A chast mayd in Cheape-Side· A pleasant conceited comedy neuer before printed. As it hath beene often acted at the Swan on the Banke-side, by the Lady Elizabeth her Seruants. By Thomas Midelton Gent.
Middleton, Thomas, d. 1627.

Actus Primus.

Enter Maudline and Moll, a Shop being discouered.
Maudline.

HAue you playd ouer all your old Lessons o'the Virginals?

Moll.

Yes.

Maudl.

Yes, you are a dull Mayd alate, me thinkes you had need haue somewhat to quicken your Greene Sicknesse, doe you weepe? A Hus∣band. Had not such a peece of Flesh been ordayned, what had vs Wiues been good for? To make Sallets, or else cryd vp and downe for Sampier. To see the difference of these Seasons, when I was of your youth, I was lightsome, and quicke, two yeeres before I was married. You fit for a Knights bed, drowsie browd, dull eyed, drossie sprited, I hold my life you haue forgot your Dauncing: When was the Dauncer with you?

Page  2
Moll.

The last weeke.

Maudl.

Last weeke, when I was of your bord, he mist me not a night, I was kept at it, I tooke delight to learne, and he to teach me, prittie browne Gentleman, he tooke pleasure in my company, but you are dull, nothing comes nimbly from you, you daunce like a Plummers Daughter, and deserue two thousand pound in Lead to your marriage, and not in Gold-Smithes Ware.

Enter Yellow-hammar.
Yell.

Now what's the din betwixt Mother and Daugh∣ter, ha?

Maudl.

Faith small, telling your Daughter Mary of her Errors.

Yell.

Errors, nay the Citie cannot hold you Wife, but you must needs fetch words from Westminster, I ha done I faith, has no Atturneys Clarke beene here a late, and changed his Halfe-Crowne-peece his Mother sent him, or rather cozend you with a guilded Two-pence, to bring the word in fashion, for her faults or crackes, in dutie and obedience, terme em eeue so sweet Wife. As there is no Woman made without a Flaw, your purest Lawnes haue Frayes, and Cambrickes Brackes.

Maudl.

But 'tis a Husband sowders vp all Crackes.

Moll.

What is he come Sir?

Yell.
Sr Walters come.
He was met at Holbourne Bridge, and in his company, a proper faire young Gentlewoman, which I guesse by her red Hayre, and other ranke descriptions, to be his landed Neece, brought out of Wales, which Tim our Sonne (the Cambridge Boy) must marry.
'Tis a match of Sr Walters owne making to bind vs to him, and our Heires for euer.
Maudl.
We are honord then, if this Baggage would be humble, and kisse him with deuotion when he enters.
I cannot get her for my life Page  3 to instruct her Hand thus, before and after, which a Knight will looke for, before and after.
I haue told her still, 'tis the wauing of a Woman dose often moue a Man, and preuailes strongly.
But sweet, ha you sent to Cambridge, (has Tim word an't?)
Yell.

Had word iust the day after when you sent him the Siluer Spoone to eat his Broath in the Hall, amongst the Gentlemen Commoners.

Maudl.

O 'twas timely.

Enter Porter.
Yell.

How now?

Port.

A Letter from a Gentleman in Cambridge.

Yell.
O one of Hobsons Porters, thou art well-come.
I told thee Maud we should heare from Tim. Amantissi∣mis charissimis{que} ambobus parentibus patri & matri.
Maudl

What's the matter?

Yell.

Nay by my troth, I know not, aske not me, he's growne too verball, this Learning is a great Witch.

Maud.
Pray let me see it, I was wont to vnderstand him.
Amantissimus charissimus, he has sent the Carryers Man he sayes: ambobus parentibus, for a paire of Boots: patri & matri, pay the Porter, or it makes no matter.
Port.

Yes by my faith Mistris, there's no true constru∣ction in that, I haue tooke a great deale of paines, and come from the Bell sweating. Let me come to'te, for I was a Schollar forty yeers ago, 'tis thus I warrant you: Matri, it makes no matter: ambobus parentibus, for a paire of Boots: patri, pay the Porter: amantissimis charissimis, he's the Car∣ryers Man, and his name is Sims, and there he sayes true, forsooth my name is Sims indeed, I haue not forgot all my learning. A Money matter, I thought I should hit on't.

Yell.

Goe thou art an old Fox, ther's a Tester for thee.

Port.

If I see your Worship at Goose Faire, I haue a Dish of Birds for you.

Page  4
Yell.

Why dost dwell at Bow?

Port.

All my life time Sir I could euer say Bo, to a Goose. Farewell to your Worship.

Exit Porter.
Yell.

A merry Porter.

Maudl.

How can he choose but be so, comming with Cambridge Letters from our Sonne Tim?

Yell.

What's here, maximus diligo, Faith I must to my learned Counsell with this geere, 'twill nere be discernd else.

Maudl.

Goe to my Cousen then, at Innes of Court.

Yell.

Fye they are all for French, they speake no Latine.

Maudl.

The Parson then will doe it.

Enter a Gentleman with a Chayne.
Yell.

Nay he disclaimes it, calles Latine Papistry, he will not deale with it. What ist you lacke Gentleman?

Gent.

Pray weigh this Chayne.

Enter Sir Walter Whorehound, Welch Gentlewoman, and Dauy Dahanna.
S. Walt.

Now Wench thou art well-come to the Heart of the Citie of London.

W. Gent.

Dugat a whee.

S. Walt.

You can thanke me in English if you list.

W. Gent.

I can Sir simply.

S. Walt.

'Twill serue to passe Wench, 'twas strange that I should lye with thee so often, to leaue thee without En∣glish, that were vnnaturall, I bring thee vp to turne thee into Gold Wench, and make thy fortune shine like your bright Trade, a Gold-Smithes Shop sets out a Citie Mayd. Dauy Dahanna, not a word.

Dau.

Mum, mum Sir.

S. Walt.

Here you must passe for a pure Virgine.

Dau.

Pure Welch Virgine, she lost her Maydenhead in Brekenocke-Shire.

Page  5
S. Walt.

I heare you mumble Dauy.

Dau.

I haue Teeth Sir, I need not mumble yet this forty yeeres.

S. Walt.

The Knaue bites plaguely.

Yell.

What's your price Sir?

Gent.

A hundred pound Sir.

Yell.
A hundred markes the vtmost, 'tis not for me else.
What Sr Walter Whorehound?
Moll.

O Death.

Exit Moll.
Maud.
Why Daughter.
Faith the Baggage a bashful Girle Sir, these young things are shamefast, besides you haue a presence sweet Sr Walter, able to daunt a Mayd brought vp i'the Citie,
Enter Mary.
A braue Court Spirit makes our Virgines quiuer, and kisse with trembling Thighes. Yet see she comes Sir.
S. Walt.

Why how now prettie Mistris, now I haue caught you. What can you iniure so your time to strey thus from your faithfull Seruant.

Yell.

Pish, stop your words good Knight, 'twill make her blush else, which wound to high for the Daughters of the Freedome, honor, and faithfull Seruant, they are com∣plements for the Worthy's of Whitehall, or Greenwitch, eene plaine, sufficient, subsidy words serues vs Sir. And is this Gentlewoman your worthy Neece?

S. Walt.

You may be bold with her on these termes, 'tis she Sir, Heire to some nineteene Mountaines.

Yell.

Blesse vs all, you ouer-whelme me Sir with loue and riches.

S. Walt.

And all as high as Pauls.

Dau.

Here's worke I faith.

S. Walt.

How sayest thou Dauy?

Dau.

Higher Sir by farre, you cannot see the top of 'em.

Yell.

What Man? Maudline salute this Gentlewoman, our Daughter if things hit right.

Page  6Enter Tuchwood Iunior.
T.I.
My Knight with a brace of Footmen, is come and brought vp his Ewe Mutton, to find a Ram at London, I must hasten it, or else picke a Famine, her Bloods mine, and that's the surest. Well Knight, that choyse spoy is onely kept for me.
Moll.

Sir?

T.I.

Turne not to me till thou mayst lawfully, it but whets my stomacke, which is too sharpe set already. Read that note carefully, keepe me from suspition still, nor know my zeale but in thy Heart: read and send but thy liking in three words, I'le be at hand to take it.

Yell.
O turne Sir, turne.
A poore plaine Boy, an Vniuersitie Man, proceeds next Lent to a Batcheler of Art, he will be call'd Sr Yellowhammer then ouer all Cambridge, and that's halfe a Knight.
Maudl.

Please you draw neere, and tast the well-come of the Citie Sir?

Yell.

Come good Sr Walter, and your vertuous Neece here.

S. Walt.

'Tis manners to take kindnesse.

Yell.

Lead 'em in Wife.

S. Walt.

Your company Sir.

Yell.

I'le giue't you instantly.

T.I.
How strangely busie is the Diuell and riches,
Poore Soule kept in too hard, her Mothers Eye, is cruell toward her, being to him, 'twere a good mirth now to set him a worke to make her wedding Ring. I must about it.
Rather then the gaine should fall to a Stranger, 'twas honestie in me to enrich my Father.
Yell.
The Girle is wondrous peuish, I feare nothing, but that she's taken with some other loue, Page  7 then all's quite dasht, that must be narrowly lookt to, we cannot be too wary in our Children. What ist you lack?
T.I.
O nothing now, all that I wish is present.
I would haue a wedding Ring made for a Gentlewoman, with all speed that may be.
Yell.

Of what weight Sir?

T.I.
Of some halfe ounce, stand faire and comely, with the Sparke of a Diamond.
Sir 'twere pittie to lose the least grace.
Yell.

Pray let's see it, indeed Sir 'tis a pure one.

T.I.

So is the Mistris.

Yell.

Haue you the widenesse of her Finger Sir?

T.I.
Yes sure I thinke I haue her measure about me, good faith 'tis downe, I cannot show't you,
I must pull too many things out to be certaine.
Let me see, long, and slender, and neatly ioynted,
Iust such another Gentlewoman that's your Daughter Sir.
Yell.

And therefore Sir no Gentlewoman.

T.I.
I protest I neuer saw two Maids handed more alike
I'le nere seeke farther, if you'le giue me leaue Sir.
Yell.

If you dare venture by her Finger Sir.

T.I.

I, and I'le bide all losse Sir.

Yell.

Say you so Sir, let's see hether Girle.

T.I.

Shall I make bold with your finger Gentlewoman?

Moll.

Your pleasure Sir.

T.I.

That fits her to a haire Sir.

Yell.

What's your Posie now Sir?

T.I.
Masse that's true, Posie I faith eene thus Sir.
Loue that's wise, blinds Parents Eyes.
Yell.
How, how, If I may speake without offence Sir,
I hold my life
T.I.

What Sir?

Yell.

Goe too, you'le pardon me?

T.I.

Pardon you? I Sir.

Yell.

Will you I faith?

T.I.

Yes faith I will.

Yell.
You'le steale away some Mans Daughter, am I nere you?
Doe you turne aside? You Gentlemen are mad Wage, I Page  8 wonder things can be so warily carried, and Parents blinded so, but the're serued right that haue two Eyes, and were so dull a fight.
T.I.

Thy doome take hold of thee.

Yell.

To morrow noone shall shew your Ring well done.

T.I.

Being so 'tis soone, thankes, and your leaue sweet Gentlewoman

Exit.
Moll.
Sir you are well-come.
O were I made of wishes, I went with thee.
Yell.

Come now we'le see how the rules goe within.

Moll.

That robs my Ioy, there I loose all I win.

Exit.
Enter Dauy and All-wit seuerally.
Dau.

Honestie wash my Eyes, I haue spy'd a Witall.

All.
What Dauy Dahanna, well-come from North Wales
I faith, and is Sr Walter come?
Dau.

Now come to Towne Sir.

All.

Into the Mayds sweet Dauy, and giue order his Chamber be made ready instantly, my Wife's as great as she can wallow Dauy, and longs for nothing but pickled Coucombers, and his comming, and now she shall ha'te Boy.

Dau.

She's sure of them Sir.

All.
Thy verie sight will hold my Wife in pleasure, till the Knight come himselfe. Goin, in, in Dauy.
Exit.
The Founders come to Towne, I am like a Man finding a Table furnish't to his hand, as mine is still to me, prayes for the Founder, blesse the right Worshipfull, the good Founders life.
I thanke him, h'as maintain'd my House this ten yeeres, not onely keepes my Wife, but a keepes me, and all my Family, I am at his Table, he gets me all my Children, and payes the Nurse, monthly, or weekely, puts me to nothing, rent, nor Church duties, not so much as the Scauenger, the happiest state that euer Man was borne to.
Page  9I walke out in a morning, come to breake-fast,
Find excellent Cheere, a good Fier in Winter,
Looke in my Coale-house about Midsommer-eeue,
That's full, fiue or sixe Chaldorne, new layd vp,
Looke in my backe yeard, I shall find a steeple
Made vp with Kentish Fagot's, which o're-lookes
The Water-House and the Wind-milles, I say nothing
But smile, and pin the doore, when she lyes in,
As now she's euen vpon the point of grunting,
A Lady lyes not in like her, there's her imbossings,
Embrodring, spanglings, and I know not what,
As if she lay withall the gaudy Shops
In Gressams Bursse about her, then her restoratiues,
Able to set vp a young Pothecarie,
And richly stocke, the Foreman of a Drug-shop.
Her Sugar by whole Loaues, her Wines by Rundlets.
I see these things, but like a happy Man,
I pay for none at all, yet Fooles think's mine,
I haue the name, and in his Gold I shine.
And where some Merchants would in Soule kisse Hell,
To buy a Paradice for their Wines, and dye
Their Conscience in the Bloods of prodigall Heires,
To decke their Night-peece, yet all this being done,
Eaten with iealousie to the inmost Bone,
As what affliction Nature more constraynes,
Then feed the Wife plumpe, for anothers veynes.
These torments stand I freed of, I am as cleere
From iealousie of a Wife, as from the charge.
O two miraculous blessings, 'tis the Knight
Hath tooke that labour, all out of my hands,
I may sit still and play, he's iealouse for me,
Watches her steps, sets spyes, I liue at ease,
He has both the cost and torment, when the strings
Of his Heart freats, I feed, laugh, or sing,
La dildo, dildo la dildo, la dildo dildo de dildo.
Page  10Enter two Seruants.
1

What has he got a singing in his Head now?

2

Now's out of worke he falles to making Dildo's.

All.

Now Sirs, Sr Walters come.

1

Is our Master come?

All.

Your Master, what am I?

1

Doe not you know Sir?

All.

Pray am not I your Master?

1

O you are but our Mistresses Husband.

Enter Sir Walter, and Dauy.
All.

Ergo Knaue, your Master.

1

Negatur argumentum. Here comes Sr Walter, now a stands bare as well as we, make the most of him he's but one peepe aboue a Seruingman, and so much his Hornes make him.

S. Walt.

How dost Iacke?

All.

Proud of your Worships health Sir.

S. Walt.

How does your Wife?

All.
Eene after your owne making Sir,
She's a tumbler a faith, the Nose and Belly meets.
S. Walt.

The 'ile part in time againe.

All.

At the good houre, they will and please your wor∣ship.

S. Walt.

Here Sirra, pull off my Boots. Put on, but on Iacke.

All.

I thanke your kind worship Sir.

S. Walt.

Slippers, Heart you are sleepy.

All.

The game begins already.

S. Walt.

Pish, put on Iacke.

All.

Now I must doe it, or he'le be as angry now, as if I had put it on at first bidding, 'tis but obseruing, 'tis but obseruing a Mans humour once, and he may ha' him by the Nose all his life.

Page  11
S. Walt.
What entertainment has layne open here,
No strangers in my absence?
1 Seru.

Sure Sir not any.

All.
His iealousie begins, am not I happy now
That can laugh inward whil'st his Marrow melts?
S. Walt.

How doe you satisfie me?

1 Ser.

Good Sir be patient.

S. Walt.

For two months absence I'le be satisfied.

1 Ser.

No liuing Creature entred.

S. Walt.

Entred, come sweare.

1 Ser.

You will not heare me out Sir.

S. Walt.

Yes I'le heare't out Sir.

1 Seru.

Sir he can tell himselfe.

S. Walt.
Heart he can tell,
Doe you thinke I'le trust him? As a Vsurer
With forfeited Lordships. Him, ô monsterous iniury!
Beleeue him, can the Diuell speake ill of Darkenesse?
What can you say Sir?
All.

Of my soule and conscience Sir, she's a Wife as honest of her Body to me, as any Lords proud Lady can be.

S. Walt.

Yet by your leaue, I heard you were once offring to goe to bed to her.

All.

No I protest Sir.

S. Walt.

Heart if you doe, you shall take all, I'le marry.

All.

O I beseech you Sir,

S. Walt.

That wakes the Slaue, and keepes his Flesh in awe.

All.
I'le stop that gap
Where e're I find it open, I haue poysoned
His hopes in marriage already,
Some old rich Widdowes, and some landed Virgines,
Enter two Children.
And I'le fall to worke still before I'le lose him,
He's yet too sweet to part from.
Page  12
1 Boy.

God-den Father.

All.

Ha Villaine, peace.

2 Boy.

God-den Father.

All.

Peace Bastard, should he heare em. 〈◊〉 are two foolish Children, they doe not know the Gentleman that sits there.

S. Walt.
Oh Wat, how dost Nick? Goe to Schoole,
Ply your Bookes Boyes, ha?
All.

Where's your Legges Whore sons? They should kneele indeed if they could say their Prayers.

S. Walt.
Let me see, stay,
How shall I dispose of these two Brats now
When I am married, for they must not mingle
Amongst my Children that I get in Wedlocke,
'Twill make foule worke that, and rayse many stormes.
I'le bind Wat Prentice to a Goldsmith, my Father Yellowh.
As fit as can be. Nick with some Vintner, good, Goldsmith
And Vintner, there will be Wine in Boles I faith.
Enter Allwits Wife.
Wise.
Sweet Knight
Welcome, I haue all my longings now in Towne,
Now well-come the good houre.
S. Walt.

How cheeres my Mistris?

Wife.

Made lightsome, eene by him that made me heauy.

S. Walt.

Me thinkes she shewes gallantly, like a Moone at full Sir.

All.

True, and if she beare a Male child, there's the Man in the Moone Sir.

S. Walt.

'Tis but the Boy in the Moone yet Goodman Calfe.

All.

There was a Man, the Boy had neuer beene there else.

S. Walt.

It shall be yours Sir.

All.

No by my troth, I'le sweare it's none of mine, let him that got it keepe it, thus doe I rid my selfe of feare, Lye soft, sleepe hard, drinke Wine, and eat good cheere.