Fifty comedies and tragedies written by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, Gentlemen ; all in one volume, published by the authors original copies, the songs to each play being added.

The Knight of the Burning Pestle.

To the Readers of this COMEDY.

GEntlemen, the World is so nice in these our times, that for Apparel, there is no fashion, For Musick, which is a rare Art, (though now slighted) No Instrument; For Diet, none but the French Kickshoes that are delicate; and for Plaies, no invention but that which now runneth an invective way, touching some particular persons, or else it is contemned be∣fore it is throughly understood. This is all that I have to say, That the Author had no in∣tent to wrong any one in this Comedy, but as a merry passage, here and there interlaced t with delight, which he hopes will please all, and be hurtful to none.

The PROLOGUE.

WHere the Bee can suck no Honey, she leaves her sting behind; and where the Bear cannot find Origanum to heal his grief, he blasteth all other leaves with his breath. We fear it is like to fare so with us; that seeing you cannot draw from our labours sweet content, you leave behind you a sower mis-like, and with open reproach blame our good meaning, because you cannot reap the wonted mirth. Our intent was at this time to move inward delight, not outward lightness; and to b breed (if it might be) soft smiling, not loud laughing: knowing it (to the wise) to be a great pleasure, to hear Counsel mixed with Wit, as to the foolish to have sport mingled with rudeness. They were banished the Theater of Athens, and from Rome hissed, that brought Parasites on the Stage with apish actions, or Fools with uncivil habits, or Courtezans with immodest words. We have endeavoured to be as far from unseemly speeches, to make your ears glow, as we hope you will be free from unkind reports, or mistaking the Authors intention (who never aimed at any one par∣ticular in this Play,) to make our cheeks blush. And thus I leave it, and thee to thine own censure, to like, or dislike. Vale.

The Actors Names.

• The Prologue.
• Then a Citizen.
• The Citizens wife, and Ralph her man, sitting below amidst the Spectators.
• A rich Merchant.
• Jasper his Apprentice,
• Master Humphrey, a friend to the Merchant.
• Luce, the Merchants Daughter.
• Mistress Merry-thought, Jaspers Mother.
• Michael, a second Son of Mistriss Merry-thought.
• Old M. Merry-thought.
• A Squire.
• A Dwarfe.
• A Tapster.
• A Boy that Danceth and Singeth.
• An Host.
• A Barber.
• Two Knights.
• A Captain.
• A Sergeant.
• Soldiers.

Enter Prologue.

FRrom all that's near the Court, from all that's great Within the compass of the City-walls We now have brought our Scene.

Enter Citizen.

Cit.

Hold your peace good-man boy.

Pro.

What do you mean Sir?

Cit.

That you have no good meaning: These seven years there hath been Plays at this House, I have observed it, you have still girds at Citizens; and now you call your Play The London Merchant. Down with your Title, Boy, down with your Title.

Pro.

Are you a member of the noble City?

Cit.

I am.

Pro.

And a Free-man?

Cit.

Yea, and a Grocer.

Pro.

So Grocer, then by your sweat favour, we intend no abuse to the City.

Cit.

No sir, Yes sir, If you were not resolv'd to play the Jacks, What need you study for new subjects, Purposely to abuse your betters? Why could not you be contented, As well as others, With the Legend of Whittington, Or the life and death of Sir Thomas Gresham? With the building of the Royal Exchange? Or the storie of Queen Elenor, With the rearing of London bridge upon Woollsacks?

Pro.

You seem to be an understanding man: What would you have us do sir?

Cit.

Why? Present something notably In honor of the Commons of the City.

Pro.

Why, What do you say, to the life and death of fat Drake, Or the repairing of Fleet Privies?

Cit.

I do not like that, But I will have a Citizen, And he shall be of my own Trade.

Pro.

Oh, You should have told us your mind A month since, Our Play is ready to begin now.

Cit.

'Tis all one for that, I will have a Grocer, And he shall do admirable things.

Pro.

What will you have him do?

Cit.

Marry I will have him—

Wife,

Husband, Husband.

Wife below, Ralph below.

Ralph.

Peace, Mistriss.

Wife.

Hold thy peace Ralph, I know what I do, I warrant ye. Husband, Husband.

Cit.

What say'st thou Conie?

Wife.

Let him kill a Lion with a Pestle Husband, Let him kill a Lion with a Pestle.

Cit.

So he shall, I'll have him kill a Lion with a pestle.

Wife.

Husband, Shall I come up Husband?

Cit.

I Cony. Ralph, help your Mistriss this way: Pray Gentlemen make her a little room, I pray you sir Lend me your hand to help up my Wife: I thank you sir. So.

Wife.

By your leave Gentlemen all, I'm something troublesome, I'm a stranger here, I was ne'r at one of these Play, as they say, before; But I should have seen Jane Shore once, And my Husband Hath promised me any time this Twelvemonth, To carrie me to the Bold Beauchams, But in truth he did not; I pray you bear with me.

Cit.

Boy, Let my Wife and I have a couple of stools, And then begin, And let the Grocer do rare things.

Pro.

But sir, We have never a Boy to play him, Every one hath a part already.

Wife.

Husband, Husband, For gods sake let Ralph play him, Beshrew me if I do not think He will go beyond them all.

Cit.

Well remembred wife, Come up Ralph, I'll tell you Gentlemen, Let them but lend him a suit of reparrel, and necessaries, And by gad, If any of them all blow wind in the tail on him, I'll be hang'd.

Wife.

I pray you youth, Let him have a suit of reparrel, I'll be sworn Gentlemen, My Husband tells you true, He will act you sometimes at our house, That all the neighbors cry out on him: He will fetch you up a couraging part so in the Garret, That we are all as fear'd I warrant you, That we quake again: We'll fear our children with him, If they be never so unruly, Do but cry, Ralph comes, Ralph comes to them, And they'll be as quiet as Lambs. Hold up thy head Ralph, Shew the Gentlemen what thou canst do, Speak a huffing part, I warrant you the Gentlemen will accept of it.

Cit.

Do Ralph, do.

Ralph.

By heaven (Methinks) it were an easie leap To pluck bright honor from the pale-fac'd Moon, Or dive into the bottom of the Sea, Where never fathome line toucht any ground, And pluck up drowned honor From the lake of Hell.

Cit.

How say you Gentlemen, Is it not as I told you?

Wife.

Nay Gentlemen, He hath plaid before, my husband says, Musidorus Before the Wardens of our company.

Cit.

I, and he should have plaid Jeronimo With a shoo-maker for a wager.

Pro.

He shall have a suit of apparel, If he will go in.

Cit.

In Ralph, in Ralph, And set out the Grocers in their kind, If thou lov'st me.

Wife.

I warrant our Ralph will look finely, When he's drest,

Pro.

But what will you have it call'd?

Cit.

The Grocers Honor.

Pro.

Methinks,

Me 〈◊〉〈◊〉 The Knight of the bunrning Pestle were better.

〈◊〉〈◊〉.

I'll be sworn Husband. ••••at's as good a name as can be.

Cit,

Let it be so, begin, begin; My Wife and I will sit down.

Pro.

I pray you do.

Cit.

What stately Musick have you? You have Shawnes.

Pro.

Shawns? no.

Cit.

No? I'm a thief if my mind did not give me so. Ralph plaies a stately part, And he must needs have Shawns: I'll be at the charge of them my self, Rather than we'll be without them.

Pro.

So you are like to be.

Cit.

Why and so I will be, There's two shillings, Let's have the Waits of Southwark, They are as rare fellows as any are in England; And that will fetch them all o'r the water, with a vengeance, As if they were mad.

Pro.

You shall have them: Will you sit down then?

Cit.

I, come Wife.

Wifc.

Sit you merry all Gentlemen, I'm bold to sit amongst you for my ease.

Pro.

From all that's near the Court, From all that's great Within the compass of the City walls, We now have brought our Scaene: Flie far from hence All private taxes, immodest phrases, What e'r may but shew like vicious: For wicked mirth never true pleasure brings, But honest minds are pleas'd with honest things. Thus much for that we do: But for Ralphs part You must answer for your self.

Cit.

Take you no care for Ralph, He'll discharge himself I warrant you.

Wife.

I'faith Gentlemen, I'll give my my word for Ralph.

Actus Primus.

Scaena Prima.

Enter Merchant and Jasper his Man.

Merch.

Sirrah, I'll make you know you are my Prentice, And whom my charitable love redeem'd Even from the fall of fortune; gave thee heat And growth, to be what now thou art, new cast thee, Adding the trust of all I have at home, In forreign Staples, or upon the Sea To thy direction, ti'de the good opinions Both of self and friends to thy endeavors, So fair were thy beginnings: but with these As I remember you had never charge, To love your Masters Daughter, and even then, When I had found a wealthy Husband for her, I take it, Sir, you had not: but however, I'll break the neck of that Commission, And make you know you are but a Merchants Factor.

Jasp.

Sir, I do liberally confess I am yours, Bound both by love and duty to your service; In which my labor hath been all my profit; I have not lost in bargain, nor delighted To wear your honest gains upon my back, Nor have I given a pension to my bloud, Or lavishly in play consum'd your stock. These, and the miseries that do attend them, I dare with innocence, proclaim are strangers To all my temperate actions: for your Daughter, If there be any love to my deservings, Born by her virtuous self, I cannot stop it: Nor am I able to refrain her wishes. She's private to her self, and best of knowledge, Whom she'll make so happy as to sigh for· Besides, I cannot think you mean to match her, Unto a fellow of so lame a presence, One that hath little left of Nature in him.

Mer.

'Tis very well, Sir, I can tell your wisdom How all this shall be cur'd.

Jasp.

Your care becomes you.

Merc.

And thus it shall be, Sir, I here discharge you, My house, and service, take your liberty, And when I want a Son I'll send for you.

Exit.

Jasp.

These be the fair rewards of them that love, Oh you that live in freedom never prove The travel of a mind led by desire.

Enter Luce.

Luce.

Why how now friend, struck with my Fathers thun∣der?

Jasp.

Struck, and struck dead, unless the remedy Be full of speed and virtue; I am now, What I expected long, no more your father's.

Luce.

But mine.

Jasp.

But yours, and only yours I am,

That's all I have to keep me from the statute: You dare be constant still?

Luce.

O fear me not. In this I dare be better than a woman. Nor shall his anger, nor his offers move me, Were they both equal to a Princes power.

Jasp.

You know my Rival?

Luce.

Yes, and love him dearly, Even as I love an ague, or foul weather, I prethee Jasper fear him not.

Jasp.

Oh no, I do not mean to do him so much kindness, But to our own desires you know the plot We both agreed on.

Lu••e.

Yes, and will perform My part exactly.

Jasp.

I desire no more, Farewel, and keep my heart, 'tis yours.

Luce.

I take it, He must do miracles, Makes me forsake it.

Exeunt.

Cit.

Fie upon 'em little infidels, What a matter's here now? Well, I'll be hang'd for a half-penny, If there be not some abomination knavery in this Play, Well, let 'em look to't, Ralph must come, And if there be any tricks a brewing —

Wife.

Let 'em brew and bake too Husband, a gods name, Ralph will find all out I warrant you, And they were older than they are. I pray my pretty youth, is Ralph ready?

Boy.

He will be presently.

Wife.

Now I pray you make my commendations unto him, And withal, carry him this stick of Licoras, Tell him his Mistriss sent it him, And bid him Mistriss sent it him, 'Twill open his pipes the better, say.

Enter Merchant, and Master Humphrey.

Mer.

Come, Sir, she's yours, upon my faith she's yours, You have my hand, for other idle letts Between your hopes and her, thus, with a wind, They are scattered, and no more: my wanton Prentice, That like a bladder blew himself with love, I have lett out, and sent him to discover New masters yet unknown.

Humph.

I thank you Sir, Indeed I thank you, Sir, and e'r I stir, It shall be known however you do deem, I am of gentle blood and gentle seem.

Mer.

Oh Sir, I know it certain.

Hum.

Sir, my friend, Although as Writers say, all things have end, And that we call a Pudding, hath his two, Oh let it not seem strange I pray to you, If in this bloudy simile, I put My love, more endless, than frail things or gut.

Wife.

Husband, I prethee sweet lamb tell me one thing, But tell me truly: Stay youths I beseech you, Till I question my Husband.

Cit.

What is it Mouse?

Wife.

Sirrah, Didst thou ever see a prettier child? How it behaves it self, I warrant ye: And speaks and looks, and pearts up the head? I pray you brother with your favour, Were you never none of Mr. Moncasters Scholars?

Cit.

Chickin, I prethee heartily contain thy self, The childer are pretty childer, But when Ralph comes, Lamb.

Wife.

I when Ralph comes, Conie, Well my youth you may proceed

Mar.

Well Sir, you know my love, and rest, I hope Assur'd of my consent; get but my daughters, And wed her when you please: you must be bold, And clap in close unto her, come, I know You have language good enough to win a wench.

Wife.

A whoresone tyrant, Hath been an old stringer in his days, I warrant him.

Hum.

I take your gentle offer, and withal Yield love again for love reciprocal.

Enter Luce.

Mar.

What Luce, within there?

Luce.

Call'd you Sir?

Mar.

I did Give entertainment to this Gentleman, And see you be not froward to her, Sir:

Exit.

My presence will but be an eye-soar to you.

Hum.

Fair Mistriss Luce, how do you, are you well? Give me your hand, and then I pray you tell, How doth your little Sister, and your Brother? And whether you love me or any other.

Luce.

Sir, these are quickly answer'd.

Hum.

So they are, Where Women are not cruel: but how far Is it now distant from the place we are in, Unto that blessed place your Fathers Warren.

Luce.

What makes you think of that, Sir?

Hum.

Even that face, For stealing Rabbets whilome in that place, God Cupid, or the Keeper, I know not whether, Unto my cost and charges brought you thither, And there began.

Luec.

Your game, Sir.

Hum.

Let no game, Or any thing that tendeth to the same, Be evermore remembred, thou fair killer For whom I sate me down and brake my Tiller.

Wife.

There's a kind Gentleman, I warrant you, when will you do as much for me George?

Luce.

Beshrew me Sir, I am sorry for your losses, But as the proverb says, I cannot cry, I would you had not seen me.

Hum.

So would I. Unless you had more maw to do me good.

Luce.

Why, cannot this strange passion be withstood, Send for a Constable and raise the Town.

Hum.

Oh no, my valiant love will batter down Millions of Constables, and put to flight, Even that great Watch of Midsummer day at night.

Luce.

Beshrew me, Sir, 'twere good I yielded then, Weak Women cannot hope, where valiant men Have no resistance.

Hum.

Yield then, I am full Of pity, though I say it, and can pull Out of my pocket thus a pair of Gloves. Look Lucy, look, the dogs tooth, nor the Doves Are not so white as these; and sweet they be, And whipt about with silk, as you may see: If you desire the price, sute from your eye, I beam to this place, and you shall espie F. S. which is to say my sweetest Honey, They cost me three and two pence, or no money.

Luce.

Well Sir, I take them kindly, and I thank you; What would you more?

Hum.

Nothing.

Lu.

Why then farewel.

Hum.

Nor so, nor so, for Lady I must tell, Before we part, for what we met together, God grant me time, and patience, and fair weather.

Luce.

Speak and declare your mind in terms so brief.

Hum.

I shall; then first and foremost for relief I call to you, if that you can afford it, I care not at what price, for on my word, it Shall be repaid again, although it cost me More than I'll speak of now, for love hath tost me In furious blanket like a Tennis-ball, And now I rise aloft, and now I fall.

Luce.

Alas good Gentleman, alas the day.

Hum.

I thank you heartily, and as I say, Thus do I still continue without rest, I' th' morning like a man, at night a beast, Roaring and bellowing mine own disquiet, That much I fear, forsaking of my diet, Will bring me presently to that quandary, I shall bid all adieu.

Lu.

Now by S. Mary That were great pity.

Hum.

So it were beshrew me, Then ease me lusty Luce, and pity shew me.

Luce.

Why Sir, you know my will is nothing worth Without my Fathers grant, get his consent, And then you may with assurance try me.

Hum.

The Worshipful your Sire will not deny me, For I have ask'd him, and he hath reply'd, Sweet Master Humphrey, Luce shall be thy Bride.

Luce.

Sweet Master Humphrey then I am content.

Hum.

And so am I in truth.

Lu.

Yet take me with you, There is another clause must be annext, And this it is I swore, and will perform it, No man shall ever joy me as his wife, But he that stole me hence: if you dare venture, I am yours; you need not fear, my father loves you: If not, farewel for ever.

Hum.

Stay Nymph, stay, I have a double Gelding coloured bay, Sprung by his Father from Barbarian kind, Another for my self, though somewhat blind, Yet true as trusty tree.

Luce.

I am satisfied, And so I give my hand, our course must lie Through Waltham Forrest, where I have a friend Will entertain us, so farewell Sir Humphrey.

Exit Luce.

And think upon your business.

Hum.

Though I die, I am resolv'd to venture lise and lim, For one so young, so fair, so kind, so trim,

Exit Hum.

Wife.

By my faith and troth George, and as I am virtuous, It is e'n the kindest young man that ever trode on shooe-leather: well, go thy waies, if thou hast her not, 'tis not thy fault 'isaith.

Cit.

I prethee Mouse be patient, a shall have her, or I'll make some of 'em smoak for't.

Wife.

Thats my good lamb George, fie, this stinking To∣bacco kills men, would there were none in England: now I pray Gentlemen, what good does this stinking Tobacco? do you nothing; I warrant you make chimneys a your faces: Oh Husband, Husband, now, now there's Ralph, there's Ralph.

Enter Ralph, like a Grocer in's shop, with two Prentices, reading Palmerin of England.

Cit.

Peace fool, let Ralph alone, hark you Ralph; do not strain your self too much at the first, peace, begin Ralph.

Ralph.

Then Palmerin and Trineus snatching their Lances from their Dwarfs, and clasping their Helmets, gallopt amain after the Giant, and Palmerin having gotten a sight of him, came posting amain, saying, Stay traiterous thief, for thou maist not so carry away her, that is worth the greatest Lord in the World, and with these words gave him a blow on the Shoulder, that he struck him besides his Elephant; and Trineus coming to the Knight that had Agricola behind him, set him soon besides his horse, with his neck broken in the fall, so that the Princess getting out of the throng, between joy and grief said; All happy Knight, the mirror of all such as follow Arms, now may I be well assured of the love thou bearest me, I wonder why the Kings do not raise an Army of fourteen or fifteen hundred thousand men, as big as the Army that the Prince of Portigo brought against Ro••icler, and destroy these Gi∣ants, they do much hurt to wandring Damsels, that go in quest of their Knights.

Wife,

Faith Husband, and Ralph says true, for they say the King of Portugal cannot sit at his meat, but the Gi∣ants and the Ettins will come and snatch it from him.

Cit.

Hold thy tongue; on Ralph.

Ralph,

And certainly those Knights are much to be commended, who neglecting their possessions, wander with a Squire and a Dwarfe through the Desarts, to relieve poor Ladies.

Wife.

I by my faith are they Ralph, let 'em say what they will, they are indeed: our Knights neglect their pos∣sessions well enough, but they do not the rest.

Ralph.

There are no such courteous, and fair well-spo∣ken Knights in this age, they will call one the Son of a whore, that Palmerin of England, would have called fair Sir; and one that Rosicler would have called Right beauti∣ful Damsel, they will call Damn'd bitch.

Wife.

I'll be sworn will they Ralph, they have called me so an hundred times about a scurvy pipe of Tobacco.

Ralph.

But what brave spirit could be content to sit in his shop with a slapet of Wood, and a blew Apron before him selling Methridatam and Dragons water to visited houses, that might pursue seats of Arms, and through his noble atchievements, procure such a famous History to be writ∣ten of, in his Heroick prowesse.

Cit.

Well said Ralph, some more of those words Ralph.

Wife.

They go finely by my troth.

Ralph.

Why should I not then pursue this course, both for the credit of my self and our company, for amongst all the worthy Books of Atchievements, I do not call to mind, that I yet read of a Grocer Errant, I will be the said Knight: Have you heard of any that hath wandred un∣furnished of his Squire and Dwarfe? my elder Prentice Tom shall be my trusty Squire, and little George my Dwarfe, hence my blew Apron, yet in remembrance of my former Trade, upon my shield shall be pourtraid a Burning Pestle, and I will be call'd the Knight of the burning Pestle.

Wife.

Nay, I dare swear thou wilt not forget thy old Trade, thou wert ever meek. Ralph, Tim, Tim. Anon.

Ralph.

My beloved Squire, and George my Dwarfe, I charge you that from henceforth you never call me by any other name, but the Right courteous and valiant Knight of the Burning Pestle, and that you never call any Female by the name of a Woman or Wench, but fair Lady, if she have her desires; if not, distressed Damsel; that you call all For∣rests and Heaths, Desarts, and all Horses Palfries.

Wife.

This is very fine: faith do the Gentlemen like Ralph, think you Husband?

Cit.

I, I warrant thee, the Players would give all the shooes in their shop for him.

Ralph.

My beloved Squire Tim, stand out, admit this were a Desart, and over it a Knight Errant pricking, and I should bid you enquire of his intents, what would you say?

Tim.

Sir, my Master sent me to know whither you are riding?

Ralph.

No, thus; fair Sir, the Right courteous, and valiant Knight of the Burning Pestle, commanded me to enquire upon what adventure you are bound, whether to relieve some distressed Damsel, or otherwise.

Cit.

Whorson blockhead cannot remember.

Wife.

I'faith, and Ralph told him on't before: all the Gentlemen heard him, did he not Gentlemen, did not Ralph tell him on't?

George.

Right courteous and valiant Knight of the Burning Pestle, here is a distressed Damsel, to have a halfepenny worth of Pepper.

Wife.

That's a good boy, see, the little boy can hit it, by my troth it's a fine child.

Ralph.

Relieve her with all courteous language, now shut up shop, no more my Prentice, but my trusty Squire and Dwarfe, I must bespeak my Shield, and arming Pestle.

Cit.

Go thy ways Ralph, as I am a true man, thou art the best on 'em all.

Wife.

Ralph, Ralph.

Ralph.

What say you Mistriss?

Wife.

I prethee come again quickly, sweet Ralph.

Ralph.

By and by.

Exit Ralph.

Enter Jasper and his Mother Mistriss Merry-thought.

Mist. Mer.

Give thee my blessing? no, I'll never give thee my blessing, I'll see thee hang'd first; it shall ne'r be said I gave thee my blessing: thou art thy Fathers own Son, of the bloud of the Merry-thoughts; I may curse the time that e'r I knew thy Father, he hath spent all his own, and mine too, and when I tell him of it, he laughs and dances, and sings and cries; A merry heart lives long-a. And thou art a wast-thrift, and art run away from thy Master, that lov'd thee well, and art come to me, and I have laid up a little for my younger Son Michael, and thou thinkst to bezle that, but thou shalt never be able to do it, Come hither Michael, come Michael, down on thy knees, thou shalt have my blessing.

Enter Michael.

Mich.

I pray you Mother pray to God to bless me.

Mist Mer.

God bless thee: but Jasper shall never have my blessing, he shall be hang'd first, shall he not Michael? how saist thou?

Mich.

Yes forsooth Mother and grace of God.

Mist. Mer.

That's a good boy.

Wife.

I'faith it's a fine spoken child:

Jasp.

Mother, though you forget a Parents love,

I must preserve the duty of a child:

I ran not from my Master, nor return

To have your stock maintain my idleness.

Wife.

Ungracious child I warrant him, harke how he chops Logick with his Mother: thou hadst best tell her she lies, do, tell her she lies.

Cit.

If he were my son, I would hang him up by the heels, and flea him, and salt him, whorson halter-sack.

Jasp.

My coming only is to beg your love,

Which I ever though I never gain it,

And howsoever you esteem of me,

There is no drop of bloud hid in these veins,

But I remember well belongs to you,

That brought me forth; and would be glad for you

To rip them all again, and let it out.

Mist. Mer.

I'faith I had sorrow enough for thee: (God knows) but I'll hamper thee well enough: get thee in thou vagabond, get thee in, and learn of thy brother Michael.

Old Mer. within.

Nose, Nose, jolly red Nose, and who gave thee this jolly red Nose?

Mist. Mer.

Hark my Husband he's singing and hoiting,

And I'm fain to car•• and care, and all little enough.

Husband, Charles, Charles Merry-thought.

Enter Old Merry-thought.

Old Mer.

Nutmegs and Gingers, Cinamon and Cloves,

And they gave me this jolly red Nose.

Mist. Mer.

If you would consider your estate, you would have little list to sing, I-wisse.

Old Mer.

It should never be consider'd, while it were an estate, if I thought it would spoil my singing.

Mist. Mer.

But how wilt thou do Charles, thou art an old man, and thou canst not work, and thou hast not forty shil∣lings left, and thou eatest good meat, and drinkest good drink, and laughest?

Old Mer.

And will doe.

Mist. Mer.

But how wilt thou come by it Charles?

Old Mer.

How? why how have I done hitherto these forty years? I never came into my Dining-room, but at ele∣ven and six a clock, I found excellent meat and drink a' th' Table: my Cloaths were never worn out, but next morn∣ing a Tailor brought me a new suit; and without question it will be so ever! use makes perfectness, If all should fail, it is but a little straining my self extraordinary, and laugh my self to death.

Wife.

It's a foolish old man this: is not he George?

Cit.

Yes Cunny.

Wife.

Give me a penny i' th' purse while I live George.

Cit.

I by Lady Cunnie, hold thee there.

Mist. Mer.

Well Charles, you promis'd to provide for Jasper, and I have laid up for Michael: I pray you pay Jas∣per his portion, he's come home, and he shall not consume Michaels stock: he saies his Master turn'd him away, but I promise you truly, I think he ran away.

Wife.

No indeed Mistriss Merry-thought, though he be a notable gallows, yet I'll assure you his Master did turn him away, even in this place, 'twas i'faith within this half hour, about his Daughter, my Husband was by.

Cit.

Hang him rogue, he serv'd him well enough: love his Masters Daughter! by my troth Cunnie, if there were a thousand boys, thou wouldst spoil them all, with taking their parts; let his Mother alone with him.

Wife.

I George, but yet truth is truth.

Old. Mer.

Where is Jasper? he's welcome however, call him in, he shall have his portion, is he merry?

Enter Jasper and Michael.

Mist. Mer.

I foul chive him, he is too merry. Jasper. Michael.

Old Mer.

Welcome Jasper, though thou run'st away, welcome, God bless thee, 'tis thy mothers mind thou shouldst receive thy portion: thou hast been abroad, and I hope hast learnt experience enough to govern it: thou art of suffici∣ent years, hold thy hand: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, there is ten shillings for thee, thrust thy self into the world with that, and take some setled course, if fortune cross thee, thou hast a retiring place; come home to me, I have twenty shillings left, be a good Hus∣band, that is, wear ordinary Cloaths, eat the best meat, and drink the best drink; be merry, and give to the poor, and and believe me, thou hast no end of thy goods.

Jasp.

Long may you live free from all thought of ill,

And long have cause to be thus merry still.

But Father?

Old Mer.

No more words Jasper, get thee gone, thou hast my blessing, thy Fathers spirit upon thee. Farewel Jasper; but yet, or e'r you part (oh cruel) kiss me, kiss me sweeting, mine own dear jewel: So, now begone; no words.

Enter Jasper,

Mist. Mer.

So Michael, now get thee gone too.

Mich.

Yes forsooth Mother, but I'll have my Father's blessing first.

Mist. Mer.

No Michael, 'tis no matter for his blessing; thou hast my blessing, begone; I'll fetch my money and jewels, and follow thee: I'll stay no longer with him I war∣rant thee; truly Charles I'll begon too.

Old Mer.

What you will not?

Old Mer.

What you will not?

Mist. Mer.

Yes indeed will I.

Old Mer.

Hay ho, farewel Nan, I'll never trust wench more again, if I can.

Mist. Mer.

You shall not think (when all your own is gone) to spend that I have been scraping up for Michael.

Old Mer.

Farewel good wife, I expect it not; all I have to do in this world, is to be merry: which I shall, if the ground be not taken from me: and if it be,

When Earth and Seas from me are rest,

The Skies aloft for me are left.

Exeunt.

Boy danceth, Musick.

Finis Actus Primi.

Wife.

I'll be sworn he's a merry old Gentleman for all that: Hark, hark Husband, hark, Fiddles, Fiddles; now surely they go finely. They say 'tis present death for these Fidlers to tune their Rebecks before the great Turks grace, is 't not George? But look, look, here's a youth dances: now good youth do a turn o' th' toe; Sweet: heart, I'faith I'll have Ralph come, and do some of his Gambols; he'll ride the Wild Mare Gentlemen, 'twould do your hearts good to see him: I thank you kind youth, pray bid Ralph come.

Cit.

Peace Connie. Sirrah, you scurvy boy, bid the Play∣ers send Ralph, or by gods—and they do not, I'll tear some of their Periwigs beside their heads: this is all Riff-Raff.

Exeunt.

Boy danceth, Musick.

Finis Actus Primi.

Actus Secundus.

Scaena Prima.

Enter Merchant and Humphrey.

Merch.

And how faith? how goes it now Son Humphrey?

Hum.

Right worshipful and my beloved friend And Father dear, this matter's at an end.

Merch.

'Tis well, it should be so, I'm glad the Girl Is found so tractable.

Hum.

Nay, she must whirl From hence, and you must wink: for so I say, The story tells to morrow before day.

Wife.

George, dost thou think in thy conscience now 'twill be a match? tell me but what thou think'st sweet Rogue, thou seest the poor Gentleman (dear heart) how it labours and throbs I warrant you, to be at rest: I'll go move the Father for't.

Cit.

No, no, I prethee sit still Honey-suckle, thou'lt spoil all; if he deny him, I'll bring half a dozen good fellows my self, and in the shutting of an evening knock't up, and there's an end.

Wife.

I'll buss thee for that I'faith boy; well George, well you have been a wag in your days I warrant you: but God forgive you, and I do with all my heart.

Mer.

How was it Son? you told me that to morrow Before day break, you must convey her hence.

Hum.

I must, I must, and thus it is agreed, Your Daughter rides upon a brown-bay Steed, I on a Sorrel, which I bought of Brian, The honest Host of the red roaring Lion In Waltham situate: then if you may, Consent in seemly sort, lest by delay, The fatal Sisters come, and do the office, And then you'll sing another Song.

Merch.

Alas. Why should you be thus full of grief to me, That do as willing as your self agree To any thing so it be good and fair? Then steal her when you will, if such a pleasure Content you both, I'll sleep and never see it, To make your joys more full: but tell me why You may not here perform your marriage?

Wife.

Gods blessing o'thy soul, old man, i' faith thou art loth to part true hearts: I see a has her, George, and I'm as glad on't; well, go thy ways Humphrey for fair a spoken man, I believe thou hast not thy fellow within the walls of London, and I should say the Suburbs too, I should not lie: why dost not thou rejoyce with me George?

Cit.

If I could but see Ralph again, I were as merry as mine Host i' faith.

Cit.

The cause you seem to ask, I thus declare; Help me oh Muses nine, your Daughter sware A foolish oath, the more it was the pity: Yet none but my self within this City Shall dare to say so, but a bold defiance Shall meet him, were he of the noble Science. And yet she sware, and yet why did she swear? Truly I cannot tell, unless it were For her own ease: for sure sometimes an oath, Being sworn thereafter, is like cordial broth. And this it was, she swore never to marry, But such a one whose mighty arm could carry (As meaning me, for I am such a one) Her bodily away through stick and stone, Till both of us arrive at her request, Some ten miles off in the wide Waltham Forrest.

Merch.

If this be all, you shall not need to fear Any denial in your love, proceed, I'll neither follow, nor repent the deed.

Hum.

Good night, twenty good nights, and twenty more, And twenty more good nights, that makes threescore.

Exeunt.

Enter Mistriss Merry-thought, and her Son Michael.

Mist. Mer.

Come Michael, art thou not weary Boy?

Mich.

No forsooth Mother not I.

Mist. Mer.

Where be we now child?

Mich.

Indeed forsooth Mother I cannot tell, unless we be at Mile-end, is not all the world Mile-end, Mother?

Mist. Mer.

No Michael, not all the world boy; but I can assure thee Michael, Mile-end is a goodly matter, there has been a pitcht field my child, between the naughty Spa∣niels, and the Englishmen, and the Spaniels ran away Mi∣chael, and the Englishmen followed: my neighbor Coxstone was there boy, and kill'd them all with a birding-piece.

Mich.

Mother forsooth.

Mist. Mer.

What says my white boy?

Mich.

Shall not my Father go with us too?

Mist. Mer.

No Michael, let thy Father go snick up, he shall never come between a pair of sheets with me again, while he lives: let him stay at home and sing for his sup∣per boy; come child sit down, and I'll shew my boy-fine knacks indeed, look here Michael, here's a Ring, and here's a Bruch, and here's a Bracelet, and here's two Rings more, and here's Money, and Gold by th' eye my boy.

Mich.

Shall I have all this Mother?

Mist. Mer.

I Michael thou shalt have all Michael.

Cit.

How lik'st thou this wench?

Wife.

I cannot tell, I would have Ralph, George; I'll see no more else indeed: law, and I pray you let the youths understand so much by word of mouth, for I will tell you truly, I'm afraid o'my boy: come, come George, let's be merry and wise, the child's a fatherless child, and say they should put him into a strait pair of Gaskins, 'twere worse than knot-grass, he would never grow after it.

Enter Ralph, Squire, and Dwarfe.

Cit.

Here's Ralph, here's Ralph

Wife.

How do you Ralph? you are welcome Ralph, as I may say, it' a good boy, hold up thy head, and be not afraid, we are thy friends. Ralph, the Gentlemen will praise thee Ralph, if thou plai'st thy part with audacity, begin Ralph a Gods name.

Ralph.

My trusty Squire unlace my Helme, give me my hat, where are we, or what desart might this be?

Dw.

Mirror of Knigthood, this is, as I take it, the peri∣lous Waltham Down; in whose bottom stands the inchanted Valley.

Mist. Mer.

Oh Michael, we are betraid, we are betraid, here be Giants, flie boy, flie boy flie.

Exeunt Mother and Michael.

Ralph.

Lace on my Helme again: what noise is this? A gentle Lady flying the embrace Of some uncourteous Knight, I will relieve her. Go Squire, and say, the Knight that wears this Pestle In honor of all Ladies swears revenge Upon that recreant Coward that pursues her, Goe comfort her, and that same gentle Squire That bears her company.

Squ.

I go brave Knight.

Ralph.

My trusty Dwarf and friend, reach me my shield, And hold it while I swear, first by my Knighthood, Then by the soul of Amadis de Gaule, My famous Ancestor, then by my Sword, The beauteous Brionella girt about me, By this bright burning Pestle of mine honor, The living Trophie, and by all respect Due to distressed Damsels, here I vow Never to end the quest of this fair Lady, And that forsaken Squire, till by my valour I gain their liberty.

Dw.

Heaven bless the Knight That thus relieves poor errant Gentlewomen.

Exit.

Wife.

I marry Ralph, this has some favour in't, I would see the proudest of them all offer to carry his Books after him. But George, I will not have him go away so soon, I shall be sick if he go away, that I shall; call Ralph again George, call Ralph again, I prethee sweetheart let him come fight before me, and let's ha some Drums, and Trumpets, and let him kill all that comes near him, and thou lov'st me George.

Cit.

Peace a little bird, he shall kill them all, and they were twenty more on 'em then there are,

Enter Jasper.

Jasp.

Now fortune, if thou be'st not only ill, Shew me thy better face, and bring about Thy desperate wheel, that I may climb at length And stand, this is our place of meeting, If love have any constancy. Oh age! Where only wealthy men are counted happy: How shall I please thee? how deserve thy smiles? When I am only rich in misery? My fathers blessing, and this little coin Is my inheritance, a strong revenue, From earth thou art, and to earth I give thee, There grow and multiply, whilst fresher air

Spies the Casket.

Breeds me a fresher fortune: how, illusion! What hath the Devil coyn'd himself before me? 'Tis mettle good, it rings well, I am waking, And taking too I hope, now Gods dear blessing Upon his heart that left it here, 'tis mine, These pearls, I take it, were not left for Swine.

Exit.

Wife.

I do not like that this unthrifty youth should em∣besil away the money, the poor Gentlewoman his mother will have a heavy heart for it, God knows.

Cit.

And reason good, sweet heart.

Wife.

But let him go, I'll tell Ralph a tale in's ear, shall fetch him again with a wanion, I warrant him, if he be above ground; and besides George, here be a number of sufficient Gentlemen can witness, and my self, and your self, and the Musicians, if we be call'd in question, but here comes Ralph, George, thou shalt hear him speak, as he were an Emperal.

Enter Ralph and Dwarfe.

Ralph.

Comes not Sir Squire again?

Dwarf.

Right courteous Knight, Your Squire doth come, and with him comes the Lady.

Enter Mistriss Mer. and Michael, and Squire.

For and the Squire of Damsels as I take it.

Rafe.

Madam, if any service or devoir Of a poor errant Knight may right your wrongs, Command it, I am prest to give you succor, For to that holy end I bear my Armour.

Mist. Mer.

Alas, Sir, I am a poor Gentlewoman, and I have lost my money in this Forrest. Desart, you would say, Lady, and not lost Whilst I have Sword and Launce, dry up your tears Which ill befits the beauty of that face: And tell the story, if I may request it, Of your disastrous fortune.

Mist. Mer.

Out alas, I left a thousand pound a thousand pound, e'n all the money I had laid up for this youth, up∣on the sight of your Mastership, you lookt so grim, and as I may say it, saving your presence, more like a Giant than a mortal man.

Ralph.

I am as you are, Lady, so are they All mortal, but why weeps this gentle Squire?

Mist. Mer.

Has he not cause to weep do you think, when he has lost his inheritance?

Ralph.

Young hope of valour, weep not, I am here That will confound thy foe, and pay it dear Upon his coward head, that dare denie, Distressed Squires, and Ladies equity. I have but one horse, on which shall ride This Lady fair behind me, and before This courteous Squire, fortune will give us more Upon our next adventure; fairly speed Beside us Squire aed Dwarfe to do us need.

Exeunt.

Cit,

Did not I tell you Nell what your man would do? by the faith of my body wench, for clean action and good delivery, they may all cast their caps at him.

Wife.

And so they may i'faith, for I dare speak it bold∣ly, the twelve Companies of London cannot match him, timber for timber: well George, and he be not inveigled by some of these paltery Players, I ha much marvel: but George we ha done our parts, if the Boy have any grace to be thankful.

Cit.

Yes, I warrant you duckling.

Enter Humphrey and Luce.

Hum.

Good Mistriss Luce, how ever I in fault am, For your lame horse; you're welcome unto Waltham. But which way now to go, or what to say I know not truly till it be broad day.

Luce.

O fear not master Humphrey, I am guide For this place good enough.

Hum.

Then up and ride, Or if it please you, walk for your repose, Or sit, or if you will, go pluck a Rose: Either of which shall be indifferent, To your good friend and Humphrey, whose consent Is so intangled ever to your will, As the poor harmless horse is to the ill.

Luce.

Faith and you say the word, we'll e'n sit down, And take a nap.

Hum.

'Tis better in the Town, Where we may nap together: for believe me, To sleep without a snatch would mickle grieve me.

Luce.

You're merry master Humphrey.

Hum.

So I am, And have been every merry from my Dam.

Luce.

Your Nurse had the less labour.

Hum.

Faith it may be, Unless it were by chance I did beray me.

Enter Jasper.

Jasp.

Luce, dear friend Luce,

Luce.

Here Jasper.

Jasp.

You are mine.

Hum.

If it be so, my friend, you use me fine: What do you think I am?

Jasp.

An arrant Noddy.

Hum.

A word of obloquie: now by gods body, i'll tell thy Master, for I know thee well.

Jasp.

Nay, and you be so forward for to tell, Take that, and that, and tell him, Sir, I gave it: And say I paid you well.

Hum.

O Sir I have it, And do confess the payment, pray be quiet.

Jasp.

Go, get you to your night-cap and the diet, To cure your beaten bones.

Luce.

Alas, poor Humphrey, Get thee some wholsome broth with Sage and Cumfrie: A little oil of Roses and a Feather To noint thy back withal.

Hum.

When I came hither, Would I had gone to Paris with John Dorry.

Luce.

Farewel my pretty Nump, I am very sorry I cannot bear thee company.

Hum.

Farewel, The Devils Dam was ne'r so bang'd in Hell.

Exeunt.

Manet Humphrey.

Wife.

This young Jasper will prove me another Things, a my conscience and he may be suffered; George, dost not see George how a swaggers, and flies at the very heads a fokes as he were a Dragon; well if I do not do his lesson for wronging the poor Gentleman, I am no true Woman, his friends that brought him up might have been better occu∣pied, I wis, then have taught him these fegaries: he's e'n in the high-way to the Gallows, God bless him.

Cit.

You're too bitter, Connie, the young man may do well enough for all this.

Wife.

Come hither master Humphrey, has he hurt you? now beshrew his fingers for't, here Sweet-heart, here's some Green Ginger for thee, now beshrew my heart, but a has Pepper-nel in's head, as big as a Pullets egg: alas, sweet Lamb, how thy Temples beat; take the peace on him sweet heart, take the peace on him.

Enter a Boy.

Cit.

No, no, you talk like a foolish woman, I'll ha Ralph fight with him, and swinge him up well-favour'dly: sirrah boy come hither, let Ralph come in and fight with Jasper,

Wife.

I and beat him well,, he's an unhappy boy.

Boy.

Sir, you must pardon us, the plot of our Play lies contrary, and 'twill hazard the spoiling of our Play.

Cit.

Plot me no plots, I'll ha Ralph come out, I'll make your house too hot for you else.

Boy.

Why Sir, he shall, but if any thing fall out of order, the Gentlemen must pardon us.

Cit.

Go your ways good-man boy, I'll hold him a penny he shall have his belly full of fighting now, ho here comes Ralph, no more.

Enter Ralph, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Michael, Squire. and Dwarf.

Ralph.

What Knight is that, Squire, ask him if he keep The passage bound by love of Lady fair, Or else but prickant.

Hum.

Sir, I am no Knight, But a poor Gentleman, that this same night, Had stoln from me on yonder Green, My lovely Wife, and suffered to be seen Yet extant on my shoulderr such a greeting, That whilst I live, I shall think of that meeting.

Wife.

I Ralph, he beat him unmercifully, Ralph, and thou spar'st him Ralph, I would thou wert hang'd,

Cit.

No more, wife, no more.

Ralph.

Where is the Caitiff wretch hath done this deed, Lady, your pardon, that I may proceed Upon the quest of this injurious Knight. And thou fair Squire repute me not the worse, In leaving the great venture of the purse,

Enter Jasper and Luce.

And the rich Casket till some better leisure.

Hum.

Here comes the Broker hath purloin'd my treasure.

Ralph.

Go, Squire, and tell him I am here, And Errant Knight at Arms, to crave delivery Of that fair Lady to her own Knights arms. If he deny, bid him take choice of ground, And so defie him.

Squire.

From the Knight that bears The Golden Pestle; I defie thee Knight. Unless thou make fair restitution Of that bright Lady.

Jasp.

Tell the Knight that sent thee He is an ass, and I will keep the wench, And knock his Head-piece.

Ralph.

Thou art but dead, If thou recall not thy uncourteous terms:

Wife.

Break's pate Ralph, break's pate Ralph, soundly.

Jasp.

Come Knight, I am ready for you, now your Pestle.

Snatches away his Pestle.

Shall try what temper, Sir, your Mortar's of: With that he stood upright in his stirrops, And gave the Knight of the Calve-skin such a knock, That he forsook his horse, and down he fell, And then he leaped upon him, and plucking off his Helmet.

Hum.

Nay, and my noble Knight be down so soon, Though I can scarcely go, I needs must run-

Exit Humphrey and Ralph·

Wife.

Run Ralph, run Ralph, run for thy life boy, Jasper comes, Jasper comes.

Jasp.

Come Luce, we must have other Arms for you, Humphrey and Golden Pestle both adieu.

Exeunt.

Wife.

Sure the Devil, God bless us, is in this Springald, why George, didst ever see such a fire-drake, I am afraid my boy's miscarried; if he be, though he were Master Merry-thoughts Son a thousand times, if there be any Law in England, I'll make some of them smart for't.

Cit.

No, no, I have found out the matter sweet-heart, Jasper is enchanted as sure as we are here, he is enchant∣ed, he could no more have stood in Ralph's hands, than I can stand in my Lord Mayor's: I'll have a Ring to discover all enchantments, and Ralph shall beat him yet: be no more vext, for it shall be so.

Enter Ralph, Squire, Dwarfe, Mistriss Merry-thought, and Michael.

Wife.

Oh Husband, here's Ralph again, stay Ralph, let me speak with thee, how dost thou Ralph? art thou not shrewdly hurt? the foul great Lungies laid unmercifully on thee, there's some Sugar-candy for thee, proceed, thou shalt have another bout with him.

Cit.

If Ralph had him at the Fencing-School, if he did not make a puppy of him, and drive him up and down the School, he should ne'r come in my shop more.

Mist. Mer.

Truly master Knight of the Burning Pestle, I am weary.

Mich.

Indeed-law Mother, and I am very hungry.

Ralph.

Take comfort gentle Dame, and your fair Squire. For in this Desart there must needs be plac'd Many strong Castles, held by courteous Knights, And till I bring you safe to one of those I swear by this my Order ne'r to leave you.

Wife.

Well said Ralph, George, Ralph was ever comfort∣able, was he not?

Cit.

Yes Duck.

Wife.

I shall ne'r forget him: when we had lost our child, you know it was straid almost alone, to Puddle-wharfe, and the Cryers were abroad for it, and there it had drown'd it self but for a Sculler, Ralph was the most comfortablest to me: peace Mistriss, saies he, let it go, I'll get you an∣other as good, did he not George? did he not say so?

Cit.

Yes indeed did he Mouse.

Dwarfe.

I would we had a mess of Pottage, and a pot of Drink, Squire, and were going to bed.

Squire.

Why we are at Waltham Towns end, and that's the Bell Inne.

Dwarfe.

Take courage valiant Knight, Damsel, and Squire, I have discovered, not a stones cast off, An antient Castle held by the old Knight Of the most holy Order of the Bell, Who gives to all Knights Errant entertain: There plenty is of food, and all prepar'd, By the white hands of his own Lady dear. He hath three Squires that welcome all his Guests: The first, High Chamberlain, who will see Our beds prepar'd, and bring us snowy sheets, Where never footman stretch'd his butter'd Hams. The second height Tapstro, who will see Our pots full filled, and no froth therein; The third, a gentle Squire Ostlero height, Who will our Palfries slick with wisps of straw, And in the Maunger put them Oats enough, And never grease their teeth with Candle-snuffe.

Wife.

That same Dwarfe's a pretty boy, but the Squire's a grout-nold.

Ralph.

Knock at the Gates my Squire, with stately Lance.

Enter Tapster.

Tap.

Who's there, you're welcome Gentlemen, will you see a room?

Dwarfe.

Right courteous and valiant Knight of the Burn∣ing Pestle, This is the Squire Tapstro.

Ralph.

Fair Squire Tapstro, I a wandring Knight, Height of the Burning Pestle in the quest Of this fair Ladies Casket, and wrought purse, Losing my self in this vast wilderness, And to this Castle well by fortune brought, Where hearing of the goodly entertain Your Knight of holy Order of the Bell, Gives to all Damsels, and all Errant Knights, I thought to knock, and now am bold to enter.

Tapst.

An't please you see a chamber, you are very wel∣come.

Exeunt.

Wife.

George, I would have something done, and I can∣not tell what it is.

Cit.

What is it Nell?

Wife.

Why George, shall Ralph beat no body again? pre∣thee sweet-heart let him.

Cit.

So he shall Nell, and if I joyn with him, we'll knock them all.

Enter Humphrey and Merchant.

Wife.

O George, here's master Humphrey again now, that lost Mistriss Luce, and Mistriss Luce's Father, master Hum∣phrey will do some bodies arrant I warrant him.

Hum.

Father, it's true in arms I ne'r shall clasp her, For she is stoln away by your man Jasper.

Wife.

I thought he would tell him.

Mer.

Unhappy that I am to lose my child: Now I begin to think on Jasper's words, Who oft hath urg'd to me thy foolishness, Why didst thou let her go, thou lov'st her not, That wouldst bring home thy life, and not bring her.

Hum.

Father forgive me, I shall tell you true, Look on my shoulders they are black and blue, Whilst too and fro fair Luce and I were winding, He came and basted me with a hedge binding.

Mer.

Get men and horses straight, we will be there Within this hour; you know the place again?

Hum.

I know the place where he my loins did swaddle, I'll get six horses, and to each a saddle.

Mer.

Mean time I'll go talk with Jaspers Father.

Exeunt.

Wife.

George, What wilt thou lay with me now, that Ma∣ster Humphrey has not Mistriss Luce yet, speak George what wilt thou lay with me?

Cit.

No Nell, I warrant thee, Jasper is at Puckeridge with her by this.

Wife.

Nay George, you must consider Mistriss Lucies feet are tender, and besides, 'tis dark, and I promise you tru∣ly, I do not see how he should get out of Waltham Forrest with her yet.

Cit.

Nay Cunny, what wilt thou lay with me that Ralph has her not yet.

Wife.

I will not lay against Ralph, Honny, because I have not spoken with him: but look George, peace, here comes the merry old Gentleman again.

Enter old Merry-thought.

Old Mer.

When it was grown to dark midnight,

And all were fast asleep,

In came Margarets grimly Ghost,

And stood at William's feet.

I have money, and meat, and drink before hand, till to morrow at noon, why should I be sad? methinks I have halfe a dozen jovial spirits within me, I am three merry men, and three merry men: To what end should any man be sad in this world? give me a man that when he goes to hanging cries troul the black boul to me: and a Wo∣man that will sing a catch in her Travel. I have seen a man come by my door, with a serious face, in a black cloak, without a Hatband, carrying his head as if he lookt for pins in the street. I have lookt out of my window halfe a year after, and have spied that mans head upon London Bridge: 'tis vile, never trust a Tailor that does not sing at his work, his mind is of nothing but filching.

Wife.

Mark this George, 'tis worth noting: Godfrey my Tailor, you know never sings, and he had fourteen yards to make this Gown; and I'll be sworn, Mistriss Penistone the Drapers Wife had one made with twelve.

Old Mer.

'Tis mirth that fills the veins with blood, More than Wine, or Sleep, or Food, Let each man keep his heart at ease No man dies of that disease, He that would his body keep From diseases, must not weep, But whoever laughs and sings, Never his body brings Into Feavers, Gouts, or Rhumes, Or lingringly his Lungs consumes: Or meets with aches in the bone, Or Catarrhs, or griping Stone: But contented lives for aye, The more he laughs, the more he may.

Wife.

Look George, how sayst thou by this George? is't not a fine old man? Now Gods blessing a thy sweet lips. When wilt thou be so merry George? Faith thou art the frowningst little thing, when thou art angry, in a Countrey.

Enter Merchant.

Cit.

Peace Conny, Thou shalt see him took down too I warrant thee: here's Luce's Father come now.

Old Mer.

As you came from Walsingam, from the Holy Land, there met you not with my true love by the way as you came.

Mer.

Oh Master Merry-thought! my Daughters gone,

This mirth becomes you not, my Daughter's gone.

Old Mer.

Why an if she be, what care I? Or let her come, or go, or tarry.

Merch.

Mock not my misery, it is your Son, Whom I have made my own, when all forsook him, Has stoln my only joy, my child away.

Old Mer.

He set her on a milk white Steed, and himself upon a gray, He never turn'd his face again, but he bore her quite away.

Merch.

Unworthy of the kindness I have shewn To thee, and thine: too late, I well perceive Thou art consenting to my Daughters loss.

Old Mer.

Your Daughter, what a-stirs here wi' y'r daugh∣ter? Let her go, think no more on her, but sing loud. If both my sons were on the gallows, I would sing down, down, down: they fall down, and arise they never shall.

Merch.

Oh might I behold her once again. And she once more embrace her aged sire.

Old Mer.

Fie, how scurvily this goes: and she once more embrace her aged sire? you'll make a dog on her, will ye; she cares much for her aged sire, warrant you.

She cares not for her Daddy, nor she cares not for her Mammy. For she is, she is, she is my Lord of Low-gaves Lassie.

Merch.

For this thy scorn I will pursue That son of thine to death.

Old Mer.

Do, and when you ha kill'd him, Give him flowers i'now Palmer, give him flowers i'now, Give him red and white, and blue, green, and yellow.

Merch.

I'll fetch my Daughter.

Old Mer.

I'll hear no more o' your Daughter, it spoils my mirth.

Merch.

I say I'll fetch my Daughter.

Old Mer.

Was never man for Ladies sake, down, down, Tormented as I Sir Guy? de derry down, For Lucies sake, that Lady bright, down, down, As over men beheld with eye? de derry down.

Merch.

I'll be reveng'd by heaven.

Wife.

How dost thou like this George?

Cit.

Why this is well Cunnie: but if Ralph were hot once: thou shouldst see more.

Wife.

The Fidlers go again Husband.

Cit.

I Nell, but this is scurvy Musick: I gave the whore∣son gallows money, and I think he has not got me the Waits of Southwark, if I hear him not anan, I'll twinge him by the ears.

Your Musicians play Baloo.

Wife.

No good George, let's ha Lachrymae.

Cit.

Why this is it Cunny.

Wife.

It's all the better George: now sweet Lamb, what story is that painted upon the cloth? the confutation of Saint Paul?

Cit.

No Lamb, that's Ralph and Lucrece.

Wife.

Ralph and Lucrece? which Ralph? our Ralph?

Cit.

No Mouse, that was a Tartarian.

Wife.

A Tartarian? well, I wo'd the Fidlers had done, that we might see our Ralph again.

Exeunt.

Musick.

Finis Act. Secund.

Actus Tertius.

Scaena Prima.

Enter Jasper and Luce.

Jasp.

Come my dear, though we have lost our way, We have not lost our selves: are you not weary With this nights wandring, broken from your rest? And frighted with the terror that attends The darkness of this wild unpeopled place?

Luce.

No my best friend, I cannot either fear, Or entertain a weary thought, whilst you (The end of all my full desires) stand by me: Let them that lose their hopes, and live to languish Amongst the number of forsaken Lovers, Tell the long weary steps, and number time, Start at a shadow, and shrink up their bloud, Whilst I (possest with all content and quiet) Thus take my pretty love, and thus embrace him.

Jasp.

You have caught me Luce, so fast, that whilst I live I shall become your faithful prisoner: And wear these chains for ever. Come, sit down, And rest your body, too too delicate For these disturbances; so, will you sleep? Come, do not be more able than you are, I know you are not skilful in these Watches, For Women are no soldiers; be not nice, But take it, sleep I say.

Luce.

I cannot sleep. Indeed I cannot friend.

Jasp.

Why then we'll sing, And try how that will work upon our sences.

Luce.

I'll sing, or say, or any thing but sleep.

Jasp.

Come little Mermaid, rob me of my heart With that inchanting voice.

Luce.

You mock me Jasper

SONG.

Jasp.

Tell me (dearest) what is Love?

Luce.

'Tis a lightning from above, 'Tis an Arrow, 'tis a Fire, 'Tis a Boy they call desire. 'Tis a smile Doth beguile

Jasp.

The poor hearts of men that prove, Tell me more, are Women true?

Luce.

Some Love change, and so do you.

Jasp.

Are they fair, and never kind?

Luce.

Yes, when men turn with the wind.

Jasp.

Are they froward?

Luce.

Ever toward Those that love, to love anew.

Jasp.

Dissemble it no more, I see the God Of heavy sleep, lay on his heavy Mace, Upon your eye-lids.

Luce.

I am very heavy.

Jasp.

Sleep, sleep, and quiet rest crown thy sweet thoughts: Keep from her fair blood distempers, startings, Horrors and fearful shapes: let all her dreams Be joys, and chaste delights, embraces, wishes, And such new pleasures as the ravish'd soul Gives to the sences. So my charms have took. Keep her you powers divine, whilst I contemplate Upon the wealth and beauty of her mind. She is only fair, and constant: only kind, And only to thee Jasper. Oh my joyes! Whither will you transport me? let not fulness Of my poor buried hopes come up together, And over-charge my spirits; I am weak, Some say (how ever ill) the Sea and Women Are govern'd by the Moon, both ebb and flow, Both full of changes: yet to them that know, And truly judge, these but opinions are, And heresies to bring on pleasing War Between our tempers, that without these were Both void of after-love, and present fear. Which are the best of Cupid. O thou child! Bred from despair, I dare not entertain thee, Having a love without the faults of Women, And greater in her perfect goods th••n men: Which to make good, and please my self the stronger, Though certainly I am certain of her love, I'll try her, that the world and memory May sing to after-times her constancy.

Luce.

Luce awake. Luce why do you fright me friend, With those distempered looks? what makes your sword Drawn in your hand? who hath offended you? I prethee Jasper sleep, thou art wild with watching,

Jasp.

Come make your way to Heaven, and bid the world (With all the villanies that stick upon it) Farewell; you're for another life.

Luce.

Oh Jasper. How have my tender years committed evil, (Especially against the man I love) Thus to be cropt untimely?

Jasp.

Foolish girl, Canst thou imagine I could love his daughter That flung me from my fortune into nothing? Discharged me his service, shut the doors Upon my poverty, and scorn'd my prayers, Sending me, like a boat without a malt, To sink or swim? Come, by this hand you dye, I must have life and blood to satisfie Your fathers wrongs.

Wife.

Away George, away, raise the Watch at Ludgate, and bring a Mitrimus from the Justice for this despe∣rate Villain. Now I charge you Gentlemen, see the Kings peace kept. O my heart what a varlet's this, to offer Man-slaughter upon the harmless Gentlewo∣man?

Cit.

I warrant thee (sweet heart) we'll have him ham∣pered.

Luce.

Oh Jasper! be not cruel, If thou wilt kill me, smile, and do it quickly. And let not many deaths appear before me. I am a woman made of fear and love A weak, weak woman, kill not with thy eyes, They shoot me through and through. Strike I am ready. And dying still I love thee.

Enter Merchant, Humphrey, and his Men.

Merch.

Where abouts?

Jasp.

No more of this, now to my self again.

Hum.

There, there he stands with Sword like martial Knight. Drawn in his hand, therefore beware the fight You that are wise: for were I good Sir Bevis, I would not stay his coming, by your leaves.

Merc.

Sirrah, restore my daughter.

Jasp.

Sirrah, no.

Merch.

Upon him then.

Wife.

So, down with him, down with him, down with him: cut him i'the leg boyes, cut him i'th'leg.

Merc.

Come your ways Minion, I'll provide a Cage for you, you're grown so tame. Horse her away.

Hum.

Truly I'm glad your forces have the day.

Exeunt

Jasp.

They are gone, and I am hurt, my Love is lost,

manet Jasper.

Never to get again. Oh me unhappy! Bleed, bleed, and dye, I cannot: Oh my folly! Thou hast betray'd me, Hope where art thou sled? Tell me if thou be'st any where remaining. Shall I but see my love again? Oh no! She will not dain to look upon her Butcher, Nor is fit she should; yet I must venter. Oh chance, or fortune, or what ere thou art That men adore for powerful, hear my cry, And let me loving live; or loosing dye.

Wife.

Is a gone George?

Cit.

I conny.

Wife.

Marry and let him go (sweet heart) by the faith a my body a has put me into such a fright, that I tremble (as they say) as 'twere an Aspine leaf: look a my little finger George, how it shakes: now in truth every member of my body is the worse for't.

Cit.

Come, hug in mine arms sweet Mouse, he shall not fright thee any more: alass mine own dear heart how it qui∣rers.

Ent•••• Mistris Merry-thought, Rafe, Michael, Squire, Dwarfe, Host, and a Tapster.

Wife.

O Rafe, how dost thou Rafe? how hast thou slept to night? has the Knight us'd thee well?

Cit.

Peace Nell, let Rafe alone.

Tapst.

Master, the reckoning is not paid.

Rafe.

Right courteous Knight, who for the orders sake Which thou hast tane, hang'st out the holy Bell, As I this flaming Pestle bear about, We render thanks to your puissant self, Your beauteous Lady, and your gentle Squires, For thus refreshing of our wearied limbs, Stifned with hard atchievements in wild Desart.

Tapst.

Sir, there is twelve shillings to pay.

Rafe.

Thou merry Squire Tapstero, thanks to thee, For comforting our souls with double Jug, And if adventurous Fortune prick thee forth, Thou jovial Squire, to follow seats of Arms, Take heed thou tender every Ladies cause, Every true Knight, and every Damsel fair But spill the blood of treacherous Sarazens, And false inchanters, that with Magick spels, Have done to death full many a noble Knight.

Host.

Thou valiant Knight of the burning Pestle, give ear to me, there is twelve shillings to pay, and as I am a true Knight, I will not bate a penny.

Wife.

George, I prethee tell me, must Rafe pay twelve shillings now?

Cit.

No, Nel, no, nothing but the old Knight is merry with Rafe.

Wife.

O is't nothing else? Rafe will be as merry as he.

Rafe.

Sir Knight, this mirth of yours becomes you well, But to requite this liberal courtesie, If any of your Squires will follow Arms, He shall receive from my Heroick hand A Knighthood, by the virtue of this Pestle.

Host.

Fair Knight, I thank you for your noble offer, Therefore gentle Knight, Twelve shillings you must pay, or I must cap you.

Wife.

Look George, did not I tell thee as much, the Knight of the Bell is in earnest, Rafe shall not be beholding to him, give him his money George, and let him go snick up.

Cit.

Cap Rafe? no, hold your hand sir Knight of the Bell, there's your Money, have you any thing to say to Rafe now? cap Rafe?

Wife.

I would you should know it, Rafe has friends that will not suffer him to be capt for ten times so much, and ten times to the end of that, now take thy course Rafe.

M. mer.

Come Michael, thou and I will go home to thy father, he hath enough left to keep us a day or two, and we'll set fellows abroad to cry our Purse and Casket: Shall we Michael?

Mich.

I, I pray mother, in truth my feot are full of chil∣blains with travelling.

Wife.

Faith and those chilblaines are a foul trouble, Mi∣stris Merry-thought when your youth comes home, let him rub all the soles of his feet, and his heels, and his ankles, with a Mouseskin; or if none of your can catch a Mouse, when he goes to bed, let him rowl his feet in the warm embers, and I warrant you he shall be well, and you may make him put his fingers between his toes, and smell to them, it's very sove∣raign for his head, if he be cos••ive.

Mist. mer.

Master Knight of the burning Pestle, my son Michael, and I bid you farewell, I thank your Worship har∣tily for your kindness.

Rafe.

Fare-well fair Lady, and your tender Squire. If pricking through these Desarts, I do hear Of any traiterous Knight who through his guile, Hath light upon your Casket and your Purse, I will despoil him of them and restore them.

Mist. mer.

I thank your Worship.

Exit with Michael

Rafe.

Dwarf bear my shield, Squire elevate my lance, And now farewell you Knight of holy Bell,

Cit.

I, I Rafe, all is paid.

Rafe.

But yet before I go, speak worthy Knight, If oft you do of sad adventures know, Where errant Knights may through his prowess win Eternal fame, and free some gentle souls, From endless bounds of steel and lingring pain.

Host.

Sirrah go to Nick the Barber, and bid him prepare himself, as I told you before quickly.

Tap.

I am gone Sir.

Exit Tapster.

Host.

Sir Knight, this wilderness affordeth none But the great venture, where full many a Knight Hath tried his prowess, and come off with shame, And where I would not have you loose your life, Against no man, but furious fiend of Hell.

Rafe.

Speak on Sir Knight, tell what he is, and where: For here I vow upon my blazing badge, Never to blaze a day in quietness; But bread and water will I only eat, And the green herb and rock shall be my couch Till I have queld that man, or beast, or fiend, That works such damage to all Errant Knights.

Host.

Not far from hence, near a craggy cliff At the North end of this distressed Town, There doth stand a lowly house Ruggedly builded, and in it a Cave In which an ugly Giant now doth won, Ycleped Barbaroso: in his hand He shakes a naked Lance of purest steel, With sleeves turn'd up, and him before he wears, A motly garment to preserve his clothes From blood of those Knights which he massacres, And Ladies Gentle: without his door doth hang A copper bason, on a prickant Spear; At which, no sooner gentle Knights can knock, But the shrill sound, fierce Barbaroso hears, And rushing forth, brings in the Errant Knight, And sets him down in an inchanted chair: Then with an Engine, which he hath prepar'd With forty teeth, he claws his courtly crown, Next makes him wink, and underneath his chin, He plants a brazen piece of mighty board, And knocks his bullets round about his cheeks, Whilst with his fingers, and an instrument With which he snaps his hair off, he doth fill The wretches ears with a most hideous noyse. Thus every Knight Adventurer he doth trim, And now no creature dares encounter him.

Rafe.

In Gods name, I will fight with him, kind sir, Go but before me to this dismal Cave Where this huge Giant Barbaroso dwells, And by that virtue that brave Rosicleere, That damn'd brood of ugly Giants slew, And Palmerin Frannarco overthrew: I doubt not but to curb this Traytor foul, And to the Devil send his guilty Soul.

Host.

Brave sprighted Knight, thus far I will perform This your request, I'll bring you within sight Of this most loathsome place, inhabited By a more lothsome man: but dare not stay, For his main force swoops all he sees away.

Rafe.

Saint George set on before, march Squire and Page.

Exeunt.

Wife.

George, dost think Rafe will confound the Giant?

Cit.

I hold my cap to a farthing he does: why Nell, I saw him wrestle with the great Dutchman, and hurle him.

Wife.

Faith and that Dutchman was a goodly man, if all things were answerable to his bigness: and yet they say there was a Scottishman higher than he, and that they two and a Knight met, and saw one another for nothing: but of all the sights that ever were in London, since I was married, methinks the little child that was so fair grown about the members, was the prettiest, that and the Her∣maphrodite.

Cit.

Nay, by your leave Nil, Ninivie was better.

Wife.

Ninivie, O that was the story of Jone and the wall, was it not George?

Cit.

Yes lamb.

Enter Mistris Merry-totgght.

Wife

Look George, here comes Mistris Merry-thoughauh ain, and I would have Rafe come and fight with the Gyant, I tell you true I long to see't.

Cit.

Good Mistriss Merri-thought be aone, I pray you for my sake, I pray you forbear a little, you shall have au∣dience presently, I have a little business.

Wife.

Mistris Merri-thought,, if it please you to refrain your passion a little, till Rafe have dispatcht the Giant out of the way, we shall think our selves much bound to thank you: I thank you good Mistris Merri-thought.

Exit Mist. Merry-thought.

Enter a Boy.

Cit.

Boy, come hither, send away Rafe and this whore∣son Giant quickly.

Boy.

In good faith sir we cannot, you'l utterly spoil our Play, and make it to be hist, and it cost money, you will not suffer us to go on with our plots, I pray Gentlemen rule him.

Cit.

Let him come now and dispatch this, and I'll trou∣ble you no more.

Boy.

Will you give me your hand of that?

Wife.

Give him thy hand George, do, and I'll kiss him, I warrant thee the youth means plainly.

Boy.

I'll send him to you presently.

Exit Boy.

Wife.

I thank you little youth, feth the child hath a sweet breath George, but I think it be troubled with the Worms, Carduus Benedictus and Mares milk were the only thing in the world for't. O Rafe's here George; God send thee good luck Rafe.

Enter Rafe, Host, Squire, and Dwarf.

Host.

Puissant Knight yonder his Mansion is, Lo, where the Spear and Copper Bason are, Behold the string on which hangs many a tooth, Drawn from the gentle jaw of wandring Knights, I dare not stay to sound, he will appear.

Exit Host.

Rafe.

O faint not heart, Susan my Lady dear: The Coblers Maid in Milkstreet, for whose sake, I take these Arms, O let the thought of thee, Carry thy Knight through all adventurous deeds, And in the honor of thy beauteous self, May I destroy this monster Barbaroso, Knock Squire upon the Bason till it break

Enter. Barba.

With the shrill strokes, or till the Giant spake.

Wife.

O George, the Giant, the Giant, now Rafe for thy life.

Bar.

What fond unknowing wight is this, that dares, So rudely knock at Barbarossa's Cell, Where no man comes, but leaves his fleece behind?

Rafe.

I, traiterous Caitiffe, who am sent by fate To punish all the sad enormities Thou hast committed against Ladies gentle, And Errant Knights, Traytor to God and men: Prepare thy self, this is the dismal hour Appointed for thee to give strict account Of all thy beastly treacherous villanies.

Bar.

Fool-hardy Knight, full soon thou shalt aby This fond reproach, thy body will I bang,

He takes down his pole.

And loe upon that string thy teeth shall hang: Prepare thy self, for dead soon shalt thou be.

Rafe.

Saint George for me

They fight.

Barba.

Gargantua for me.

Wife.

To him Rafe, to him, hold up the Giant, set out thy leg before Rafe.

Cit.

Falsifie a blow Rafe, falsifie a blow, the Giant lies open on the left side.

Wife.

Bear't off, bear't off still; there boy, O Rafe's al∣most down, Rafe's almost down.

Rafe.

Susan inspire me, now have up again.

Wife.

Up, up, up, up, up, so Rafe, down with him, down with him Rafe.

Cit.

Fetch him over the hip boy.

Wife.

There boy, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, Rafe.

Cit.

No Rafe, get all out of him first.

Rafe.

Presumptuous man, see to what desperate end Thy treachery hath brought thee, the just Gods, Who never prosper those that do despise them, For all the villanies which thou hast done To Knights and Ladies, now have paid thee home, By my stiff arm, a Knight adventurous. But say, vile wretch, before I send thy soul To sad Avernus, whither it must go, What captives holdst thou in thy sable cave?

Barba.

Go in and free them all, thou hast the day.

Rafe.

Go Squire and Dwarf, search in this dreadful cave, And free the wretched prisoners from their bonds.

Exit Squire and Dwarf.

Barb.

I crave for mercy as thou art a Knight, And scornst to spill the blood of those that beg.

Rafe.

Thou shewest no mercy, nor shalt thou have any, Prepare thy self, for thou shalt surely dye.

Enter Squire leading one winking, with a Bason under his chin.

Squire.

Behold brave Knight here is one prisoner, Whom this wild man hath used as you see.

Wife.

This is the wise word I hear the Squire speak.

Rafe.

Speak what thou art, and how thou hast been us'd, That I may give him condign punishment

1. Kni.

I am a Knight that took my journey post Northward from London, and in courteous wise, This Gyant train'd me to his den, Under pretence of killing of the itch, And all my body with a powder strew'd, That smarts and stings, and cut away my beard, And my curl'd locks wherein were Ribands ty'de, And with a water washt my tender eyes, Whilst up and down about me still he skipt, Whose virtue is, that till my eyes be wip't With a dry cloth, for this my soul disgrace, I shall not dare to look a dog i'th'face.

Wife.

Alass poor Knight, relieve him Rafe, relieve poor Knights whilst you live.

Rafe.

My trusty Squire convey him to the Town, Where he may find relief, adieu fair Knight.

Exit Knight.

Enter Dwarf leading one with a patch o'er his Nose,

Dwar.

Puissant Knight of the burning Pestle height, See here another wretch, whom this soul beast Hath scorcht and scor'd in this inhumane wise.

Rafe.

Speak me thy name, and eke thy place of birth, And what hath been thy usage in this Cave.

2. Knight.

I am a Knight, Sir Pock-hole is my name, And by my birth I am a Londoner, Free by my Copy, but my Ancestors Were Frenchmen all, and riding hard this way. Upon a trotting horse my bones did ake, And I faint Knight to ease my weary limbes, Light at this Cave, when straight this furious fiend, With sharpest instrument of purest steel, Did cut the gristle of my Nose away, And in the place this velvet plaster stands, Relieve me gentle Knight out of his hands.

Wife.

Good Rafe relieve Sir Pockhole, and send him away, for in truth his breath stinks.

Rafe.

Convey him straight after the other Knight: Sir Pockhole fare you well.

3. Knight.

Kind Sir goodnight

Exit.

Cryes within.

Man.

Deliver us.

Woman.

Deliver us.

Wife.

Harke George, what a woful cry there is, I think some woman lyes in there.

Man.

Deliver us

Woman.

Deliver us.

Rafe.

What gastly noise is this? speak Barbaroso Or by this blazing steel thy head goes off.

Barb.

Prisoners of mine, whom I in diet keep, Send lower down into the Cave, And in a Tub that's heated smoaking hot, There may they find them and deliver them.

Rafe.

Run Squire and Dwarf, deliver them with speed.

Exeunt Squire and Dwarf.

Wife.

But will not Rafe kill this Giant, surely I am afraid if he let him go he will do as much hurt, as ever he did.

Citizen.

Not so Mouse neither, if he could convert him.

Wife.

I George, if he could convert him; but a Gyant is not so soon converted as one of us ordinary people. There's a pretty tale of a Witch, that had the Divels mark about lier, God bless us, that had a Gyant to her son, that was call'd Lob-lie-by-the-fire, didst never hear it George.

Enter Squire leading a man with a glass of Lotion in his hand, and the Dwarf leading a woman, with Dyet-bread and Drink.

Cit.

Peace Nell, here comes the prisoners.

Dwar.

Here be these pined wretches, manfull Knight, That for this six weeks have not seen a wight.

Raph.

Deliver what you are, and how you came To this sad Cave, and what your usage was?

Man.

I am an errant Knight that followed Arms, With spear and shield, and in my tnder years I strucken was with Cupids fiery shaft, And fell in love with this my Lady dear, And stole her from her friends in Turne-ball street, And bore her up and down from Town to Town, Where we did eat and drink and Musick here; Till at the length at this unhappy Town We did arrive, and coming to this Cave, This beast us caught, and put us in a Tub, Where we this two months sweat, and should have done. Another Month if you had not relieved us.

Wom.

This bread and water hath our dyet been, Together with a rib cut from a neck Of burned Mutton, hard hath been our fare, Release us from this ugly Gyants snare.

Man.

This hath been half the food we have receiv'd, But only twice a day for novelty, He gave a spoonful of his hearty broth

Pulls out a siringe.

To each of us, through this same tender quill.

Raph.

From this infernall Monster you shall go, That useth Knights and gentle Ladies so. Convey them hence.

Exeunt man and woman.

Cit.

Cunny, I can tell thee the Gentleman like Rafe.

Wife.

I George, I see it well enough. Gentlemen I thank you all heartily for gracing my man Ralph, and I promise you, you shall see him oftner.

Bar.

Mercy great Knight, I do recant my ill, And henceforth never gentle blood will spill.

Raph.

I give thee mercy, but yet thou shalt swear Upon my burning Pestle to perform Thy promise utter'd.

Bar.

I swear and kiss.

Raph.

Depart then and amend. Come Squire and Dwarf, the Sun grows towards his set, And we have many more adventures yet.

Exeunt.

Cit.

Now Raph is in this humor, I know he would ha beaten all the boys in the house, if they had been set on him.

Wife.

I George, but it is well as it is: I warrant you the gen∣tlemen do consider what it is to overthrow a Gyant: but look George, here comes Mistriss Merri-thought, and her son Michael, now you are welcome Mistriss Merri-thought, now Raph has done you may go on.

Enter Mistriss Merry-thought and Michael.

Mist. mer·

Micke My Boy?

Mich.

I forsooth Mother.

Mist. mer.

Be merry Micke, we are at home now: where I warrant you, you shall find the house flung out of the

windows: Hark: hey dogs, hey, this is the old world y'faith with my Husband: I'll get in among them, I'll play them such lesson, that they shall have little list to come scraping hither again. Why Master Merry-thought, Hus∣band, Charles Merry-thought.

Old Mer. within.

If you will sing, and dance, and laugh, and hollow, and laugh again: and then cry there boys there: why then,

One, two, three, and four, We shall be merry within this hour.

Mist. Mer.

Why Charles do you not know your own na∣tural wife? I say open the door, and turn me out those mangy companions; 'tis more than time that they were fellow like with you: you are a Gentleman Charles, and an old man, and father of two children; and I my self, (though I say it) by my mothers side, Niece to a Wor∣shipful Gentleman, and a Conductor, he has been three times in his Majesties service at Chester, and is now the fourth time, God bless him, and his charge upon his journey.

Old Mer.

Go from my window, love go: Go from my window my dear, The wind and the rain will drive you back again, You cannot be lodged here.

Hark you Mistriss Merri-thought, you that walk upon Adventures, and forsake your Husband, because he sings with never a penny in his purse; what shall I think my self the worse? Faith no, I'll be merry.

You come not here, here's none but Lads of mettle, lives of a hundred years, and upwards, care never drunk their bloods, nor want made them warble.

Hey-ho, my heart is heavy.

Mist. Mer.

Why M. Merrithought, what am I that you should laugh me to scorn thus abruptly? am I not your fellow-feeler, (as we may say) in all our miseries? your comforter in health and sickness? have I not brought you Children? are they not like you Charles? look upon thine own Image, hard-hearted man; and yet for all this—

Old Mer. within.

Begon, begon my juggy, my puggy, begon my love my dear.

The weather is warm, 'twill do thee no harm, thou canst not be lodged here.

Be merry boys, some light musick, and more wine.

Wife.

He's not in earnest, I hope George, is he?

Cit.

What if he be, sweet heart?

Wife.

Marry if he be George, I'll make bold to tell him he's an ingrant old man, to use his bed-fellow so scur∣vily.

Cit.

What how does he use her Honey?

Wife.

Marry come up sir sauce-box, I think you'll take his part, will you not? Lord how hot are you grown: you are a fine man an you had a fine Dog, it becomes you sweetly.

Cit.

Nay, prethee Nell chide not: for as I am an ho∣nest man, and a true Christian Grocer, I do not like his doings.

Wife.

I cry you mercy then George, you know we are all frail, and full of infirmities. Dee hear Master Merri-thought, may I crave a word with you?

Old Mer within.

Strike up lively lads.

Wife.

I had not thought in truth, Master Merri-thought, that a man of your age and discretion (as I may say) be∣ing a Gentleman, and therefore known by your gentle conditions, could have used so little respect to the weak∣ness of his wife: for your wife is your own flesh, the staff of your age, your yoke-fellow, with whose help you draw through the myre of this transitory world: Nay, she's your own rib. And again—

Old Mer.

I come not hither for thee to teach, I have no pulpit for thee to preach, I would thou hadst kist me under the breech, As thou art a Lady gay.

Wife.

Marry with a vengeance,

I am heartily sorry for the poor Gentlewoman: but if I

were thy wife, i'faith gray-beard, i'faith—

Cit.

I prethee sweet Hony-suckle, be content.

Wife.

Give me such words that am a Gentlewoman born, hang him hoary Rascal. Get me some drink George, I am almost molten with fretting: now beshrew his Knaves heart for it.

Old mer.

Play me a light Lavalto: come, be frollick, fill the good fellows wine.

Mist. mer.

Why Master Merri-thought, are you disposed to make me wait here: you'll open I hope, i'll fetch them that shall open else.

Old mer.

Good woman, if you will sing, I'll give you something, if not —

SONG.

You are no love for me Marget, I am no love for you. Come aloft Boys, aloft.

Mist. mer.

Now a Churles fart in your teeth Sir: Come Mick, we'll not trouble him, a shall not ding us i'th'teeth with his bread and his broth, that he shall not: come boy, I'll provide for thee, I warrant thee: wee'll go to Master Venterwels the Merchant, I'll get his letter to mine Host of the Bell in Waltham, there I'll place thee with the Tapster, will not that do well for thee Mick? and let me alone for that old Cuckoldly Knave your father, I'll use him in his kind, I warrant ye.

Wife.

Come George, where's the beer?

Cit.

Here Love.

Wife.

This old fornicating fellow will not out of my mind yet; Gentlemen, I'll begin to you all, I desire more of your acquaintance, with all my heart. Fill the Gen∣tlemen some beer George.

Musick.

Finis Actus Tertii.

Actus Quartus.

Scaena Prima.

Boy danceth.

Wife.

Look George, the little boy's come again, methinks he looks something like the Prince of Orange in his long stocking, if he had a little harness about his neck. George, I will have him dance Fading; Fading, is a fine Jig I'll assure you Gentlemen: begin brother, now a capers sweet heart, now a turn a th'toe, and then tumble: cannot you tumble youth?

Boy.

No indeed forsooth.

Wife.

Nor eat fire?

Boy.

Neither.

Wife.

Why then I thank you heartily, there's two pence to buy you points withall.

Enter Jasper and Boy.

Jasp.

There boy, deliver this: but do it well. Hast thou

provided me four lusty fellows?

Able to carry me? and art thou perfect In all thy business?

Boy.

Sir you need not fear, I have my lesson here, and cannot miss it: The men are ready for you, and what else Pertains to this imployment.

Jasp.

There my boy, Take it, but buy no land.

Boy.

Faith sir 'twere rare To see so young a purchaser: I flie, And on my wings carry your destiny.

Exit.

Jasp.

Go, and be happy: Now my latest hope Forsake me not, but fling thy Anchor out, And let it hold: stand, fix thou rolling stone,

Till I enjoy my dearest: hear me all You powers that rule in men celestial.

Exit.

Wife,

Go thy ways, thou art as crooked a sprig as ever grew, in London, I warrant him he'll come to some naugh∣ty end or other: for his looks say no less: Besides, his father (you know George) is none of the best, you heard him take me up like a Gill flirt: and sing bawdy Songs up∣on me: but i'faith if I live George—

Cit.

Let me alone sweet-heart, I have a trick in my head shall lodge him in the Arches for one year, and make him sing Peccavi, 'ere I leave him, and yet he shall never know who hurt him neither.

Wife.

Do my good Geerge, do.

Cit.

What shall we have Rafe do now boy?

Boy.

You shall have what you will sir.

Cit.

Why so sir, go and fetch me him then, and let the Sophy of Persia come and christen him a child.

Boy.

Believe me Sir, that will not do so well, 'tis stale, it has been had before at the Red Bull.

Wife.

George, let Rafe travell over great hills, and let him be weary, and come to the King of Cracovia's house, covered with velvet, and there let the Kings daughter stand in her window all in beaten gold, combing her gol∣den locks with a comb of Ivory, and let her spye Rafe, and fall in love with him, and come down to him, and carry him into her fathers house, and then let Rafe talk with her.

Cit.

Well said Nel, it shall be so: boy let's ha't done quickly.

Boy.

Sir, if you will imagine all this to be done alrea∣dy, you shall hear them talk together: but we cannot present a house covered with black Velvet, and a Lady in beaten gold.

Cit.

Sir Boy, lets ha't as you can then.

Boy.

Besides, it will shew ill-favoredly to have a Grocers Prentice to court a Kings daughter.

Cit.

Will it so Sir? you are well read in Histories: I pray you what was Sir Dagonet? was not he Prentice to a Grocer in London? read the Play of the Four Prentices of London, where they toss their Pikes so: I pray you fetch him in Sir, fetch him in.

Boy.

It shall be done, it is not our fault Gentlemen.

Exit.

Wife.

Now we shall see fine doings I warrant thee George.

O here they come; how prettily the King of Cracovia's daughter is drest.

Enter Rafe and the Lady, Squire and Dwarf.

Cit.

I Nell, it is the fashion of that Countrey, I war∣rant thee.

Lady.

Welcome sir Knight unto my fathers Court. King of Moldavia, unto me Pompiona His daughter dear: but sure you do not like Your entertainment, that will stay with us No longer but a night.

Raph.

Damsell right fair, I'm on many sad adventures bound, That call me forth into the Wilderness: Besides, my horses back in something gal'd, Which will enforce me ride a sober pace. But many thanks (fair Lady) be to you, For using errant Knight with courtesie.

Lady.

But say (brave Knight) what is your name and birth?

Rafe.

My name is Rafe, I am an Englishman, As true as steel, a hearty Englishman, And Prentice to a Grocer in the Strand, By deed indent, of which I have one part: But fortune calling me to follow Arms, On me this holy Order I did take, Of burning Pestle, which in all mens eyes, I bear, confounding Ladies enemies.

Lady.

Oft have I heard of your brave Countrymen, And fertile soil, and store of wholosome food; My father oft will tell me of a drink In England found, and Nipitato call'd. Which driveth all the sorrow from your hearts.

Rafe.

Lady 'tis true, you need not lay your lips To better Nipitato than there is.

Lady.

And of a wild-fowl he will often speak, Which poudred beef and mustard called is: For there have been great Wars 'twixt us and you, But truely Rafe, it was not long of me. Tell me then Rafe could you contented be, To wear a Ladies favor in your shield?

Rafe.

I am a Knight of Religious Order, And will not wear a favor of a Ladies That trusts in Antichrist, and false traditions.

Cit.

Well said Rafe, convert her if thou canst.

Rafe.

Besides, I have a Lady of my own In merry England; for whose virtuous sake I took these Arms, and Susan is her name, A Coblers maid in Milkstreet, whom I vow Nere to forsake, whilst life and Pestle last.

Lady.

Happy that Cobling Dame, who ere she be That for her own (dear Rafe) hath gotten thee. Unhappy I, that nere shall see the day To see thee more, that bear'st my heart away.

Rafe.

Lady farewell, I must needs take my leave.

Lady.

Hard-hearted Rafe, that Ladies dost deceive.

Cit.

Hark thee Rafe, there's money for thee; give something in the King of Cracovia's house, be not be∣holding to him.

Rafe.

Lady before I go, I must remember Your fathers Officers, who truth to tell, Have been about me very diligent: Hold up thy snowy hand thou princely maid, There's twelvepence for your fathers Chamberlain. And another shilling for his Cook, For by my troth the Goose was rosted well. And twelve pence for your fathers Horse-keeper, For nointing my horse back, and for his butter There is another shilling to the maid That washt my boot-hose, there's an English groat, And twopence to the boy that wip't my boots. And last, fair Lady, there is for your self Three pence to buy you pins at Bumbo Fair.

Lady.

Full many thanks, and I will keep them safe Till all the heads be off, for thy sake Rafe.

Rafe.

Advance my Squire and Dwarf, I cannot stay.

Lady.

Thou kil'st my heart in parting thus away.

Exeunt.

Wife.

I commend Rafe, yet that he will not stoop to a Cracovian, there's properer women in London than any are there I-wis. But here comes Master Humphrey, and his love again, now George.

Cit.

I Cunny, peace.

Enter Merchant, Humphrey, Luce, and Boy.

Merc.

Go get you up, I will not be intreated. And Gossip mine I'll keep you sure hereafter From gadding out again, with boys and unthrifts, Come they are womens tears, I know your fashion. Go sirrah, lock her in, and keep the key.

Exit Luce and Boy.

Safe as your life. Now my son Humphrey, You may both rest assured of my love In this, and reap your own desire.

Hum.

I see this love you speak of, through your daughter. Although the hole be little, and hereafter Will yield the like in all I may or can, Fitting a Christian, and a Gentleman.

Merc·

I Do believe you (my good son) and thank you. For 'twere an impudence to think you flattered.

Hum.

It were indeed, but shall I tell you why, I have been beaten twice about the lye.

Merc.

Well son, no more of complement, my daughter Is yours again; appoint the time and take her.

Wee'll have no stealing for it, I my self And some few of our friends will see you married.

Hum.

I would you would i'faith, for be it known I ever was afraid to lye alone.

Mer.

Some three days hence then.

Hum.

Three days, let me see, 'Tis somewhat of the most, yet I agree, Because I mean against the pointed day, To visit all my friends in new array.

Enter servant.

Ser.

Sir, there's a Gentlewoman without would speak with your Worship.

Mer.

What is she?

Ser.

Sir I askt her not.

Mer.

Bid her come in.

Enter Mistriss Merry-thought, and Michael.

Mist. mer.

Peace be to your Worship, I come as a poor Suitor to you Sir, in the behalf of this child.

Mer.

Are you not wise to Merri-thought?

Mist. mer.

Yes truly, would I had nere seen his eyes, he has undone me and himself, and his children, and there he lives at home and sings, and hoyts, and revels among his drunken companions, but I warrant you, where to get a penny to put bread in his mouth, he knows not: And therefore if it like your Worship, I would intreat your Letter, to the honest Host of the Bell in Waltham, that I may place my child under the protection of his Tap∣ster, in some setled course of life.

Mer

I'm glad the heavens have heard my prayers: thy Husband When I was ripe in sorrows laught at me, Thy son, like an unthankful wretch, I having Redeem'd him from his fall, and made him mine, To shew his love again, first stole my daughter: Then wrong'd this Gentleman, and last of all, Gave me that grief, had almost brought me down Unto my grave, had not a stronger hand Reliev'd my sorrows, go, and weep as I did, And be unpittied, for here I profess An everlasting hate to all thy name.

Mist. mer.

Will you so Sir, how say you by that? come Micke, let him keep his wind to cool his Pottage, we'll go to thy Nurses, Micke, she knits silk stockings boy, and we'll knit too boy, and be beholding to none of them all.

Exeunt Michael and Mother.

Enter a Boy with a Letter.

Boy.

Sir, I take it you are the Master of this house.

Mer.

How then boy?

Boy.

Then to your self Sir, comes this Letter.

Mer.

From whom my pretty boy?

Boy.

From him that was your servant, but no more Shall that name ever be, for he is dead, Grief of your purchas'd anger broke his heart, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 saw him dye, and from his hand receiv'd This paper with a charge to bring it hither, Read it, and satisfie your self in all.

Merch.

LETTER.

SIR that I have wronged your love, I must confess, in which I have purchast to my self, besides mine own undoing, the ill opinion of my friends, let not your anger, good Sir, outlive me, but suffer me to rest in peace with your forgive∣ness; let my body (if a dying man may so much prevail with you) be brought to your daughter, that she may know my hot flames are now buried, and withall, receive a testimony of the zeal I bore her vertue: farewell for ever, and be ever happy.

Jasper.

Gods hand is great in this, I do forgive him, Yet am I glad he's quiet, where I hope He will not bite again: boy bring the body, And let him have his will, if that be all.

Boy.

'Tis here without Sir.

Mer.

So Sir, if you please You may conduct it in, I do not fear it.

Hum.

I'll be your Usher boy, for though I say it, He ow'd me something once, and well did pay it.

Exeunt.

Enter Luce alone.

Luce.

If there be any punishment inflicted Upon the miserable, more than yet I feell, Let it together seize me, and at once Press down my soul, I cannot bear the pain Of these delaying tortures: thou that art The end of all, and the sweet rest of all; Come, come oh death bring me to thy peace, And blot out all the memory I nourish Both of father and my cruel friend. O wretch'd maid still living to be wretched, To be a say to fortune in her changes. And grow to number times and woes together, How happy had I been, if being born My grave had been my cradle?

Enter servant.

Ser.

By your leave Young Mistris, here's a boy hath brought a Coffin, What a would say I know not: but your father Charg'd me to give you notice, here they come.

Enter two bearing a Coffin, Jasper in it.

Luce.

For me I hope 'tis come, and 'tis most welcome

Boy.

Fair Mistriss, let me not add greater grief To that great store you have already; Jasper That whilst he liv'd was yours, now dead, And here inclos'd, commanded me to bring His body hither, and to crave a tear From those fair eyes, though he deserve not pitty, To deck his Funeral; for so he bid me Tell her for whom he di'd.

Luce.

He shall have many:

Exeunt Coffin-carrier and Boy.

Good friends depart a little, whilst I take My leave of this dead man, that once I lov'd: Hold, yet a little, life, and then I give thee To thy first heavenly being; O my friend! Hast thou deceiv'd me thus, and got before me? I shall not long be after, but believe me, Thou wert too cruel Jasper 'gainst thy self, In punishing the fault I could have pardoned, With so untimely death; thou didst not wrong me, But ever wer't most kind, most true, most loving And I the most unkind, most false, most cruell. Didst thou but ask a tear? I'll give thee all, Even all my eyes can pour down, all my sigh's And all my self, before thou goest from me There are but sparing Rites: But if thy soul Be yet about this place, and can behold And see what I prepare to deck thee with, It shall go up, born on the wings of peace, And satisfied: first will I sing thy Dirge, Then kiss thy pale lips, and then dye my self, And fill one Coffin and one grave together.

SONG.

Come you whose loves are dead, And whilst I sing Weep and wring Every hand and every head, Bind with Cipress and sad Ewe, Ribbands black, and Candles blue, For him that was of men most true.

Come with heavy mourning, And on his grave Let him have Sacrifice of sighs and groaning, Let him have fair flowers enow,

White and purple, green and yellow, For him that was of men most true.

Thou fable cloth, sad cover of my joys, I lift thee up, and thus I meet with death.

Jasp.

And thus you meet the living.

Luce.

Save me Heaven.

Jasp.

Nay, do not flye me fair, I am no spirit, Look better on me, do you know me yet?

Luce.

O thou dear shadow of my friend.

Jasp.

Dear substance, I swear I am no shadow feel my hand, It is the same it was, I am your Jasper, Your Jasper that's yet living, and yet loving, Pardon my rash attempt, my foolish proof I put in practice of your constancy: For sooner should my sword have drunk my blood, And set my soul at liberty, than drawn The least drop from that body, for which boldness Doom me to any thing: if death, I take it And willingly.

Luce.

This death I'll give you for it, So, now I am satisfied: you are no spirit, But my own truest, truest, truest friend, Why do you come thus to me?

Jasp.

First, to see you, Then to convey you hence.

Luce.

It cannot be, For I am lockt up here, and watcht at all hours, That 'tis impossible for me to scape.

Jasp.

Nothing more possible, within this Coffin Do you convey your self, let me alone, I have the wits of twenty men about me, Only I crave the shelter of your Closet A little and then fear me not; creep in That they may presently convey you hence: Fear nothing dearest love, I'll be your second, Lye close, so, all goes well yet; boy.

Boy.

At hand Sir.

Jasp.

Convey away the Coffin, and be wary.

Boy.

'Tis done already.

Jasp.

Now must I go conjure.

Exit.

Enter Merchant.

Merch.

Boy, boy.

Boy.

Your servant Sir.

Merch.

Do me this kindness boy, hold here's a crown: be∣fore thou bury the body of this fellow, carry it to his old merry father, and salute him from me, and bid him sing, he hath cause.

Boy.

I will Sir.

Merch.

And then bring me word what tune he is in, and have another crown: but do it truly.

I have fitted him a bargain, now, will vex him.

Boy.

God bless your Worships health Sir.

Merch.

Farewell boy.

Exeunt.

Enter Master Merry-thought.

Wife.

Ah old Merry-thought, art thou there again? let's hear some of thy Songs.

Old Mer.

Who can sing a merrier note Th•••• be that cannot change a great?

Not a Dinner left, and yet my heart leaps; I do wonder yet, as old as I am, that any man will follow a Trade, or serve, that may sing and laugh, and walk the streets: my wife and both my sons are I know not where, I have no∣thing left, nor know I how to come by meat to supper, yet am I merry still; for I know I shall find it upon the Table at six a Clock; therefore hang Thought

I would not be a Servingman to carry the cloke-bag still. Nor would I be a Fawlconer the greedy Hawkes to fill. But I would be in a good house, and have a good Master ••o: But I would eat and drink of the best, and no work would I do.

This is that keeps life and soul together, mirth: this is the Philosophers stone that they write so much on, that keeps a man ever young.

Enter a Boy.

Boy.

Sir, they say they know all your Money is gone, and they will trust you for no more drink.

Old mer.

Will they not? let 'em chuse: the best is I have mirth at home, and need not send abroad for that; let them keep their drink to themselves.

For Jillian of Berry, she dwells on a hill, And she hath good Beer and Ale to sell, And of good fellows she thinks no ill, And thither will we go now, now, now, and thither Will we go now. And when you have made a little stay, You need not know what is to pay, But kiss your Hostess and go your way. And thither, &c.

Enter another Boy.

2. Boy.

Sir, I can get no bread for supper.

Old mer.

Hang bread and supper, let's preferve our mirth, and we shall never feel hunger, I'll warrant you, let's have a Catch, boy follow me, come sing this Catch.

Ho, ho, no body at home, meat, nor drink, nor money ha we none, fill the pot Eedy, never more need I.

Old mer.

So boyes enough, follow me, let's change our place and we shall laugh afresh.

Exeunt.

Wife.

Let him go George, a shall not have any counte∣nance from us, not a good word from any i'th' Company, if I may strike stroke in't.

Cit.

No more, a shannot love; but Nell, I will have Rafe, do a very notable matter now, to the eternal honour and glory of all Grocers: sirrah, you there, boy, can none of you hear?

Boy.

Sir, your pleasure.

Cit.

Let Rafe come out on May day in the morning, and speak upon a Conduit with all his Scarfs about him, and his Feathers, and his Rings, and his Knacks.

Boy.

Why sir, you do not think of our plot, what will be∣come of that then?

Cit.

Why sir, I care not what become on't, I'll have him come out, or I'll fetch him out my self, I'll have something done in honor of the City: besides he hath been long enough upon Adventures, bring him out quickly, for I come amongst you—

Boy.

Well sir, he shall come out, but if our Play miscarry, Sir you are like to pay for't.

Exit.

Cit.

Bring him away then.

Wife.

This will be brave i'faith: George shall not he dance the Morrice too for the credit of the Strand.

Cit.

No sweet-heart it will be too much for the boy. O there he is Nell, he's reasonable well in reparel, but he has not Rings enough.

Enter Rafe.

Rafe.

London, to thee I do present the merry Month of May, Let each true Subject be content to hear me what I say: For from the top of Conduit head, as plainly may appear, I will both tell my name to you, and wherefore I came here. My name is Rafe, by due descent, though not ignoble I, Yet far inferiour to the flock of gracious Grocery. And by the Common-counsel of my fellows in the Strand, With gilded Staff, and crossed Skarfe, the May-lord here I stand.

Rejoyce O English hearts, rejoyce, rejoyce O Lovers dear; Rejoyce O City, Town, and Countrey, rejoyce eke every Shire; For now the flagrant flowers do spring and sprout in seemly sort, The little Birds do sit and sing, the Lambs do make fine sport, And now the Burchin Tree doth bud that makes the Schoolboy cry, The Morrice rings while Hobby horse doth foot it featuously: The Lords and Ladies now abroad for their disport and play, Do kiss sometimes upon the Grass, and sometimes in the Hay. Now butter with a leaf of Sage is good to purge the blood, Fly Venus and Phlebotomy for they are neither good. Now little fish on tender stone, begin to cast their bellies, And sluggish snails, that erst were mute, do creep out of their shellies, The rumbling Rivers now do warm for little boys to paddle, The Sturdy Steed, now goes to grass, and up they hang his saddle. The heavy Hart, the blowing Buck, the Rascall and the Pricket, Are now among the Yeomans Pease, and leave the fearful thicket. And be like them, O you, I say, of this same noble Town, And lift aloft your velvet heads, and slipping of your gown: With bels on legs, and napkins clean unto your shoulders ti'de, With Scarfs and Garters as you please, and Hey for our Town cry'd: March out and shew your willing minds, by twenty, and by twenty, To Hogsdon or to Newington, where Ale and Cakes are plenty. And let it nere be said for shame, that we the youths of London, Lay thruming of our caps at home, and left our custom undone. Ʋp then I say, both young and old, both man and maid a Maying With Drums and Guns that bounce aloud, and merry Taber playing. Which to prolong, God save our King, and send his Countrey peace, And root out Treason from the Land, and so my friends I cease.

Finis Act. 4.

Actus Quintus.

Scaena Prima.

Enter Merchant solus.

Merch.

I will have no great store of company at the wed∣ding, a couple of neighbors and their wives, and we will have a Capon in stewed broth, with marrow, and a good piece of beef, stuck with Rose-mary.

Enter Jasper and his face mealed.

Jasp.

Forbear thy pains fond man, It is too late.

Merch.

Heaven bless me: Jasper?

Jasp.

I, I am his Ghost Whom thou hast injur'd for his constant love: Fond worldly wretch, who dost not understand In death that true hearts cannot parted be. First know thy daughter is quite born away, On wings on Angels: through the liquid Ayre Too far out of thy reach, and never more Shalt thou behold her face: But she and I Will in another world enjoy our loves, Where neither fathers anger, poverty, Nor any cross that troubles earthly men Shall make us sever our united hearts, And never shalt thou sit, or be alone In any place, but I will visit thee With gastly looks, and put into thy mind The great offences which thou didst to me. When thou art at thy Table with thy friends, Merry in heart, and sild with swelling wine, I'll come in midst of all thy pride and mirth, Invisible to all men but thy self, And whisper such a sad tale in thine ear, Shall make thee let the Cup fall from thy hand, And stand as mute and pale as Death it self.

Merch.

Forgive me Jasper; Oh! what might I do? Tell me to satisfie thy troubled Ghost?

Jasp.

There is no means, too late thou thinkst on this.

Mer.

But tell me what were best for me to do?

Jasp.

Repent thy deed, and satisfie my father, And beat fond Humphrey out of thy doors.

Exit Jasp

Enter Humphrey.

Wife.

Look George, his very Ghost would have folks beaten.

Hum.

Father, my bride is gone, fair Mistris Luce, My soul's the font of vengeance, mischiefs sluce.

Mer.

Hence fool out of my sight, with thy fond passion, Thou hast undone me.

Hum.

Hold my father dear, For Luce thy daughters sake, that had no peer.

Mer.

Thy father fool? there's some blows more, begon.

Jasper, I hope thy Ghost be well appeased, To see thy will perform'd, now I'll go To satisfie thy father for thy wrongs.

Exit.

Hum.

What shall I do? I have been beaten twice. And Mistris Luce is gone? help me device: Since my true-love is gone, I never more, Whilst I do live, upon the Skie will pore; But in the dark will wear out my shoo-soles In passion, in Saint Faiths Church under Pauls.

Exit.

Wife.

George call Rafe hither, if you love me call Rafe hither, I have the bravest thing for him to do George,; prethee. call him quickly

Cit.

Rafe, why Rafe boy.

Enter Rafe.

Rafe.

Here Sir.

Cit.

Come hither Rafe, come to thy Mistris Boy.

Wife.

Rafe I would have thee call all the youths together in battle-ray, with Drums, and Guns, and flags, and march to Mile-end in pompous fashion, and there exhort your Souldiers to be merry and wise, and to keep their beards from burning Rafe, and then skirmish, and let your flags fly, and cry, kill, kill, kill: my husband shall lend you his Jerkin Rafe, and there's a Scarfe for the rest, the house shall furnish you, and we'll pay for't: do it brave∣ly Rafe, and think before whom you perform, and what person you represent.

Rafe.

I warrant you Mistress, if I do it not, for the ho∣nor of the City, and the credit of my Master, let me ne∣ver hope for freedome.

Wife.

'Tis well spoken i'faith; go thy waies, thou art a spark indeed.

Cit.

Ralph, double your files bravely Ralph.

Ralph.

I warrant you Sir,

Exit Ralph.

Cit.

Let him look narrowly to his service, I shall take him else; I was there my self a Pike-man once, in the hot∣test of the day, wench, had my feather shot shaer away, the fringe of my pike burnt off with powder, my pate bro∣ken with a scouring-stick, and yet I thank God I am here.

Drum within.

Wife.

Hark George, the Drums.

Cit,

Ran, tan; tan, tan, ran tan: Oh wench an thou hadst but seen little Ned of Aldgate, drum Ned, how he made it roar again, and laid on like a tyrant: and then struck softly till the Ward came up, and then thundred a∣gain, and together we go: sa, sa, sa, bounce quoth the Guns: courage my hearts, quoth the Captains: Saint George, quoth the pike-men; and withal here they lay, and there they lay: And yet for all this I am here wench.

Wife.

Be thankful for it George, for indeed 'tis wonder∣ful.

Enter Ralph and his company with Drums and Colours.

Ralph.

March fair my hearts; Lieutenant beat the rear up: Ancient let your Colours flie; but have a great care of the Butchers hooks at White-Chappel, they have been the death of many a fair Ancient. Open your files, that I may take a view both of your persons and munition: Serjeant call a Muster.

Serg.

A stand, William Hamerton Pewterer.

Ham.

Here Captain.

Ralph.

A Corslet and a Spanish Pike; 'tis well, can you shake it with a terror?

Ham.

I hope so Captain.

Ralph.

Charge upon me, 'tis with the weakest: put more strength William Hamerton, more strength: as you were again; proceed Serjeant.

Serj.

George Green-goose, Poulterer.

Green.

Here.

Ralph.

Let me see your Peece neighbor Green-goose, when was she shot in?

Green.

And like you master Captain, I made a shot even now, partly to scour her, and partly for audacity.

Ralph.

It should seem so certainly, for her breath is yet in∣flamed: besides, there is a main fault in the touch-hole, it runs and stinketh; and I tell you moreover, and be∣lieve it. Ten such touch-holes would breed the Pox in the Army; Get you a Feather, neighbor, get you a Feather, sweet Oil, and Paper, and your Peece may do well enough yet. Where's your Powder?

Green.

Here.

Ralph.

What in a Paper? As I am a Soldier and a Gen∣tleman, it craves a Martial Court: you ought to die for't. Where's your horn? answer me to that.

Green.

An't like you Sir, I was oblivious.

Ralph.

It likes me not it should be so; 'tis a shame for you, and a scandal to all our Neighbors, being a man of worth and estimation, to leave your horn behind you: I am afraid 'twill breed example. But let me tell you no more on't; stand, till I view you all. What's become o'th' nose of your flaske?

1 Sold.

Indeed law Captain, 'twas blown away with pow∣der.

Ralph.

Put on a new one at the Cities Charge. Where's the stone of this Peece?

2 Sold.

The Drummer took it out to light Tobacco.

Ralph.

'Tis a fault my friend, put it in again: you want a Nose, and you a Stone; Serjeant, take a note on't, for I mean to stop it in the pay. Remove and march, soft and fair Gentlemen; soft and fair: double and files, as you were, faces about. Now you with the sodden face, keep in there: look to your Match sirrah, it will be in your fellows flask anon. So make a Crescent now, advance your Pikes, stand and give ear, Gentlemen, Countrey-men, Friends, and my fellow-Soldiers, I have brought you this day from the Shop of Security, and the Counters of Content, to mea∣sure out in these furious fields, Honor by the ell, and Prowess by the pound: Let it not, O let it not, I say, be told hereafter, the noble issue of this City fainted: but bear your selves in this fair action, like men, valiant men, and free men: Fear not the face of the enemy: nor the noise of the Guns: for believe me brethren, the rude rumb∣ling of a Brewers Carr is more terrible, of which you have a daily experience: Neither let the stink of Powder offend you, since a more valiant stink is nightly with you. To a resolved mind, his home is every where: I speak not this to take away the hope of your return; for you shall see (I do not doubt it) and that very shortly, your loving wives again, and your sweet children, whose care doth bear you company in baskets. Remember then whose cause you have in hand, and like a sort of true-born Scavengers, scour me this famous Realm of enemies. I have no more to say but this: Stand to your tacklings lads, and shew to the world, you can as well brandish a sword, as shake an A∣pron. Saint George, and on my hearts. Omnes. Saint George, Saint George.

Exeunt.

Wife.

'Twas well done Ralph, I'll send thee a cold Capon a field, and a bottle of March-beer; and, it may be, come my self to see thee.

Cit.

Nel, the boy hath deceiv'd me much, I did not think it had been in him: he has perform'd such a matter wench, that if I live, next year I'll have him Captain of the Gal∣lisoist, or I'll want my Will.

Enter Old Merry-thought.

Old Mer.

Yet I thank God, I break not a rinkle more than I had, not a stoop boys? Care live with Cats, I defie thee, my heart is as sound as an Oak; and though I want drink to wet my whistle, I can sing.

Come no more there boys, come no more there: For we shall never whilst we live, come any more there.

Enter a Boy with a Coffin.

Boy.

God save you Sir.

Old Mer.

It's a brave Boy: can'st thou sing?

Boy.

Yes Sir, I can sing, but 'tis not so necessary at this time.

Old Mer.

Sing we, and chaunt it, whilst love doth grant it.

Boy.

Sir, Sir, if you knew what I have brought you, you would have little lift to sing.

Old Mer.

Oh the Mimon round, full long I have thee sought. And now I have thee found, and what hast thou here brought?

Boy.

A Coffin, Sir, and your dead Son Jasper in it.

Old Mer.

Dead? why farewell he: Thou wast a bonny boy, and I did love thee.

Enter Jasper.

Jasp.

Then I pray you Sir, do so still.

Old Mer.

Jasper's Ghost? thou art welcome from Stygian lake so soon, Declare to me what wondrous things in Pluto's court are done

Jas.

By my troth sir, I ne'r came there, 'tis too hot for me Sir.

Old Mer.

A merry Ghost, a very merry Ghost. And where is your true love? Oh where is yours?

Jasp.

Marry look you Sir.

Heaves up the Coffin.

Old Mer.

Ah ha! Art thou good at that i' faith? With hey trixie terlerie-whiskin, the world it runs on wheels. When the young mans — up goes the Maidens heels.

Mistriss Merry-thought and Michael within.

Mist. Mer.

What Mr. Merri-thought, will you not let's in? what do you think shall become of us?

Mist. Mer.

What voice is that that calleth at our door?

Mist. Mer.

You know me well enough, I am sure I have not been such a stranger to you.

Old Mer.

And some they whistled, and some they sung, Hey down, down: and some did loudly say, ever as the Lord Barnets horn blew, Away Musgrave away.

Mist. Mer.

You will not have us starve here, will you Ma∣ster Merry-thought?

Jasp.

Nay, good Sir be perswaded, she is my Mother: if her offences have been great against you, let your own love remember she is yours, and so forgive her.

Luce.

Good master Merry-thought, let me intreat you, I will not be denied.

Mist. Mer.

Why Master Merry-thought, will you be a vext thing still?

Old Mer.

Woman I take you to my love again, but you shall sing before you enter: therefore dispatch your song, and so come in.

Mist. Mer.

Well, you must have your Will when all's done, Mich. what song canst thou sing Boy?

Mich.

I can sing none forsooth, but a Ladies Daughter of Paris properly.

Mich. Mer. Song. It was a Ladies Daughter, &c.

Old Mer.

Come, you're welcome home again.

If such danger be in playing, and jest must to earnest turn,

You shall go no more a Maying.

Merch. within.

Are you within Sir, Master Merry-thought?

Jasp.

It is my Masters voice, good Sir, go hold him talk whilst we convey our selves into some inward room.

Old Mer.

What are you? are you merry? you must be very merry if you enter.

Mer.

I am Sir.

Old Mer.

Sing then.

Mer.

Nay, good Sir open to me.

Old Mer.

Sing, I say, or by the merry heart, you come not in.

Mer.

Well Sir, I'll sing.

Fortune my foe, &c.

Old Mer.

You are welcome Sir, you are welcome: you see your entertainment, pray you be merry.

Mer.

Oh Master Merry-thought, I am come to aske you Forgiveness for the wrongs I offered you, And your most virtuous Son, they're infinite, Yet my contrition shall be more than they. I do confess my hardness broke his heart. For which just heaven hath given me punishment More than my age can carry, his wandring spirit Not yet at rest, pursues me every where, Crying, I'll haunt thee for thy cruelty. My Daughter she is gone, I know not how, Taken invisible, and whether living, Or in grave, 'tis yet uncertain to me. Oh Master Merry-thought, these are the Weights, Will sink me to my grave, forgive me Sir.

Old Mer.

Why Sir, I do forgive you, and be merry. And if the wag in's life time, plaid the knave. Can you forgive him too?

Mer.

With all my heart Sir.

Old Mer.

Speak it again, and heartily.

Mer.

I do Sir. Now by my soul I do.

Old Mer.

With that came out his Paramour, She was as white as the Lilly Flower, Hey troul, trolie lolie.

Enter Luce and Jasper.

With that came out her own dear Knight, He was as true as ever did sight, &c.

Sir, if you will forgive 'em, clap their hands together, there's no more to be said i'th' matter.

Mer.

i do, I do.

Cit.

I do not like this, peace boys, hear me one of you, every bodies part is come to an end but Ralph's, and he's left out,

Boy.

'Tis long of your self Sir, we have nothing to do with his part.

Cit.

Ralph. Come away, make on him as you have done of the rest-boys come.

Wife.

Now good Husband, let him come out and die.

Cit.

He shall Nell, Ralph, come away quickly and die boy.

Boy

'Twill be very unfit he should die sir, upon no occa∣sion, and in a Comedy too.

Cit,

Take you no care for that Sir boy, is not his part at an end, think you, when he's dead? come away Ralph.

Enter Ralph, with a forked arrow through his head.

Ralph.

When I was mortal, this my costive corps Did lap up Figs and Raisons in the Strand, Where sitting I espi'd a lovely Dame, Whose Master wrought with Lingell and with All, And underground he vampied many a Boot, Straight did her love prick forth me, tender sprig: To follow feats of Arms in warlike wise, Through Waltham Desart; where I did perform Many atchievements, and did lay on ground Huge Barbaroso, that insulting Giant, And all his Captives soon set at liberty. Then honor prickt me from my native soil, Into Moldavia, where I gain'd the love Of Pompiana his beloved Daughter: But yet prov'd constant to the black thumm'd Maid Susan, and scorn'd Pompianaes love: Yet liberal I was, and gave her pins, And money for her Fathers Officers, I then returned home, and thrust my self In action, and by all means chosen was The Lord of May,, where I did flourish it, With Scarfs and Rings, and Poesie in my hand: Afrer this action I preferred was, And chosen City-Captain at Mile-end, With Hat and Feather, and with leading staff, And train'd my men, and brought them all off clear Save one man that beraid him with the noise. But all these things I Ralph did undertake, Only for my beloved Susans sake. Then coming home, and sitting in my shop With Apron blew, Death came unto my stall To cheapen Aquavitae; but e'r I Could take the bottle down, and fill a taste, Death come and caught a pound of Pepper in his hand, And sprinkled all my Face and Body o'r, And in an instant vanished away.

Cit.

'Tis a pretty fiction i'faith.

Ralph.

Then took I up my Bow and Shaft in hand, And walkt in Moor-fields, to cool my self, But there grim cruel death met me again, And shot this forked Arrow through my head, And now I faint, therefore be warn'd by me, My fellows every one, of forked heads. Farewel all you good boys in merry London, Ne'r shall we more upon Shrove-Tuesday meet, And pluck down houses of iniquity. My pain increaseth: I shall never more Hold open, whilst another pumps both legs, Nor daub a Sattin Gown with rotten Eggs: Set up a stake, Oh never more I shall, I die, flie, flie my soul to Grocers Hall. oh, oh, oh, &c.

Wife.

Well said Ralph, do your obeysance to the Gen∣tlemen, and go your ways well said Ralph.

Exit Ralph.

Old Mer.

Methinks all we, thus kindly and unexpect∣edly reconciled, should not part without a Song.

Merch.

A good motion.

Old Mer.

Strike up then.

SONG.

Better Musick ne'r was known, Than a Quire of hearts in one. Let each other that hath been, Troubled with the gall or spleen: Learn of us to keep his brow, Smooth and plain as ours are now. Sing though before the hour of dying He shall rise, and then be crying, Hey ho, 'Tis nought but mirth, That keeps the bodie from the earth.

Exeunt omnes.

Epilogus.

Cit.

Come Nell. shall we go, the Play's done?

Wife.

Nay, by my saith George, I have more manners than so, I'll speak to these Gentlemen first: I thank you all Gentlemen, for your patience and countenance to Ralph, a poor fatherless child, and if I may see you at my house, it should go hard, but I would have a pottle of Wine, and a Pipe of Tobacco for you; for truly I hope you like the youth, but I would be glad to know the truth: I re∣fer it to your own discretions, whether you will applaud him or no, for I will wink, and whilst you shall do what you will, I thank you with all my heart, God give you good night, come George.