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.

Act. IV.

Scoen. 1.

Nehemiah, Ephraim.

Neh.

EPhraim, thou hast made me a man, both without, witnesse this sword and within, witnesse this precious book, which I have gotten al∣most by heart already.

Eph.

But sir, beware you fall not back again Into your childish follies: but go forwards In manly actions: for non progredi est regredi.

Neh.

I know the meaning of that too, Ephraim. That's once a man and twice a childe. But if I turne childe again, while I have teeth in my head, ••'le give Mrs. Blithe leave to dig 'hem out with Sugar∣plums, as she almost did these two of 'hem yesterday, with her knuckles. I would they stuck both in her bum for't, till I we••e married to her, and that shall be shortly, they say, I wo' not turne boy again for that trick.

Eph.

I hope you will not.

Neh.

Thou mayest be sure on't Ephraim: for if I would turne boy again, I ha' not wherewithal to set up again. Thou sawest that, assoon as I had tasted the sweetnesse of this delic••ous book here, I tore and burnt all my ballats, as well the godly as the ungodly. In my conscience as many as might have furnish't three Bartholomew Faires, and then for love of this sword, I broke and did away all my storehouse of tops, gigs, b••l••s, cat and catsticks, pot-guns, key-guns, trunks, tillers, and all; and will I turne boy again canst think? ye•• I am half sorry, being towards a wife, that I did

not keep 'hem for my children: some money might have been sav'd by't. And that is a manly and a good husbandly consideration, I take it. But hang covetous∣nesse: There comes not a mouth into the world, but there's meat for t; and if I finde 'em not play games, their mother will finde friends, that shall, for them and her selfe too

Eph.

I'm glad to heare such good things to come from you,

And hope that now your judgment's strong e∣nough

To manage my affair. You know my minde, sir.

Neh.

Amardla Ephraim, 'twill be hard to compasse. For the old Knight will never let me have his Neece, unlesse he have my mother. He meanes to truck for her, though, I confesse, I had rather call thee father then any man, I know, yet I know not how to bring it about, unlesse he marry her first; and then she be weary of him, and take thee afterwards to mend her match. I think it must be so, Amardla Ephraim.

Eph.

Now you flie out again, that's as impos∣sible, as 'tis unlawful.

La.

Within. Negh. Negh.

Neh.

Peace, my mother comes.

La.

Where are you childe? Neh.

Neh.

I hear her neighing after me, I'le do all I can for thee, Amardla Ephraim.

Enter Lady.

La.

Look you ••onne, what kinde Sir Swithin has sent you. A dancing frog, you would think it were a∣live, and a ballet of burning the false prophets before they be tried. And another fearful one of the new Antichrist.

Neh.

Hang bawbles, burn ballets, I am a man, and defie boyes tricks.

La.

A sudden change, I pray it be good.

Neh.

Tell me of toyes? I have a sword: offer me ballets? I have a book. Speak to me of Sir Swithin, I'le talk to you of Ephraim that gave me these bles∣sings; and is fitter to be my father, (so he is) then the foolishest Knight of 'em all.

[Reades,

La.

Blesse my sonne from too much learning. That book has done him no good, I doubt. He talks and looks so wildly o'the sudden.

Neh.

A ha!

La.

What book is't. Let me see it.

Neh.

I'le tell you first. It is a book all of Bulls, Jests and Lies Collected by an A. S. Gent. Mother f'sooth, there be such things in it! If you never reade it, it is the rarest book that ever you read in your life. Open it where you will, and you shall learn something. As here now. One refusing to eat Cheese∣cakes, was ask't his reason. He told them he lov'd the flesh well, but was afeard of the bones. Then here's the next to't. One asking whence Lobsters were brought: his fellow repli'd, one might easily know their countrey by their coat. They are fetch't from the red sea. Now would I might never eat more of 'hem, as well as I love 'hem, if I know what Cheese-cakes were made of, or from whence Lobsters came be∣fore.

La.

Is this your book-learning? In troth thou mak'st me laugh.

Neh.

Laugh on, good Mother. And while you are in the merry mood, let me speak a good word for E∣phraim. I have a minde f'sooth, because he has made me a man, to make him my father, f'sooth.

La.

What, what! How now.

How durst you firrah, move my sonne in this? ha.

Eph.

Madam.

La.

Is it but so? ha!

Neh.

Pray f'sooth hear him speak. He can speak Po∣etry (he sayes) as well as Knight Whimlbie. Speak Ephraim.

Eph.

Madam, Fa••re truth h••ve told That Queens of old Have now and then Married with private men. A Countesse was no Blusher, To wed her Ʋsher. Without remorse A Lady took her Horse- Keeper in wedlock. These did wisely know, Inferiour men best could their work below.

Neh.

Mother f'sooth, Is it not fine?

Eph.

Nay, Madam, more then so, I'le further go

La.

But you shall not, Sirrah. What, what! how now! Is't but up and ride? ha! Out of my doors thou varlet.

Neh.

I must out too then, mother I am afraid, oh.—

La.

Good Neh. be pacified, I'le give him a better answer.

But not a word on't now, sweet childe, I pray thee. Here comes Sir Swithin.

Enter Whimlbie, Blithe.

Whi.

Ha, ha, ha, Madam, ha, ha, ha.

[Kisse.

La.

I marry Sir Swithin. This is better then O Ma∣dam, O—, when you wash't your handkerchiefs in the suds, and then to wring hem out in Poetry.

Whi.

My tears with the memory of the dead are all fallen into Lethe; and nothing but joy left in me, sinc my hopes are confirm'd in your lap. And hang

Poetry: I study profit now. Therefore, look you, Madam, here is a draught of my marriage-instrument to your lap.

Eph.

His instrument being drawn, I must put up my pipe and be gone.

Ex.

VVhi.

And here is another draught for sweet Master Nehemiah, for my Neece Blithes Joincture.

Neh.

O but she sayes she will not have me.

VVhi.

When did she say so?

Neh.

Now, now, she spat the word out of her mouth. And I say, if she ha' not me, you shall whine both your eyes out before you have my mother; and see ne're the worse, I warrant you.

Neh.

A crosse marriage, or no marriage, I say still.

La.

I say so too, sonne, Sweet boy, be content.

Whi. Blithe.

You spoke well of him behinde his back: and made me think you lov'd him, and would marry him.

Bli.

Behinde his back, I may do much to please you. But when I look upon him, he turnes my stomack worse then a fool made of soure wilk.

La.

Marry Gip, Mrs Queasie, my sonne's as sweet as you, I hope, and as wise as you. And suck't as sweet milk as ever the good Cow your mother gave.

Bli.

Ha, ha, ha.

Whi.

Patience, good Madam.

Eph.

I hope the crosse marriage is crost. This is untoward wooing.

La.

Uds so! do you flirt out your unsavoury com∣parisons upon my sonne?

Bli.

Flirt not you at me, Madam, lest I flirt your milk-sop under the snotty nose here.

Neh.

Yes, and I have a sword, and you ha' got ne're a one.

La.

You wo' not will you, ha! Do you flie at him, ha!

Whi.

Fear not, good Madam.

La.

Ephraim, save my boy.

Bli.

Ha, ha, ha.—

Whi

She shall not hurt him. Leave her to me, good Madam.

La.

I ever fear'd he was not long-liv'd he was so witty. And now I feare, she will be the death of him. I would not he should marry her for a million.

Neh

Say not so, mother. I love her better and better still.

I never had play-fellow i my life, but we fell out and in agen.

And I must and will marry her, I take my death on't a∣forehand.

La.

O me! he is bewitch't to her.

Whi.

Leave all to me, dear Madam.

La.

As I am to you, I think, Sir Swithin.

Whi.

Let me alone with her: I'le win her, and he shall wear her▪ feare not. As •• was saying, Madam, she speaks as well of him behinde his back, as your owne heart can wish. And told me she was content to mar∣ry him.

La.

Behinde his back? did she so?

Whi.

Yes truly, Madam.

Neh.

Loe you there, mother, Let her marry me behind my back then: And when we are marri'd, I'le make her stick to't before my face, I warrant you; or if she will make back-play. I'le play at nothing but back∣gammons with her.

La.

Well, Heaven blesse thee, thou art but too good for her.

Whi.

Speak gently, Neece, I charge you.

Bli

Madam, I hope your Ladiship shall finde me too good for him. If e're he has me.

La.

Ha! say you so?

Whi.

She meanes in well-doing, Madam.

La.

Nay then, I thank you Mrs. Blithe. Assuring you that you shall be no way so good to him, but I will be as good to you.

Neh.

Agreed again of all hands. But look how she turnes and keeps cut like my Sparrow. She will be my back Sweet-heart still I see, and love me behind.

Whi.

She is yet raw, and has not much been abroad to see the manners of the time. In which my melan∣choly has been her main hinderance. But Madam, there is now that is worth all our sight and observation; A new Academy, where they say, the newest and most courtly carriage and behaviour is taught and pra∣ctised both for young Gentlemen and women. Have you not heard on t?

La.

Yes Sir Swithin; and that the French tongue is taught there with great alacrity; and my sonne is wish't thither, but soft I warrant you.

Whi.

But let him see it: at least in our company it will embolden him; I mean to carry my Neece thither. I have been a Lover of Arts and Exercises; and know somewhat since my youth. Pray let us spend one houre of this afternoon there.

La.

Pardon me good sir Swithin.

Neh.

But he shall not mother if you love me: for I mean to perfect my dancing there; and to learn French there; For I mean when I am married to travel into France. But I will first be perfect in the tongue I shall learne it the sooner when I am there you know. Pray let us go to th' Acomedy, what dee call it?

Whi.

The Academy.

La.

Say you so sonne? then come sir Swithin. Come Mrs. Blithe, we will all go.

Bli.

I'le wait upon you, though my heart sayes no.

Ex.

Scoen. 2.

Enter Joyce, Gabriella.

Joy.

O mine own heart! how near were we both fallen Into the Gulf of Ruine?

Gab.

Thanks for our delivery! We were upon the brink of main destruction.

Joy.

Was ever such a Fr••end as this mine Vncle? Pretending us his children too, and call'd us daugh∣ters To those he bargain'd with to se••l our Maide head?

Gab.

'Twas a most damnable practise sie upon him.

Joy.

And had the Monsieurs been as capable Of our Virginities, as he was of. Their moneys, how had we then resisted.

Gab.

By Venus (mine own heart) my Gentleman Came up so close to me, that if my voice Had not been stronger then mine armes (O me! I tremble fon it yet) I had been vanquish't,

Joy.

But did you note the vertue of the Gentle∣men? When they were sensible of our feares and tears, How gently they desisted and with what humanity, When they perceiv'd how we had heen betrayd, They pitied our conditions; and woo'd homditly Our loves in way of marriage. Provided that Our births and fortunes might no way disparage Theirs, being free and generous

Gab.

I confesse I love 'hem both so well, that if they prove (As they pretend they are not) our inferiours In blood and worth, I would take either of'em.

Joy.

Troth (mine own heart) 'tis just the same with me.

I care not which I have. And mark a sympathy, How equally all our ••ffections strike. We both love them, they both love us alike. But peace. Cash, though he has done us good service, Must not know all. How goes it within Cash?

Enter Cash.

Cash.

And why Cash pray. Ha' not you chang'd your names From Joyce and Gabriella to Jane and Frances. And is not your Uncle Strigood now become Your father, by the name of Mr. Lightfoot The nimble dancing Master? And must I still Carry the name of Cash? and having lost My nature too, in having no cash left? (Pox o'the dice) call me Mr. Outlash.

Joy.

My father will fetch you home with an Inlash, One o'these dayes.

Cash.

But after you, faire Mistris, Now to your question for the squares within.

Joy.

I with the Frenchmen, and my Uncle Stri∣good.

Cash.

Your father Lightfoot, you forget agen. There's a drawn match made: For the Monsieurs Have ta'ne their money again: And you have still Your Maidenheads, I hope. But to have heard The coi••e they kept, the wrangle, and the stir; And how the young Blades put the old one to't; Would ha perplext you more then keeping of Your Maidenheads from men you love.

Gab.

You cannot tell that.

Cash.

O how the old man chafes that you would offer To make your mone to ••hem to move their pity, And not to make his bargain good; and then

How they put home his basenesse to him; to make sale Of his own blood and honour in his children. (They knew they said some parents in their coun∣trey, After their children were turn'd whores, would share To live upon the profits, but to sell Their soules before they were damned, fie; fie, fie, fie). Till he confest indeed you were none of his. But children of some friends of his deceast, Left to his care sor breeding; which he had Plenteously given, and thought it might seem reason∣able To raise his money out of you agen.

Joy.

What an old devil is this?

Cash.

Baser and baser still. The Monsieurs cri'd, and swore if they could sinde Your Parents were Gentle and vertuous, Being their first Loves, they would marry you, To free you from this miserable thraldome.

Gab.

Brave honest Gentlemen.

Gab.

Be advis'd though, Mistresse.

Joy.

I hope I shall.

Cash.

Beware of Travellers, many passe abroad For gallant fellowes that have run their countrey, For picking pockets.

Joy.

And some you know at home For cozening their Masters.

Cash.

You are pleas'd. But you have known my love; for Gabriella Let'hem share her betwixt 'hem. You and I Made one, may soon make peace with the old man At home.

Joy.

O Rogue! I'le tell you more anon Cash.

Enter Strigood, Pap. Galliard.

Stri.

Come Gentlemen, Monsieur Papillion. And Monsieur Galliard, all friends, all friends.

Pap.

A greed, agreed, sir.

Gall.

And agree for me. Agree poor tout.

Stri.

Chear up your faces Girles. 'Twas but my trial of your chastity. And since you have stood firme, I am proud of you. Trust me, 'twas but to try you.

Gall.

Wee wee All, but for try. Trimount, tri∣mount. No more, but all for try: no man can tinck, But'twas too very moshe to take two hundred Crowns for two pusillages, no, no was but For try: but and she had not squeek and scrash too Like to do leetel chat, I had Trimount One, two, tree, five time, for all your try.

Stri.

VVhat's past let be forgot. According to Agreement, Gentlemen, y'are now content To joyne with us in Academick fellowship, And for your pastime professe Art and Science, As we do for our profit: y'are expert, I finde; and shall winne wonder of our Nation, To your own much delight out of their follies.

Cash.

And then for Gamesters, Gentlemen. If you••ll play. I'le bring ye those shall venture money enough.

Pap.

VVe are planted to our wish.

Gall.

All very good. All very good; but I would see thee first. VVhat Ladies will come here to practise complement.

Stri.

You are still hot upon the female Monsieur Galliard Monsieur Papillion here flies over ••hem.

Enter Hannah.

Han.

Ha, ha, ha, what will this world come to?

Stri.

Landlady, the newes?

Han.

The old will to't. As well as the young I see.

Stri.

To what Landlady?

He takes her aside. And that while the young men and maids court and confer at tother side.

Han.

To fashion following; A Reverend Lady Of fifty five; and a Knight of threescore And upwards, are come hither to learn fashion.

Stri.

Do you know their names?

Han.

Yes, yes: and them; 'tis that Begets my wonder. 'Tis the Lady Nestlecock, and one Sir Swithin VVhimlby.

Stri.

VVit be merciful unto us.

Enter Hannah, Cash.

Han.

The Ladies man's without: who came to know if the house were ready to entertain 'hem; do you know 'em Mr. Lightfoot?

Stri.

I have heard o'th' Lady. Cash, see if it be E∣phraim. He cannot know thee. Let him not away,

[He looks out.

By any meanes, his not return to them may keep 'hem back.

Cash.

'Tis he, I see him hither.

Stri.

Landlady, is your husband come from duck∣ing.

Han.

Yes, overjoy'd with the good sport he has had. He'll play th' good fellow then. Entreat him Cash.

To help thee, put a cup or two upon That fellow; and hear••st me, spice his cup, I mean, grave Ephraims cup with this same powder, 'Twill lay him asleep, and quickly.

Cash.

I know the trick on't.

Ex.

Stri.

And Landlady, when the Knight and Lady come, Say we are ready for 'em.

Han.

That I shall sir.

Pap.

'Tis then an absolute contract. I am yours.

Joy.

And I am yours as firme as faith can binde.

Gall.

To which we are de witnesse. Be so for us, I am her husband, And she is my wife, Speak you.

Gab.

'Fore Heaven, I do acknowledge it, But sir, the Church must be observ'd,

Gall.

For that. We'll send for one Minister that shall marry Us all at once. One kisse till then shall serve.

[Kisse.

Stri.

'Tis well done Monsieurs, I no sooner turn My back, but you are on the Damosels lips.

Gall.

A leetel in de honest way will serve, But he shall know no-ting.

Stri.

On with your Masques-Maids, And take especial heed you blush not through 'hem. For here are some at hand will put us to't.

Joy.

'Tis not my father, nor my Lady Aunt?

Stri.

I cannot promise you. Be bold and safe. Beare it out bravely, or our school breaks up Immediately: and we are broke forever, Besides, there is no startiug.

Gab.

That's enough To make a coward fight, and mine own heart; We must stand stoutly to't, we lose our loves else.

Joy.

Well, I am arm'd.

Gab.

And I.

Stri.

Fall into complement.

Masques on.

Enter Whimlby, Lady, Neh. Blithe.

La.

I muse we lost my man thus.

Neh.

By your leave, sir. Are you the Regent of this Academy?

Stri.

I am sir.

Whim.

And are those of your Assistants.

Stri.

Yes sir, and all Professors of Court-discipline, By the most accurate, yet more familiar Rules, then have ever yet been taught by any, For quick instruction both of young and old.

Whim.

You promise very fairly. For us old ones, We know and could have done things in our youth, Which still we have a minde to: but we leave The practice to our young ones: Here's a paire Would faine be at it. We'll pay their admittance.

La.

But I'd be glad to see first by your leave, Some probability of what they shall learn.

Stri.

And reason good, good Madam. Pray observe there.

Pap.

Fair star of courtship, my unworthy humble self, a Profest servant to the integrity of beauty, makes this

Clear testimony of your merits, that every eye that sees you,

Owes you his heart for tribute, and that unjustly your beholders live, that live not in your service.

Neh.

Mother f'sooth, is not this French?

La.

Peace ch••lde. Hear more on't.

Joy.

Noble sir, you are so exactly deserving in the opinion of all righteous judgements, that the least syl∣lable of your faire testimony, is able to re-edifie the ru∣ines of a decayed commendation.

Whim.

The best that ever I heard, since I woo'd my Grissel.

Stri,

Was not that a sweet bout, sir?

Whim.

Yes, yes, it puts me in minde of some sweet bouts I had with one before I married her.

Stri.

••as he married my Sister troe?

Pap.

I am forc't to give you over, Madam, you have such a preventing and preoccupying wit in all things.

Neh.

That goes like English Mrs. Blithe. I could learn some of that me thinks.

Bli.

Best tell your mother so; she may rejoyce at it.

Stri.

There, Lady, was a taste of sweet comple∣ment between persons equally affected. May it please you now to let your sonne passe upon this demosel. Who being to her a stranger, and raw (as I imagine) in courtship, shall meet with reprehension, that may be for his instruction.

La.

Do Neh. speak to her.

Whim.

Put of your hat and say—.

Neh.

What! and her masque on?

La.

That was well-said. Why are they mask'd, I pray sir?

Stri.

We are commanded it by the policy of wise authority; for feare young heires might fall in love with 'em, and sink their fortunes.

La.

You have well satisfied me.

Neh.

What should I say to one I never saw.

Whim.

When I was young and bold, I would have said, Lady, you are most auspiciously encountred. And speak it boldly.

Neh.

Lady, you are most suspiciously accoutred, I speak it boldly.

Whim.

Auspiciously encountred man.

Neh.

Auspicously encountred woman, I say.

Gab.

I commiserate your encounter. 'Tis a most hungry, verminous, impoverish't word sir. It seems you are a stranger by't, to the Innovation of courtship.

Neh.

What should I say to that now?

La.

He's a weak scholar forsooth, and would be glad to learn.

Gab.

The acknowledgement of his weaknesse is the first greece of gradation to perfection, and his glad∣nesse the scaling-ladder of resolution.

Neh.

Pray f'sooth, can you teach me a complement to offer you sugar-plums, and eat 'hem my selfe: to save my manners and my plums too?

La.

What a wag it is?

Gab.

What walking dunghil is this? made of the dust swept from the house of ignorance.

La.

What, what! how now, ha? you are a Flapse to terme my sonne so, ha!

Stri.

O good Madam. This is but school play.

La.

I'le put her by her school-tricks and no only ••nmask, but unskin her face too, and she come over my heire apparent with such Billingsgate Comple∣ments.

Pap.

Sweet Madam, no harm was meant, and no∣thing said in earnest: 'Twas meerly but school pra∣ctice, but to shew the sweet young Gentleman how he might be subject to the scorne of Court, before he be seen in Complement.

La.

Say you so?

Pap.

'Twas told your Ladiship before, that by repre∣hension he might finde instructiou.

Whim.

Right Madam; For no Fencer learnes his Science before he receive some hits and knocks too: Oh, I have had many.

La.

Nay, I am satisfied, and pray, that my rash er∣rour may prove pardonable Lady

Gab.

Rather let me implore your mercy, Ma∣dam—.

Stri.

'Tis well, 'tis well Lets hear an Interchange or two now, of complemental acknowledgement of

courtesies past betwixt Ladies, for the edification of ••his faire one, who seems not yet to have ta'ne notice of us, but looks o' the ground still.

Bli.

'Tis not to finde a fescue, sir, among the Rushes.

To pick out a lesson in your crisse-crosse-row of comple∣ment.

Stri.

Sharp and sudden. She has a good wit I see.

Whim.

Ob erve, good Blithe, observe.

Gab.

Can your poor servant expresse acknowledge∣ment enough, Lady, for favonrs so incessantly heap't upon her, besides the accumulation of many secret be∣nefits?

Joy.

I cannot but admire, Madam, your noble and illustrious Gratitude, that can give beauty to benefits of so low a birth and condition.

Whim.

O my Grissel comes to my minde agen, she was the gratefullest woman.

Gab.

If such favours, Madam, should passe under an humble name, Honour would grow idle, and a thankful Nature beguil'd of her emploiment.

Joy.

You'••l make my zeale hereafter, too bashful to serve your most curious acknowledgement.

Bli.

Curious acknowledgement! There was a thrid drawn out.

Gab.

I am hound by many kindnesses, Madam, to ce∣lebrate the faire memory of you; as the trouble of your Coach twice in one day, besides those inestimable Jewels, the Monkey and Dormouse your Ladiship sent me.

Neh.

I would you could lend me a sight of 'hem for∣sooth, I love such things devoutly.

Joy.

You do but open a privie door to my thankful temembrance, Madam, for the bounty of your Squirrel and Paraquitoe.

Bli.

Fagh, shut that privie-door.

Neh.

And shut in the Squirrel and the Paraquitoe to be stifled, shall she? O that I could see hem!

Stri.

Now Madam, and Sir Knight, Is not this neat and handsom?

Whim.

Truly, truly, 'tis most admirable pretty.

Stri.

Nay, if you heard our Lectures, saw our Daunces. Relish't our Musick and harmonious voices, Observ'd our Rules for fashion and attire, Our many exact postures and dimensions, Fit to be us'd by way of Salutation, Of courtesie, of honour, of obeisance, To all degrees of man or womankind, From the low bent of vassalage, to the head Of towring Majesty, you should admire.

La.

But do you reade and teach all these to your scholars?

Stri.

Stand forth, Monfieur Galliard. Stay w'are interrupted.

Enter Eras. Val. Rachel.

Up maids, and quickly; or 'tis not your Masques Can keep you undiscover'd. Go, be ready, With Musick and your voices, when I call to yee.

Ex. Joy. Gab.

La.

Why are we interrupted? pray proceed.

Neh.

Mother, it is my naughty Aunt, so 'tis▪

La.

No matter, sonne, we'll take no notice of her.

I wonder at the boldnesse of the drudge though.

Ra.

I can turne taile too, as well as the great La∣dy. Hab.

Val.

And do so, Mystresse, give her a broad∣side.

Well-said, we'll make our partie good, I warrant you.

Er.

Sir, we have heard your Fame; and love your Arts. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 pray that our ambition be excus'd, Which drew on our Intrusion.

Stri.

To me and to the place you are all welcom.

Val.

And so to all I hope, chiefly to you, Good Madam Dowager, hoping in good time I may get good, by doing much good upon you How likes your L••p••my complement.

La.

Do you bring your rude companions to affront me? Are you so hot? you stir up your cinders before they be cak't.

Val.

Still in the Kitchin-dialect.

Ra.

No ruder then your self, hah.

Val.

I brought her, Madam,

〈◊〉〈◊〉 advance my suit to you.

La.

Will you see me abus'd

••ir 〈◊〉〈◊〉, look to your Neece, the t'other talks to her.

Whi.

Kinde merry Gentlemen, Madam, when I was young I would have done the like. Their com∣ing hither, was as ours was to note th' instructi∣ons

That are taught here. Pray sir proceed. On with your exercise, that we may all be edified.

Stri.

We shall do so, sir.

Val.

But sir, your Gentlewomen,

That past upon our entrance where are they?

〈◊〉〈◊〉

Sir, they were call'd in haste to private pra∣ctice

With some great Ladies in an upper room.

Val.

Umh—private practice. Well, I shall know all.

Stri.

And they being absent, we shall for the pre∣sent

Only deliver by these Gentlemen, ••••me heads of Sciences.

A Song, a Daunce, and then Entreat you take a taste of a collation. And all most fairly welcome.

Speak M••nsieur Galli∣ard,

The heads of our chief Arts. Your silence, pray you.

Gal.

The first is the due carriage of the body, The proper motion of the head, hand, leg, To every several degree of person, From the Peasant unto the Potentate; To your ••nferiours how and when to use the Nod, The Hum, the Ha, the Frown, the Smile, Upon the fit occassion; and to your equals, The exactest, newest, and familiar motions Of eye, of hand, of knee, of arme and shoulder, That are in Garbe, in Congee, Crindge, or Shrug, In common Courtesie, or Complement, Lastly, for your Addresses to Superiours. The Honours, Reverence, or Obeysances, Proper unto the quality or estate Of person whatsoever. And so much For carriage and behaviour. In the next place You shall have rules for the more graceful wearing Of your Apparel, with the natural Reasons, Why some mans hat does better in his hand Then on his head, and why his coat hangs neater Upon his elbow, then upon his back, As also Reasons for Tunes bringing up. And marriages, together of the fashions Of man and woman, how his Caller, and her Black-bag, came on together; how his pocket-comb To spru••e his Perrule, and her Girdle-glasse, To order her black pashes, came together; How his walking in the streets without a cloak And her, without a man came up together, Of these, and of a hundred more the like. We shall demonstrate reasons and instructions.

Shall render you most graceful in each fashion. The next are skills in instruments, song and dancing

Stri.

Enough, those shall be made familiar to you By voice and action instantly. A Song there.

SONG.

Whim.

Admirable pretty still.

Er.

Are these your Gentlewomens voices, sir?

Stri.

They are

Val.

What do you keep 'hem up like Nuns, To sing and not be seen?

Stri.

Not alwayes sir. But may it please yee Gentlemen and Ladies, Now to observe the practice of our feet In active dancing.

Neh.

That came I to learn, And to speak French, do you think sir, you can bring My mouth to handle the French tongue handsomly.

La.

He's apt to learn, sir, I can tell you that.

Gal.

Yes. I shall bring his Mout to it. But his Mont is yet a leetel too wide. But he shall have some of de wa∣ter datde woman use for anoderting, to bring it bet∣ter together, and he shall speak like de Fransh Lady.

Neh.

Pray sir, if you can like the Ladies daughter of Paris properlie.

Er.

Now Val. thou knowest the way.

Val.

I wonder sir, 'Mongst all your Arts and Sci∣ences You have so little judgement in a face, Does his mouth appear wide to you? what false glasse Are your eyes made of?

Gab.

What you mean?

Er.

Nay, friend.

Stri.

Pray sir take no offence. Here was none meant.

Val.

Slander is no offence then. He has injur'd, By breathing an aspersion on that face, The life of beauty, and the soule of sweetnesse. Wide mouth Y—.

Gal.

Begar Monsieur, you shall no point out mouth, No, nor out-face the Frensh man with your great Bull-beef, and Mustard English looks.

Er.

Nay, gentle Val. forbear.

Val.

I'le stop. This mouth that knowingly sayes he dares except Against a tittle of his face or person. But as he is an ignorant stranger, and I must respect the company. I forbear.

La.

However sir, I can but thank your love in 't.

Er.

Now it works in her.

Val.

Pardon my plainnesse, Madam. I never was so ta'ne with Masculine beauty. And till I winne a woman that is like him, Or has been like him, I can but languish.

La.

They told me I was like him, when I was younger.

[Aside.

And let me tell you y' are a comely Gentleman. And be you but as honest as y' are handsom, you de∣serve well.

Val.

Ʋmh, 'tis a hard matter to bring those ends to∣gether.

Neh.

Mother f'sooth. Here's a man now for you to make my father! Beyond the Knight or Ephraim!

La.

Were I free from the old Knight, I could look well upon him.

Ra.

Come servant, come away.

Val.

By no meanes, Mystresse, I do but sooth her up to jeare her for vou. If you out-stay her not, you lose your honour. She'll brag she has out-look't you. If you start.

Ra.

Nay, and she go to that, I hope I can, Look as ill favouredly as her selfe, or a better Woman then she, and stay in spight of her, hah.

Val.

'Tis well done, Mystris, Madam shall I tell you. But I would pray you not to storme, but laugh at it. She sayes you are no match for me.

La.

Ha, ha, ha.

Val.

And knowing I aim at none but some great wi∣dow. Tells me she knows her husband's but short-liv'd. I fear she means to break his heart.

La.

Say you so?

Val.

No words, good Madam.

Whim.

••et more whispering. Pray Madam let us go. Neece come away, For I fear Madam, as you wisely doubted, This is no companie for us.

La.

Sir, I hope. I am not yet so tied, but I may safelie Use my own ••reedom, I'le go when I please.

Whim.

O Grissel, Grissel, when would'st thou have said so?

Bli.

Loves power, I hope, hath wonne on destinie, T' appoint this day for my delivery.

Er.

Nay, good Sir Swithin,—Ladies—we have yet Dauncing to come, and a Collation promis'd.

Enter Camelion.

Stri.

Yes Gallants, now w' are readie, we but stayed for this fourth man here.

Val.

O Camelion. Where is your wife? I hope your je lousie.

Locks her not up.

Cam.

Pish Honi soit. I hate it. No, she has been preparing of a banquet, Which now is ready for you, worthy Mr. Lightfoot, And your faire company; jealousie I defie The ba••e horne A gue, Mr. Askal I.

La.

What does he call you? Rascal?

Val.

Askal Madam. My name is Askal. But the R in Master Runs in••o't so, that sometimes it sounds doubtful. I must be Knighted, Euphoniae gratia. Sir Valentine Askal will come fairly off.

Cam.

Now note me Mr. Askal, and tell me if ever jealous man came so lightly off.

Enter Hannah.

Daunce.

Han.

Sir, your collation stayes.

Stri.

'Tis well, Gallants and Ladies Wilt please you enter.

Omn.

Agreed, agreed, of all sides.

Ex. Omn.