Wit without money A comedie, at it hath beene presented with good applause at the private house in Drurie Lane, by her Majesties Servants. Written by Francis Beaumount, and Iohn Flecher. Gent.

Actus 5.

Scaen. 1.

Enter Ʋncle and Merchant.

Ʋnc.

MOst certaine tis, her hands that hold him up, and her sister relieves Franke.

Mer.

I am glad to heare it: but wherefore doe they not pursue this fortune to some faire end?

Vnc.

The women are too craftie, Ʋellentine too coy, and Franke too bashfull, had any wise man hold of such a bles∣sing, they would strick it out oth' flint but they would forme it.

Enter Widdow and Shorthose.

Mer.

The Widdow sure, why does she stirre so earely.

Wid.

Tis strange, I cannot force him to understand mee, and make a benefit, of what J would bring him, tell my sister ile use any devotions at home this morning, shee may if shee please goe to Church.

Short.

Hay ho.

Wid.

And doe you waite upon her with a torch sir?

Short.

Hay ho.

Wid.

You lasie knave.

Short.

Here is such a tincle tanklings that we can nerelie quiet, and sleepe our prayers out, Ralph pray emptie my right shooe that you made your Chamberpot, and burne a little Rosemary int, I must waite upon my Lady. This morning Prayer has brought me into a consumption, I have nothing left but flesh and bones about me.

Wid.

You drousie slave, nothing but sleepe and swilling.

Short.

Had you beene bitten with bandogge fleaes, as I have beene, and haunted with the night Mare.

Wid.

With an Alepot.

Short.

You would have little list to morning Prayers, pray take my fellow Ralph, hee has a Psalme booke, I am an ingrum man.

Short.

Get you ready quickly, and when she is ready waite upon her hansomely; no more, be gone.

Short.

If I doe snore my part out—

Exit Short.

Vnc.

Now to our purposes.

Mer.

Good morrow Madam.

Wid.

Good morrow Gentlemen.

Ʋnc.

Good joy and fortune.

Wid.

These are good things, and worth my thankes, I thanke you sir.

Mer.

Much joy I hope you'le finde, we came to gratulate, your new knit marriage band.

Wid.

How?

Ʋnc.

Hes a Gentleman although he be my kinsman, my faire Neece.

Wid.

Neece Sir?

Ʋnc.

Yes Lady, now I may say so, tis no shame to you, I say a Gentleman, and winking at some light fancies, which you most happily may affect him for, as bravely carried, as nobly bred and managed.

Wid,

Whats all this, I understand you not, what Neece, what marriage knot.

Ʋnc.

Ile tell plainely, you are my Neece, and Vallentine the Gentleman has made you so by marriage.

Wid.

Marriage?

Ʋnc.

Yes Lady, and twas a noble and a vertuous part, to take a falling man to your protection, and bay him up againe to all his glories.

Wid.

The men are mad.

Mer.

What though he wanted these outward things, that flie away like shadowes; was not his minde a full one, and a brave one, you have wealth enough to give him glosse, and outside; and he wit enough to give way to love a Lady.

Ʋnc.

I ever thought he would doe well.

Mer.

Nay, I knew how ever he wheel'd about like a loose Cabine, he would charge home at length, like a brave Gen∣tleman, heavens blessing a your heart Lady, wee are so bound to honour you, in all your service so devoted to you.

Ʋnc.

Doe not looke so strange Widdow it must be knowne, better a generall joy; no stirring here yet, come, come you cannot hide um.

Wid.

Pray be not impudent, these are the finest toyes, be∣like I am married then.

Mer.

You are in a miserable estate in the worlds account else, I would not for your wealth it come to doubting.

Wid.

And I am great with child?

Ʋnc.

No; great they say not, but tis a full opinion you are with childe, and great joy among the Gentlemen, your husband hath bestirred himselfe fairely.

Mer.

Alas, we know his private houres of entrance, how long, and when he staied, could name the bed too where hee paid downe his first fruits.

Wid.

I shall beleeve anon.

Ʋnc.

And we consider for some private reasons, you would have it private, yet take your owne pleasure; and so good morrow my best Neece, my sweetest.

Wid.

No, no, pray stay.

Ʋnc.

I know you would be with him, love him, and love him well.

Mer.

You'le finde him noble, this may beget—

Vnc.

It must needes work upon her.

Exit Vnc. & Mer.

Wid.

These are fine bobes I faith, married, and with child too, how long has this beene I trow? they seeme grave fel∣lowes,

they should not come to flout; married, and bedded, the world take notice too, where lies this May game, I could be vext extreamely now, and raile too, but tis to no end, though I itch little, must J be scratcht I know not how, who waites there?

Enter Hum, a servant,

Hum,

Madam.

Wid.

Make ready my Coach quickly, and waite you one∣ly, and harke you sir, be secret and speedy, enquire out where he lies.

Ral.

I shall doe it Madam.

Exit

Wid.

Married, and got with child in a dreame, tis fine ifaith, sure he that did this, would doe better waking.

Exit

Enter Vallentine, Fran. Lance, and a boy with a torch.

Val.

Hold thy Torch hansomely, how dost thou Francke, Peter Bassell, beare up.

Fran.

You have fryed me soundly, Sacke doe you call this drinke.

Val.

A shrewd dogge Francke, will bite abundantly.

Lan.

Now could I fight, and fight with thee.

Val.

With me thou man of Memphis.

Lan.

But that thou art mine owne naturall Master, yet my sackes saies thou art no man, thou art a Pagan, and pawnest thy land, which a noble cause.

Val.

No armes, no armes, good Lancelet, deare Lance, no fighting here, we will have Lands boy, Livings, and Titles, thou shalt be a Viceroy, hang fighting, hang tis out of fashion

Lan.

I would faine labour you into your lands againe, goe too, it is behoovefull.

Fran.

Fie Lance, fie.

Lan.

I must beate some body, and why not my Master, be∣fore stranger, charity and beating begins at home.

Ʋal.

Come thou shalt beate me.

Lan.

I will not be compeld, and you were two Masters, I scorne the motion.

Val.

Wilt thou sleepe.

Lan.

I scorne sleepe.

Ʋal.

Wilt thou goe eate.

Lan.

I scorne meate, I come for compering, I come to waite

upon my charge discreetely, for looke you if you will not take your Morgage againe, here doe I lie Saint George, and so forth.

Val.

And here doe I St. George, bestride the Dragon, thus with my Lance.

Lan.

I sting, I sting with my taile.

Val.

Doe you so, doe you so Sir, I shall taile you presently.

Fran.

By no meanes doe not hurt him.

Val.

Take his Nellson, and now rise, thou maiden Knight of Malligo, lace on thy helmet of inchanted sacke, and charge againe.

Lan.

I play no more, you abuse me, will you goe.

Fran.

Ile bid you good morrow Brother, for sleepe I cannot I have a thousand fancies:

Ʋal.

Now thou art arived, goe bravely to the matter, and doe something of worth Francke.

Lan.

You shall heare from us.

Exit Lance and Frank.

Val.

This rogue, if he had beene sober, sure had beaten me, is the most tettish knave.

Enter Ʋncle and Merchant: May with a torch.

Ʋnc.

Tis he.

Men.

Good morrow.

Val.

Why sir good morrow to you too, and you be so lusty

Vnc.

You have made your brother a fine man, we met him.

Ʋal.

I made him a fine Gentleman, he was a foole before, brought up amongst the midst of small beere Brue-houses, what would you have with me.

Mer.

I come to tell you, your latest houre is come.

Val.

Are you my sentence.

Mer.

The sentence of your state.

Val.

Let it be hangd then, and let it be hangd hie enough, I may not see it.

Vnc.

A gratious resolution.

Val.

What would you else with me, will you goe drinke, and let the world slide Vncle, ha, ha, ha, boyes, drinke sacke like whey boyes.

Mer.

Have you no feeling sir.

Val.

Come hither Merchant: Make me a supper, thou most

reverent Land catcher, a supper of forty pound.

Mer.

What then sir.

Val.

Then bring thy wife along, and thy faire sisters, thy neighbours and their wives, and all their trinkets, let me have forty trumpets, and such wine, weele laugh at all the miseries of morgage, and then in state Ile render thee an answer.

Mer.

What say to this.

Ʋnc,

I dare not say nor thinke neither.

Mer.

Will you redeeme your state, speake to the point sir.

Ʋal.

Not, not if it were mine heire in the Turkes gallies.

Mer.

Then I must take an order.

Val.

Take a thousand, J will not keepe it, not thou shalt not have it, because thou camest ith nick, thou shalt not have it, goe take possession, and be sure you hold it, hold fast with both hands, for there be those hounds uncoupled, will ring you such a knell, goe downe in glory, and march upon my Land, and cry alls mine, cry as the devil did, and be the devill, marke what an eccho followes, build fine Marchpanes, to entertaine Sir Silkeworme and his Lady, and pull the Chappell downe, to raise a Chamber for Mistris Silver in, to lay her belly in, marke what an Earthquake comes, then foolish Merchant my tennants are no subjects, they obey nothing, and they are people too, never Christned, they know no law, nor consci∣ence, theile devoure thee: and thou mortall the stople, theile confound thee, within three dayes; no bit nor memory of what thou wert, no not the wart upon thy nose there, shall be ere heard of more, goe take possession, and bring thy chil∣dren downe, to rost like rabbits, they love young toasts, and butter, Bowbell suckers; as they love mischiefe, and hate law, they are Canibals: bring downe thy kindred too, that be not fruitfull, there be those Mandrakes, that will mollifie um, goe take possession, Ile goe to my Chamber, afore boy goe.

Exeu.

Mer.

Hees mad sure.

Vnc.

Hees halfe drunke sure, and yet I like this unwilling∣nesse to loose it this looking backe.

Mer.

Yes if he did it hansomely, but hees so harsh, & strange

Vnc.

Beleeve it tis his drinke sir, and I am glad his drinke has thrust it out.

Mer.

Cannibals; if ever I come to view his regements, if faire termes may be had.

Vnc.

Hee tels you true sir; They are a bunch of the most boystrous rascalls disorder ever made, let um be mad once, the power of the whole Country cannot coole um, be patient but a while.

Mer.

As long as you will sir, before I buy a bargaine of such runts, Ile buy a Colledge for Beares, and live among um.

Enter Franscisco, Lance, boy with a torch.

Fran.

How dost thou now.

Lan.

Better then I was, and straighter, but my heads a hogs∣head still, it rowles and tumbles.

Fran.

Thou wert cruelly paid.

Lan.

I may live to requite it, put a snaffle of sacke in my mouth, and then ride me very well.

Fran.

Twas all but sport, Ile tell thee what I meane now, I meane to see this wench.

Lan.

Where a devill is shee, and there were two, 'tweare better.

Fran.

Dost thou heare the bell ring.

Lan.

Yes, yes.

Fran.

Then shee comes to prayers, earely each morning thether: Now if I could but meete her, for I am of another mettle now.

Enter Isabell, and Shorthose with a Torch.

Lan.

What lights yond.

Fran.

Ha, tis a light, take her by the hand and Court her.

Lan.

Take her below the girdle, youle never speed else, it comes on this way still, oh that I had but such an opportuni∣ty in a saw pit, how it comes on, comes on, tis here.

Fran.

Tis she, fortune I kisse thy hand—good morrow Lady.

Isa.

What voyce is that sirrha, doe you sleepe as you goe, tis he, I am glad ont, why Shorthose.

Short.

Yes forsooth, I was dreamt, I was going to Church.

Lan.

Shee sees you as plaine as I doe.

Isa.

Hold thy Torch up.

Short.

Heres nothing but a stall, and a Butchers dogge a

sleepe int, where did you see the voyce.

Fran.

Shee lookes still angry.

Lan.

To her and meet sir.

Isa.

Here, here.

Fran.

Yes Lady, never blesse your selfe, I am but a man, and like an honest man, now I will thanke you—

Isa.

What do you meane, who sent for you, who desired you

Short.

Shall I put out the Torch forsooth.

Isa.

Can I not goe about my private meditations, hay, but such companions as you must ruffle me, you had best got with me sir.

Fran.

Twas my purpose.

Isa.

Why what an impudence is this, you had best, being so neare the Church, provide a Priest, and perswade me to mar∣ry you.

Fran.

It was my meaning, and such a husband, so loving, and so carefull, my youth, and all my fortunes shall arrive at — Harke you.

Isa.

Tis strange you should be thus unmannerly, turne home againe sirrah, you had best now force my man to leade your way.

Lan.

Yes marry shall a Lady, forward my friend.

Isa.

This is a pretty Riot, it may grow to a rape.

Fran.

Doe you like that better, I can ravish you an hundred times, and never hurt you.

Short.

I see nothing, I am asleepe still, when you have done tell me, and then Ile wake Mistris.

Isa.

Are you in earnest Sir, doe you long to be hang'd.

Fran.

Yes by my troth Lady in these faire tresses.

Isa.

Shall I call out for helpe.

Fran.

No by no meanes, that were a weake tricke Lady, Ile kisse and stoppe your mouth.

Isa.

Youle answer all these.

Fran.

A thousand kisses more.

Isa.

I was never abused thus, you had best give out too, that you found me willing, and say I doted on you.

Fran.

Thats knowne already, and no man living shall now carry you from me.

Isa.

This is fine ifaith.

Fran.

It shall be tenne times finer.

Isa.

Well seeing you are so valiant, keepe your way, I will to Church.

Fran.

And I will waite upon you.

Isa.

And it is most likely theres a Priest, if you dare ven•…•…¦ter as you professe, I would wish you looke about you, to doe these rude trickes, for you know their recompences, and trust not to my mercy.

Fran.

But I will Lady.

Isa.

For Ile so handle you.

Fran.

Thats it I looke for.

Lan.

Afore thou dreame.

Short.

Have you done.

Isa.

Goe on sir, and follow if you dare.

Fran.

If I doe not hang me.

Lan.

Tis all thine owne boy, an 'twere a million, god a mer∣cy Sacke, when would small Beere have done this.

Exeunt.

Knocking within. Enter Vallentine.

Val.

Whose that that knockes and bounces, what a devill ailes you, is hell broke loose, or doe you keepe an Iron mill.

Enter a servant.

Ser.

Tis a Gentlewoman sir that must needs speak with you.

Ʋal.

A Gentlewoman, what Gentlewoman, what have I to doe with Gentlewomen?

Ser.

She will not be answerd Sir.

Ʋal

Fling up the bed and let her in, Ile try how gentle she is—

Exit Servant.

This sacke has fild my head so full of bables, I am almost mad; what Gentlewoman should this be, I hope she has brought me no butter print along with her to lay to my charge, if she have tis all one, Ile forsweare it.

Enter Widdow.

Wid.

O your a noble gallant, send of your servant pray.

Exit Servant.

Val.

Shee will not ravish mee, by this light shee lookes as sharpe set as a Sparrow hawke, what wouldst thou woman.

Wid.

O you have used me kindely, and like a Gentleman, this tis to trust to you.

Ʋal.

Trust to me, for what.

Wid.

Because I said in jeast once, you were a hansome man, one I could like well, and fooling, made you beleeve I loved you, and might be brought to marry.

Val.

The Widdow is drunke too.

Wid.

You out of this which is a fine discretion, give out the matters done, you have wonne and wed mee, and that you have put fairely for an heire too, these are fine rumours to ad∣vance my credit; ith name of mischiefe what did you meane.

Ʋal,

That you loved me, and that you might be brought to marry me, why, what a devill doe you meane Widdow.

Wid.

Twas a fine tricke too, to tell the world though you had enjoyed your first wish, you wished the wealth you aimed at; that I was poore, which is most true, I am, have sold my Lands because I love not those vexations, yet for mine honors sake, if you must be prating, and for my credits sake in the Towne.

Val.

I tell thee Widdow, I like thee ten times better, now thou hast no Lands, for now thy hopes and cares, lye on thy husband, if ere thou marryest more.

Wid.

Have not you married me, and for this maine cause, now as you report it, to be your Nurse.

Ʋal.

My Nurse, why what am I growne too, give me the glasse, my Nurse.

Wid.

You nere said truer, I must confesse I did a little favour you, and with some labour, might have beene perswaded, but when I found I must bee hourely troubled, with making brawthes, and dawbing your decaies with swadling, and with stitching up your ruines, for the world so reports.

Ʋal.

Doe not provoke me.

Wid.

And halfe an eye may see.

Ʋal.

Doe not provoke me, the worlds a lying world, and thou shalt finde it, have a good heart, and take a strong faith to thee, and marke what followes, my Nurse, yes, you shall rocke me: Widdow Ile keepe you waking.

Wid.

You are disposed sir.

Val.

Yes marry am I Widdow, and you shall feele it, nay and they touch my freehold, I am a Tiger.

Wid.

I thinke so.

Val.

Come.

Wid.

Whether.

Ʋal.

Any whether.

Sings.

The fits upon me now, the fits upon me now, Come quickely gentle Lady, the fits upon me now, The world shall know they are fooles, And so shalt thou doe too, Let the Cobler meddle with his tooles, The fits upon me now.

Take me quickly while I am in this vaine, away with me, for if I have but two houres to consider, all the Widdowes in the world cannot recover me.

Wid.

If you will, goe with me sir.

Ʋal.

Yes marry will I, but tis in anger yet, and J will mar∣ry thee, doe not crosse me; yes, and J will lie with thee, and get a whole bundle of babies, and I will kisse thee, stand still and kisse me hansomely, but do not provoke me, stirre neither hand nor foote, for I am dangerous, I drunk sacke yesternight, doe not allure me: Thou art no widdow of this world, come in pitty, and in spite Ile marry thee, not a word more, and J may be brought to love thee.

Exeunt

Enter Merchant and Vncle at severall doores.

Mer.

Well met agen, and what good newes yet.

Vnc.

Faith nothing.

Mer.

No fruites of what we sowed.

Ʋnc.

Nothing I heare of.

Mer.

No turning in this tide yet.

Vnc.

Tis all flood, and till that fall away, theres no expe∣cting.

Enter Fran. Jsab. Lance. Shorthose, a torch.

Mer.

Is not this his younger brother.

Ʋnc.

With a Gentlewoman the Widdowes sister, as I live he smiles, he has got good hold, why well said Francke ifaith, lets stay and marke.

Isa.

Well you are the prettiest youth, and so you have hand∣led me, thinke you ha me sure.

Fran.

As sure as wedlocke.

Isa.

You had best lye with me too.

Fran.

Yes indeed will I, and get such blacke ey'd boyes.

Vnc.

God a mercy Francke.

Isa.

This is a merry world, poore simple Gentlewomen that thinke no harme, cannot walke about their businesse, but they must be catcht up I know not how.

Fran.

Ile tell you, and Ile instruct you too, have I caught you Mistresse.

Isa,

Well, and it were not for pure pitty, I would give you the slip yet, but being as it is.

Fran.

It shall be better.

Enter Vallentine, Widdow, and Ralph with a Torch.

Isa.

My sister as I live, your brother with her, sure I thinke you are the Kings takers.

Vnc.

Now it workes.

Val.

Nay you shall know I am a man.

Wid.

I thinke so.

Ʋal.

And such proofe you shall have.

Wid.

I pray speake softly.

Val.

Ile speake it out Widdow, yes and you shall confesse too, I am no nurse child, I went for a man, a good one, if you can beate me out oth' pit.

Wid.

I did but jest with you.

Ʋal.

Ile handle you in earnest, and so handle you: Nay when my credit cals.

Wid.

Are you mad.

Ʋal.

I am mad, I am mad.

Fran.

Good morrow Sir, I like your preparation.

Ʋal.

Thou hast beene at it Francke.

Fran.

Yes faith, tis done sir,

Val.

A long with me then, never hang an arse Widdow.

Isa.

Tis to no purpose sister.

Val.

Well said blackebrowes, advance your Torches Gen∣tlemen.

Vnc.

Yes, yes sir.

Val.

And keepe your ranckes.

Mer.

Lance carry this before him.

Vnc.

Carry it in state.

Enter Musitians, Fount. Hare. Bell.

Val.

What are you Musitians, I know your comming, and what are those behinde you.

Musi.

Gentlemen that sent us to give the Lady, a good mor∣row.

Ʋal.

O I know them, come boy sing the song I taught you, And sing it iustily, come forward Gentlemen, your welcome, Welcome, now we are all friends goe get the Priest ready, And let him not be long, we have much businesse: Come Francke rejoyce with me, thou hast got the start boy, But ile so tumble after, come my friends leade, Lead chearefully, and let your fiddles ring boyes, My follies and my fancies have an end here, Display the morgage Lance, Merchant ile pay you, And every thing shall be in joynt agen.

Vnc.

A fore, afore.

Val.

And now confesse, and know. Wit without Money, sometimes gives the blow.

Exeunt.