The ordinary a comedy / written by William Cartvvright ...

ACT. I. SCEN. I.

Hearesay, Slicer, Shape, Meanewell.

Hear.

WE're made my Boys, we're made; me thinks I am Growing into a thing that will be worship'd.

Slic.

I shall sleep one day in my Chaine, and Skarlet At Spittle-Sermon.

Shap.

Were not my wit such I'd put out monies of being Maior. But O this braine of mine! that's it that will Barre me the City Honour.

Hear.

We're cry'd up O'th' sudden for the sole Tutors of the Age.

Shap.

Esteem'd discreet, sage, trainers up of youth.

Hear.

Our house becomes a place of Visit now.

Slic.

In my poore judgement 'tis as good my Lady Should venture to commit her eldest sonne To us, as to the Inns of Court: hee'l be Undone here only with lesse Ceremony.

Hear.

Speak for our credit my brave man of War. What Meane-well, why so lumpish?

Mean.

Pray y' be quiet.

Hear.

Thou look'st as if thou plott'st the calling in O'th' Declaration, or th' Abolishing O'th' Common-Prayers; cheare up; say something for us.

Mean.

Pray vexe me not.

Slic.

These foolish puling sighs Are good for nothing, but to endanger Buttons. Take heart of grace man.

Mean.

Fie y'are troublesome.

Hear.

Nay fare you well then Sir.

[Ex. Hea. Sli. Sha.

Mean.

My Father still Runs in my mind, meets all my thoughts, and doth Mingle himselfe in all my Cogitations, Thus to see eager villaines drag along Him, unto whom they crouch'd; to see him hal'd, That ne'r knew what compulsion was, but when His vertues did incite him to good deeds, And keep my sword dry—O unequall Nature! Why was I made so patient as to view, And not so strong as to redeeme? why should I Dare to behold, and yet not dare to rescue? Had I been destitute of weapons, yet Arm'd with the only name of Son, I might Have outdone wonder. Naked Piety Dares more than Fury well-appointed▪ Bloud Being never better sacrific'd, than when It flowes to him that gave it. But alas, The envy of my Fortune did allow That only, which she could not take away, Compassion; that which was not in those savage, And knowing Beasts; those Engines of the Law, The even kill as uncontroul'd, as that. How doe I grieve, when I consider from

What hands he suffer'd! hands that doe excuse Th' indulgent Prison; shackles being here A kind of Rescue. Young man tis not well To see thy aged Father thus confin'd, Good, good old man; alas thou 'rt dead to me, Dead to the world, and only living to That which is more than death, thy misery: The Grave could be a comfort: And shall I— O would this Soule of mine—But Death's the wish Of him that feares; hee's lazie that would dye. I'le live and see that thing of wealth, that worme Bred out of splendid mucke; that Citizen Like his owne sully'd Wares throwne by into Some unregarded corner, and my Piety Shall be as famous as his Avarice; His Son whom we have in our Tuition Shall be the Subject of my good Revenge; I'le count my selfe no child, till I have done Something thats worth that name: my Braine shall be Busie in his undoing; and I will Plot ruine with Religion; his disgrace Shall be my Zeales contrivement; and when this Shall stile me Son againe, I hope 'twill be Counted not wrong, but Duty. When that time Shall give my Actions growth, I will cast off This brood of Vipers: and will shew that I Doe hate the Poyson, which I meanet' apply.

Exit.