North-vvard hoe Sundry times acted by the Children of Paules. By Thomas Decker, and Iohn Webster.

ACTVS 4. SCENA 1. (Book 4)

Enter Bellamont in his Night-cap, with leaues in his hand, his man after him with lights, Standish and Paper.

Bel.

Sirra, Ile speake with none.

Seru.

Not a plaier:

Bel.

No tho a Sharer ball, Ile speake with none altho it be the mouth Of the big company, Ile speake with none,—away.

Why should not I bee an excellent sta••esman? I can in the wry∣ting of a tragedy, make Caesar speake be••ter than euer his am∣bition could: when I write of Pompey I haue Pomp••ies soule within me, and when I pe••sona••e a worthy Poet, I a•• then truly my selfe, a poo••e vnpreferd scholler.

Enter his Man hastily.

Seru,

Here's a ••waggering fellow sir, that speakes not like a man of gods making, sweares he must speake with you and wil speake with you.

Bel

Not of gods making what is he? a Cuckold?

Seru▪

He's a Gentl••man sir, by his clothes.

Bel.

Enter him and his clothes: cl••the•• sometimes are bet∣ter Gentlemen than their Maisters.

Ent. the Captaine & the Ser.

is this he? Seeke you me sir.

Cap.

I seeke sir, (god plesse you) for a Sentillman, that talkes besides to himselfe when he's alone, as if hee were in Bed-lam, and he's a Poet.

Bel.

So sir it may bee you seeke mee, for Ime sometimes out a my wits.

C••p.

You are a Poet sir, are you.

Bel.

Ime haunted with a Fury Sir.

Cap.

Pray Maister Poet shute off this little pot-gun, and I wil coniure your Fu••y: tis well lay you sir, my desires are to haue some amiable and amorous sonnet or madrigall composed by your Fury, see you.

Bel.

Are you a louer sir of the nine Muses.

Cap.

Ow, by gad out a cry.

Cap.

Y'are then a scholler sir.

Cap.

I ha pickt vp my cromes in Sesus colledge in Oxford one day a gad w••ile ag••e▪

Bel.

Y'are welcome y'are very welcome, Ile borrow your Iudgement looke you sir, Ime writyng a Tragedy, the Tragedy of young Astianax.

Cap.

S••••••nax Tragedy is he liuing can you tell? was not Sti∣anax a M••n-mouth man?

Bel.

O no sir, you mistake, he was a Troyane great Hectors Son.

Cap.

Hector was grannam to Cadwallader, when shee was great with child, god vdge me, there was one young Styanan of Mon-mouth sheire was a madder greeke as any is in al Englād.

Bel.

This was not he assure yee: looke you sir, I will haue this Tragedy presented in the French Court, by French Gallants.

Cap.

By god your Frenchmen will doe a Tragedy enterlude, poggy well.

Bel.

It shalbe sir at the marriages of the Duke of Orleans, and Chatilion the admiral of France, the stage.

Cap.

Vds bloud, does Orleans marry with the Admirall of France now.

Bel

O sir no, they are two seuerall marriages. As I was say∣ing the stage hung all with black veluet, and while tis acted, my self wil stád behind the Duke of Biron, or some other cheefe mi∣nion or so, — who shall, I they shall take some occasion about the musick of the fourth Act, to step to the French King, and say, Sire, voyla, il et votre treshumble seruiteur, le plu sage, è diuin•• espirit, monsi••ur Bellamont, all in French thus poynting at me, or you is the learned old English Gentleman Maister Bellamont a very worthie man, to bee one of your priuy Chamber, or Poet Lawreat.

Cap.

But are you sure Duke Pepper-noone wil giue you such good vrdes, behind your back to your face.

Bel.

Oh I, I, I man, he's the onely courtier that I know there: but what do you thinke that I may come to by this.

Cap.

God vdge mee, all France may hap die in your debt for this.

Bel

I am now wryting the description of his death.

Cap.

Did he die in his ped▪

Bel.

You shall heare: suspition is the Mynion of g••eat hearts, no: I will not begin there: Imagine a great man were ••o be ex∣ecuted about the 7. houre in a gloomy morning.

Capt.

As it might bee Sampson or so, or great Golias that was kild by my Countriman.

Bel.

Right sir, thus I expresse it in yong Astianax. Now the wilde people greedy of their griefes, Longing to see, that which their thoughts abhord, Preuented day, and rod on their owne roofes.

Cap.

Could the little horse that ambled on the top of Paules•• cary all the people; els how could they ride on the roofes!

Bel.

O sir, tis a figure in Poetry, marke how tis followed, Rod on their owne roofes, Making all Neighboring houses tilde with men; tilde with men ••ist not good.

Cap.

By Sesu, and it were tilde all with naked Imen twere better.

Bel.

You shall heare no more; pick your eares, they are fowle sir, what are you sir pray?

Cap.

A Captaine sir, and a follower of god Mars.

Bel.

Mars, Bachus, and I loue Apollo! a Captaine! then I par∣don your sir, and Captaine what wud you presse me for?

Cap.

For a witty ditty, to a Sentill-oman, that I am falne in with all, ouer head and eares in affections, and naturall desires.

Bel.

An Acrostick were good vpon her name me thinkes.

Cap.

Crosse sticks: I wud not be too crosse Maister Poet; yet if it bee best to bring her name in question, her name is mistris Dorothy Hornet.

Bel.

The very consumption that wasts my Sonne, and the Ayme that hung lately vpon mee: doe you loue this Mistris Dorothy?

Cap.

Loue her! there is no Captaines wife in England, can haue more loue put vpon her, and yet Ime sure Captaines wiues, haue their pellies full of good mens loues.

Be.

And does she loue you? has there past any great matter be∣tweene you?

Cap.

As great a matter, as a whole coach, and a horse and his wife are gon too and fro betweene vs.

Bel.

Is shee? ifayth Captaine, bee valiant and tell trueth, is she honest?

Cap.

Honest? god vdge me, shee's as honest, as a Punck, that cannot abide fornication, and lechery.

Bel.

Looke you Captaine, Ile shew you why I aske, I hope you thinke my wenching daies are past, yet Sir, here's a letter that her father, brought me from her and inforc'd mee to take this very day.

Enter a Seruant and Whispers.

Cap.

Tis for some loue—song to send to me, I hold my life.

Bel.

This falls out pat, my man tells mee, the party is at my dore, shall she come in Captaine?

Cap.

O I, I, put her in, put her in I pray now.

Exit Seru.

Bel.

The letter saies here, that she's exceeding sick, and in∣treates me to visit her: Captaine, lie you in ambush behind the hangings, and perhaps you shall heare the peece of a Comme∣dy: she comes, she comes, make your selfe away.

Cap.

Does the Poet play Torkin and cast my Lucraesies water too in hugger muggers? if he do, Styanax Tragedy was neuer so horrible bloudy-minded, as his Commedy shalbe, — Tawsons Captaine Ienkins.

Enter Doll.

Dol.

Now Maister Poet, I sent for you.

Bel.

And I came once at your Ladiships call.

Dol.

My Ladiship and your Lordship lie both in one man∣ner; you haue coniur'd vp a sweete spirit in mee haue you not Rimer?

Bel.

Why M••dea! what spirit! wud I were a young man for thy sake.

Dol.

So wud I, for then thou couldst doe mee no hurt; now thou doest.

Bel.

If I were a yonker, it would be no Imodesty in me to bee seene in thy company; but to haue snow in the lap of Iune; vile! vile: yet come; garlick has a white head, and a greene stalke, then why should not▪ I? lets bee merry: what saies the diuill to al the world, for Ime sure thou art carnally possest with him.

Dol.

Thou hast a filthy foot, a very filthy cariers foote.

Bel.

A filthy shooe, but a fine foote, I stand not vpon my foote I.

Cap.

What stands he vpon then? with a pox god blesse vs?

Doll.

A legge and a Calfe! I haue had better of a butcher fortie times for carrying a body! not worth begging by a Bar∣ber-surgeon.

Bel.

Very good, you draw me and quarter me, fates keepe me from hanging.

Dol.

And which most turnes vp a womans stomach, thou art an old hoary man: thou hast gon ouer the bridge of many years, and now art ready to drop into a graue: what doe I see then

in that withered face of thine?

Bell.

Wrinkles: grauity.

Doll.

Wretchednes: griefe: old fellow thou hast be witch me; I can neither eate for thee, nor sleepe for thee, nor lie quietly in my bed for thee.

Cap.

Vd•• blood! I did neuer see a white flea before I will clinge you?

Doll.

I was borne sure in the dog dayes ••me so vnluky; I, in whome neither a flaxen haire, yellow beard, French doublet, nor Spanish hose, youth nor personage, rich ••ace nor mony cold euer breed a true loue to any, euer to any man, am now besot∣ted, doate, am mad, for the carcas of a man, and as if I were a baud, no ring pleases me but a deaths head.

Cap.

Sesu, are I men so arsy varsy.

Bell.

Mad for me? why if the worme of lust were wrigling within mee as it does in others, dost thinke Ide crawle vpon thee; wud I low after thee, that art a common calfe-bearer.

Doll.

I confesse it.

Cap.

Doe you, are you a towne cowe and confesse you beare calues.

Doll.

I confesse, I haue bin an Inne for any guest.

Cap.

A pogs a your stable-roome; is your Inne a baudy house now?

Doll.

I confesse (for I ha bin taught to hide nothing from my Suergeon and thou art he) I confesse that old stinking Surgeon like thy selfe) whom I call father, that Hornet neuer sweat for me, Ime none of his making.

Cap.

You lie he makes you a punke Hornet minor.

Dol.

Hees but a cheater, and I the false die hee playes with∣all, I power all my poyson out before thee, because heareafter I will be cleane: shun me not, loath me not, mocke me not, plagues confound thee, I hate thee to the pit of hell, yet if thou goest thither, ile follow thee, run, ayde doe what thou canst, ile run and ride ouer the world after thee.

Cap.

Cockatrice: you mistris Salamanders that feare no bur∣ning, let my mare and my mares horse, and my coach come run∣ning home agen and run to an hospitall, and your Surgeons, and to knaues and panders and to the tiuell and his tame to.

Doll.

Fiend art thou raized to torment me.

Bel.

Shee loues you Captaine honestly.

Cap.

Ile haue any man, oman or cilde by his eares, that saies a common drab can loue a Sentillman honestly, I will sell my Coach for a cart to haue you to puncks hall, Pridewell, I sarge you in Apollos name, whom you belong to, see her forth-com∣ming, till I come and tiggle her, by and by, Sbloud I was neuer Couzend with a more rascall peece of mutton, since I came out a the Lawer Countries.

Exit.

Bel.

My dores are open for thee, be gon: woman!

Doll.

This goates—peezle of thine —

Bel.

Away: I loue no such implements in my house.

Dol.

Doest not? am I but an implement? by all the maiden∣heads that are lost in London in a yeare (& thats a great oth) for this trick, other manner of women than my selfe shall come to this house only to laugh at thee; and if thou wouldst labour thy heart out, thou shalt not do withal.

Exit.

Enter Seruant.

Bel.

Is this my Poeticall fury? how now sir!

Ser.

Maister Maybery and his wife sir ith next roome.

Bel.

What are they doing sir?

Ser.

Nothing sir, that I see, but onely wud speake with you.

Bel.

Enter 'em: this house wilbe to hot for mee, if this wench cast me into these sweates, I must shift my selfe, for pure neces∣sity, haunted with sprites in my old daies!

Enter Maybery booted, his Wife with him.

May.

A Commedy, a Canterbury tale smells not halfe so sweete as the Commedy I haue for thee old Poet: thou shalt write vpon't Poet.

Bel.

Nay I will write vpon't ift bee a Commedie, for I haue beene at a most villanous female Tragedie: come, the plot, the plot.

May.

Let your man giue you the bootes presently, the plot lies in Ware my white Poet: Wife thou and I this night, will haue mad sport in Ware, marke me well Wife, in Ware.

Wif.

At your pleasure sir.

May.

Nay it shalbe at your pleasure Wife: looke you sir, looke you: Fetherstones boy (like an honest crack-halter) layd o∣pen all to one of my prentices, (for boies you know like women loue to be doing.)

Bel.

Very good: to the plot.

May.

Fetherstone like a crafty mutton-monger, perswades Greenshield to be run through the body.

Bell.

Strange! through the body?

May.

I man, to take phisick▪ he does so, hee's put to his pur∣gation; then sir what does me Fetherstone, but counterfits a let∣ter from an Inkeeper of Doncaster, to fetch Greenshield (who is needy you know) to a keepers lodge in Enfeild-chace▪ a certaine Vncle, where Greenshield should receiue mony due to him in behalfe of his wife.

Bell.

His wife! is Greensheild married? I haue heard him sweare he was a batchiler.

Wife.

So haue I a hundred times.

May.

The knaue has more wiues than the Turke, he has a wife almost in euery shire in England, this parcel Gentlewoman is that Inkeepers Daughter of Doncaster.

Bel.

Hath she the entertainement of her fore-fathers? wil she keepe all commers company?

May.

She help's to passe away stale Capons, sower wine, and musty prouander: but to the purpose, this traine was layd by the baggage her selfe and Fetherstone, who it seemes makes her hus∣band a vnicorne: and to giue fire to••t, Greensheild like an Arrant wittall intreates his friend, to ride before his wife, and ••etch the money, because taking bitter pills, he should proue but a loose fellow if he went, and so durst not go.

Bell.

And so the poore Stag is to bee hunted in Enfeild••chace

May.

No sir, Maister poet there you misse the plot. Fetherstone and my Lady Greensheild are rid to batter away their light com∣modities in Ware, Enfeild-chace is to cold for 'em.

Bell.

In Ware!

M••y

In dur•••• Ware: I forget my selfe wise, on with your ry∣ding suite and cry North-ward hoe, as the boy at Powles saies, let my Prentice get vp before thee, and m••n t••ee to Ware, lodge in the ••••ne I told thee, spur cut and away.

Wife.

Well sir.

Exit.

Bell.

Stay, stay, whats the bottom of this riddle? why send you her away?

May.

For a thing my little hoary Poet: looke thee, I smelt out my noble stincker Greensheild in his Chamber, and as tho

my heart stringes had bin crackt, I wept, and sighd, & thumpd, and thumpd, and rau'd and randed, and raild, and told him how my wife was now growne as common as baibery, and that shee had hierd her Taylor to ride with her to Ware, to meete a Gentleman of the Court.

Bel.

Good; and how tooke he this drench downe.

May.

Like Egs and Muscadine, at a gulp: hee cries out pre∣sently, did not I tell you old man, that sheed win my game when she came to bearing? hee railes vpon her, wills me to take her in the Act; to put her to her white sheete, to bee diuorc'd, and for all his guts are not fully scourd by his Pottecary, hee's pulling on his bootes, & will ride along with vs; lets muster as many as wee can.

Bel.

It wilbe excellent spo••t, to see him and his owne wife meete in Ware, wilt not? I, I, weele haue a whole Regiment of horse with vs.

May.

I stand vpon thornes, tel I shake him bith hor••es: come, bootes boy, we must gallop all the way, for the Sin you know is done with turning vp the white of an eye, will you ioyne your forces.

Bel.

Like a Hollander against a Dunk••rke.

May.

March then, this curse is on all letchers throwne, They giue hornes and at last, hornes are their owne.

Exit.

Enter Captaine Ienkins, and Allom.

Cap.

Set the best of your little diminitiue legges before, and ride post I pray.

Allo.

Is it possible that mistris D••ll should bee so bad?

Cap.

Possible! S••ould tis more easie for an oman to be naught, than for a soldier to beg, and thats horrible easie, you know.

Al.

I but to connicatch vs all so grosly.

Cap.

Your Norfolke tumblers are but zanyes to connicatch∣ing punckes.

Allom.

Shee gelded my purse of fifty pounds in ready money.

Cap.

I will geld all the horses in fiue hundred Sheires, but I will ride ouer her, and her cheaters, and her Hornets; Shee made a starke Asse of my Coach-horse, and there is a putter-box, whome shee spred thick vpon her white bread, and eate him vp, I thinke shee has sent the poore fellow to Gil∣derland, but I will marse prauely in and out, and packe

agen vpon all the low countries in Christendom, as Holland and Zeland and Netherland, and Cleueland too, and I will be drunke and cast with maister Hans van Belch, but I will smell him out.

Allom.

Doe so and weele draw all our arrowes of reuenge vp to the head but weele hit her for her villany.

Cap.

I will traw as petter, and as vrse weapons as arrewes vp to the head, lug you, it shalbe warrants to giue her the whippe deedle.

Allom.

But now she knowes shees discouered, sheele take her bells and fly out of our reach.

Cap.

Fle with her pells! ownds I know a parish that sal tag downe all the pells and sell em to Capten Ienkens, to do him good▪ and if pelle will fly, weele flie too, vnles, the pell-ropes hang vs: will you amble vp and downe to maister Iustice by my side, to haue this rascall Hornet in corum, and so, to make her hold her whoars peace.

Allom.

Ile amble or trot with you Capten: you told me, she threatened her champions should cut for her, if so, wee may haue the peace of her.

Cap.

O mon du! u dguin! follow your leader, Ienken shall cut, and Slice, as worse as they: come I scorne to haue any peace of her, or of any onam, but open warres.

E••unt.

Enter Bellamont, Maybery, Greensheild, Phillip, Leuarpoole, Chartley: all booted.

Bell.

What? will these yong Gentlemen to helpe vs to catch this fresh Salmon, ha! Phillip! are they thy friends.

Phil.

Yes Sir▪

Bell.

We are beholding to you Gentlmen that youle fill our consort I ho seene your faces me thinkes before; and I cannot informe my selfe where.

Both,

May be so Sir.

Bell.

Shalls to horse, hears a tickler: heigh: to horse.

May.

Come Switts and Spurres! lets mount our Cheualls: merry quoth a.

Bell.

Gentlemen shall I shoote a fooles bolt out among you all, because weele be sure to be merry.

Omn.

What ist?

Bell.

For mirth on the high way, will make vs rid ground fa∣ster then if theeues were at our tayles, what say yee to this, lets all practise iests one against another, and hee that has the best iest throwne vpon him, and is most gald, betweene our riding foorth and comming in, shall beare the charge of the whole iourney.

Omn.

Content ifaith.

Bell.

Wee shall fitte one a you with a Cox-combe at Ware I beleeue.

May.

Peace.

Green.

Ist a bargen.

Omn.

And hands clapt vpon it.

Bel.

Stay, yonders the Dolphin without Bishops-gate, where our horses are at rack and manger, and wee are going past it: come crosse ouer: and what place is this?

May.

Bedlam ist not?

Bel.

Where the mad-men are, I neuer was amongst them, as you loue me Gentlemen, lets see what Greekes are within.

Green.

Wee shall stay too long.

Bell.

Not a whit, Ware will stay for our comming I warrant you: come a spurt and away, lets bee mad once in our dayes: this is the doore.

Enter Full-moone.

May,

Saue you sir, may we see some a your mad-folkes, doe you keepe em?

Full.

Yes.

Bell.

Pray bestow your name sir vpon vs.

Full.

My name is Full-moone.

Bell.

You well deserue this office good maister Full-moone: and what mad-caps haue you in your house,

Enter the Phisition.

Ful.

Diuerse.

May.

Gods so, see, see, whats hee walkes yonder, is he mad.

Full.

Thats a Musition, yes hee's besides himselfe.

Bell.

A Musition, how fell he mad for Gods sake?

Ful.

For loue of an Italian Dwarfe.

Bell.

Has he beene in Italy then?

Full.

Yes and speakes they say all manner of languages.

Enter the Ba••d.

Omn.

Gods so, looke, looke, whats shee.

Bell.

The dancing Beare: a p••itty well-fauourd little woman.

Full.

They say, but I know not, that she was a Bawd, and was frighted out of her wittes by fire,

Bel.

May we talke with 'em maister Ful-moone

Full.

Yes and you will; I must looke about for I haue vnruly tenants.

Exit.

Bell.

What haue you in this paper honest friend?

Gree

Is this he has al manner of languages, yet speakes none

Baud.

How doe you Sir Andrew, will you send for some ••qua∣uite for me, I haue had no drinke neuer since the last great raine that fell.

Bel.

No thats a lye.

Baud.

Nay by gad, then you lie, for all y'are Sir Andrew, I was a dapper ••ogue in Portingall voiage, not an inch broad at the heele, and yet thus high, I scornd I can tell you to be druncke with raine water then Sir, In those golden and siluer dayes: I had sweete bitts then Sir Andrew: how doe you good brother Timothy?

Bella.

You haue bin in much trouble since that voiage.

Baud.

Neuer in bride-wel I protest, as Ime a virgin: for I could neuer abide that bride-wel I protest, I was once sicke, and I tooke my water in a basket, and cary'd it to a doctors.

Phil.

In a basket.

Baud.

Yes Sir: you arrant foole there was a vrinall in it.

Phil.

I cry you mercy.

Baud.

The Doctor told me I was with child, how many Lords Knights, Gentlemen, Cittizens, and others promist me to be god-fathers to that child: twas not Gods will: the prentises made a riot vpon my glasse-windowes the Shroue-tuesday fol∣lowing and I miscaried.

Omn.

O doe not weepe.

••aud.

I ha cause to weepe: I trust Gintlewomen their diet sometimes a fortnight: lend Gentlemen holland shirts, and they sweat 'em out at tennis: and no restitution, and no restitution▪ but Ile take a new order, I will haue but six stewd prunes in a dish and some of mother Walls cakes: for my best customers are taylors.

Omn.

Taylors! ha ha.

••aud.

I Taylors: giue me your London Prentice; your coun∣try Gentlemen are growne too polliticke.

Bel.

But what say you to such young Gentlemen as these are.

Baud.

••oh, they as soone as they come to their lands get vp to London, and like squibs that run vpon lynes, they keepe

a Spitting of fire, and cracking till they ha spent all, and when my squib is out, what sayes his punke, foh, he stinckes.

Enter the musition.

Me thought this other night, I saw a pretty sight, Which pleased me much. A comely country mayd, not squeamish nor afraid, To let Gentlemen touch. I sold her maiden-head once, and I sold her maiden-head twice, And I sould it last to an Alderman of Yorke. And then I had sold it thrice.

Musi.

You sing sc••ruily.

Baud.

mary muffe, sing thou better, for Ile goe sleepe my old sleepes.

Exit.

Bell.

What are you a doing my friend.

Musi.

Pricking, pricking.

Bell.

What doe you meane by pricking?

Musi.

A Gentleman like quallity.

Bell.

This fellow is some what prouder, and sul••••ner then the other.

May,

Oh; so be most of your musitions.

Musi.

Are my teeth rotten?

Omn.

No Sir.

Musi.

Then I am no Comfit-maker, nor Vintner, I doe not get wenches in my drincke: are you a musition?

Bel.

Yes.

Mu.

weele be sworne brothers then, looke you sweete roague.

Gree.

Gods so, now I thinke vpon't, a Iest is crept into my head, steale away, if you loue me.

Exeunt: musition sings.

Musi.

Was euer any marchants band set better I set it: walke Ime a cold, this white sattin is to thin vnles it be cut, for then the Sunne enters: can you speake Italian too, Sape••e Italiano.

Bell.

Vn poco.

Musi.

Sblood if it be in you, Ile po••ke it out if you; vn poco, come March lie heare with me but till the fall of the lease, and if you haue but poco Italiano in you, Ile fill you full of more poco March.

Bell.

Come on.

Exeunt.

Enter Maybery, Greeneshilde, Phillip. Full-moone. Leuerpoole, and Chartely.

Gree.

Good Maister Mayberie, Philip, if you be kind Gentle∣men vphold the iest: your whole voiage is payd for.

May.

Follow it then.

Ful.

The old Gentleman say you, why he talkt euen now as∣well in his wittes as I do my selfe, and lookt as wisely.

Gree.

No matter how he talkes, but his Pericranion's perisht.

Ful.

Where is he pray?

Phil.

Mary with the Musition, and is madder by this time

Ch••er.

Hee's an excellent Musition himselfe, you must note that.

May.

And hauing met one fit for his one tooth: you see hee skips from vs.

Green.

The troth is maister Full-m••one, diuers traines haue bin laide to bring him hither, without gaping of people, and neuer any tooke effect till now.

Ful.

How fell he mad?

Green.

For a woman, looke you sir: here's a crowne to pro∣uide his supper: hee's a Gentleman of a very good house, you shall bee paid well if you conuert him; to morrow morning, bedding, and a gowne shall be sent in, and wood and coale.

Ful.

Nay sir, he must ha no fire.

Green.

No, why looke what straw you buy for him, shall re∣turne you a whole haruest.

Omnes.

Let his straw be fresh and sweet we beseech you sir?

Green.

Get a couple of your sturdiest fellowes, and bind him I pray, whilst wee slip out of his sight.

Ful.

Ile hamper him, I warrant Gentlemen.

Exit.

Omnes.

Excellent.

May.

But how will my noble Poet take it at my hands, to betray him thus.

Omn.

Foh, tis but a iest, he comes.

Enter Musition and Bellamont.

Bel.

Perdonate mi, si Io dimando del vostro nome: oh, whether ••hrunke you: I haue had such a mad dialogue here.

Omn.

Wee ha bin with the other mad folkes.

May.

And what sayes he and his prick-song?

Bell.

Wee were vp to the eares in Italian ifaith.

Omn.

In Italian; O good maister Bellamont lets heare him.

Enter Full-moone, and two Keepers.

Bell.

How now, Sdeath what do you meane? are you mad?

Ful.

Away sirra, bind him, hold fast: you want a wench sirra, doe you?

Bell.

What wench? will you take mine armes from me, being no Heralds? let goe you Dogs.

Ful.

Bind him, be quiet: come, come, dogs, fie, & a gentleman.

Bell.

Maister Maibery, Philip, maister Maibery, vds foot.

Ful.

Ile bring you a wench, are you mad for a wench.

Bel.

I hold my life my comrads haue put this fooles cap vpon thy head: to gull me: I smell it now: why doe you heare Full-moone, let me loose; for Ime not mad; Ime not mad by Iesu:

Ful.

Aske the Gentlemen that.

Bel.

Bith Lord I'me aswell in my wits, as any man ith' house, & this is a trick put vpon thee by these gallants in pure knauery.

Ful.

Ile trie that, answer me to this question: loose his armes a little, looke you sir, three Geese nine pence; euery Goose three pence, whats that a Goose, roundly, roundly one with another.

Bel.

Sfoot do you bring your Geese for me to cut vp.

Enter all.

strike him soundly, and kick him.

Omn.

Hold, hold, bind him maister Full-moone.

Ful.

Binde him you, hee has payd me all, Ile haue none of his bonds not I, vnlesse I could recouer them better.

Gre.

Haue I giuen it you maister Poet, did the Lime-bush take.

Ma.

It was his warrant sent thee to Bedlam, old Iack Bellamōt, and maister Full-ith'moone, our warrant discharges him; Poet, weele all ride vpon thee to Ware, & back agen I feare to thy cost.

Bel.

If you doe, I must beare you, thanke you Maister Green∣shield, I will not dye in your debt: farewell you mad rascals, to horse come, 'tis well done; 'twas well done, you may laugh, you shall laugh Gentlemen: if the gudgeon had beene swallow∣ed by one of you it had bin vile, but by Gad 'tis nothing, for your best Poets indeed are madde for the most part: farewell good-man Full-moone.

Ful.

Pray Gentlemen if you come by call in.

Exit.

Bell.

Yes, yes, when they are mad, horse your selues now if you be men.

May.

Hee gallop must that after women rides, Get our wiues out of Towne, they take long strides.

Exeunt.