The sparagus garden a comedie. Acted in the yeare 1635. by the then Company of Revels, at Salisbury Court. The author Richard Brome.

Act 4. Scene 7.

Enter Cautious and Friswood.

Fris.

Here is the Knight sir.

Stri.

Why reach you not a Chaire? I hope sir Arnold You'll pardon the necessity of my rudenesse: I cannot rise, nor stoope, to you, uh, uh, uh.

Caut.

Rather excuse me sir, that presse upon you Thus in your weaknesse: but you understand My businesse by my letter if you have read it.

Stri.

Yes sir, goe forth; but be not farre I pray you.

Ex. Fris.

I have heard your Nephew is a wilde yong man▪

Caut.

A very bashfull boy I assure you; that's the reason That I am wonne to be a spokes-man for him.

Stri

Oh no dissembling sir; you know he is wilde, And suffers under your displeasure for't: uh, uh, uh.

Caut.

A witch could not gesse righter: but they say That dying men are Prophets oftentimes. Suppose he has beene wild, let me assure you He's now reclaim'd, and has my good opinion: And is as like in person and behaviour To gaine the maids affection.

Stri,

Speake to the purpose; pray what's his estate?

Caut.

I there's the poynt indeed: why sir, he has A hundred pound a yeare; and is withall A hopefull, and a handsome gentleman.

Stri.

Hopefull, and handsome! uh, uh, uh.

Caut.

You sir have wealth enough.

Stri.

And she has choise enough Of greater matches: could I get her Into a marriage vaine, but she'll not look Upon a man not she; but lives retir'd Here in my house, and is a carefull Nurse: She's fitter sir to be an old mans Nurse, Then any young mans bride: uh, uh, uh, uh.

Caut.

Is she so grave in youth? I have often sought A sight of her, but never could obtaine it.

Stri.

Not without my consent I warrant you; Shee's nearer to a mother than a maid. I tell you truth sir, and you know deceipt Becomes not dying men: uh, uh, uh. For vertue and obedience She's fitter for your selfe then for your Nephew: But to the poynt, a hundred pound a yeare You say he has, and hopes and handsomnesse, Which may acquire, with your assurance of So much for joynture—Yes, a thousand pound In portion with her: but sir let me tell you, I'de rather give sixe thousand unto one Of mine owne choise; which she will not refuse, If I but say this is the man, and take him.

Caut.

Will not your Neece be seene: I faine would see her.

Stri.

At hand: she will not out of my presence sir, Nor ever was by man, not since the clocke Of her Virginity struck eleven, not she, Except at doore or window, as men passe: And so perhaps your Nephew may have seene her.

Caut.

Introth no otherwise; and so he told me▪ May not I see her sir?

Stri.

I tell you true; Deceit you know becomes not dying men: uh, uh, uh. And therefore harke you sir, I have a purpose, (That if she take the man whom I will chuse) To make her my sole heire; provided that She match before I dye: uh, uh, I cannot last▪

Caut.

Pray let me see your Neece.

Stri.

Friswood—why Friswood.

Caut.

Is that her name?

Stri.

No sir, I call my maid.

Caut.

A maid; I took her for an old woman.

Stri.

A maid upon my vertue: and I feare That her frigidity has mortifi'd my Neece: Deceipt becomes not dying men you know Friswood I say, I bad her not be farre: I dare not straine my selfe to call her lowder.

Caut.

Ile call her for you sir: Fris—

Stri.

Hold sir, hold, pray use this whistle for me, I dare not straine my selfe to winde it I, The Doctors tell me it will spend my spirits,

Caut▪ whistles.

So, so, enough sir—Fie, f•…•…e upon you: Goe call my Neece, uh, uh.

Ex. Fris.

Caut.

Be of good cheare sir, and take courage man: What you have beene a Striker in your dayes: And may be agen, I would not have him dye.

Stri.

Uh—alas I cannot last—why comes she not?

Fris.

I cannot get her from her work; nor to Beleeve me that you sent for her, because I told her that a gentleman was with you

Stri.

There was your fault, then I must call my selfe. Why Anna-bell, ah, ah, ah, An-na-bell.

Ex. Fris.

Caut.

Take heede, straine not your selfe too hard, but send agen: The rarest beauty that I e're beheld,

Act 4. Scene 2.

Which with a maiden-head of that growth,

Enter Annabell.

Would be an absolute wonder, her sweet modesty, And meeke obedience▪ justifies that too,

She kneeles at Strikers feet.

And makes her up a miracle of nature; My former misbeliefe I doe renounce, And at first sight, (which is the birth of love) A faith growes in me, strengthened by the word Of this expiring man, that chastity Has not forsaken beauty.

Stri.

You shall heare him.

Ann.

What to propound a husband? honour'd sir, Although I rather wish to dye a Virgin;

Yet my obedience to your grave behests Shall sway my will: your choise shall be my liking: But let me thus much favour begge, before You make that choyse, that you will not destroy The building you have rear▪d; your care and cost Hath built me up by vertuous education, Vnto that heighth that I consider heaven; And waxe so old in that high contemplation, That to look downe on youthfull vanities, Were to be at a stand; and to delight in 'hem, Were to fall backe againe; and to be link'd In marriage, to a man whose wilde affections Are bent to worldly pleasures a maine perdition.

Caut.

I dare not speak to her for my Nephew now: Nor (though I love her strangely) for my selfe.

Ann.

Doe you tell me of his Nephew sir? even hee The Knight himselfe, I hold to be too young For a well govern'd man as the world goes.

Caut.

I ha' not the heart to wrong her; she's too good.

Fris.

Sir, here's a gentleman presses at my heeles To speak with you.