The rivall friends A comœdie, as it was acted before the King and Queens Maiesties, when out of their princely favour they were pleased to visite their Vniversitie of Cambridge, upon the 19. day of March. 1631. Cryed downe by boyes, faction, envie, and confident ignorance, approv'd by the judicious, and now exposed to the publique censure, by the author, Pet. Hausted Mr. in Artes of Queenes Colledge.
Hausted, Peter, d. 1645.
Page [unnumbered]
Actus primus, Scena prima.
Placenta, Constantina as a Boy, Isabella in Constantina's clothes.
Pla.
FOrtune as yet is kind, well done my boy,
Hold vp your head, a little higher, yet,
And can you weep?
Isa.
I can, & haue some cause,
O Lucius!
Pla.
And sigh?
Isab.
I would I could not.
Most wretched Isabella.
Pla.
Constantina.
She calls at the window
Isa.
When shal mine eies feed on that blessed sight?
Or when wilt thou with one kinde looke dissolue
This cloud which now obscures me? and makes me seeme
Another from my selfe?
Pla.
Shee stirres not yet
Why Constantina.
Isab.
O my Lucius!
Might I but once more see thee, I could goe
Vnto the graue me thinks with such a looke
As should make death enamour'd on me.
Pla.
Ha?
Not yet? O what a sleepy girle is this?
Isab.
But in this house I'ue learn'd Pandora liues,
Who now does reape my harvest: here I hope
I may enjoy at least a sight of him,
And that is all that ever I must hope for.
Constan. appears at the window
But I shall be observ'd.
Pla.
O now she comes.
Const.
Placenta.
Pla.
Not so lowd (take heed) for feare
The Dragon should be waking; haue you yet
Got on your masculine habit?
Con.
Long agoe.
Pla.
Descend then, if your mind be still the same,
Before the Sun rise to betray your flight.
Const.
But haue you drest the Boy in my apparell?
Pla.
Tis done, and not a creature but my selfe
And the dumbe night are guilty of it.
Const.
Well,
I come.
Pla.
Introth I doe confesse I wonder
What should induce this peevish girle to take
This strange disguised habit, and forsake
Page [unnumbered]Her vncles house, but it is loue forsooth:
Well, be it what it will, I haue procur'd,
By her entreatie, and the gold she gaue mee,
A boy as neere her stature as I could,
Whom I haue cloathed in her owne apparell,
And vayled in her scarfe. Come on my boy.
You haue not yet forgot, I hope, th' instructions
I read to you within. Come, let me see
You vent a sigh now. Excellent: but be sure
You speake not very often.
Isab.
Doubt not that:
Th'are shallow griefs that make a noise.
Pla.
Well said.
But tell me you, sir boy, what wast that made
You leaue the London Players?
Isab.
Indeed forsooth
I was abused there; besides, that trade
Begins to fayle of late, most of your Gallants
Are growne so wise and frugall, that they chuse
Rather to spend their money on a whore
(Which they call necessarie) then on such toyes.
Pla.
Goe to, you are a wagg. See now she comes.
Enter Const.
But ô the Father! what pismire is this?
Ah, I shall swound to looke upon her leggs:
Surely one blast of wind will breake them quite.
Now out upon her! mine are mill-posts to them.
Const.
Placenta, you doe see how much I trust you,
That put mine honour thus into your hands.
Leade you this picture of mine into my chamber,
And there instruct him how he should behaue
Himselfe, that no suspition of my flight
Be nourisht by my Vncle, till I bee
Past his recalling. So farewell good midwife.
Pla.
How my left eye-brow beats? I do not like it,
It does presage no good. My Constantina,
Goe back againe I pray you, in good sooth
Tis very dangerous thus discompanied
To undertake a journey.
Const.
All in vaine:
I am resolv'd either to find my Cleopes,
Or else to sleepe with death clos'd in mine armes.
Exit Constan.
Pla.
If it must needs be so, why then farewell.
I cannot chuse but weepe: sweet Constantina —
Well, twas the goodest Gentlewoman—but sh 's gone—
Page [unnumbered]Many a deare morsell has shee helpt me to—
But we must all depart—I doe remember
When shee was but a little one, shee ever
Was fond of mee —but I must be content.
Come on my boy, let not your face so much
Be seene— when I haue shewne her lodging to you,
And left you there— I cannot yet forbeare,
It will not from my heart— I'le goe and visite
The faire Pandora, that kinde Gentlewoman,
And see if that her closet can afford
Any good thing to hold the heart. Come boy.
Exeunt.
ACT. 1. SCEN. 2.
Anteros solus.
Ant.
I knew there was a woman in the wind.
I smelt her. Stay. —but now she's gone—Ile forward.
Why I am not at leasure now to take
An ounce of Tobacco in a weeke, they doe
So haunt mee up and downe. And this forsooth
Is our Saint Valentine, wherein our lovers
Doe use to imitate Iack-dawes, and Rookes,
Doe bill and couple. But (my starre's be thanked)
I'me now deliver'd from those petulant females.
But stay, and let me recollect my selfe.
What part about me ist (I wonder) can
Be guiltie of their sinne of loving mee?
Introth me thinkes I am not very faire;
A pretty winter countenance I weare
After a cup: and I haue often seene
A better nose dwell better eyes betweene.
As for my legs (not for to flatter them)
Surely I thinke under a boot they might
Become the Court, so I refrain'd to play
At Goff— but oh the traytor's apprehended,
I haue him fast. Oh thou pernicious nose,
Rebellious member, haue I so often rays'd
Thy dull complexion with the spirits of sacke
Vnto that height that thou hast dar'd t' ourface
The Sun in Cancer, and haue I this reward?
But if I doe not humble thee againe,
Page [unnumbered]Reduce thee to thy former state of palenesse
With rot-gut, and cuds-nigs—let me be married.
But whom haue we here?
Tis Lucius one of our loving fooles:
O ho? why then I must be tortured,
That's all that I can say, I must be tortured.
ACT. 1. SCEN. 3.
Anteros, Lucius, Endymion.
Luc.
Ah my Endymion, seest thou yond rising Sun?
End.
I doe, but what of that?
Luc.
Why nothing boy
But at his presence why doe those lesser-fires
Pluck in their shamefac'd heads? doest thou not marke
Dull heavie Page? I can but meditate
Vpon the wit of Nature, who by objects
Low and inanimate, as is that Sun—
Ant.
Now heavens be good unto me, this is call'd
Lovers philosophy.
Luc.
does reade unto us
A lecture of her higher mysteries.
What doest thou thinke is meant by that same Sun?
And those extinguisht tapers? —he alas
Poore aged wretch but coldly imitates
That which Pandora does unto the life.
Whilst she is absent thousands of petty beauties
Doe twinkle in the night, let her appeare,
And they all vanish.
Ant.
Ha braue, is not this daintie? for all this,
Surely the man would take't unkindly now
If I should goe and tell him he was mad.
Luc.
Endymion, lend me thine eyes a little;
Doest thou desire to see a Mapp, a Modell
Of all the world in briefe and in one word?
View this— why readst thou not? thy happy lipps
Should thirst me thinks to haue that blessed ayre
Divorce them. reade.
End.
Pandora.
Luc.
Ah Pandora.
Looke here's the Sun, this place does Iupiter
Possesse, here Venus, and there Phoebe; marke—
Here is the Earth, but in her bravery,
And smiling as when Sol does sleepe betwixt
The twining Gemini.
Ant.
Thou daring mortall:
Page [unnumbered]But where in this your Idoll of the world
Is Styx, Cocytus, or the blessed place
Of the deare Furies? or the three chapt Dog?
Are they without the verges of the World?
Luc.
Fortune! how happy were I was this face
Of thine not counterfeite. Speake Endymion:
But art thou sure that my Neander drew
The faire Constantina for his Valentine?
Endy.
I neuer said it Sir.
Luc.
How neuer said it?
End.
Onely her name, so was Pandora yours.
Luc.
O too too true presage of both our fortunes.
But let it be. When I doe violate
That loue, that more then mortall bond, wherewith
My soule is ty'd vnto Neander, may
I fall vnpittied, may no gentle sigh
Be spent at my last obsequies, may I want
A man to wish me againe, would that preuaile.
Ant.
Without all question this is Magick— oh
How I doe feare a Metamorphosis.
Luc.
But I doe feele a pouerty of words
Begin to ceaze mee. Good Endimyon,
Where is my boy Luscinio? Call him in,
That hee may touch a string which may dissolue mee
Into a flood of teares—come on my boy,
Enter Lusc. with a Lute.
Oh teach that hollow pensiue Instrument
To giue a true relation of my woes
Whilst I lye here, and with my sighes keepe time.
Ant.
O how I sweate. 300000 feauers
Are now vpon me. O—
The Song.
Haue pitty (Griefe) I can not pay
The tribute which I owe thee, teares;
Alas those Fountaines are growne dry,
And tis in vaine to hope supyly
From others eyes, for each man boares
Enough about him of his owne
To spend his stock of teares vpon:
Ant.
O O O. Will it be euer done?
Page [unnumbered]
Wooe then the heauens (gentle Loue)
To melt a Cloud for my reliefe
Or wooe the Deepe or wooe the Graue,
Wooe what thou wilt so I may haue
Wherewith to pay my debt, for Griefe
Has vow'd, vnlesse I quickly pay
To take both life and loue away.
Ant.
Gods, and the World! you euerlasting Twanger—
Auoyd.
Lusc.
What meanes the Gentleman?
Ant.
Ile tell you.
The Gentleman does meane for to consult
With the entrals of your breeches, boy; the Gentleman
Does meane to whip you boy, vnlesse you straight
Auoyd the place with that seducing Fiddle.
And you his Squire his Pandar that procures
This bandy Cockatrice Musick for him. fly.
ACT. 1. SCE. 4.
Anteros. Lucius.
Ant.
How fares it with our Lucius?
Luc.
As with one
That is of all men the most miserable.
Ah my Pandora, when I record thy name,
(Thy name that's bounded with that sacred number
As shewing all Perfection bides in thee)
Mee thinkes the numerous Orbes dwell in mine eare,
After which sound all others seeme vnpleasing,
Harsh, voyd of Harmony—Pandora—oh
How sweete a life had the Camelion
Might hee but euer feede vpon such aires!
Ant.
Am I not yet transform'd? me thinkes I feele
My selfe becoming Wolfe— I am halfe Beare already.
Luc.
Liue happy still, and when thine aged head
Loaden with yeares Shall bee inueloped
Within this earth, may a perpetuall spring
Be on thy Graue.
Ant.
Shall I put forth my Paw,
And so command him silence?
Luc.
But when I
Forget to loue thee or thy memorie,
May my white name be stained with the blot
Page [unnumbered]Of basenesse, and I dye without one teare
To wash it out.
Ant.
Forget to loue her? — oh
Not for a world. And er't be long we shall
Haue some decayed piece of Arras, that
Is brought to his last sute, and has no more
Lands for to sell or morgage for new plush
Will begge you for your faire reuenues Sir
—Death Sir I cannot flatter,
Let me not liue a minute if I can.
You looke not like your selfe in that same passion;
It is not man-like; ere I'de loose a sigh,
Or set my soule one scruple of a note
The lower for these scarcrowes in cleane linnen
These chippings of nature: I'de dam my selfe
To a thatcht Alchouse, and St. Kitts Tobacco,
And dabble there eternally:
Luc.
Ah Anteros, thou art too rough a Surgeon
To handle my wounds.
Ant.
Pandora, ah Pandora.
Does not this sound deliciously from a man?
Luc.
Doe not blaspheame good Anteros; shee is
The modell of the world.
Ant.
Why so am I,
And you, and euery man besides, wee all
Are little worlds.
Luc.
But my Pandora is
The abstract of them all; when she was borne,
The whole house of heauen did meete, and there decreede
Onely in her mortality should reach
Perfection.
Ant.
And for heauens cause why in her?
Are wee not all made of the selfe same clay?
And of the same ingredients? by the same workeman?
'Tis madnesse Lucius this, it is not loue.
Luc.
Sir I must leaue you.
Ant.
Nay but stay a while,
I haue not finisht yet. Besides all this,
If you doe loue her so, what hinders then
But you might marry her, since (as I heare)
The Girle is not compos'd of adamant
Or flint, but of a supple and kinde nature,
And loues you too?
Luc.
O my deare friend Neander,
Shall I doe this to thee? to such a friend?
Ant.
Oh I am vndone. Farewell.
ACT. 1. SCE. 5.
Lucius in insidiis, Pandora. Neander▪
Luc.
But see Pandora.
Oh how amaz'd and suddaine is the flight
Of all the spirits of darkenesse, when the day
But showes her face!
Pan.
What if I take this way?
It may be I shall finde them in the grove,
Whither they oft resort— but stay, perchance
They may be in the arbour that doth looke
Into the forrest.
Luc.
Oh ye immortall Gods!
Why did ye suffer those vaine Lunaticke Poets
So much to antedate the workes of nature,
Who living many ages since did write
I know not what of many Nymphs and Graces,
Muses and Syrens? they are meere fables all;
With my Pandora they had all their birthes,
And when she dyes they'l perish with her.
Pan.
Ah?
How like vnto this Dazy was I once
Whilst I did live recluse! my innocent heart
Like to this little Globe of gold, enclos'd
VVithin the whitenesse of my thoughts, was safe
From all the violence that Loue, or shame
His childe could doe: but when his warmer beames
Displai'd that Ivory guard, and laide me open
Vnto the tyrannie of his assaults,
I was — but I will sighe out all the rest.
Ah Lucius.
Luc.
Oh happy name!
Pan.
Why Lucius?
Neander is as deare to me as hee.
Dost thou not blush to speakt * thou shame of woman?
But here he comes, I will addresse my selfe.
Enter Nean.
With all the winning Graces that I haue
To entertaine him.
Luc.
Tis my friend Neander.
Nean.
Faire Nymph, God saue you.
Pan.
Dearest loue Neander.
The welcom'st man aliue.
Nean.
Nay but sweete Lady
Forbeare th' encounter.
Pan.
Whether do'st thou turne
So cruelly from her that loues thee more
Then her owne soule? are you not well good Sir?
Nean.
You see I walke, looke fresh, and laugh. (ha, ha, he)
Symptomes of one that is not very sicke.
Nean.
You're troublesome.
Ha, ha, he, tis pretty, very pretty
* How scuruily doth sorrow laugh? (ha, ha, he)
aside.
Most excellent, beyond compare (ha ha, he)
Why doe you follow mee?
I doe not fell complexion Lady, nor
Haue I the art to cure the tympany,
I haue no great deuotion to the tub
Nor the hot house, as yet, what are you rampant?
Pan.
But pray thee speake Neander, am I so
Deformed growne of late, for to deserue
All this neglect?
Nean.
What shall I answere? Madam,
If you haue spoke all that you meane to speake
And haue no greater businesse, I desire
I may craue pardon, I must take my leaue,
I haue affaires expect mee. O misery!
That which I long for most, I fly from farthest.
Where shall I find my Lucius?
ACT. 1. SCE. 6.
Lucius. Pandora. Neander.
Luc.
What is hee gone?
Pan.
Lucius, were you so nigh, and not discouer'd?
All haile, but whither in such haste my loue?
If thou doest loue mee stay a little.
Luc.
Loue you?
Now all the God's forbid it. I loue you?
My better Angell guard mee from such a sinne.
Should I loue you, a Thiefe?
Pan.
A theife?
Luc.
A theife
I and the worst of Thieues— * Villaine thou liest.
aside.
Pan.
But why a Thiefe? Speake.
Nean.
My diuining soule
Tels mee that Lucius is not farre from hence.
Redit in sce∣nam Neander.
Ha! it is he, I will obserue a little
Luc.
Lady, Ile tell you, since you doe so long
To heare your prayses trumpeted to the world,
First, thou hast rob'd thy Father, thine owne Father,
Of all that little stock of vertue and goodnesse
VVhich nature gaue him, and (most couetous)
Hast powr'd it to thy greater heape; besides
Thou hast vndone thy Sister, stolne from her
All that was beautifull and louely in her;
Page [unnumbered]That faire maiestick straightnesse which attracts
The eyes of thousands to admire, Was hers;
Those rosie buds that open on your cheekes
Were cropt out of her garden; vpon her ruines
Is that faire Aedifice of thine erected:
Last, thou hast stolne from mee and from Neander
(Which are not two that haue deseru'd the worst
Of thee in all the world) our happinesse
All our content, our ioy, our very selues.
You see how amiable a creature you are,
How well deseruing loue. Should I loue you?
I'de first embrace a Succubus, court the plague,
Or kisse a cloude that's big with lightning— (heavens,
Aside.
Haue yee no thunderbolts in store to strike
This sacrilegious head that thus blaspheames
One of your dearest pieces? —) I loue you?
Whose face drest vp in that same innocent lawne
Showes like a dunghill set about with Lillies.
* (Thou art a periur'd wretch) — should I loue you!
Aside.
Whose eyes are like two fired barrells set
Vpon a Beacon onely to astonish
Aside.
And fright the neighbouring people—* (oh my heart!
It is a hundred thousand miles betwixt
Thee and my tongue) — what doe you meditate on?
Pan.
The nearest way vnto the graue.
Luc.
The graue?
If thou wouldst haue the shortest cut to hell,
To that same receptacle of black soules,
(Where such as dye for loue doe walke in shades
As darke as were their thoughts, whilst they liu'd here)
Lend me thy hand and I will shew it thee.
Pan.
Let it be speedy then good Lucius.
Luc.
Why thou art at thy iourneyes end already.
Pan.
Where's that?
Luc.
'Mongst the departed soules,
below
Where the dire furies haue their habitation,
'Tis in this breast.
Pan.
Why doest not open then
And let me in? — Oh if they liue so here,
Farewell for euer to the vpper world.
Nean.
Ha? does he embrace her? sure it cannot be.
Luc.
Away thou prostitute, immodest, goe.
Nean.
Who is't dares say I must not loue this man?
Pan.
Stay Lucius.
'Tis I that will be gone, the most vnhappy
Of all, on whom nature hath written woman;
Forsaken Constantina, thou and I
Will haue a Dialogue in teares anon.
Exit.
Luc.
Neander!
Nean.
Lucius!
They embrace and so goe out.
ACT. 1. SCEN. 7.
Liuely. His boy. 6 Suiters to Mistris Vrsely.
Liu.
I, I, loue on, ha, ha, he, and see what yee will get
By that at last, I'le loue my sefe, my selfe, ha, ha, he,
This day old Liuely thou art iust fourescore,
Quickly some Sack, I haue not yet baptized
Mine eyes this morning as I vse to doe.
Why boy? ha, ha. I am as lusty now,
As full of actiue spirits, as when I wore
But twenty on my back, ha ha, he, this laughing
Surely's restoratiue aboue your gold,
Or all your dearer drugges. The very thought
How quaintly I shall gull my expecting Schollers
My Neophytes that gape to heare the newes
When I shall nod into the graue, does adde
Such vigour to me, that I doe not feele
Not feele the ground I stand vpon. * But see
More Suiters still — * Now they begin to flock.
Arth. Arm.
Sir if I may aduise you wade no farther
Into this businesse, but desist; I haue
A promise (I'le assure you) from the Iustice.
Zealous Kn.
Sir I may vse the same words vnto you
I haue a promise too, but yesterday
My Father did present him with a horse
Of Robin-red-breast's getting — * by your leaue.
Art. Ar.
Nay Sir come on, if you be good at that.—
Liu.
You haue a promise. God-a-mercy horse. ha, ha, he.
These and some dozen more doe dayly haunt
This Cormorants house, and all (good men) pretend
It is pure loue vnto his crooked daughter
That drawes them thither, when there's not one of 'em
That would vouchsafe her a looke, nay hardly a thought
Vnlesse it were for to contemne her; but
An impropriate Parsonage which th' well giuen Matrons
Haue rescued from the Laitie, and returnes
After my death vnto the Church, which liuing
The Iustice here has sold them, but reseruing
The first donation for himselfe, with which
He intends to put his foolish daughter off.
'Twas once my brothers land, but this same Hooke
By a golden bayte did pluck it from him: well,
It is no matter, I haue my life in it. Ha, ha, he.
But I will cheate them all, will cozen them.
Enter Boy with a glasse of Sack.
Why Boy.
Boy.
Here Sir.
Liu.
Well said my hony, well said.
Oh how it smiles vpon mee! (hum hum) giue it mee
This is mine Antidote 'gainst the Sithe of time.
He that desires to liue, let him doe thus —
Hee drinkes.
Drinke Sack i'th morning. Boy, another cup.
How now? another? see how he prunes himselfe.
Enter Stutch.
Stutch.
Boy, there's a teston for you, see you looke
Well to my Nagge — I must be generous now.
But let me see, I will accost him thus.
Sir if it please your worship — (it must be so)
These Country Iustices doe loue a life
For to be worshipped at euery word,
I come now from my Lady.
Liu.
(And you may
Returne againe vnto her Ladiship
And tell her that old Liuely is not yet
Intended for to dye.
Stutch.
And doe desire
That as you shall approue of my good parts—
Well 't will doe — now I will knock —
But I will open and enter, 'tis a Solaecismo
For to be modest in such businesses.
The Boy with another glasse of Sack.
Liu.
Well done my Squire o'th bottles, stand you there.
Sir I doe come now from my Lady, ha, ha, he,
And doe desire, that as you shall approue
Of my good parts— ha, ha, he —
He drinkes.
Well take the glasse, and get you home, hum, hum, hum.
Hug.
If I can winne the Girle, I'le find a trick
Enter Hugo Obligation.
For to dispatch old Liuely presently
Page [unnumbered]And with much ease; a peice of bread and a pinne
Will doe the cure, or else an honest burre
Lapt vp in butter.
Liu.
Here's a precious rogue,
Oh it is Hugo Obligation
The precise Scriuener, that these three yeares space
Has laboured for orders, this same villaine
Sure is the likeliest man to carry her—
Hugo.
But see where Liuely stands, Ile not be seene.
Exit.
Liu.
Being one whom he does vse in all his Couenants.
But I'le out liue them all, the Knaues. Ile now
Goe tast a bowle of pure refined ayre
Vpon yond hill.
Exit.
ACT. 1. SCE. 8.
Anteros. Loueall.
Ant.
Yet stay a little, who is this? hee's gone.
Once more the coast is cleare, now I'le aduenture
Towards the Sheepheards doore: not farre from hence
Hid in a thicket I haue prouided for me
A Sheepheards robes, these, if I can preuaile
With this same Stipes for to vndertake
A Seruant of my commendation,
Will I streight leape into, and so remaine
Disguis'd with him, for (as I vnderstand)
The family doth consist of himselfe and's dog,
As for his wife shee seldome is at home
Being a famous Midwife. Blessed house!
Surely in such a place Hippolytus
Did hunt away his solitary howers.
But I forget (tick tock) why Sheepheard, Stipes. How?
Not yet awake?
Lou.
Is not this Anteros?
Enter Loue all.
Ant.
How I was dealt withall by nature when
Shee molded this same lumpe of clay together,
And season'd it with soule, I know not, but
Let mee get out o'th world with obloquy
If euer I could find in all the herd
Of woman-kind yet so much excellence
As could procure a sigh, or kindle in mee
The least sparke of a desire.
Lou.
Tis he, his phrase
Betrayes him.
Ant.
I confesse like Whelps or Kitlings
The vse of tongue, they're pretty creatures, and
They may be look'd vpon without the danger
Of either stoole or vomit— but—
Lou.
But— VVell Sir Ruffian, I hope to see this Blasphemy of yours against that feathered Deity sent home with a shaft in your bosome for interest ere long.
Ant.
VVhat my little vbiquitary Loueall? my Page of the Smock? my commodity aboue staires? my Court Shittlecocke? tost from one Lady to an other? The Kernell of thy gloue sweete lack.
Lou.
Take shell and all.
Ant.
Why here's a Parcell of mans flesh of another temper now, that has the art of placeing his affections wisely, can loue one because shee's faire, a second because shee's modest, and has his packets of reasons in readinesse too; if he meetes with a wanton Girle, that property takes him, there is hope of actiuity, shee will not fill a bed like Pygmalions Image before hee sacrificed to Venus: if shee bee rude, and ignorant, her harmelesse simplicity catches him; he loues this for the gracefull writhing of her neck; another because she can vayle her borrowed teeth neatly with her Fanne when shee venters at laughter: nothing can scape him, euery part of woman is full of limetwigs to him: which though it bee an humour contrary to mine, who care for none, yet I like it farre aboue your whining constancy as sauouring more of the Man.
Lou.
True. For why should I confine my loue to one Circle? we see that labo∣rious creature the Bee, which is often set before vs for a Coppy of industry, not alwayes droaning vpon one flower, but as soone as shee has suckt the sweetnesse from one, throwes her little ayrie body vpon a second, and so to a third, till at last she comes home with her thighes laden with that pretty spoyle.
An.
VVell said my Loueall, I perceiue thou wilt neuer dye for loue then.
Lou.
No, If I doe, let me lye when I am dead by that Cynick Philosopher with a staffe in my hand, to fright the beast sand fowles from my vnburied carkasse. —
But is there any newes I pray thee growne
Vp in this country since I went to court?
Ant.
O tanto e piu.
First Cleopes your sisters Louer—
Lou.
VVhat? he is not dead I hope?
Ant.
I would he were.
Is gone, has forsooke her.
Lou
How?
Ant.
And she forsooth
Since his departure has betooke her selfe
Page [unnumbered]Vnto a veyle, silence, and teares; in which
Monastick habit shee does spend her dayes.
I doe but tell you by tradition Sir,
Not from my selfe; but this I can assure you,
It is with vs the Parenthesis of eating.
Lou.
Ther's nothing man within mee. After such vowes?
Such protestations? but the Gods make Loueall
No creature, if he does not suffer for't,
Buy this disloyalty of his, at a deare rate.
Ant.
Can you be quiet? next your faire Kinswoman
Sweete Mistris Vrsly (who without all question
Was Kitlin to Nib, o'th Queene of Faries Kitchin,
Sent to your Vncle for a Newyeeres gift
Vpon exchange by the Elfe) has the Parsonage
Old Liuely liues in hung on her crooked back;
With which faire baite, your good and vertuous Vncle
Does angle for some young and hungry Scholler,
And daily expects the taking of the Gudgeon.
This very houre no lesse then 6 or 7
Are nibling at it, but the hooke is seene;
Your Vncle is not cunning in his fishing,
And so I pray you tell him —
Lou.
But stay Anteros.
I haue discouer'd (vnlesse mine eyes deceiue me)
A stranger thing then is all this you told mee,
What's that i' your hatt? tis not a Valentine
I hope?
Ant.
But I haue got a counter hope
Against that hope of yours; I hope it is.
Lou.
But art thou turn'd a Louer? hast thou got
A Mistris? thou a Mistris? let me see
That I may worship that great name, that has
Begot this miracle in thee.
Ant.
Away,
Keepe backe those common eyes, they be prophane.
Lou.
By all the lips of honour I must see't.
Ant.
Come you haue learn'd such perfum'd oathes at Court,
By all their Feather-men and Tire-women,
Boxes of sucus, cabinets for cerusse —
Nay looke you now— not for a million.
Lou.
For a farre lesser summe sweete Sir nay come
I must and will.
Lou.
What's here?
Rex et regina magnae Britanniae? what's this? what's this?
What are the King and Queene thy Valentines? ha, ha, he.
Ant.
Yes marry are they; why doe you laugh so Loueall?
Lou.
Who can refraine? ha, ha, he.
Ant.
For whom should I admire,
Loue, or adore more? I tell thee Iack, I care not
For such poore weake Idolaters that lye prostrate
To euery little Starre that can but twinkle;
Those petty votaries of Egypt, which
Worship this Onion and the Leeke— for mee
I will not bend a knee vnlesse it be
Vnto the Sun or Moone.
Lou.
Thou art mad, starke mad,
A citizen of Bedlam.
Ant.
I am mad,
Yes, Yes, I am. You then that are so wise
He puls him back.
Enioy your wisedomenesse alone—farewell.
Lou.
Come back ith' name of goodnesse —Anteros—
Ant.
My company may infect you Sir, I am mad.
Lou.
What is my little boy growne sullen now,
And will not eate its dinner?
Ant.
Well, what then?
Lou.
This day my Anteros I will dedicate
To thee and laughter, to morrow I will study
Some deepe reuenge for my abused sister
Vpon that villaine; but no more, thy hand.
Shall wee be merry and laugh each man his rubber?
Ant.
I'me for you for a single game or so.
Lou.
VVell, shall I make a motion then? stay you
He offers to goe out hastily.
But here a little.
Ant.
Call you this a motion?
One word before you trauaile, whether now?
Lou.
I will returne immediatly.
Ant.
So you shall.
He offers againe and Anteros puls him back.
Speake ere you goe.
Lou.
VVell, if I must I wil.
Last night it was my chance to ouertake
Vpon the way a brace of fine tame fooles,
Which I haue brought along with me, these now
He offers to go, Anteros pulls him backe.
Will I goe fetch vnto thee.
Ant.
Peraduenture.
Surely the man has Quicksiluer in's heeles.
I pray thee tell me, what are they for creatures?
Lou.
Wee shall loose time.
Ant.
Rather shall gaine it Sir.
Lou.
The first of them is a fine spiced gallant,
One that has beene some three yeares in codling
At th' Innes o'th' Court, and (as hee tells me) intends
To lye, and soake a while to make him rellish
O're with the Sugar of a yearely rent
Of some nine hundred — after the old mans death.
And all this cookery is to please the pallate
Of some nice Minion, who to make her weight
Drags peraduenture some three thousand after her.
The thing (to doe it right) beside the managing of it's rapier, and a pretty competencie of play parcels, can salute you, and take it's leaue of you in French, but so miserably harsh that any one may conclude, hee neuer trauail'd for his language further then Littleton — He —
Ant.
Is a very asse, no more of him; but what's the other?
Lou.
His kinsman. What hee is now he knowes not himselfe, else he would haue tolde me, but he has beene a Lawyer; Clerke in's dayes, his prattle is altogether about the complections, and hee will reade you a lecture of simple baw∣dery for some two houres in your eare if you'l suffer him, and af∣ter all this, he feeles you by the nose, and cryes Marke the end on 't.
Ant.
And is this all? giue me thy hand, I haue a brace of the like creatures at my seruice. I will play with thee from a Stiuer to a Guilder, from a Guilder to a Doller, from a Doller to a French crowne, from a French crowne to a pound, from a pound, to a hundred (marke what I say) in the way of friendship, with those two grand coxcombes thou hast all to be worded so.
Lou.
You will, are you so confident?
Ant.
Yes marry am I. Onely I will not cloy you with an inuentory of your dishes be∣fore hand, take this in briefe. One of them is a Scholler newly warme in a lambskin, Nephew to old bully Liuely, at whose house they are both now, the other is an elder brother, and an heire, and he shall tell you so as soone as he sees you. But stay where shall our Campus Martius be?
Lou.
No place Better then this, but speake the houre.
Ant.
Let me see,
[Hee lookes vpon his watch]
'tis iust eight now, some halfe an houre after nine I will not faile.
Lou.
To bring your champions with you.
Ant.
Or else I'le make good the place my selfe, which I would be loath to doe I tell you.
Exit.
Lou.
My first worke now is for to see my Vncle,
And as I heare my melancholly sister.
That done through the backe doore that leades to th' Stables
(where they are taking order for their horses.)
Page [unnumbered]I will goe visite my two creatures and
Prepare them for the Combat.
Finis Actus Primi.
