The excellent comedy called, The old law, or, A new way to please you by Phil. Massinger, Tho. Middleton, William Rowley ... ; together with an exact and perfect catalogue of all the playes, with the authors names, and what are comedies, tragedies, histories, pastoralls, masks, interludes, more exactly printed than ever before.

Act. II. Scen. I. (Book 2)

Enter Duke ••3. Courtiers and Executioner.

Duke.

EXecutioner.

Exe.

My Lord.

Duke.

How did old Diocles take his death?

Exe.

As weeping Brides receive their joyes at night my Lord, With trembling yet with patience.

Duke.

Why twas well.

1. Cour.

Nay I knew my Father would d••e well my Lord. When ere ••e came to die, i'de that opinion of him. Which made me the more willing to part from him; He was not fit to live ••'th world indeede any time these Ten yeares my Lord. But I would not say so much.

Duke.

No, you did not well in••, For he thats all spent is ripe for death at all houers, And does but trifle time out,

1. Cour.

Troath my Lord, I would I had knowne your minde nine yeares agoe,

Duke,

O••r Law is fourscore years, because we judge Do••age compleat then, as unfruitfullnesse In Women at threescore, marrie if the son Can within compasse bring good sollid proofes Of his own fath••rs weaknes and unfitnes To live or sway the living though he want five Or ten yeares of his number, thats not it, His defect makes him fourscore, and tis fit

He dies when he deserves, for every ••ct Is in ••ff••ct then when the cause is ripe.

2. Court.

An admirable Prince how rarely he talks? Oh that w'eed knowne th••s Ladds, what a time did we endure In two penny Com••ons? and in bootes twice vamp'd.

1. Cour.

Now we h••ve ••wo p••ire a weeke, & yet not thankfull, Twill be a fine world for them sirs that come after as.

2. Cour.

I and they knewt. 2. Cou. Pe••ce let them never knowt.

3. Cour.

A Pox the••e be yong heires will soone smelt out.

2. Court.

Twill come to em by instinct man, may your grace N••v••r be old, you stand so well for youth.

Duke.

Why now me thinks our Court lookes like a Spring, Sweet, fresh, and fashionable, now ••he old weeds are gon.

1. Cour.

Tis as a Court should be: Glosse and good Clothes,

My Lord no matter for merit and herein your Law p••ooves a provid••nt act my Lord, when men passe not the palsie of their Tongues, no•• co••our in their Cheeks.

Duke.

But women by that Law should live long, For th'are ne••r past it.

1. Cour.

It will have heates though when they see the painting Goe an inch deep ith wrincle, and take up A box more then their Gossips, but for men my Lord That should be the sole bravery of a Pallace, To walke with hollow eyes and long white beards, (As if a P••irce dwelt in a Land of Goates) With Clo••hes as if they sat upon their backs on purpose To arraigne a fashion and condemn't to exile Their pockets in their sleeves, as if they layd Their eare to avarice, and heard the Divell whisper; Now ours lie downward heere close to the flanck, Right spending pockets as a sonnes should be T••at lives i••h fashion, where our diseased fathers Would with the Sciatica and Aches B••ought up y••ur p••ind hose first, which Ladies laught at, Giving no reverence to the place, (lies ••uind,) They love a doublet thats three houres a buttoning, And sits so close makes a man groane agen, And his Soule m••tter halfe a day; yet these are those That carry sway and worth, prickd up in Clothes,

Why should we feare our rising?

Duk••

You but wrong Our kindnesse, and your owne deserts to doubt ont, Has no•• our Law made you rich before your time? Our countenance then c••n make you honourable.

1. Court.

Weel spare for no cost sir to appeare worthy.

Duk.

Why y'are i'th noble way then, for the most Are but appearers, worth it selfe it is lost And bravery st••nds fort.

Enter Creon, Anti∣gona & Simonides.

1. Court.

Look, look, who comes heere I smell Death ••nd another Courtier, Simonides.

2. Cour.

Sim.

Sim.

Push, I'me not for you yet, You•• companies too costly, ••fter the old mans D••spatch'd I shall have time to talke with you, I ••hall come into the fashion yee shall see too After a day or two, in the meane time I am not for your company.

Duke

Old Cr••on you have been expected long. Sure y'are above fourscore.

Sim.

Upon my life Not four and twenty houres my Lord, I search'd The Chu••ch Booke yesterdaie, does your Grace think I'de let my Father wrong the Law my Lord? Twere pitty a'my life then, no your Act Shall not receive a minutes wrong by him While I live sir, and hee's so just himselfe too I know he would no offer't, heere he stands.

Creon.

Tis just I die indeed my Lord, for I confesse I'me troublesome to life now, and the State Can hope for nothing worthy from me now, Either in force or counsell, I've alate Employd my selfe quite from the World, and he that once Begins to serve his maker faithfully Can never serve a worldly Prince well after, Tis cleane another way.

Anti.

Oh give not confidence To all he speaks my Lord in his own injury!

His preparation only for the next world Makes him talk wildly to his wrong of this, He is not lo••t in judgement.

Sim.

She spo••ls all agen.

Anti.

Des••rving ••ny way for st••te imploiment.

Sim.

Mother.

Anti

His v••ry houshold laws presc••ib'd at home by him A••e able to confo••m 7. Christian kingdomes, Th••y are so wise and vertu••us.

Sim.

Mother, I say.

Anti.

I know your lawes extend not to desert sir, But to unn••cessary years, and my Lord His are no•• such, though th••y shew white, they'r worthy, Jud••t••••us, able, and religious.

Sim.

Ile help you to a Courtier of nineteen, Moth••r.

Anti.

Awa•• unnaturall.

Sim.

Then I am no fool I'me sure, Fo•• t•• be naturall at such a time W••re a fool ••s part ind••ed.

Anti.

You•• G••aces pity sir, An t••s but fit and just.

Creon.

••h•• law m•• Lord, And thats the j••st••st way.

Sim.

W••••l said ••ather ••faith. Thou wert ever juster then my mother still.

Duke.

Come hither sir.

Sim

My Lord.

Du.

What are those orders?

Antig.

Worth obse••vation sir, So please you hear them read.

Sim.

The woman speaks she knows not what my Lord: He make a L••w, poor man he bought a Table indeed, Only to learn to d••e by't; ther's ••he busines now W••erein there ••re some precepts for a son to, How he should l••arn to live, but I neer lookt upont: For when hees dead I shall live well enough, And keep a better Table then ••hat I trow••

Du

And is that a••l sir?

Sim.

All I vow my Lord,

Save a few ••unning admonitions Upon Cheese Trenchers, as Take heed of whoring, shun it; Tis like a cheese too strong of the Runn••t, And such calves maws of wit and admonition Good to catch mice with, but not sons and heirs, They'r not so easily caught.

Du.

Agent for death.

Exe.

Your will my Lord.

Du.

Take hence that pile of years Before surfet with unprofitable age And with the rest from the high promontory, Cast him into the sea.

Creon.

Tis noble justice.

Anti.

Tis cursed tyranny.

Sim.

Peace, take heed mother, you have but a short time to bee cast down your selfe, and let a yong Courtier doo't, and you bee wise, in the mean time.

Anti

Hence sl••ve.

Sim.

Well seven and fif••y, Yave but three years to sco'd, then comes your payment,

1. Court.

Simonides.

Sim.

Push, I am not b••ave enough to hold you talk yet, Give a m••n time. I have a su••t a m••king.

Recorders.

2. Cour.

We love thy form fi••st, brave cloths will come man.

Sim.

Ile make em come else with a mischief to em•• As other gallants doe, that have lesse left em.

Du.

Hark whence those sounds, whats that?

1. Cou.

Some funerall

Recorders. Enter Cleanthes & Hi∣polita with a hears

It seems my Lord, and yong Cleanthes follows.

Du.

Cleanthes.

2. Cour.

Tis my Lord, and i•• the place Of a chi••fe mourner to, but strangely habited.

Du.

Yet su••table to his b••haviour, mark it, He comes all the way smiling, do you observ't? I ••ever saw •• Co••rse so joyfully followe••, L••ght co••ou••s and light cheeks, who should this be? Tis •• thi••g worth resolving.

Sim.

One belike that doth participate In this our present joy.

Du.

Cleanthes,

Clean.

Oh my Lord.

Du.

He laught outright now, Was ever such a contrariety seen In naturall courses yet, nay profest openly?

1. Cour.

I ha known a widow laugh closely my Lord Under her handkercher, when tother part of her old face has w•••• Lik•• rain in sunshine, but all the face to laugh apparantly Was never seen yet.

Sim.

Yes mine did once.

Clean.

Tis of a heavy time the joyfullst day That ever son was born to.

Du.

How can that be••

Cl••an.

I joy to make it plain, my father's dead.

Du.

Dead!

2. Cour.

Old L••onides.

Clean.

In his last month dead, He beguil'd cruell L••w the sweetliest Tha•• ever age was blest to, It g••ieves me that a tear should fall upont, Being a thing so joyfull; but his memory Will work it out I see; when his poor heart b••oke I did not so much but leapt for joy, So mountingly I touchd the stars me thought, I would not hear of blacks I was so light•• But chose a colour Orient, like my mind, For bla••ks are often such dissembling mourners, There is no credit given toot, it has lost All reput••tion by false sons and widows; Now I would have m••n know what I resemble, A truth indeed, tis joy clad like a joy, Which is more honest then a cunning griefe Th••t's only fac'd with s••bles for a shew, But gawdy hearted; when I saw death come So ready to deceive you, sir forgive me, I could not choose but be intirely merry, And yet to see now of a sudden Naming but Death, I shew my selfe a mortall, Thats never constant to one passion long;

I wonder whence that tear came when I smild, In the production on't, sorrows a thiefe, That can when joy looks on steal forth a griefe, But gracious leave my Lord, when I have performd My last poor duty to my fathers bon••s, I shall return your servant.

Du.

Well perform it, The Law is satisfied, they can but die, And by his death Cleanthes you gain well, A rich and faire revenew.

Florish

Sim.

I would I had een another father, condition he did the like

Clean.

I have past it bravely, now how blest was I To have the dim sight, now tis confirmd Past fear or doubts confirmd, on on I say, He that brought me to man I bring to clay.

Sim.

I'me wrapt now in a contemplation, Even at the very sight of yonder Hearse, I doe but think what a fine thing tis now To live and follow some seven unkles thus, As many Cozen Germans, and such people That will leave Legacies, a pox Ide see em hangd else ere Ide follow One of them, and they could finde the way now Ive enough to be∣gin to be horrible covetous.

Enter Butler, Tailor, Bayly, Cook, Coachman, and Footman.

But.

We come to know your Worships pleasure sir, Having long serv'd your father, how your good will Stands towards our entertainment.

Sim.

Not a jot i faith:

My father wore cheap garments, he might doot, I shall have all my Clothes come home to morrow, they will eat up all you, and there were more of you sirs; to keepe you sixe at Livery and still mun∣ching.

Tay.

Why I'me a Taylor, y'ave most need of me sir.

Sim.

Thou mad••st my fathers clothes that I confesse,

But what sonne and heir will have his fathers Taylor

Unlesse he have a mind to be well laught at? Thast beene so us'd to wide long side things, that when I come to trusse I shall have the waste of my Dublet lie upon my buttocks, a sweet sight.

But.

I a Butler.

Sim.

Theres Jeast neede of thee fellow, I shall nere drinke at Home, I shall be so drunke abroad.

But.

But a cup of small beere will do well next morning sir

Sim.

I grant you, but what neede I keepe so big a knave for a Cup of sm••ll Beere?

Cooke.

Butler you have your answer, marry sir a Cooke, I know your mastership cannot be without.

Sim.

The more asse art thou to think so, for what should I doe With a Mountebancke, no drinke in my house, the banishing the Butler might have beene a warning for thee, unlesse thou meanst to Choake me.

Cooke.

Ith meane time you have choaked me, me thinks.

Bay.

These are superfluous vanities indeed, And so accounted of in these dayes sir, But then your B••yliff to receive your rents.

Sim.

I prithee hold thy tongue fellow, I shall take a course to sp••nd em faster then thou canst reckon em, tis not the rents must se••ve my turne, unlesse I meane to be laughed at, if a man should be seene out of slash me, let him nere look to be a right gallant: But ••irrah with whom is y••ur businesse?

Coach

Your good mastership.

Sim.

You have stood silent all this while, like men That know their strengths i'these dayes, none of you Can want imployment, you can winne me wagers Footman in running races.

Foot

I dare boast it sir.

Sim.

And when my bets are all come in and store Then Coachman you can hurry me to my whore.

Coach.

Ile ••i••ke em into foame else.

Sim.

Speaks brave matter, And ile firk some to, or't shall cost hot water.

Cooke

Why heares an age to make a Cooke a Ruffin, and scald the D••vell indeed, doe strange mad things, make mutton pasties of Dogs flesh, backe Snal••es for Lamprie Pies, and Cats for Cunnies:

But.

Come will you bee ruld by a Butlers advice once? for wee must m••ke up our fortunes some where now as the case stands, le••s ••en therefo••e goe seeke out widdowes of nine and fiftie and we can, thats within a yeare of their deaths, and so we shall bee sure to bee quickly ridd of em, for •• yeares enough of conscience to bee

troubled with a wife for any man living.

Cooke.

Oracle Butler, Oracle Butler, hee puts downe all the Doctors a'th name.

Exeunt.

Enter Eugenia, and Parthenia.

Eug.

Parthenia.

Par.

Mother.

Eug.

I shall be troubled This six months with an old Clogg, would the Law Had been cut one yeare shorter.

Par.

Did you call forsooth.

Eug.

Yes, you m••st make some spoone meat for your father, And warme three night capps for him, out apont The meer conceit turns a yong womans stomack, His slippers must be warmd in August too, And his gowne girt to him in the very dogdaies When every Mastiffe lo••s ou••s tongue for heat, Would not this vex a beauty of 19. now? Alas I shall be tumbling in cold Bathes now Under each arme pit a fi••e beane flower bag To screw out whitenesse when I list, And some seaven of the proprest men ith Dukedome, M••king a B••nquet ready ith next roome for me, Where he that gets the first kisse is envied And stands upon his guard a fortnight after; This is a life for nineteene, but tis ju••••ice For old men, whose great acts stand in their minds And nothing in their bodies, doe nere think A woman yong enough for their desire, And we yong wenches that have mother wits A••d love to marry muck first, and man after, Doe n••ver ••hinke old men are old enough That we may soon be rid on em theres ou•• quittance; I have wasted for the happy houre this two yeare And if D••a••h be so unkind st••ll to let him live All that time I am lost.

Enter Courtiers.

1. Cour.

Yong Lady.

2. Cour.

O ••weet p••••cious bu•• of beauty! Troth she smells over all the house me thinks.

1. Court.

The Sweet Briers but a counterfeit to her••

It does exceede you only in the prickle, But that it shall not long if youl be rul'd Lady••

Eug.

What meanes this suddain visitation Gentlemen? So passing well perform'd too, whose your Milliner?

1. Cour.

Love and thy Beauty Widdow.

Eug.

Widdow sir.

1. Court.

Tis sure and thats as good, in troath w'are suitors We come a wooing wench, plain dealings best.

Eug.

A wooing, what before my Husbands dead?

2. Cour.

Lets lose no time, 6. months will have an end you know, I know't by all the Bonds that ere I made yet.

Eug.

Thats a sure knowledge, but it holds not heere sir.

1. Cour.

Do not you know the craft of your yong Tumblers? That you wed an old man, you thinke upon another husband as yo•• are marrying of him, wee knowing your thoughts made bold to see you.

Enter Simonides, Coachman.

Eug.

How wondrous right he speaks 'twas my thought indeed.

Sim.

By your leave sweet Widdow, do you lack any gallants?

Eug.

Widdow agen, tis a comfort to be cald so.

1. Cour.

Whose this Simonides.

2. Cour.

Brave Sim I faith.

Sim.

Coachman.

Coach.

Sir.

Sim.

Have an especiall care of my new mares, They say sweet Widdow he that loves a horse well Must needs love a Widdow well, when dies thy Husband? I'st not Iuly next.

••ug.

Oh y'are to hot sir! Pray coole your selfe and take September with you.

Sim.

September oh I was but two Bowes wide.

1. Cour.

Mr. Simonides.

Sim.

I can entreat you gallants, I'me in fashion too.

Ent. Lisander.

Lisan.

Ha, whence this heard of folly, what are you?

Sim.

Well willers to your wife, pray tend your booke sir, We have nothing to say to you, you may goe die, For heere be those in place that can supply.

Lisan.

Whats thy wild businesse heere?

Sim.

Old man, i'le tell thee, I come ••o beg the reversion of thy Wife,

I think these gallants be of my mind too, but thou art but •• dead Man, therefore what should a man doe talking with thee, Come Widdow stand to your t••ckling.

Lisan.

Impious blood hounds.

Sim.

Let the Ghost talke, nere mind him.

Lisan.

Shames of nature.

Sim.

Alass poore Ghost, consider what the man is.

Lisan.

Monsters unnaturall, you that have beene covetous Of your own fathers deaths, gape yee for mine now? Cannot a poore old man that now can reckon Een all the houres he has to live, live quiet For such wild beasts as these, that neither hold A certainty of good within themselves, But scatter others comforts that are ripened For holy uses? is hot youth so hasty It will not give an old man leave to die? And leave a Widdow first, but will make one The Husband looking on, may your destructions Come all in hasty figures to your Soules, Your wealth depart in hast, to overtake Your honesties, that died when you were infants. May your male seed be hasty spend thrifts too? Your daughters hastie sinners and diseas'd Ere they be thought at yeares to welcome misery, And may you never know what leisure is But at repentance: I am too uncharitable Too foule, I must goe cleanse my selfe with prayers; These are the Plagues of fondnesse to old men Wee'r punisht home with what we doat upon.

Exit.

Sim

So so, the Ghost is vanish'd now, your answer Lady.

Eug.

Exc••se me gentlemen, 'twere as much impudence In me to give you a kind answer yet. As madnesse to produce a churlish one. I could say now, come a month hence sweet gentlemen, Or two or three, or when you will indeed, But I say no such thing. I set no time Nor is it mannerly to deny any, Ile car••y an even hand to all the world, Let other women m••ke what hast they w••ll,

Whats that to me, but I profess unfainedly•• Ile have my husband dead before I marry, Ner•• looke for other answer at my hands Gentlemen.

Sim.

Would he were hangd for my part looke for other.

Eug.

Ime at a word

Sim.

And Ime at a blow then, Ile lay you o'th lips and leave you.

1. Cour.

Well struck Sim.

Sim.

He that dares say heell m••nd it, Ile strike him.

1. Cour.

He would betray himselfe to be a brother That goes about to m••nd it.

Eug.

Gentlemen, you know my minde, I bar you not my house, But if you choose out houres more seasonably You may have entertainment.

Enter Parthenia.

Sim.

What will she doe heerafter when sh is a widow, Keeps open house already?

Exeunt.

Eug.

How now Girle?

Parth.

Those featherd fools that hither took their flight, Have griev'd my father much.

Eug.

Speak well of youth Wench While th••••st a day to live; tis youth must make thee, And when youth fails, wise women will make it; But alwayes take age first to make thee rich: That was my counsell ever, and then youth Will make thee sport enough all thy life after. Tis Times policy Wench•• wh••t ist to bide A little hardness for a pair of years or so, A man whose only strength lies in his breath, Weaknes in all parts else, thy bedfellow A cough oth Lungs, or say a wheening matter, Then shake off chains, and dance all thy life after.

Parth.

Eve••y ••n•• to their liking•• but I say An honest man's worth all, be he yong or gray, Yonders my Coz••n.

Enter Hippolita.

Eug

A••t I must use thee now, Dissembling is the b••st help for a vertue That ever woman had, it saves their credit often.

Hip.

How now Cozen, What weeping?

Eug.

Can you blame me when the time Of my dear Love and Husband now drawes on; I study funerall rears against the day I must be a sad widow.

Hip.

In troth Eugenia I have cause to weep to, But when I visit, I come comfortably, And look to be so quited, yet more sobbing.

Eug.

Oh the greatest part of your affliction's past, The worst of mine's to come, I have one to die, Your husbands father is dead, and fixt In his eternall pe••ce, past the sharp tyrannous blow.

Hip.

You must use patience Coze.

Eug.

Tell me of patience.

Hip.

You have example fort in me and many.

Eug.

Yours was a father in law, but mine a husband•• On for a woman that could love and live Wi••h an old man, mine is a jewell Cozen, So quietly he lies by one, so still.

Hip.

Alas! I have a secret lodg'd within me Which now will out, in pity I can't hold.

Eugen.

One that will not disturb me in my sleep After a whole month together, lesse it be With those diseases age is subject to, As aches, coughes, and pains, and these heaven knows Against his will too, hees the quietest man, Especially in bed.

Hip.

Be comforted.

Eug

How can I Lady? None knowes the terror of an husbands losse•• But they that feare to lose him.

Hip.

Fain would I keep it in, but twill not be, She is my kinswoman, and i'me pitifull, I must impart a good if I knowt once, To them that stand in need ont, Ime like one L••v••s not to banquet with a joy alone, My friends must partake too, prithee cease Cozen

If your love be so boundless, which is rare ••n a yong woman in these dayes, I tell you, To one so much past service as your husband, There is a way to beguile law, and help you, My husband ••ound it out first.

Eug.

Oh sweet Cozen!

Hip.

You may conceale him, and give out his death Within the time, order his funerall too; We had it so for ours, I prayse heaven fort, And hees alive and safe.

Eug.

O blessed Coze, How thou reviv'st me?

Hip

We daily see The good old man, and fe••d him twice a day, Me thinks it is the sweetest joy to cherish him, That ever life yet shewd me.

Eug.

So should I think A dainty thing to nurse an old man well.

Hip.

And then we have his prayers and daily blessing. And we two live so lovingly upont, His son and I, and so contentedly, You cannot think unlesse you tasted ont.

Eug.

No I warrant you, Oh loving Cozen, What a great sorrow hast thou eas'd me of? A thousand thanks goe with thee.

Hip.

I have a suite to you, I must not have you weepe when I am gone.

Exit.

Eug.

No, if I doe neer trust me: Easie fool, Thou hast put thy selfe into my power for ever: Take heed of angring of me; I conceal, I fain a Funerall, I keep my husband, Lasse I have been thinking any time these two years I have kept him too long already. Ile goe count ore my Suitors, thats my business, And prick the man down, I ha six months to doot, But could d••spatch him in one, were I p••t toot.

Exit.

Finis Actus Secundi.