The Inner-Temple masque. Or Masque of heroes Presented (as an entertainement for many worthy ladies:) by gentlemen of the same ancient and noble house. Tho. Middleton.

THE INNER-TEMPLE MASQVE.

Enter DOCTOR ALMANACKE comming from the funerall of December, or the old yeere.

I Haue seene the old yeere fairely buried, Good Gentleman he was, but toward his end Full of Diseases, he kept no good Diet, He Lou'd a wench in Iune, (which we' count Vilde, And got the latter end of May with childe; That was his fault, and many an old yeere smels on't. How now? who's t'is? oh, one ath' Fasting-dayes That followed him to his graue; I know him by his gauntnes, his thin chitterlings, He would vndoe a Tripe-wise; Fasting-day! Why art so heauie?

Fast.

Oh, sweete Doctor Almanacke, I haue lost a deare old Master, beside Sir, I haue beene out of seruice, all this Kersmas; No-body minds Fasting day, I haue scarce bin thought vpon a' Fryday nights; And because Kersmas this yeere fell vpon't,

The Frydayes haue beene euer since so proud They scorne my companie, the Butchers boyes At Temple-Barre, set their great Dogges vpon me, I dare not walke abroad, nor be seene yet, The very Poulters Girles throw rotten Egges at me, Nay Fishstreete loues me, e'en but frō teeth outward, (The neerest Kin I haue) lookes shye vpon me, As if t'ad forgot me, I met Plumporridge now, My big-swolne Enemie, hee's plumpe and lustie, The onely man in place, sweete Master Doctor, Preferre me to the New-Yeere, you can doo't.

Doct.

When can I doo't sir? you must stay til Lent.

Fast.

Till Lent, you kil my heart, sweet M. Doctor, Thrust me into Candlemas Eue, I doe beseech you.

Doct.

Away, Candlemas Eue will neuer beare thee i' these dayes, 'tis so frampole, the Puritanes will neuer yeeld to't.

Enter Plumporridge.

Fast.

Why th'are fat enough.

Doct.

Here comes Plumporridge.

Fast.

I, hee's sure of wel-come; me thinkes hee moues like one of the great Porridge Tubs, going to the Counter.

Plum.

Oh killing cruel sight, yonder's a Fasting day: A leane spinie Rascall with a Dogge in's belly, his very Bowels barke with hunger; auaunt, thy Breath stinkes, I doe not loue to meete thee fasting, thou art nothing but wind, thy Stomack's full of Farts, as if they had lost their way, and thou made with the wrong end vpward, like a Dutch Mawe, that dischar∣ges still into 'th Mouth!

Fast.

Why thou whorson Breakefast, Dinner,

Nuntions, Supper and Beuer, Celler, Hall, Kitchin, and Wet-larder.

Plum.

Sweete Master Doctor, looke quickly vpon his Water, that I may breake the Vrinall about his pate.

Doct.

Nay friendship, friendship.

Plum.

Neuer Master Doctor, with any Fastingday, perswade me not.

Nor any thing belongs to Ember-weeke. And if I take against a thing, I'me stomackfull, I was borne an Anabaptist, a fell foe, To fish and Fridayes, Pig's my absolute Sweetheart. And shall I wrong my Loue, and cleaue to Saltfish! Commit adulterie with an Egge and Butter?

Doct.

Well setting this apart, whose water's this sir?

Plum.

On, thereby hangs a tale, my M. Kersmasses. It is his water, sir, hee's drawing on.

Doct.

Kersmas? why let me see, I saw him very lustie a Twelfe-night.

Plum.

I, that's true, sir, but then he tooke his bane, With chusing King and Queene; Ha's made his Will already, here's the Copie.

Doct.

And what ha's he giuen away, let mee see, Plumbroth.

Plum.

He could not giue away much, sir, his chil∣dren haue so consumed him before hand.

The last WILL and TESTAMENT of KERSMAS, Irreuocable. Read;

IN primis I giue and bequeath to my second Sonne In, and In; his perpetuall Lodging i'the Kings∣bench, and his Ordinarie out of the Basket.

Plum.

A sweete allowance for a second brother.

Item, I giue to my yongest Sonnes Gleeke and Pri∣ministe, the full consuming of Nights and Dayes, and Wiues and Children, together with one secret gift, that is, neuer to giue ouer, while they haue a pennie.

Plum.

And if e're they doe, Ile be hanged.

For the possession of all my Lands, Mannors, Mannor-houses, I leaue them full and wholly to my eldest Sonne, Noddie, whom during his mino∣ritie, I commit to the custodie of a paire of Knaues and one and thirtie?

Plum.

There's Knaues enow a conscience to coo∣zen one Foole.

Item, I giue to my eldest Daughter, Tickle mee quickly, and to her sister my Ladies Hole, free leaue to shift for themselues, either in Court, City, or Country.

Plum.

We thanke him heartily.

Item, I leaue to their old Aunt, my Sow h'as Pigd, a Litter of Curtizans to breede vp for Shroue-tide.

Plum.

They wil be good ware in Lent, when flesh is forbid by Proclamation.

Item, I giue to my Nephew Gambols, commonly

cald by the name of Kersmas Gambols, all my Cattle, Horse and Mare, but let him shooe 'em himselfe.

Plum.

I ha' seene him shooe the Mare fortie times ouer.

Also, I bequeath to my Coozen-Germane Wassel-Bowle, borne of Dutch Parents, the Priuiledge of a free Denizen, that is, to be drunke with Scotch-Ale, or English-Beere: and lastly, I haue giuen by word of mouth, to poore Blind man Buffe, a flap with a Foxe∣tayle.

Plum.

I, so h'as giuen 'em all for ought I see. But now what thinke you of his Water, sir?

Doct.

Well he may linger out till Candlemas: But ne're recouer it.

Fast.

Would he were gone once, I should be more respected.

Enter New-yeere.

Doct.

Here's New-yeere?

Plum.

I haue ne're a gift to giue him, Ile be gone.

Doct.

Mirth & a healthful time fil all your dayes. Looke freshly, Sir.

New-Y.

I cannot, Master Doctor. My fathers death sets the Spring backward i'me. For ioy and comfort yet, I'me now betweene Sorrow and ioy, the Winter and the Spring. And as Time gathers freshnesse in it's season, No doubt Affects will be subdued with reason.

Doct.

Y'aue a braue mind to work on, vse my rules, And you shall cut a Caper in Nouember, When other yeeres your Grandfathers lay bedrid.

New-Y.

What's he, that lookes so piteously, and shakes so?

Fast.

A Fasting-day?

New-Y.

How's that?

Doct.

A foolish Fasting-day, An vnseasonable cock scomb, seeks now for a seruice, Ha's hunted vp and downe, ha's beene at Court, And the Long-Porter broke his head a'crosse there, He had rather see the Deuill, for this he sayes, He ne're grew vp so tall with Fasting-dayes, I would not for the price of all my Almanacks; The Guard had tooke him there, they would ha beate out his braines with Bombards. I bade him stay till Lent, and now he whimpers; He would to Rome forsooth, that's his last refuge, But would trie awhile, How well he should be vsde in Lancashire.

New-Y.

He was my Fathers seruant, That he was, sir.

Doct.

Tis here vpon Record.

Fast.

I seru'd him honestly, and cost him little.

Doct.

I, Ile besworne for that.

Fast.

Those were the Times, sir, That made your Predecessors rich, and able To lay vp more for you, and since poore Fasting-daies Were not made reckoning on, the pampered flesh H'as plaide the knaue, Maides haue had fuller bellies, Those meales that once were sau'd, haue stird, & lept, And bègot Bastards, and they must be kept, Better keepe Fasting-dayes, your selfe may tell you, And for the profit of purse, backe and belly?

Doct.

I neuer yet heard Truth better whin'de out.

New-Y.

Thou shalt not al be lost, not for vainglorie

Greedily welcom'd, wee'le begin with Vertue, As we may hold with't, that do's Vertue right, Set him downe, Sir, for Candlemas Eue at night.

Fast.

Well, better late then neuer. This is my comfort, I shall come to make All the Fat Rogues goe to bed supperlesse, Get dinners where they can.

New-Y.

How now? what's he?

Doct.

Tis old Time, Sir, that belongd To all your Predecessors.

New-Y.

Oh I honour That Reuerend Figure, may I euer thinke How precious thou 'rt in youth, how rarely Redeemed in Age. Time Obserue, you haue Times seruice. There's all in briefe.

Enter the first Antemasque.

New-Y.

Hah? Doctor? What are these?

Time The Rabble that I pitie, these I haue seru'd too, But few or none haue euer obseru'd me, Amongst this dissolute Route, Candlemas day! I'me sorie to see him so ill associated?

Doct.

Why that's his cause of cōming to cōplaine, Because Shrouetuesday this yeere dwels so neere him. But ti's his place he cannot be remou'd. You must be patient, Candlemas, and brooke it. This Rabble, Sir, Shrouetuesday, hungrie Lent, Ill May-day, Midsummer Eue, and the first Dogge-day, Come to receiue their places due by custome, And that they build vpon.

New-Y.

Giu'em their charge, and then admit'em.

Doct.

I will doo't in Cone.

Stand forth Shrouetuesday, one'a the silenc'st Bricke-Layers, Tis in your charge to pull downe Bawdyhouses, To set your Tribe aworke, cause spoyle in Shorditch, And make a Dangerous Leake there, deface Turnbul, And tickle Codpiece Rowe, ruine the Cockpit, the Poore Players ne're thriud in't, a my Cōscience some Queane pist vpon the first Bricke; For you, leane Lent, be sure you vtter first Your rotten Herrings and keepe vp your best Till they be rotten, then ther's no deceit When they be all alike. You Ill-Mayday, Be as vnruly a Rascall as you may, To stirre vp Deputy Double Diligence, That comes perking forth with Halberts: And for you Midsomer Eue, that watches warmest, Be but sufficiently drunke, and y'are well harnest, You Dogday!

Dogd.

Woh.

Doct.

A churlish maundring Rogue, You must both beg and rob, curse and collogue, In cooler Nights the Barne with Doxies fill, In Haruest lye in Haycock with your Iill. They haue all their charge.

New-Y.

You haue gin't at the wrong end,

Doct.

To bid'em sin's the way to make e'm mend, For what they are forbid, they run to head-long. I ha' cast their Inclinations, now your seruice, To draw fresh bloud into your Mrs. cheekes, slaues!

The first Dance, and first Ante-Masque, consisting of these six Rude ones.

Exeunt.

New-Y.

What scornfull lookes the Abusiue Vil∣laines threw, Vpon the reuerend forme and face of Time! Me thought it appear'd sorry, and went angry.

Doct.

'Tis still your seruant.

New-Y.

How now? what are these?

Doct.

These are your Good Dayes, and your Bad Dayes, Sir, Those your Indifferent dayes, nor good, nor bad.

New-Y.

But is here all?

Doct.

A wonder there's so many. How these broke loose, euery one stops their passage, And makes inquiry after 'em. This Farmer will not cast his seed ith' ground Before he looke in Bretnor, there he finds Some word which hee hugs happily, as, Ply the Box, Make Hay betimes, It falls into thy Mouth. A punctuall Lady will not paint forsooth Vpon his Criticall dayes, twill not hold well, Nor a nice Citie-Wedlocke eate fresh Herring, Nor Perriwinkles; Although she long for both, if the word be that day, Gape after Gudgins, or some fishing phrase. A Scriueners Wife wil not intreat the Mony-master That lyes ith' house, and gets her Husbands children To furnish a poore Gentlemans Extremes, If she find, Nihil in a Bagge, that morning,

And so of thousand follies, these suffice To shew you Good, Bad, and Indifferent Dayes, And all haue their Inscriptions, here's, Cock a Hoop, This the Geere cottens, and this, Faint Heart, neuer▪ These, noted Blacke for Badnesse, Rods in pisse. This, Post for Puddings, this Put vp thy Pipes, These blacke and white indifferently inclining To both their natures, neither Full nor Fasting, In Dock, out Nettle,—Now to your motion, Blacke Knaues, and white Knaues, and you parcell Rascals, Two hypocriticall party-colord Varlets, That play o'both hands.

Here the second Dance, and last Ante∣Masque: Eight Boyes, habited accor∣ding to their former Cha∣racters.

The three Good Dayes, attyred all in white Gar∣ments, sitting close'to their bodies, their Inscriptions on their Brests.

On the first.

Cocke a Hoope.

On the second.

The Geere Cottens.

On the third.

Faint Heart Neuer.

The three Bad Dayes all in blacke Garments, their Faces blacke, and their Inscriptions.

On the first.

Rods in Pisse.

On the second.

Post for Puddings.

On the third.

Put vp thy Pipes.

The Indifferent Dayes.

In Garments halfe white, halfe blacke, their Faces seamd with that party Colour, and their Inscriptions.

The first.

Neither full nor Fasting.

The second.

In Docke, out Nettle.

These hauing purchasde a Smile from the Cheekes of many a Beautie, by their Ridiculous Figures, va∣nish, proud of that Treasure.

Doct.

I see these pleasures of low Births and Na∣tures, Adde little freshnesse to your cheeks, I pittie you, And can no longer now conceale from you, Your happy Omen, Sir, Blessings draw neere you, I will disclose a Secret in Astrologie, By the sweet Industry of Harmonie, Your white and glorious friend; Eu'n very Deities haue conspir'd, to grace Your faire Inauguration, here I find it, Tis cleere in Art, The minute, nay, the point of Time's ariu'd, Me thinkes the blessings touch you, now they're felt, Sir.

At which loud Musicke heard the first Cloud vanishing, Harmony is discouered with her sacred Quire.

The first Song. (Book 1)

Har.

NEw-yeere, New-yeere! harke, harken to me, I am sent downe To crowne, Thy wishes, with me, Thy faire desires in Vertues Court are fil'de, The goodnesse of thy thought, This blessed worke hath wrought,

Time shall be reconcilde: Thy Spring shall in all sweets abound, Thy Sommer shall be cleere and sound, Thy Autumne swell the Barne and Loft, With Corne and fruits, ripe, sweet and soft, And in thy Winter, when all goe, Thou shalt depart as white as Snow.

Then a second Cloud vanishing, the Masquers them∣selues discouered, sitting in Arches of Clouds, being nine in Number, Heroes Dei∣fied for their Ver∣tues.

The Song goes on.

Behold, behold, harke, harken to me, Glories come downe, To crowne Thy wishes, with me, Bright Heroes in lasting Honour spher'd Vertues eternall Spring, (By making Time their King.) See, they're beyond Time reard. Yet in their loue to humane good, In which estate themselues once stood, They all descend to haue their worth Shine, to Imitation, forth: And by their Motion, Light and Loue, To Show how after Times should moue!

Then the Masquers descending, set to their first Dance.

The second Song. (Book 2)

Har.

MOue on, Moue on, be still the same, You Beauteous Sonnes of Brightnesse, You adde to Honour Spirit and Flame, To Vertue, Grace, and Vhitenesse; You, whose euery little motion May learne Strictnesse more Deuotion, Euery Pace, of that high worth, It treades a faire Example forth; Quickens a Vertue, makes a Storie, To your owne Heroick Glorie. May your three times thrice Blest Number Rayse Merit from his Ancient S'umber; Moue on, Moue on, &c.

Then they order themselues for their se∣cond Dance, after which,

The third Song. (Book 3)

SEe, whether Fate hath lead you, (Lamps of Honour) (Fog Goodnesse brings her owne reward vpon her) Looke, turne your Eyes, & then conclude, commending, And say, you haue lost no Worth by your Descending, Behold a Heauen about you, Spheres more plentie, There, for one Luna, here shines Ten, And for one Venus, Twentie; Then Heroes, double both your Fame and Light, Each chuse his Starre, and full adorne this Night.

At which, the Masquers make choice of their Ladyes, and Dance.

Time, thus closing all.

Time.

The Morning gray, Bids, come away, Euery Lady should begin To take her Chamber, for the Stars are in:

Then making his honour to the Ladies.

Liue Long the Miracles of Times and Yeeres, Till with those Heroes, You sit fixt in Spheres.

FINIS.