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.

Scoen. 3.

Enter Clotpoll, Dorcas, Nick.

Nick.

What a drunken sot was I, that knew thee not all this while? I vow, thy story pities me. I'le marry thee, and turne thee to thy friends, for I am sure I have none that will keep thee for my sake.

Dorc.

I ask no further satisfaction of you, then to be honested by marriage. I'le work for a poor li∣ving.

Nick.

Prithee Mun seek me a Priest.

Clot.

I have no acquaintance in their function, I.

Dorc.

My Cousin Mihil said he would bring or send one.

Nick.

There's no starting, that Mihil has a fist o∣ver me. I vow, and thou wert not his Kinswoman, thou should to the Common yet.

Clot.

Father, how come you hither?

Capt.

Did not the company send for me?

Nick.

I vow, not we.

Capt.

The City-mouth, that peck't us at my lodging last night, came to me with an abominable scratch't face, and warn'd me on a businesse hither.

Nick.

I smell some trick.

Clot.

Some treacherie upon the brotherhood, per∣haps.

Nick.

Timorous thing! what in our own Quar∣ter?

Capt.

If you doubt any thing, 'tis best remove. The fellow was sorely handled.

Nick.

I would but see the carcass of authority prance in our Quarter, and we not cut his legs off. Wel∣come Tonie, what hast thou brought the word here to passe for the Reckoning.

Enter Ant. Parson.

Ant.

Come, you must make a wedding-night on't Nick, Mihil will go no lesse.

Nick.

My Vow is pass'd, and before you, sir, I con∣firm it. This is my wife. Anon, you shall perform the holy Ceremony,

Ant.

'Tis well, pray sir, retire your self to the next room there a while, and stay you with him, Lady.

But what do you with Gabriel? Is it not time to wake him yet?

Clot.

'Tis now upon the point, h'as slept two houres.

Nick.

Father, you'll see a brave experiment upon a Gentleman that has been a youth.

Clot.

And of the Philoblathici, as we are now.

Nick.

And since was grown one of the reformed, and we are now in practice to retrive, and bring him back to his first condition.

Ant.

Have you followed all Mihils directions?

Nick.

Hitherto we have. First, you saw he was laid defunct in Sack, next in his sleep, we have accou∣tred him in martial ab liments, and now we mean to wake him with alarmes shall affright the silly humour out of him, and render him his warlike faculty, or our Art failes.

Ant.

Where be the Wenches?

Clot.

The Sisters of the Scabberd, there's the sport on't. They have their parts to play upon him too. But for his drink now when he wakes, you said you would have a bottle of the womans what do you call't yonder? the Medea.

Capt.

What? the charm'd liquor that Medea brew'd to make old father Aeson young again?

Must that renew his youthful spirit in him?

Nick.

No, Sack will do bette••. When he wakes he will be very dry, then a quart-draught of good Ca∣narie will so screw him up. 'Tis time 'twere now in practice. So, softly, softly. We must but halfe wake him at first.

A Bed put forth, Gabriel on it, Bettie and Frank.

Gab.

O some small drink.

Nick.

Here, drink it off, sir,

(Drinks)

D••um and Trumpet. An Alarm.

Gab.

Surpriz'd by th' enemie, whilest we have plaid the Sluggard in our Tents.

Capt. Nick. Clot.

Hold Captain, hold, we are your souldiers.

Gab.

Y'are Mutineers, and have disturb'd my rest. And I'le do Martial Justice on you all.

Nick.

I vow, hold, are you mad?

Gab.

Know you not discipline? or are you growen rebellious in the Camp. I'le teach you war∣fare.

Capt.

You have conjur'd a fury into him to beat us into fitters.

Clot.

My pate bleeds for't; I protest.

Gab.

I'le make you know command.

Ant.

Noble Commander, hold thy furious hand, and heare thy souldiers speak.

Gab.

What have we women for our Martial Mu∣sick?

Clot.

None but the She-Trumpet, a neighbour here, and her Sister, that was Drum-ma••or to my Coun∣trey-Amazons, that pull'd up the Inclosures to lie all in Common.

Gab.

Is the enemy i'th' field?

Nick.

Upon their march, Captain, and we your of∣ficers: But rows'd you up to be in readinesse.

Gab.

You are my Lieutenant, you my Ancient, and you two my Sergeants; and you must know the Com∣mander

you serve under, to be none of those Letter-carriers that know not so much as the termes of dis∣cipline, what a Flanker is, Nor a Raveling is. Nor a Petarre is. Nor a Curtain is. Nor a Bulwark is. Nor a Bastile is. Nor a Counterscarp is. Nor a Casemate is. A Gabion is: Nor any left word of fortification. How can such fresh-water Captains command?

All.

Right noble Colonel. He shall be our Co∣lonel.

Clot.

One souldier made up of Sack, is worth as many as would drink a fresh water river dry.

Gab.

I knew, men of abilities should at last be put in action.

Valiant men and wise, Are only fit for weighty enterprise.

All.

O noble Colonel.

Gab.

What would an upstart Militaster now, That knew no rudiments of discipline, nor Art of warre, do in a sudden service? or say, when I know how to have my Ordnance planted here, my Cavalrie mount∣ed here, my Battery-discove••er on such a point, my Trenches cut thus, my Mine carried thus, my Gabi∣ons rais'd thus. Here my Parapet, there my Pallisadoe o'th'top of that. The enemie made saltable six hun∣dred paces there. And I draw out my Musketeers to flank 'em in their Trenches here, while my Pikes and Targeteers advance to the breach there. What would Captain, my Lords man, or Sergeant-major, my Ladies Kinsman, sent in by honourable favour, do or say in such an expedition?

All.

Braver and braver still.

Clot.

This goes beyond the Blade and the Bat∣toon.

Gab.

Or how would their braines lie in their breeches, when the able Captain leads up his men in the Head of a Troop bravely, charges with his shot,

makes a stand with his Pikes, does execution with his Sword, the Cannon playing, the Drum beating, the Shot thumping, the Ensignes waving, the Armes clashing, the Aire rending, Dust and Smoke clouding, Blood raining. And then to bring up such a Division to fight, make good such a Ground, relieve such a Squadron, fetch off such a losse, r'enforce the Ranks that are broken. March on, Come off. Beat the Bessognes that lie hid in the Carriages. O the renown∣ed life of a worthy Commander.

Nick.

Sound Drum and Trumpet.

All.

A Colonel, a Colonel.

Enter Croswill, Rooksbill, Mihil.

Cros.

Whither hast thou brought me? does thy brother lie speechlesse in this house? ha! what in the name of tumult can these be?

Mih.

Pray sit, attend, you will be pleased a∣non.

Gab.

A still march now. So, I have lost a great ma∣ny of my men. But courage yet, you poor remainder of my scatter'd Troops. Stand. Qni vala. An Am∣buscado of the enemy. Alarme. Lieutenant, charge in with your Shot. Now Gentlemen, for the honour of Covent-Garden, make a stand with your Pikes; in to the short sword; well fought, take Prisoners. Sound a Retreat now. Faire, faire i'th' coming off. So, 'twas bravely perform'd.

Clot.

Must we not fall to rifling now, Colo∣nel.

Mih.

Part faire on all sides, Gentlemen.

Gab.

What's this, a vision, sure I do aile some∣thing.

Cross.

Is't possible it is thou? art thou run mad as far as hell the tother way now.

Rook.

My wicked, caitiffe, reprobate son is here too. Pray let me flee, I am but a dead man else.

Mih.

You shall receive no harm, sir Lay by your Armes my Masters. I bring none but friends.

Nick.

I hou canst not make that good, my father's there.

Mih

I'le make him friends with thee. Go and di patch within.

Ant.

I'le see it done, and take our new made Brides with us for witnesses.

Ex. Nick. Ant. Kat. Luc.

Rook

Has his shame yet taught him to shunne my sight.

Mih.

And shall returne him instantly your com∣fort.

Rook.

Unpossible, unpossible.

Mih.

Attend the event.

Cross.

I rather thought I should have found you, sir, disputing with the Pastors, and the Elders; yet to say truth, this is the better madnesse. What can this mean? how came he thus translated? what Charmes, or what Inchantments are upon him?

Gab.

What Babel was a building in my braines? But now it turnes, and I can recollect The knowledge of a father, brother, Sister. And that a thousand vain imaginations, Like scatterings of light things upon the earth, Rushes, loose leaves, sprigs, straws, and dust Contracted by a whirlwinde, were blowen up, And lodg'd in the rich Seat of Contemplation, Usurping there the room of vertuous thoughts. Honour awake me from this Lethargie.

Cros.

What can those women that appear like furies be in this action?

Mih.

They were but us'd as properties to give new motion to his mortified condition.

Cros.

I know not what to say to any thing; there

is some Spell upon me too. My anger has forsook me. What are those men that bear a countenance. As if they stood indifferently affected to Bedlam and Bride-well.

Clot.

Meaning by us, sir. If our sight offend you, Know we are men that dare forbear the place.

Capt.

I son, let's go, our stay is dangerous. They look like Peace-maintainers, we••ll fall off.

Enter Vintner.

Vint.

O tarry, Gentlemen, we are all undone else. If you make not your peace before you stir, both you and I must suffer.

Capt.

What's the matter?

Vint.

The Magistrates and Officers with their Bill-men have ta'ne us by surprise. They are i'th' house.

Bett.

O me! the blew Gown Colledge.

Fran.

Wheels and whips. I feel what we must go to. Did not I say our stay was dangerous?

Clot.

Did not I say there was some subtile pra∣ctice upon the Philoblatici? and that we were betrayed hither?

Vint.

There's no escaping forth. And Gentlemen, It will but breed more scandal on my house, and the whole plantation here, if now you make rebellious up∣roar. Yield your weapons, and welcome Justice but like subjects new, and peace will follow.

Clot.

But where's Nick? where's Tonie?

Mih.

They shall yield up their weapons. So do you.

Capt.

Yes yes, 'tis best.

Clot.

Shall we, sir, shall we?

Mih.

Yes sir, you shall.

Clot.

So, sir, I will then, not the Blade alone. But

for your more security, the Battoon, There see my Armes forth coming.

Exeunt.

Mih.

Say they shall have faire welcom, What are they married?

Enter Nick. Dorcas, Ant. Kat. Luc.

Ant.

Yes, as fast as troth and holy words can binde 'em.

Mih.

'Tis well. Now sir, let me entreat your favour. 'Tis my first suit to you since I was your son, That before others entrances distract our troubled Scoene, these may be reconcil'd.

Down. Brother Nicholas.

Nick.

Even unto the earth, sir, and humbled with as true a penitence, as son can be for wronging of a father, I beg your pardon and blessing.

Cros.

Give it him, Brother Rooksbill, I dare say 'twill make him a good man.

Rook.

Heaven make him so. My blessing and my prayers shall not be wanting.

Cros.

What? my Neece Dorcas made an honest wo∣man?

Gab.

Was that the man that wrong'd my Cousin Dorcas?

Mih.

Yes, and has now made ample recompence.

Enter Cockbrayne, Cit. Watch. Madgeo

Cit.

Here they are altogether, sir.

Cock.

Lay hands on all. First, on that old Ruffian, the Incendiarie, that sets the youthful bloods on fire here with his Infernal discipline. Next, take his sons, there's one, that young Blade there, Have I now got within ye, Gentlemen? will you have Songs ex temporc? know ye me now? a ha! I'le be can'd the

Weeder of this Garden. Take up those She weeds there. I have the rank one here. I took her stragling in my Round e'ne now.

Rook.

My Tenant, I take it, Mrs. Margerie How∣let.

Cros.

Your widow sir, I think.

Mih.

But for a shift sir, now you know my aim.

Mad.

O good your worship, as you came of a wo∣man.

Cock.

Peace Circes, cease thy charmes. What clu∣ster have we here now. O here's another of the sons of noise.

Rook.

That's my son now, sir, by your leave, and I'le baile him.

Cook.

What Mr. Rooksbil, are you here? what wo∣man's this?

Cros.

My Neece, sir, his sons wife. And I'le baile her.

Cock.

What Mr. Croswill, you among this Ginge too?

How will you 'scape commitment?

Cross.

Why, Mr. Cockbrayne? how his braines crow now?

Cock.

Who's here? your daughters too? but what are these?

Cros.

I hope they'l prove my sons, and be indiffe∣rent men in time, sir, by that time their haire may grow, or be reduc't to an indifferent length.

Mih.

That's done on me already, sir.

Cros.

Now he looks as like a Rogue as e're he did again.

Gab.

And sir, for me, now that my Cousin is resto∣red, and the wilde fury of my wine abated.

I do you the obedience of a son, acknowledging my former formal habit was more of stubbornnesse then true devotion. For which I beg your pardon.

Cros.

There's more deceit under these half Foot∣balls, then in whole Pudding-bags. Well boyes, be you indifferent sons, neither too hot nor too cold. I have found a fault in myself, I confesse. I will re∣form it, and be an indifferent father.

Cock.

O here's the man I sought, whom, I confess, I am half sorry to commit with the rest, because I found him civiller.

Ant.

Hoping you will not stake that good opinion, I'le now come nearer to you. And since here is such a convention of love and joy. I hope my offering of a sons true duty may sinde I dulgencie.

Cock.

What? my son Antonie?

Cross.

How? how? your son that should have had my daughter? Come hither Kate, now if thou lov'st him, take him. Are you content, friend Cock∣brayne.

Cock.

O sir, most happily.

Cros.

Why run you not together?

Ant.

It is too late, or needlesse now for me to marry her.

Cros.

Is't come to that? and if I do not swindge him—.Are you too good, sir, for my daugh∣ter?

Ant.

I do not say so, sir.

Cros.

Huswife, do you like him?

Kat.

No more then he does me, sir.

Cros.

Get you together, or I'le swaddle you both into one, you perverse fooles.

Ant.

Sir, the truth is, we are married already.

Kat.

'Tis so, indeed, sir.

Cros.

Heyday! who am I trow? how durst you do it vvithout my consent?

Kat.

I had your consent, sir, you commanded me to take my choice in vvhom I pleas'd, before you vvould take notice.

Cros.

I cannot abide this vvrangling. Give you joy.

Cock.

Joy and my blessing on you. Why I knovv not vvhom to commit novv.

Cros.

You have done the Common-wealth a special piece of service the vvhile vvith your State-braines. But let us make a night of this, I pray.

Cit.

Sir, the parties have given me satisfaction, and I am content they be releas'd.

Cros.

There's an honest fellovv novv, and looks like one that vvould be beaten every day for ready money. Go novv, vvhile ye are vvell, and be seen no more in this Precinct.

All.

Never and't please your vvorships, never.

Cros.

'Tvvas built for no such vermine. Hence avvay. And may the place be purg'd so every day. 'Tis no unvvorthy member may be found, To pester or to vilifie this ground. That as it vvas intended, it may be A Scoene for Vertue and Nobilitie.