A pleasant and vvitty comedy: called, A new tricke to cheat the Divell . Written by R.D. Gent

Scaene. 1.

Enter Slightall Melancholy.

Sl.

APistoll, Poniard, Poison, or a Cord, The least of these would doe't; nay, my owne want

Had I the patience but to stay, The time would end me, for since Charity late is dead, How can beggers live? Death is the easiest Of any thing on Earth for man to compasse; Almost no object but doth offer it: Fire, Water, not a Stone we stumble at; Our very meat and drinke but surfeit of't, It would dispatch one quickly: I have read Of one choak'd with a flye; another drinking, Strangled with the berry of a bruised grape, Another with an haire; what's this life then We men doe make so much of? if a Pin, A very Haire hath power to take it hence? Curs'd fall of man, in whose first disobedience All things on Earth rebell'd, and warre with him: How many thousand things hath Fate ordain'd To stop weake natures course? and among them, How few which can preserve it? which apprehension Makes me that now I more desire to live, The more my life's oppos'd: If there be Divills, As all Religion tells us, I desire To have converse and conference with some one The greatest fiend among them, for by him My Genius prompts me, either I shall raise My ruin'd hopes, revenge me on my foes, Or end my wretched dayes in this despaire. I could turne Sorcerer, Witch, or any thing Might I but blast her beauty, brave that Lord; And shew some power o're my ingratefull friends; The Divell, I, the Divell; what Musicke's this?

Musicke.

Descends it from the Spheares? Hangs it in the Aire? Or issues it from Hell? Come where it can I will attend the Novell.

Enter an Anticke habited in Parchment Indentures, Bills, Bonds, Waxe Seales, and Pen, and Inkhornes, on his breast writ, I am a Scrivener. Dances a straine, and stands right before him.

Ha? What art thou?

I am a Scrivener.

The Divell thou art.

Enter dauncing another straine, one written o're his breast,

I am a knave.

Stands as the other.

Why point'st thou to thy breast, I am a Knave? The Proverbe were not true else, for it sayes, The Divell's a Knave.

Enter a third with this word,

I am a Prodigall. I am am a Prodigall? I was indeed, and thou dost well to Mocke me; what fury sends Hell next?

Enter a fourth with this,

I am a Begger. I am a Begger? yes, I am indeed, But how the Divell cam'st thou by my stile.

Enter a fifth with this,

I am a Puritan. I am a Puritane? one that will eate no Porke, Doth use to shut his shop on Saterdayes, And open them on Sundayes: A Familist; And one of the Arch limbes of Belzebub, A Iewish Christian, and a Christian Iew; Now fire on thy sweet soule.

Enter a sixt with this,

I am a Whore. I am a Whore? yes, and a hot one too, And had'st a helping hand in my confusion: Now the same blessing on thee.

Enter a seventh with money Bagges, and this Motto,

I am an Usurer. I am an Usurer, Satans eldest Son, And Heire to all his torments; thou hast swallow'd Yong heires, and Hell must one day swallow thee.

Enter an eighth with this,

I am a Divell. I am a Divell? good, 'tis the blacke Lad I so long wish'd to meete.

The Daunce continued, in the conclusion whereof, &c.

The Scrivener beares away the Knave; good Morrall. The Prodigall the Begger; ever so; The Familist the Strumpet, not amisse; Oh but the Usurer still the Divell and all,

Whom I so faine would speake with; Belzebub, If thou hast any sufferance here on Earth, Or limited power o're man, once more appeare And offer me free language.

Enter the Divell like a Gentleman, with glasse eyes.

Di.

Did you call?

Sl.

Why, what art thou?

Di.

The Divell Belzebub, whom thou so late so loud didst invocate

Sl.

How cam'st thou by this shape of Gentleman?

Di.

As if all habits, fashions, and attires Were not with me familiar? I sometimes Into a Lawyer can transforme my selfe To delay Causes; then to a Divine, To devise new Sects, Scismes, and Heresies: To a Taylor for new fashions: to a Sempster, I was first Father for this yellow Sterch, Which did succeed the blew; to a Feather-maker For Gentlewomans Fans, mens spriggs, and falls; Sometimes I am a Page, and daily attend Upon my Lords luxurious appetites: Then can I play the Master, Knight, and Lord, And then coyne strange varieties of riots, Lusts, and excesses, never heard before. Indeed, what can I not?

Sl.

Bee good thou canst not?

Di.

It never was my study, and of all things I onely except that.

Sl.

Thou canst not pray?

Di.

Yes, both on soule and body, where I am suffered.

Sl.

Thou canst not Preach.

Di.

How then came all those Pulpit Heresies That have with Christians, Christians set at odds? I read to that great Doctor Arius, That poyson'd three parts of the Christian World; There's not a Sectary, nor a Scismaticke, To whom I am not Tutor.

Sl.

Can I then taske thee in nothing?

Di.

No.

Sl.

Thou canst not — stay? Thou canst not change affection, nor invert the passions of The soule; turne hate to love, and love to hate.

Di.

Tush, that with ease I can.

Sl.

And revenge wrongs?

Di.

At pleasure.

Sl.

One thing more, and I conclude; Thou canst not raise a man of desperate hopes To a full furnish'd palme; to pay his debts, And to give freely where he please to distribute?

Di.

Am I not Titled Prince of all the World? And lyes there that in this great Universe Excepted from my large Dominion? Am I not Mammon too, the god of gold, Soveraigne of all Exchequors, treasures, mints, And those rich Mines that set the World at odds? In search of which men hazard dangerous Seas, Expose them to diseases, and strange Climates, Above their natures: Gold? I am Father of it, And have it in abundance.

Sl.

Then from can, I come to will; wilt thou, great Belzebub, so much of thy huge surplusage make mine As shall doe all that I have here propos'd?

Di.

I will; but on condition.

Sl.

Make thine owne.

Di.

That when thy wishes have attain'd effect, Thou art full handled, hast paid all thy debts, And nothing ow'st to any, I may then Most freely claime thy soule.

Sl.

Come, strike me lucke; it is a bargaine: Wee shall neede no witnesse.

Di.

Thy conscience is a Thousand, that shall serve; Let me but have't confirm'd beneath thy hand, And my Exchequor's open.

Sl.

'Tis confirm'd; I see the Divell yet hath more honesty Then hath his Son, the Usurer; for to him A man may pawne his soule a thousand times Ere he can get a penny: but the Father's, Of a farre more free nature.

Di.

Come, withdraw, we'le Have't confirm'd within.

Exeunt.