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. 1. Scene. 1.

Arthur. Dionysia.

Ar.

DEar Sister, bear with me.

Di.

I may not, brother. What! suffer you to pine, and peak away In your unnatural melancholy fits; Which have already turn'd your purer blood Into a toad-pool dye. I am asham'd (Upon my life) almost to call you brother But nature has her swing in me. I must. Therefore I crave you (as you are my brother) To shake this dull and muddy humor off, By visiting the streets, and quit your chamber, Which is a sickness to you.

Ar.

O my sister!

Di.

I can say, O my brother too, to shew you How it becomes you. I have the same cause Equally with your self, to spend my life In sollitary mourning; and would do it, Could it make good our loss: My honor'd Father!

A tear has scap'd me there: But that's by th'by, And more of anger 'gainst his enemy, And his for ever curs'd posterity, That rob'd us of a Father, then of sorrow For what we know is unrecoverable. But to sit grieving over his Memory In a resolved silence, as you do; Killing your own blood while a vein holds any Proceeding from the flesh, that drew out his, Is meerly idle. Mingle then your grief With thought of brave revenge: And do it not In private Meditation in your Chamber; But bear it out till it proceed to Action.

Ar.

By powring blood on blood?

Di.

By quenching fire Of high revenge, with base unmanly blood; By stopping of our Fathers cureless wounds (Which still bleed fresh in our vex'd memories) With the proud flesh of him that butcher'd ours.

Ar.

We know he lives not that has slain our Father: Or, if he lives, tis where I cannot reach him: He nere saw English harbour since his sword Unfortunately had the better of my father.

Di.

But his son lives.

Ar.

Good sister cool thy passion With reasonable means

Di.

O where's the spirit That my slain father had. Have you no part of't? Must I now play the Man, whilst you inherit Onely my Mothers puling disposition?

Ar.

I know thy drift, good sister Dionisia, Is not unto revenge, or blood; but to stir up Some motion in me, to prevent the danger A sad retiredness may bring upon me.

Di.

Bee't as you think it, so you will abroad; And make the house no longer dark with sighing.

Ent. Rafe

Now Sir the newes with you?

Ra.

Newes worth your hearing, Meerly to laugh at: Good for nothing else.

Di.

Is the old Ruffian tane, and hang'd, that slew My Father; or his son Brain-battered; or His Daughter made a prostitute to shame?

Ar.

How merciless are your wishes!

Ra.

Lady, no. But as I was hankring at an ordinary, In quest of a new Master (for this, here, Will never last to a new livory 'Less he were merrier) I heard the bravest noise Of Laughter at a wicked accident Of Marriage, that was chopt up this Morning.

Di.

What marriage? Quickly.

Ra.

Who do you think Has married fair Mistris Millicent?

Di.

Theophilus (I can name him, though his father Was fatal unto mine) was sure to her.

Ra.

Yes, but without a Priest. She has slipt his hold, And is made fast enough unto another, For which fine Mr. The. so whines and chafes, And hangs the head! More then he would do For's father, were he hanged, as you did wish For laughing newes eene now. Ther's sport for you.

Di.

It does me good to hear of any cross That may torment their family. I wish Joy to the man that did beguile him of her What ere he be.

Ar.

But who has married her?

Ra.

Thence springs the jest. Old Mr. Quicksands, Sir, The bottomless devourer of young Gentlemen; He that has liv'd, till past three-score, a batcheler, By three-score i'the hundred; he that has Undone by Mortgages and under-buyings So many Gentlemen, that they all despair'd

Of means to be reveng'd.

Ar.

But where's your Jest?

Ra.

The Jest is, that they now have found that means (As they suppose) by making of him Cuckold. They are laying their heads together in every corner, Contriving of his horns, and drinking healths To the success. And there were sport for you now, If you were any body.

Ar.

I'le abroad however.

Di.

That's nobly said. Take courage with you Brother.

Ar.

And yet me thinks I know not how to look The wide world in the face, thus on the sudden I would fain get abroad, yet be unknown.

Ra.

For that Sir (look you) I have here, by chance, A false beard which I borrowed, with a purpose To ha' worn't and put a jest upon your sadness.

Ar.

Does it do well with me?

Ar. puts on the beard.

Ra.

You'l never have One of your own so good: you look like Hector.

Ar.

Go fetch my sword and follow me.

Di.

Be sure you carry a strict eye o're his actions, And bring me a true account.

Ra.

I warrant you Mistriss.

Di.

Do, and I'le love thee everlastingly. Why, now you are my brother.

Ar.

Farewel Sister.

Exit. Ar. Ra.

Di.

I hope he has some stratagem a foot In our revenge to make his honour good: It is not grief can quit a fathers blood.

Exit.

ACT 1. SCENE 2.

Nathaniel. Phillis.

Nat.

Prithee be and answered, and hang off o'me, I ha' no more to say to you in the way

You wot on Phillis.

Phi.

Nor do I seek to you In that way which you wot on, wanton Sir, But to be honest, and to marry me. You have done too much the tother way already.

Nat.

I wish you were more thankful, Mrs. Phillis, To one has taught you a trade to live upon: You are not th'first by twenty I have taught it That thrive well i'the world.

Phi.

There are so many Such teachers in the world; and so few Reformers, that the world is grown so full Of female frailties, the poor Harlotries Can scarce already live by one another, And yet you would have me thrust in among'em.

Nat.

I do not urge you. Take what course you please, But look not after me: I am not mark'd For Matrimony, I thank my stars.

Phi.

Should I run evil courses, you are the cause; And may in time, curse your own act in it: You'l find th'undoing of an honest Maid Your heaviest sin upon your bed of sickness; T will cost your soul the deepest groan it fetches; And in that hope I leave you.

Exit.

Nat.

Farewel wag-tail. Marry thee quoth a! That's wise work indeed! If we should marry every Wench we lie with, 'T were after six a week with some of us. (Marry love forbid) when two is enough to hang one.

Vin.

Nat, we have sought diligently, for fear

Enter Vin∣cent and Edmond.

The news that is abroad should flie before us.

Nat.

What news? What flying fame do you labour with?

Ed.

News that makes all the Gallants i'the Town Fly out o'their little wits: They are so eager, Upon the joy. I mean such youthful Gallants As have, or sold, or mortgag'd; or been cheated

By the grave patron of Arch-cosonage, Whose sad misfortune we are come to sing: Shall I need to name him to thee?

Nat.

Who, the old Rascal Quicksands? speak good Vince, What! has he hangd himself? speak quickly prithe.

Ʋin.

Worse, worse by half man. Durst thou hear a news Whose mirth will hazzard cracking of a rib?

Nat.

I, and't be two. Here's hoopes enough besides To hold my drink in. Pray thee speak; what mischief Is come upon him.

Ed.

I pray thee guess again.

Nat.

Has somebody over-reach'd him in his way Of damnable extortion; and he cut his throat, Or swallowed poison?

Ʋin.

Ten times worse then that too.

Nat.

Is he then hoisted into the Star-Chamber For his notorious practises? or into The high Commission for his blacker arts?

Ed.

Worse then all this.

Nat.

Pax, keep it to your self then, If you can think it be too good for me. Why did you set me a longing? you cry worse And ten times worse; and know as well as I, The worse it is to him, the better wel-come Ever to me: And yet you tell me nothing.

Ʋin.

He has married a young wife.

Nat.

Has he Cadzooks?

Ed.

We bring you no comfort, we.

Nat.

Nere go fine sport, Ha, ha, ha. What is she? Would he had my wench, was here e••ne now, What is she he has married? quickly prithe.

Ʋin.

One much too good for him.

Ed.

The beauteous Millicent. Driven by the tempest of her Uncles will, Is like a pinnace forc'd against the Rock.

Nat.

But he will never split her, that's the b••st on't.

I hope she'le break his heart first. Gentlemen, I thank you for your news; and know what I Will presently go do.

Vin.

Pray stay a little.

Ed.

And take us with you. What will you go do?

Nat.

That which we can all at once, Do not hold me.

Vin.

We came to cast a plot w'ye.

Nat.

Cast a pudding—How long ha'they been mar∣ried?

Ed.

But this morning.

Nat.

You'l ha'me come too late. Ne're go 'tis a shame he was not Cuckolded 'Fore Dinner.

Vin.

That had been a fine first course At a wedding feast indeed. A little patience.

Nat.

Pray let me take my course 'fore supper yet.

Ed.

The business 'longs to us as much as you, He has wrong'd us all alike. He has cozened us As much as you.

Nat.

He has made me so poor That my poor whore eene now claim'd marriage of me.

Vin.

The case is ours. His wrongs are common to us, So shall his wife be, can we purchase her: Did we bring you the news for you to run And prevent us do you think?

Nat.

Pardon my zeal good Gentlemen; which onely Considered but the fitness of the Act, And that 'tis more then time 'twere done ifaith.

Enter The∣ophilus & Arnold.

Ed.

And see here comes a fourth man that has lost More on her part, then we upon the Bridegrooms.

Vin.

He's very sowre and sad. 'Tis crept upon him By this untoward accident.

Nat.

'Twould anger any man to be nos'd of such a match; But Ile remove his sorrow— Gentle Theophilus, you are well met, Your sorrow is familiar with us all In the large loss of your betrothed love;

But, sir, be comforted: you have our pitty And our revenge to ease you. Tis decreed Her husband shall be instantly a Cuckold.

The.

Most sinfully thou lyest; and all that give Breath to that foul opinion.

Draw and fight.

Nat.

What do you mean.

The.

Give me that thought from you; nay, from you all, Or I will rip you for't.

Nat:

Zooks what mean you.

Ʋin.

Hold, Sir, forbear.

The.

Ile have that thought out first.

Nat.

I say he does deserve to be a Cuckold; Let him be what he will, a pox upon him.

Ed. Ʋin.

So we say all.

The.

What's that to ill in her? I stand upon that point. Mans evil merit's No warrant for a womans dishonesty. I say had shee a man forty degrees Beneath his undeservings, twere more possible For him to deceive her with a good Life, Then shee him with a wicked.

Nat.

I say so too. But then I say again, The more's the pitty.

The.

Do and undoe.

He hurts him.

Nat.

Zookes now your bitch has bit me, I say he will be one, he shall be one; Il'e make him one my self.

Ent. Ar. in his fals beard he sides with Theoph. Ext. Na••. Vin. Ed.

Ed. Ʋin.

And weell both help him.

Arn.

Why here's trim stuff. Help ho, Murder, Murder.

Art.

This is oppression gentlemen; an unmanly one.

Nat.

What devils this rais'd? fall off, tis an ill busi∣ness.

Arn.

Have you no hurt Sir.

The.

No I'm confident.

Arn.

By your favour, I will see.

Arnold searche s Theoph.

Art.

What fortune's this, I fought 'gainst friends to save mine enemy,

But I hope neither know me. I desire To rest hid to my friends for my offence to them, And to mine enemy, till I make him dearer.

Exit.

The.

I told thee there was ••one.

Arn.

I'm glad it proves so.

The.

But wher's the Gentleman?

Arn.

Do you not know him sir?

The.

Not I, tis the first time that ere I saw him; To my remembrance; yet he fought for me. Beshrew thy idler care that made me lose him, What should he be that so could fight for me, Yet care not for my company? beshrew thy heart. Why should he use me thus? I shall be sick to think on't. I'm made beholding now to I know not whom; And I'm the worst to sue or seek to a man—

Arn.

That scurvy, between proud and bashful quality, You are famous for, as tother toy that haunts you.

The.

What's that?

Arn.

Why, to be deadly angry, sir, On least occasion, and friends as quickly. Hot and cold in a breath: you are angry now With him that fought for you I warrant you.

The.

In troth I am, and friends with them I fought with; He us'd me peevishly to leave me so, Ere I could thank him.

Arn.

So tis that I told you.

The.

But did you mark th'humanity of my Gentlemen, Cause shee's dispos'd by her self willed uncle On that unworthy Quick sands (Devil take him) They thought twould sound like musick in my ears To hear her disgrace sung; when her fair honour Is all I have to love, now shee's took from me: And that they'd go about to rob me of. Heaven grant me patience. O my slaughter'd father! I am thy son, and know by thy infirmity.

Arn.

Me thinks, Sir, his example should allay you:

Impatience was his ruine.

The.

Push, we see Thieves daily hang'd for Robberies; yet some Go on still in the practice! What a fine Is set upon the head of foul Adultery, And yet our neighbours Wives can hardly scape us! There's Lawes against extortion, and sad penalties Set upon Bribes, Yet great mens hands ha'their fore-fathers itch! Prisons are fill'd with Banckrupts; yet we see How cra••ty Merchants often wrong their credits, And Lond••ners flie to live at Amsterdam! Nothing can banish Nature: That's the Moral.

Arn.

It was indeed your Fathers known infirmity, And ever incident to the noblest Natures. But of your Father, is there yet no hope Of better news?

The.

No, certainly he's slain.

Arn.

I have not heard a story of more wonder; That two such men, of such estates and years, Having liv'd alwayes friends and neighbours nearly, Should at the last fall out so mortally On a poor cast at bowles! Where wast they sought?

The.

It is uncertain. All we heard of'em Was, they rode sorth ('tis now a whole year past) Singly to end their quarrel: But to what Part of the kingdom, or the world they took, We can by no inquiry find or hear Of either of them. Sure they crost the Seas, And both are slain.

Arn.

You speak poor comfort Sir.

The.

I speak as my heart finds. She's gone for ever too; Her hearts desire be with her.

Arn.

Now he's there again.

The.

Then my poor Sisters sickness; that torments me, Never in health since our dear Father left us.

Arn.

And now there.

The.

How shall I do to see these men again? I shall not be at rest till I be friends with'em.

Arn.

Why here's the noble nature still. 'Twil shew it self.

The.

I'le seek'em out. Nathaniel alwayes lov'd me.

Exit.

Arn.

Here's an unsettled humor. In these fits Hel'e nere be mad, nor ever well in's wits.

Exit.

ACT 1. SCENE 3.

Testy. Quicksands. Millicent.

Tes.

Go to I say, go to; as y're my Neece, And hope t'inherit any thing that's mine: Shake off this Maiden peevishness. Do you whimper Upon your wedding day? Or, do you think You are not married yet? Did you not say I Millicent take Mandevill? A ha! Was it not so? Did not I give you too? I that have bred you from the cradle up To a fit growth to match with his fair years; And far more fair estate.

Mil.

I, there's the Match—

Tes.

Love him I charge you.

Mil.

Ile endeavour't Sir.

Tes.

You will endeavour't! Is't no further yet? Stand from her, Nephew! I'le so swinge her. Ha!

Quick.

Let me intreat your patience. She's my wife Sir.

Tes.

Dandle her in her humour, do; and spoyle her.

Quick.

'Tis but her modesty.

Tes.

Her sullen doggedness, I'le baste it out of her. You do not know her As I do, Nephew.

Quick.

I shall, Sir, before morning Better I doubt not. Come we shall agree.

Tes.

You will endeavour't! Come I'le see it done.

Marry a man first, and then endeavour To love him will you? Ha! Is it but so? I'le see you love him presently. So to bed.

Mil.

What before Supper?

Tes.

A posset and to bed, I'le see it done. And cause you are so nice (To bed I say) there I will see more done Then I will speak. Tell me of your endeavour!

Quick.

Be not so rough and stiffe with her, good Uncle, I know my supple tender dealing will Get more upon her love then all your chidings.

Tes.

Such tender dealers spoyle young Brides; and get Nothing of stubborness. Down with her I say Now in her wedding sheets: She will be naught else.

Mil.

Construe more charitably, I beseech you, My Virgin blushes.

Tes.

'Tis your sullenness; Would you have brided it so lumpishly With your spruce younker, that fine silken beggar, Whose Land lies in your Husbands counting house; Or the most part.

Mil.

O my Theophilus.

Quick.

Indeed the better half; not without hope To have the rest as he may want my money.

Tes.

Would you have whin'd and pul'd, had you had him, To bedward think you? yet to speak the truth, And that wherein she has vext me a thousand times, I never saw her laugh, nor heard her sing In all my life: yet she could both, I have heard, In company she lik'd.

Mil.

It has been' mong Maidens then. But honour'd Sir (I know what I will do) To let you see and hear, since you desire To have me shew a cheerfulness unto My reverend Husband: Look you Sir, I'le kiss him, Clap him, and stroke him: Ha, my Joe, ha, ha, ha, &c.

Tes.

H••y day.

Quick.

She'l make me blush anon I think.

Mil.

I'le sing him songs too.

Tes.

Whoop, how's this?

Mil.

That I will chick, old songs and over old ones, Old as thy reverend self, my Chick a bird.

Quic.

She cals me chick and bird: The common names With wives that Cuck••ld their old cravend husbands.

Mil.

(Shee sings)

She made him a bed of the thistle down soft, Shee laid her self under to bear him a loft, And ever she sung sweet turn thee to me, Wee'l make the new bed cry Jiggy Joggy.

Tes.

What impudence is this.

Quic.

Shee's gon as far Beyond it now as it was to't.

Mil.

Now may you answer.

(Shee sings)

Go to bed sweet heart I'le come to thee, Make thy bed fine and soft I'le lig with thee. Ha, ha, ha.

Quic.

Is this your bashful Neece.

Tes.

What canst thou mean by this? dos this become thee?

Mil.

Pray do not beat me o'my wedding might, but tell me How this and half a dozen chopping Children may Become an old mans wife some five years hence.

Quic.

O intollerabl!

Tes.

Is't possible thou canst do thus?

Mil.

Let women judge. Tis very possible That a young Iusty wife may have six Children By one at once in five years, Sir, and by One Father too. Ile make him young enough To Father mine.

Quic.

Shee'l make a youth of me.

Mil.

(She sings.)

There was a Lady lov'd a swine.

Honey, quoth she,

And wil•• thou be true love mine.

Hoogh, quoth he.

Tes.

Do you hear gentlewoman; are you i' your wits?

Mil.

Yes, and my own house I hope. I pray be civil. Shall we to bed, Sir, supperless? you need No stirring meats, it seems. I'm glad on'••. Come, biddy, come away, will you see Uncle How I will love him ••oed? come away.

Quic.

My edge is taken off. this impudence Of hers, has outfac'd my concupisence. Dasht all quite out o' Countenance! what a beast Was I to marry? Rather, what a beast Am I to be? * How now! O horrible.

A sowgelders horn blown.

Tes.

What hidious noise is this.

Buz.

I cannot help it.

Ent. Buzzard.

While I went forth for the half pint of Sack To make your prodigal posset; and the maid (Watching the Milk, for running ore) sorgot To shut the door, they all rush'd in.

Quic.

What they, what all?

Buz.

Vizarded people, Sir, and odly shap'd. You'l see anon. Their tuning o'their pipes, And swear they'll gi'ye a willy nilly dance Before you go to bed, tho'you stole your Marriage.

Quic.

Outragious Roysters.

Tes.

Call and raise the street.

Mil.

That were to let in violence indeed. These are some merry harmeless friends I warrant. I knew I could not be so ill belov'd Among the batchelers, but some would find Way to congratulate our honoured Marriage.

Quic.

What, with horn musick?

Tes.

A new kind of flourish.

Quic.

Tis a flat conspiracy. This is ••our bash••ul modest whimpring Neece.

Tes.

Then let'em in. If they wrong us to night, The Law to morrow shall af••ord us right.

Pray let's resolveto s••et. Here comes their Prologue.

flo••ish,

Mer

At a late Parliment held by the Gods,

Ent. Mercury.

Cupid and Hymen ••ell at bitter ods Upon an argument; wherein each did try T'advance his own 'bove tothers deity, Out of this question, which might happier prove Love without Marriage, or Marriage without love. By the effects the tryal must be made: So each from others Office drew his aid; Cupid no more of Hymens matches fram'd; Nor Hymen married those that love inflam'd. Now mark, the sad effects this strife begot, Cupid his fiery darts and arrows shot As thick as ere he did; and equal hearts He wounds with equal love. But Hymen parts Their forward hands (alas!) and joyneth none But those which his new match-Maker brings on, (Old greedy Avarice) who by his spells, In breasts of Parents and of guardians dwells, That force their tendelings to loathed beds; Which uncouth Policie to sorrow leads Thousands a thousand wayes, of which the least Is this with which we celebrate your feast.

Tes.

A special drove of horn beasts.

Enter four Masquers with horns on their heads: a Stag, a Ram, and Goa••, a a•• Ox followed by four persons, a Cour∣tier, a Captain, a Schollar and a But∣cher.

Mer.

These few are thought enough to shew how more Would appear horrible, the town hath store. The first's a Lawyer, who by strife prevail'd To wed a wife, that was by love in∣tail'd Unto that Courtier, who had the hap Soon after to adorn him with that cap. The next a country cormorant, whose great wealth,

By a bad fathers will, obtain'd by stealth That valiant Souldiers Mistress: ••or which matter The Enginier his sconse with Rams did batter. This an old Goatish Usure, that must Needs buy a wretches daughter to his lust; Doated, and married her without a groat, That Herald gave this crest unto his coat. And that's the Citizen, so broadly pated, Which this mad Butcher, cuckold antidated. Now by this dance let husband that doth wed Bride from her proper love to loathed bed Observe his fortune. Musick strike aloud The cuckolds joy, with merry pipe & crowd.

They dance to mu∣sick of Cornets & Violins.

The Daunce.

Exit, Masquers.

Tes.

How now! all vanisht! The devil take the hidmost.

Qui.

The foremost I say; and lay him a block For all the rest to break their necks upon.

Tes.

Who are they? Can you guesse.

Mil.

Truly, not I Sir. Some of my husbands friends perhaps, that came To warn him of his fortune.

Qui.

Well consider'd.

Mil.

Lock the doors after 'em, and let us to bed; And lock our selves up, chick, safe from all danger.

Qui.

We will to bed chick, since you'l have it so. This key shall be your guard: And here's another Shall secure me. My house has store of beds in't. I bring you not to an unfurnisht dwelling.

Mil.

Be not afraid to lie with me, good man, Ile so restore thee' gain with Cawdels and Cock-broths, So cuckle the up to morrow, thou shalt see—

Quic.

O immodestie.

Mil.

Thou hast good store of goid, and shalt not want it In Cullises: in every broth Ile boil

An angel at the least.

Qui.

Ile hang first.

Tes.

I am quite out of wits; and yet Ile counsel Thee, Nephew. Heark thee.

They whisper.

Buz.

Tis like to be mad counsel.

Mil.

But will you not lie with me then?

Tes.

No marry shall he not. Nephew, You shall not, till shee bride it modestly. Tis now too late, but Ile so rattle her up to morrow.

Buz.

Tis too late now, & yet he'•• do't to morrow! good!

Tes.

Will you to your lodging?

Mil.

Where be my bride-maids?

Tes.

They wait you in your chamber.

Buz.

The devil o'maid's i'chis but my fellow Madg the Kitching maid, and Malkin the Cat, or batchelor but my self, and an old Fox, that my master has kept a prentiship to palliate his palsie.

Mil.

Where be the maids, I say; and Batchelors To disappoint my husband.

Qui.

Mark you that?

Mil.

I mean, to take your points. But you have none. O thrifty age! My Bridegroom is so wise, In stead of points, to hazzard hooks and eyes.

Buz.

Shee means the eyes in's head, Ile hang else. My Master is like to make a blind match here.

Tes.

Take up the lights, sirrah.

Qui.

I hope she talks so idly, but for want Of sleep; and sleep she shall for me to night.

Tes.

And well said Nephew. Will you to your chamber, Mistress?—

Mil.

Hey ho, to bed, to bed, to bed. No Bride so glad—to keep her Maiden-head.

Exeunt omnes.