

It is restoratiue, Pru! with thy but chafing it, A barren Hindes grease may worke miracles. Finde but his chamber doore, and he will rise To thee! or if thou pleasest, faine to be The wretched party her sel••e, and com'st vnto him In forma pauperis, to craue the aide Of his Knight errant valour, to the rescue Of thy distressed robes! name but thy gowne, And he will rise to that! Pru. Ile fire the charme first,

I had rather dye in a ditch, with Mistresse Shore, Without a smock, as the piti••ull matter has it, Then owe my wit to cloath••s, or ha' it beholden.

Host.

Still spirit of Pru!

Fly.

And smelling o'the Soue∣raigne!

Pru.

No, I will tell him, as it is, indeed; I come from the fine, froward, srampull Lady, One was runne mad with pride, wild with selfe-loue, But late encountring a wise man, who scorn'd her, And knew the way to his owne bed, without Borrowing her warming pan, she hathrecouerd Par•• of her wits: so much as to consider How farre she hath trespast'd, vpon whom, and how. And now sits penitent and solitary, Like the forsaken Turtle, in the volary Of the light Heart, the cage, she ha••h abus'd, Mourning her folly, weeping at the height She measures with her eye, from whence she is falne, Since she did branch it, on the top o'the wood.

Lad.

I pr'y thee Pru, abuse me enough, that's vse me As thou thinkest fit, any course way, to humble me, Or bring me home againe, or Lovel on: Thou doest not know my suffrings, what I fe••le, ••y fires, and feares, are met: I burne, and freeze, My liuer's one great coale, my heart shrunke vp With all the fiuers, and the masse of blood Within me, is a standing lake of fire, Curl'd with the cold wind of my gelid sighs, T••at d••ine a drift of sleete through all my body, And shoo•• a February through my veines. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 I see him, I am drunke with thirst,

And surfeted with hunger of his presence. I know not wher I am, or no, or speake, Or whether thou doest heare me.

Pru.

Spare expressi••ns. Ile once more venture for your Ladiship, So you will vse your fortunes reuerendly.

Lad.

Religiously, deare Pru, Lou•• and his Mother, Ile build them seuerall Churches, Shrines, and Alt••rs, And ouer head, Ile haue, in the glasse windowes, The story of this day be painted, round, For the poore Layety of loue to read, Ile make my selfe their booke, nay their example, To bid them take occasion by the forelock, And play no after-games of Loue, hereafter.

Host.

And here your Host, and's Fly, witnes your vowes. And like two lucky birds, bring the presage Of a loud iest: Lord Beaufort married is.

Lad.

H••!

Fli.

All to be married.

Pru.

To whom, not your sonn••?

Host.

The same

Pru.

If her Ladiship could take truce A little with her passion, and giue way To their mirth now running.

Lad.

Runn's it mirth, let't come, It shall be well receiu'd, and much made of it.

Pru.

We must of this, It was our owne conception.

Act 5. Scene 3.

—Latimer. To them.

Roome for green rushes, raise the Fidlers, Chamberlain, Call vp the house in armes.

Hos.

This will rouze Lovel.

Fly.

And bring him on too.

Lat.

Shelee-neen. Runns like a Heyfar, bitten with the Brieze, About the court, crying on Fly, and cursing.

Fly.

For what, my Lord?

Lat.

Yo'were best heare that from her, It is no office, Fly, fits my relation. Here come the happy couple! Ioy, Lord Beaufort.

Fly.

And my yong Lady too.

Hos.

Much ioy, my Lord!

Act 5. Scene 4.

Beaufort. Franke. Sernant. (To them.

I thanke you all, I thanke thee, Father Fly. Madam, my Cossen, you looke discompos'd, I haue beene bold with a sallad, after supper, O' your owne lettice, here:

Lad.

You haue, my Lord. But lawes of hospitality, and faire rites, Would haue made me acquainted.

Bea.

I' your owne house, I doe acknowledge: Else, I much had trespass'd. But in an Inne, and publique, where there is licence Of all community: a pardon o' course May be su'd•• out.

Lat.

It will, my Lord, and carry it. I doe not see, how any storme, or tempest Can helpe it, now.

Pru.

The thing being done, and past, You beare it wisely, and like a Lady of iudgement.

Bea.

She is that, secretary Pru.

Pru.

Why secretary? My wise Lord? is your braine lately maried?

Bea.

Your raigne is ended, Pru, no soueraigne now: Your date is out, and dignity expir'd.

Pru.

I am annul'd, how can I treat with Lovel, Without a new commission?

Lad.

Thy gown's commis∣sion.

Host.

Haue patience, Pru, expect, bid the Lord ioy.

Pru.

And this braue Lady too. I wish them ioy.

Pei.

Ioy. Ior. Ioy. Iug. All ioy.

Hos.

I, the house full of ioy.

Fly

Play the bels, Fidlers, crack your strings with ioy.

Pru.

But Lady Letice, you shew'd a neglect Vn-to-be-pardon'd, to'ards my Lady, your kinswoman, Not to advise with her.

Bea.

Good politique Pru, Vrge not your state-aduice, your after-wit; 'Tis neare vpbraiding. Get our bed ready, Chamberlain, And Host, a Bride-cup, you haue rare conceipts, And good ingredients, euer an old Host Vpo' the road, has his prouocatiue drinks.

Lat.

He is either a good Baud, or a Phyfician.

Bea.

'Twas well he heard you not, his back was turn'd. A bed, the Geniall bed, a brace of boyes To night I play for.

Pru.

Giue vs points, my Lord.

Bea.

Here take 'hem, Pru, my cod-piece point, and all, I ha' claspes, my Letice a••mes here take 'hem boyes. What is the chamber ready? speake, why stare you! On one another?

Ior.

No Sir.

Bea.

And why no?

Ior.

My master has forbid it. He yet doubts That you are married.

Bea.

Aske his vicar generall, His Fly, here.

Fly.

I must make that good, they are mar∣ried.

Host.

But I must make it bad, my hot yong Lord. Gi' him his doublet againe, the aier is peircing; You may take cold, my Lord. See whom you ha'marri∣ed, Your hosts sonne, and aboy.

Fly.

You are abus'd.

Lad.

Much ioy, my Lord.

Pru.

If this be your Latitia,

Shee'l pr••ue a counterfeit mirth, and a clip'd Lady.

Ser.

A boy, a boy; my Lord has married a boy.

Lat.

Raise all the house in shout, and laughter, a boy!

H••st.

Stay, what is here! peace rascals, stop your throats.

Act 5. Scene 5.

—Nurse. (To them.

That magot, worme, that insect! O my child, My daughter! where's that Fly? Ile fly in his face, The ••ermin, let me come to him.

Fly.

Why Nurse Shele••?

Nur.

Hang thee thou Parasite, thou sonne of crums, And ottes, thou hast vndone me, and my child, My daughter, my d••are daughter.

Ho.

What meanes this?

Nur.

O Sir, my daughter, my deare child is tuin'd, By this your Fly, here, married in a stable, And sold vnto a husband.

Host.

Stint thy cry, Harlot, if that be all, did'st thou not sell him To me for a boy? and brought'st him in boyes rags, Here to my doore, to beg an almes of me?

Nur.

I did good M^r, and I ••raue your pardon. But 'tis my daughter, and a g••rle.

Host.

Why sayd'st thou It was a boy, and sold'st him then, to me With such entreaty, for ten s••illings, Carlin?

Nur.

Because you were a charitable man I ••eard, good Mr, and would br••ed him well, I would ha' giu'n him you, for nothing, gladly.

Forgiue the lie o' my mouth, it was to saue The fruit o' my wombe. A parents needs are vrgent. And few doe know that tyrant o're good natures. But you relieu'd her, and me too, the Mother, And tooke me into your house to be the nurse, For which heauen heape all blessings on your head, Whilst there can one be added.

Host.

Surethou speakst Quite like another creature, then th'hast liu'd, Here, i'the house, a Shelee-neen Thomas, An Irish beggar.

Nur.

So I am, God helpe me.

Host.

What art thou? tell, The match is a good match, For ought I see: ring the bels once a gaine.

Bea.

Stint, I say, Fidlers.

Lad.

No going off my Lord.

Bea.

Nor comming on sweet Lady, things thus standing!

Fly.

But what's the haynousnesse of my offence? Or the degrees of wrong you suffer'd by it? In hauing your daughter match't thus happily, Into a noble house, a braue yong blood, And a prime peere o'the Realme?

Bea.

Was that your plot, Fly? Gi' me a cloak, take her againe among you. Ile none of your light-Heart fosterlings, no Inmates, Supposititious fruits of an Host's bra••ne, And his Flys hatching, to be put vpon me. There is a royall Court o'the Star-chamber Will scatter all these mists, disperse these vapours, And cleare the truth. Let beggers match with beggers. That shall decide it, I will try it there.

Nur.

Nay then my Lord, Its not enough, I see You are licentious, but you will be wicked.

Yo' are not alone content to take my daughter, Against the law; but hauing taken her, You would repudiate, and cast her off, Now, at your pleasure, like a beast of power, Without all cause, or colour of a cause, That, or a noble, or an honest man, Should dare t'except against, her pouerty. Is pouerty a vice?

Bea.

Th'age counts it so.

Nur.

God helpe your Lordship, and your peeres that think so, If any be: if not, God blesse them all, And helpe the number o'the vertuous, If pouerty be a crime. You may obiect Our beggery to vs, as an accident, But neuer deeper, no inherent basenesse. And I must tell you, now, yong Lord of durt, As an incensed mother, she hat•• more, And be••ter blood, running i'those small veines, Then all the race of Beauforts haue in masse, Though they distill their drops from the left rib Of Iohn O' Gaunt.

Host.

Old mother o' records, Thou know'st her pedegree, then: whose daughter is she?

Nur.

The daughter and coheire to the Lord Framp••ll, This Ladies sister!

Lad.

Mine? what is her name?

Nur.

Laetitia.

Lad

That was lost?

Nur.

The true Latitia.

Lad.

Sister, O gladnesse! Then you are our mother?

Nur.

I am, deare daughter.

Lad.

On my knees, I blesse The light I see you by.

Nur.

And to the author Of that blest light, I ope my other eye, Which hath almost, now, seuen yeare beene shut, Darke, as my vow was, neuer to see light,

Till such a light restor'd it, as my children, Or your deare father, who (I heare) is not.

Bea.

Giue me my wife, I owne her now, and will haue her.

Host.

But you must aske my leaue first, my yong Lord, Leaue is but light. Ferret, Goe bolt your Master, Here's geare will startle him. I cannot keepe The passion in me, I am ••ne turn'd child, And I must weepe. Fly, take away mine host, My beard, and cap here, from me, and fetch my Lord. I am her father, Sir, and you shall now Aske my consent, before you haue her. Wife! My deare and louing wife! my honor'd wife! Who here hath gain'd but I? I am Lord Frampull, The cause of all this trouble? I am he Haue measur'd all the Shires of England ouer: Wales, and her mountaines, seene those wilder nations, Of people in the Peake, and Lancashire; Their Pipers, Fidlers, Rushers, Puppet-masters, Iuglers, and Gipseys, all the sorts of Canters, And Colonies of beggars, Tumblers, Ape-carriers, For to these sauages I was addicted, To search their natures, and make odde discoueries! And here my wife, like a she Mandeuile, Ventred in disquisition, after me.

Nur.

I may looke vp, admire, I cannot speake Yet, to my Lord.

Host.

Take heart, and breath, recouer, Thou hast recouer'd me, who here had coffin'd My selfe aliue, in a poore hostelry, In pennan••e of my wrongs done vnto thee Whom I long since gaue lost.

Nur.

So did I you,

Till stealing mine owne daughter from her sister, I lighted on this errour hath cur'd all.

Bea.

And in that cure, include my trespasse, Mother, And Father, for my wife-

Host.

No, the Star-chamber.

Bea.

Away with that, you sowre the sweetest lettice Was euer tasted.

Host.

Gi'you ioy, my Sonne, Cast her not off againe. O call me Father, Lovel, and this your Mother, if you like: But take your Mistris, first, my child; I haue power To giue her now, with her consent, her sister Is giuen already to your brother Beaufort.

Lov.

Is this a dreame now, after my first sleepe? Or are these phant'sies made i'the light Heart? And sold i'the new Inne?

Host.

Best goe to bed, And dreame it ouer all. Let's all goe sleepe, Each with his Turtle. Fly, prouide vs lodgings, Get beds prepar'd: yo' are master now o'the Inne, The Lord o'the light Heart, I giue it you. Fly, was my fellow Gipsey. All my family, Indeed, were Gipseys, Tapsters, Ostlers, Chamberlaines, Reduced vessels of ciuility. But here stands Pru, neglected, best deseruing Of all that are i'the house, or i'my Heart, Whom though I cannot helpe to a fit husband, Ile helpe to that will bring one, a iust portion: I haue two thousand pound in banke, for Pru, Call for it when she will

Bea.

And I as much.

Host.

There's somewhat yet, foure thousand pound! that's better, Then sounds the prouerbe, foure bare legs in a bed.

Lov.

Me, and her mistresse, she hath power to coy••e Vp, into what she will.

Lad.

Indefinite Pru.

Lat.

But I must doe the crowning act of bounty!

Host.

What's that, my Lord?

Lat.

Giue her my selfe, By all the holy vowes of loue I doe, Spare all your promis'd portions, she is a dowry which here So all sufficient in her vertue and manners, That fortune cannot adde to her.

Pru.

My Lord, Your praises, are instructions to mine eares, Whence, you haue made your wife, to liue yo•• seruant.

Host.

Lights, get vs seuerall lights.

Lov.

Stay let my Mrs But heare my vision sung, my dreame of beauty, Which I haue brought, prepar'd, to bid vs ioy, And light vs all to bed, 'twill be instead Of ayring of the sheets with a sweet odour.

Host.

'Twill be an incense to our sacrifice Of loue to night, where I will woo afresh, And like Mecaenas, hauing but one wife, Ile marry her, euery houre of life, hereafter.

They goe out, with a Song.