Five nevv playes, viz. The English moor, or the mock-marriage. The love-sick court, or the ambitious politique: Covent Garden weeded. The nevv academy, or the nevv exchange. The queen and concubine. / By Richard Brome.

Scaen. 1.

Enter Crossewill Solus.

Cross.

WHat has this Coxscombe Cockbrayne writ me here? That he desires his ab∣sence be excus'd. What have I to do with him? when I send for him, let him come to me. That he is up∣on a point of discovery in a most excellent project for the weeding of this Garden? what Garden? what project? A project he says here for the good of the Republike, Repudding. This fellow has in stead of braines, a Cob-web in his Noddle, with little strawes, feathers, and wings of dead Butterflies hanging in it, that having motion by his aery fancie, there dance and keep a Racket; 'tis to teach women silence, or some such foolish impossibility. He is ambitious to be call'd into authority by notice taken of some spe∣cial service he is able to do the tate aforehand. But what great service he is able to do it, or which way to undertake it, falls not in the reach of my imaginati∣on. But good Mr. Croswill, by your favour now, what reason have you to slight or wrangle at this man? this honest Cockbrayne? that has alwayes been a con∣stant friend to you, and officious in many good wayes, and is a Gentleman, not only of good descent and e∣state, but of a good disposition. And you two, Mr. Crossewill, by your leave, have alwayes agreed like

neighbours children. I, the divel was in't, and now he vexes me again; we agreed in one point so well, that we have undone a couple of our children by it, and hindred the getting of I know not how many more. His son and my daughter should have married. And on a sndden he and I both consented to a dislike of the match and broke it, and have both repented it an hundred times since. We agree very wel in that point; and now is his son irrecoverably lost, and my daughter resolutely bent to be an Ape-leader in Limbo. But whats all this to the affliction I suffer in my sons now? that one of them from a riotous boy. should grow into a Puritanical Woodcock; and the tother from a civil well-qualified fellow, turn'd absolute Ruffian. There, there, I there's the devil in't. I could beat my selfe for getting such children.

Enter Belt.

See, see, my Master for want of other company fal∣len out with himself, and it please you, sir.

Cros.

It does not please me, nor thou pleasest me, nor any thing pleases me. The world's bent to crosse me, and thou shalt feel it.

Belt.

O good sir.

Cross.

Is it not so, sir, was not that dunce Gabriel, a most notorious wilde thing

Before he steer'd a Religious course? but then he run so full a saile, that he pass'd and was beyond the line of Religion before he was aware; and as he passed it un∣der the torrid Zone of Zeale, the Calenture took him o'the pate, that he is mad with it, and as far beyond Religion now as it is to it.

Belt.

Sir, there's hope that he may he fetch't halfe way back again, by your fatherly advicement, and be∣come a sound man.

Cross.

And then was not Mihil so civil, that he made me even sick to see him. And now is he flowen out as far into rior t'other way.

Belt.

But he, sir, will appear a present comfort to you, he is reclaim'd already; you shall never see such a Reformation in a Gentleman.

Cros.

What's this you tell me? ha!

Belt.

He has cast off his long-curl'd haire and all.

Cross.

He had been better have cut his head off. Where is he!

Belt.

Below sir, and a Gentlewoman with him, but very much afraid to appear to you. I never saw a man so timoursome.

Cross.

Do you think it fit I should go down to him, or he come up to me, fir, ha!

Belt.

I'le fetch him, here's a life!

Ex.

Cross.

I charg'd he should not come at this house too, for feare he might be catch'd with this mecha∣nick fellows daughter, though her portion be around one. And let him take heed he look not at her.

Enter Mihil and Madge.

Blesse me! what changeling is this? he's in his Brothers cut.

Mih.

Sir,—Sir.—

Cross.

Would you speak with any here, sir, do you know me. I know not you, I assure you.

Mih.

The sense of your late displeasure, sir, has so humbled me into the knowledge of my self, that on the wings of true obedience, I flew after you to make a childes submission at your feet, to crave your pardon for my riotous transgression, and to ask your bles∣sing.

Cros.

A delicate speech, pray take it for fashion-sake.

But if I know how to look towards thee.

Mih.

Pray sir, bestow it really upon me.

Cross.

God blesse thee, I say, and so much many honest men bestow daily on sons that are none of their own, if thou beest mine, how camest thou thus like a fellow that had narrowly scap't the Pillorie, and brag'd in the publication of his eares? not an hair left to hide them.

Mih.

To shew my readinesse to reform my life, sir. And yet a willingnesse withal to live, as well, as civilly, in which I am in all humility to preferre a suit to you. You know, sir, I am but a younger bro∣ther.

Cros.

What will this come to?

Mih.

Here is a widow, sir, a Gentlewoman of great estate, and of a well-known life. Antient she is, and has had husbands. How many?

Mad.

Foure truly, sir.

Mih.

Foure sir, I would not lie. Of which the worst spoke well of her on's death-bed.

Mad.

What's that to me or thee? come to the point.

Mih.

I have all wo'd and wonne her, sir, and crave but your good-will to marry her. I have brought a Church-man and a Kinsman to give her.

Cross.

Why so, what needs two words then? do you think I can deny you?

Mih.

If he does grant it, 'tis the first request that e're he granted in his life. Sure the old Match-ma∣ker the devil thinks I am in earnest to marry this beast. And puts a readinesse in his hand to for∣ward it.

Cross.

Widow, you are welcome. Why call you not your Priest? or tarry sir, let me question you but a little, Do you think seriously you love this wi∣dow?

Mih.

Better then many men love their wives, I am perswaded.

Cross.

'Tis very well, what children have you wi∣dow?

Mad.

Never had any, Sir.

Cross.

Very well still.

Mi.

Nor ever like to have any, fir, thats the com∣fort. We shall live at the lesse charge.

Cross.

Thou art a covetous and a preposterous Knave. Wouldest thou bury up thy youth in barren ground? doest seek after wealth, and not after issue? doest love to feed on other mens leavings? or travel only in a beaten path? ha!

Mih.

A man goes certainest on his journey so, sir, and lesse trouble it is you know to go in at a great gate, then a narrow wicket.

Cross.

You have said enough, sir, and delight to crosse me; but I'le crosse you for once, and lay a crosse upon you, shall perhaps carry you to your grave. Go, fetch your Priest.

Mih.

I'le face it as far as I dare. I hope I shall have the grace to pull my hand from the book when it comes so far.

Ex.

Cross.

Widow, you are resolv'd to have him too.

Mad.

Before all men i'th' world by your fair leave, 1.

Cross.

You shall not have him.

Mad.

Without your free consent, I will not.

Cross.

I am resolv'd I'le do't. And 'twill be the best crosse trick that e're I did in my life. Pray let me speak in some more private wirh you.

Mad.

If I but 'scape Bridewell, I care not.