Bri.To morrow, then's the day.Lew.Why then to morrow Ile bring the Girle; get you the Writings ready.
Mir.But hark you Monsieur, have you the vertuous conscienceTo help to robb an heire, an Elder Brother,Of that which Nature and the Law flings on him?You were your fathers eldest son, I take it,And had his Land, would you had had his wit too,Or his discretion to consider nobly,What 'tis to deale unworthily in these things;You'l say hee's none of yours, he's his son;And he will say, he is no son to inheritAbove a shelfe of Bookes; Why did he get him?Why was he brought up to write and reade, and know things?Why was he not like his father, a dumbe Justice?A flat dull peece of flegme, shap'd like a man,A reverend Idoll in a peece of arras?Can you lay disobedience, want of manners,Or any capital crime to his charge?Lew.I doe not,Nor do not weigh your words, they bite not me, Sir;This man must answer.Bri.I have don't already.And giv'n sufficient reason to secure me;And so good morrow brother to your patience.
Lew.Good morrow Monsieur Miramont.Mir.Good night-capsKeepe braines warme, or Maggots will breed in 'm.WellCharles, thou shall not want to buy thee bookes yet,The fairest in thy study are my gift,And the UniversityLovainefor thy sake,Hath tasted of my bounty, and to vexTh' old doting foole thy father, and thy brother,They shall not share aSolzof mine between them;Nay more, Ile give thee eight thousand Crowns a year,In some high strain to write my Epitaph.
Actus II. Scaena II.
Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy.
How do I look now my elder Brother?Nay, t'is a handsome Suit.Cow.All courtly, courtly.
Eust.Ile assure ye Gentlemen, my Taylor has travail'd,And speaks as lofty Language in his bills too;The cover of an old Book would not shew thus.Fye, fie; what things these Academicks are?These book-worms, how they look!Egr.Th'are mere Images,No gentle motion nor behaviour in 'm,They'l prattle ye ofprimum mobile,And tell a story of the state of Heaven,What Lords and Ladies govern in such houses,And what wonders they do when they meet together,And how they spit snow, fire, and hail like a Jugler,And make a noise when they are drunk, which we call Thunder.
Cow.They are the sneaking'st things, and the contemptiblest;Such small-beer brains, but aske 'em any thingOut of the Element of their understanding,And they stand gaping like a roasted Pig;Do they know what a Court is or a Councel,Or how th' affairs of Christendome are manag'd?Do they know any thing but a tyred hackney?And they cry absurd as the Horse understood 'em.They have made a fair youth of your elder brother,A pretty piece of flesh.Eust.I thank 'm for it,Long may he study to give me his state.Saw you my Mistress?Egre.Yes, shees a sweet young woman,But be sure you keep her from Learning.Eust.Songs sheMay have, and read a little unbak'd Poetry,Such as the Dablers of our time contrive,That has no weight nor wheel to move the mind,Nor indeed nothing but an empty sound;She shall have cloaths, but not made by Geometry;Horses and Coach, but of no immortal race;I will not have a Scholar in mine houseAbove a gentle Reader; They corruptThe foolish women with their subtle problems;Ile have my house call'd Ignorance, to frightPrating Philosophers from entertainment.
Cow.It will do well, love those that love good fashions,Good clothes and rich, they invite men to admire 'm,That speak the lisp of Court. Oh 'tis great Learning!To ride well, dance well, sing well, or whistle Courtly,Th' are rare endowments; that they have seen far Countries,And can speak strange things, though they speak no truths,For then they make things common. When are you married?
Eust.To morrow, I think, we must have a Masque Boyes,And of our own making.Egre.'Tis not half an houres work,ACupidand a fiddle, and the thing's done,But let's be handsome, shall's be Gods or Nymphs?
Eust.What, Nymphs with beards?Cow.That's true, we'l be Knights then, Some wandring Knights, that light here on a sudden.
Eust.Let's go, let's go, I must go visit, Gentlemen, And mark what sweet lips I must kiss to morrow.Exeunt.
Actus II. Scena III.
Cook, Andrew, Butler.
And how do's my Master?And.Is at's book, peace Coxcomb,That such an unlearn'd tongue as thine should ask for him!
Co.Do's he not study conjuring too?And.Have youLost any Plate,Butler?But.No, but I knowI shall to morrow at dinner.And.Then to morrowYou shall be turn'd out of your place for't; we meddleWith no spirits oth' Buttry, they taste too small for us;Keep me a Pyein folio, I beseech thee,And thou shall see how learnedly Ile translate him;Shalls have good cheer to morrow?Coo. Ex.Lent, good cheerAndrew.
And.The spight on't is, that much about that time,I shall be arguing, or deciding rather,Which are the Males or Females of red HerringsAnd whether they be taken in the red Sea onely,A question found out byCopernicus,The learned Motion-maker.Co.I marryButler,Here are rare things; a man that look'd upon him,Would swear he understood no more than we do.
But.Certain, a learnedAndrew.And.I've so much on'tAnd am so loaden with strong understanding,I fear, they'l run me mad, here's a new instrument,A metamatical glister to purge the Moon with,When she is laden with cold flegmatick humours,And here's another to remove the Stars,When they grow too thick in the Firmament.
Co.O heavens! why do I labour out my lifeIn a beef-pot? and only search the secretsOf a Sallad; and know no farther!And.They are notReveal'd to all heads; These are far aboveYour Element of Fire.Cooke.I could tell youOfArchimidesglass to fire your coals with,And of the Philosophers turf that nere goes out;AndGilbert Butler, I could ravish thee,With two rare inventions.But.What are theyAndrew?
And.The one to blanch your bread from chippings base,And in a moment, as thou wouldst an Almond,The Sect of the Epicureans invented that;The other for thy trenches, that's a strong one,To cleanse you twenty dozen in a minute,And no noise heard, which is the wonderGilbert,And this was out ofPlato'snewIdea's.
But.Why, what a learned Master do'st thou serveAndrew?
And.These are but the scrapings of his understanding,Gilbert;With gods and goddesses, and such strange peopleHe deals, and treats with in so plain a fashion,As thou do'st with thy boy that drawes thy drink,OrRalphthere with his kitchin boyes and scalders.
Coo.But why should he not be familiar and talk sometimes, As other Christians do, of hearty matters, And come into the Kitchin, and there cut his breakfast?
But.And then retyre to the Buttry and there eat it,And drink a lusty bowle to my younger MasterThat must be now the heir will do all these,I and be drunk too; These are mortal things.
And.My Master studies immortality.Coo.Now thou talk'stOf immortality, how do's thy wifeAndrew? My old MasterDid you no small pleasure when he procur'd herAnd stock'd you in a farme. If he should love her now,As he hath a Colts tooth yet, what sayes your learningAnd your strange instruments to that myAndrew?Can any of your learned Clerks avoid it?Can ye put by his Mathematical Engine?
And.Yes, or Ile break it; thou awaken'st me,And Ile peep ith' Moon this moneth but Ile watch for him.My Master rings, I must go make him a fire,And conjure ore his books.Coo. Adieu goodAndrew,And send thee manly patience with thy learning.Exeu.
Actus II. Scaena IV.
Charles.
I have forgot to eat and sleep with reading,And all my faculties turn into studie;'Tis meat and sleep; what need I outward garments,When I can cloathe my self with understanding?The stars and glorious planets have no Taylors,Yet ever new they are and shine like Courtiers.The seasons of the yeare find no fond parents,Yet some are arm'd in silver Ice that glisters,And sovne in gawdy green come in like Masquers:The Silk-worme spines her owne suit and her lodging,And has no aid nor partner in her labours:Why should we care for any thing but knowledge,Or look upon the world but to contemne it?
EnterAndrew.
Would you have any thing?Cha. Andrew, I findThere is a flie grown o're the eye oth' Bull,Which will go neere to blind the Constellation.
And. Put a gold-ring in's nose, and that will cure him.
Cha.Ariadne'scrown's away too; two main starresThat held it fast are slip'd out.And. Send it presentlyToGallatteothe Italian Star-wrightHee'll set it right againe with little labour.
Cha. Thou art a pretty Schollar.And. I hope I shall be; Have I swept bookes so often to know nothing?
Cha. I heare thou art married.And. It hath pleas'd your fatherTo match me to a maid of his owne choosing,I doubt her constellation's loose too, and wants nailing,And a sweet farme he has given us a mile off Sir.
Cha. Marry thy selfe to understanding,Andrew,These women areErratain all Authours,They're faire to see to, and bound up in vellam,Smooth, white and cleare, but their contents are monstrous;They treat of nothing but dull age and diseases.Thou hast not so much wit in thy head, as there isOn those shelves,Andrew.And. I think I have not Sir.
Cha. No, if thou had'st thould'st nere marryed a womanIn thy bosome, they're Cataplasmes made oth' deadly sins:I nere saw any yet but mine own mother;Or if I did, I did regard them butAs shadowes that passe by of under Creatures.
And. Shall I bring you one? lie trust you with my owne wife; I would not have your brother go beyond ye; Th'are the prittiest natural Philosophers to play with.
Cha. No, no, th'are Opticks to delude mens eyes with. Does my younger brother speake any Greek yet,Andrew?
And. No, but he speaks High Dutch, and that goes as daintily.
Cha. Reach me the bookes down I read yesterday,And make a little fire and get a manchet;Make cleane those instruments of brass I shew'd you,And 'set the great Sphere by, then take the fox tayleAnd purg the bookes from dust, last take yourLilly,And get your part ready.And. Shall I go home Sir?My wives name isLilly, there my best part lyes, Sir.
Cha. I mean your Gammer, O thou dunderhead!Would'st thou be ever in thy wives Syntaxis?Let me have no noise nor nothing to disturb me,I am to find a secret.And. So am I too,Which if I you find, I shall make some smart for't.—Exeunt.
Actus3.Scena1.
Lewis, Angellina; Sylvia, Notary.
This is the day my daughterAngellina,The happy, that must make you a fortune,A large and full one, my great care has wrought it,And yours must be as great to entertaine it;YoungEustaceis a Gentleman at all points,And his behaviour affable and courtly,His person excellent, I know you find that,I read it in your eyes, you like his youth,Young handsome people should be match'd together,Then followes handsome Ch[i]ldren, handsome fortunes;The most part of his fathers state, my Wench,Is ti'd in a joynture, that makes up the harmony;And when y'are marryed. he's of that soft temper,And so far will be chain'd to your observance,That you may rule and turne him as you please.What are the writings drawn on our side, Sir?
Not. They are, and here I have so fetter'd him, That if the Elder Brother set his hand to, Not all the power of law shall ere release him.
Lew. These Notaries are notable confident Knaves,And able to doe more mischeife than an Army:Are all your clauses sure?Not. Sure as proportion,They may turne Rivers sooner than these writings.
Not. Why did you not put all the lands in, Sir?
Lew. Twas not condition'd.Not. If it had been found,It had been but a fault made in the writing;If not found all the Land.Lew. These are small DevilsThat care not who has misch[ie]fe, so they make it;They live upon the meere scent of dissension.Tis well, tis well, Are you contented Girle?For your wil must be known.Ang. A husband's welcom,And as an humble wife He entertaine him,No soveraignty I aime at, 'tis the mans Sir,For she that seekes it, killes her husbands Honour:The Gentleman I have scene, and well observ'd him,Yet find not that grac'd excellence you promise,A pretty Gentle man and he may please too,And some few flashes I have hear'd come from him,But not to admiration as to others;Hee's young and may be good, yet he must make it,And I may help, and help to thank him also.It is your pleasure I should make him mine,And't has beene still my duty to observe you.
Lew. Why then let's go, And I shall love your modesty. To horse, and bring the Coach outAngellina, To morrow you will looke more womanly.
Ang. So I looke honestly, I feare no eyes, Sir.Exeunt.
Actus III. Scaena II.
Brisac, Andrew, Cooke, Lilly.
Wait on your Master, he shall have that befits him;
And. No inheritance, Sir?Bri. You speak like a foole, a coxcomb,He shall have annual meanes to buy him bookes,And find him cloathes and meat, what would he more?Trouble him with Land? tis flat against his nature:I love him too, and honour those gifts in him.
And. Shall MasterEustacehave all?Bri. All, all, he knowes howTo use it, hee's a man bred in the world,T'other ith' heavens: my Masters, pray be wary,And serviceable; and Cooke see all your sawcesBe sharp and poynant in the pallat, that they mayCommend you; looke to your roast and bak'd meates hansomly,And what new kickshawes and delicate made things—Is th' musick come?But. Yes Sir, th'are here at breakfast.
Bri. There will be a Masque too, you must see this roome clean,AndButleryour doore open to all good fellowes,But have an eye to your plate, for their be Furies;MyLillywelcome, you are for the linnen,Sort it, and see it ready for the table,And see the bride-bed made, and looke the cords beNot cut asunder by the Gallants too,There be such knacks abroad; hark hither,Lilly,To morrow night at twelve a clock, Ile suppe w'ye,Your husband shall be safe, Ile send ye meat too,Before I cannot well slip from my company.
And. Will ye so, will you so, Sir? Ile make one to eate it, I may chance make you stagger too.Bri. No answer,Lilly?
Lil. One word about the linnen; Ile be ready,And rest your worships still.And. And Ile rest w'yee,You shall see what rest 'twill be: Are ye so nimble?A man had need have ten paire of eares to watch you.
Bri. Wait on your Master, for I know he wants ye,And keep him in his studie, that the noiseDo not molest him: I will not faile myLilly—Come in sweet hearts, all to their several duties.Exeunt.
And. are you kissing ripe, Sir? Double but my farmAnd kisse her till thy heart ake; these smocke vermin,How eagerly they leap at old mens kisses,They lick their lipps at profit, not at pleasure;And if't were not for th' scurvie name of Cuckold,He should lye with her, I know shee'l labour at lengthWith a good lordship. If he had a wife now,But that's all one, lie fit him: I must upUnto my Master, hee'l be mad with studie—Exit.
Actus III.Scoena III.
Charles.
What a noise is in this house, my head is broken,Within a Parenthesis, in every corner,As if the earth were shaken with some strange Collect,There are stirres and motions. What Planet rules this house?
EnterAndrew.
Who's there?And. Tis I Sir faithfulAndrew.Cha. Come neereAnd lay thine eare downe, hear'st no noise?And. The CookesAre chopping hearbs and mince meat to make pies,And breaking Marrow-bones—Char. Can they set them againe?
And. Yes, yes, in brothes and puddings, and they grow strongerFor the' use of any man.Cha. What speaking's that?Sure there is a massacre.And. Of Pigs and Geese Sir,And Turkeys for the spit. The Cookes are angry Sirs,And that makes up the medly.Cha. Do they thusAt every dinner? I nere mark'd them yet,Nor know who is a Cook.And. Th'are sometimes sober,And then they beat as gently as a Tabor.
Char. What loads are these?Andr. Meat, meat, Sir, for the Kitchin,And stinking Fowles the Tenants have sent in;They'l nere be found out at a general eating;And there's fat Venison, Sir.Cha. What's that?And. Why Deer,Those that men fatten for their private pleasures,And let their tenants starve upon the Commons.
Char. I've red of Deer, but yet I nere eat any.
And. There's a Fishmongers boy with Caviar Sir, Anchoves and Potargo, to make ye drink.
Cha. Sure these are modern, very modern meats,For I understand 'm not.And. No more do's any manFrom Caca merda or a substance worse,Till they be greas'd with oyle, and rub'd with onions,And then flung out of doors, they are rare Sallads.
Cha. And why is all this, prithee tell me Andrew!Are there any Princes to dine here to day?By this abundance sure there should be Princes;I've read of entertainment for the godsAt half this charge, will not six dishes serve 'em?I never had but one, and that a small one.
And. Your Brother's married this day, he's married, Your younger brother Eustace.Cha. What of that?
And. And all the friends about are bidden hither. There's not a dog that knowes the house but comes too.
Cha. Married? to whom?And. Why to a dainty Gentlewoman,Young, sweet, and modest.Cha. Are there modest women?How do they look?And. O you'ld blesse your self to see them.He parts with's book, he nere did so before yet.
Cha. What do's my father for 'm?And. Gives all his Land, And makes your brother Heir.Cha. Must I have nothing?
And. Yes, you must study still, and he'l maintain you.
Cha. I am his eldest brother.And. True, you were so, But he has leapd ore your shoulders, Sir.Cha. 'Tis wel, He'l not inherit my understanding too?
And. I think not, he'l scarce find tenants to let it Out to.Cha. Hark, hark.Andr. The Coach that brings the fair Lady.
EnterLewis, Angellina,Ladies, Notary, &c.
And. Now you may see her.Cha. Sure this should be modest; But I do not truly know what women make of it,Andrew; She has a face looks like a story, The storie of the Heavens looks very like her.
And. She has a wide face then.Cha. She has a Cheiubins, Cover'd and vail'd with modest blushes.Eustacebe happy, whiles poorCharlesis patient. Get me my book again, and come in with me—Exeunt.
EnterBrisac, Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy, Miramont.
Bri. Welcome sweet Daughter, welcome noble Brother,And you are welcome Sir, with all your writings,Ladies most welcome; What? my angry brother!You must be welcome too, the Feast is flat else.
Mir. I am not come for your welcome, I expect none;I bring no joyes to blesse the bed withal;Nor songs, nor Masques to glorifie the Nuptials,I bring an angrie mind to see your folly,A sharp one too, to reprehend you for it.
Bri. You'l stay and dine though?Mir. All your meat smells mustie, Your table will shew nothing to content me.
Bri. Ile answer you, here's good meat.Mira. But your sawce is scurvie; It is not season'd with the sharpness of discretion.
Eust. It seems your anger is at me, dear Uncle.
Mir. Thou art not worth my anger, th'art a boy,A lump o' thy fathers lightness, made of nothingBut antick cloaths and cringes; look in thy head,And 'twill appear a footbal full of fumesAnd rotten smoke; Ladie, I pitie you;You are a handsome and a sweet young Ladie,And ought to have a handsome man yoak'd t'ye,An understanding too; this is a Gincrack,That ca[n] get nothing but new fashions on you;For say he have a thing shap'd like a child,'Twill either prove a tumbler or a tailor.
Eust. These are but harsh words Uncle.Mir. So I mean 'em. Sir, you play harsher play w' your elder brother.
Eust. I would be loth to give you.Mi. Do not venter, Ile make your wedding cloaths fit closer t'ee then; I but disturb you, lie go see my nephew:
Lew. Pray take a piece of rosemarie.Mir. Ile wear it, But for the Ladies sake, and none of yours; May be Ile see your table too.Bri. Pray do, Sir.
Ang. A mad old Gentleman.Bri. Yes faith sweet daughter,He has been thus his whole age to my knowledge,He has madeCharleshis heir, I know that certainly;Then why should he grudgeEustaceany thing?
Ang. I would not have a light head, nor one ladenWith too much learning, as they say, thisCharlesis,That makes his book his Mistress: Sure, there's somethingHid in this old mans anger, that declares himNot a mere Sot.Bri. Come shall we go and seal brother?All things are readie, and the [P]riest is here.WhenCharleshas set his hand unto the Writings,As he shall instantly, then to the Wedding,And so to dinner.Lew. Come, let's seal the book firstFor my daughters Jointure.Bri. Let's be private in't Sir.Exeunt.
Actus III. Scaena IV.
EnterCharles, Miramont, Andrew.
Mir. Nay, y'are undone.Cha. hum.Mira. Ha' ye no greater feeling?
And. You were sensible of the great b[oo]ke, Sir,When it fell on your head, and now the houseIs ready to fall, Do you feare nothing?Cha. WillHe have my bookes too?Mir. No, he has a book,A faire one too to read on, and read wonders,I would thou hadst her in thy studie Nephew,And 'twere but to new string her.Cha. Yes, I saw her,And me though[t] 'twas a curious peece of learning,Handsomely bound, and of a daintly letter.
And. He flung away his booke.Mir. I like that in him, Would he had flung away his dulness too, And speak to her.Cha. And must my brother have all?
Mir. All that your father has.Cha. And that faire woman too?
Mir. That woman also.Cha. He has enough thenMay I not see her somtimes, and call her Sister?I will doe him no wrong.Mir. This makes me madI could now cry for anger; these old foolesAre the most stubborn and the wilfullest Coxcombs—Farewil, and fall to your booke, forget your brother;You are my heire, and Ile provide y'a wife;Ile looke upon this marriage, though I hate it.Exit.
EnterBrisac.
Where is my son?And. There Sir, casting a figureWhat chopping children his brother shall have.
Bri. He do's well; How do'stCharles? still at thy book?
And. Hee's studying now Sir, who shall be his father.
Bri. Peace you rude Knave—Come hitherCharlesbe merry.
Cha. I thank you, I am busie at my book, Sir.
Bri.You must put your hand myCharles, as I would have you Unto a little peece of parchment here; Onely your name, you write a reasonable hand.
Cha. But I may do unreasonably to write it. What is it Sir?Bri. To passe the Land I have, Sir, Unto your younger brother.Cha. Is't no more?
Bri. No, no, 'tis nothing; you shall be provided for,And new bookes you shall have still, and new studies,And have your meanes brought in without thy care boy,And one still to attend you.Cha. This shewes your love father.
Bri. I'm tender to you.And. Like a stone, I take it.
Cha. Why father, Ile go downe, an't please you let me,Because Ide see the thing they call the Gentlewoman,I see no woman but through contemplation,And there Ile doe't before the company,And wish my brother fortune.Bri. Doe I prithee.
Cha. I must not stay, for I have things aboveRequire my study.Bri. No, thou shalt not stay,Thou shalt have a brave dinner too.And. Now has heOrethrowne himselfe for ever; I will downInto the Celler, and be stark drunk for anger.Exeunt.
Actus III. Scaena V.
EnterLewis, Angellina, Eustace,Priest, Ladies, Cowsy,Notary, Miramont.
Not. Come let him bring his sons hand, and all's done. Is yours ready?Pr. Yes Ile dispatch ye presently, Immediately for in truth I am a hungry.
Eust. Doe speak apace, for we believe exactlyDoe not we stay long Mistris?Ang. I find no fault,Better things well done than want time to doe them.Uncle, why are you sad?Mir. Sweet smelling blossome,Would I were thine Uncle to thine owne content,Ide make thy husbands state a thousand, betterA yearlie thousand, thou hast mist a man,(But that he is addicted to his studie,And knowes no other Mistresse than his minde)Would weigh down bundles of these emptie kexes.
Ang. Can he speak, Sir?Mir. Faith yes, but not to women: His language is to heaven, and heavenlie wonder, To Nature, and her dark and secret causes.
Ang. And does he speak well there?Mir. O, admirably; But hee's to bashful too behold a woman, There's none that sees him, nor he troubles none.
Ang. He is a man.Mir. Faith Yes, and a cleare sweet spirit.
Ang. Then conversation me thinkes—Mir. So think I But it is his rugged fate, and so I leave you.
Ang. I like thy noblenesse.Eust. See my mad UncleIs courting my faire Mistresse.Lew. Let him alone,There's nothing that allayes an angrie mindSo soone as a sweet beautie; hee'l come to us.
EnterBrisac, Charles.
Eust. My father's here, my brother too! that's a wonder,Broke like a spirit from his Cell.Bri. Come hither,Come neererCharles; 'Twas your desire to seeMy noble Daughter, and the company,And give your brother joy, and then to seal boy.You doe like a good brother.Lew.Marry do's heAnd he shall have my love for ever for't.Put to your hand now.Not.Here's the Deed Sir, ready.
Cha.No, you must pardon me a while, I tell ye, I am in contemplation, doe not trouble me.
Bri.Come, leave thy studie,Charles.Cha.Ile leave my life first; I studie now to be a man, I've found it. Before, what man was, was but my argument.
Mir.I like this best of all, he has taken fire, His dull mist flies away.Eust.Will you write brother?
Cha.No, brother no, I have no time for poore things, I'm taking th' height of that bright Constellation.
Bri.I say, you trifle time, Son.Cha.I will not seale, Sir;I am your eldest, and Ile keepe my birthright,For heaven forbid I should become example;Had y'onely shew'd me Land, I had deliver'd it,And been a proud man to have parted with it;Tis dirt, and labour; Doe I speak right Uncle?
Mir.Bravely my boy, and blesse thy tongue.Char.Ile forward, But you have open'd to me such a treasure, I find my mind free, heaven direct my fortune.
Mir.Can he speak now? Is this a son to sacrifice?
Cha.Such an inimitable piece of beautyThat I have studyed long, and now found onely,That Ile part sooner with my soul of reason,And be a plant, a beast, a fish, a flie,And onely make the number of things upThan yeeld one foot of Land, if she be ty'd to't.
Lew.He speakes unhappily.Aug.and me thinkes bravely.This the meere Schollar?Eust.You but vexe your selfe brotherAnd vex your studie too.Cha.Go you and studie,For 'ts time youngEustace, you want both man and manners,I've studied both, although I made no shew on't.Goe turne the Volumes over I have read,Eate and digest them, that they may grow in thee,Weare out the tedious night with thy dimme Lampe,And sooner lose the day than leave a doubt.Distil the sweetness from the Poets Spring,And learne to love, Thou know'st not what faire is,Traverse the stories of the great Heroes,The wise and civill lives of good men walke through;Thou hast scene nothing but the face of Countries,And brought home nothing but their empty words:Why should'st thou weare a Jewel of this worth?That hast no worth within thee to preserve her.
_Beauty cleere and faire,where the aireRather like a perfume dwells,Where the violet and the roseThe blew veines in blush disclose,And come to honour nothing else.
Where to live neere,And planted there,Is to live, and still live new;Where to gain a favour isMore then light, perpetual blisse,Make me live by serving you.
Deare again backe recalto this light,A stranger to himselfe and all;Both the wonder and the storyShall be yours, and eke the Glory,I am your servant, and your thrall._
Mir.Speake such another Ode, and take all yet.What say ye to the Scholar now?Ang.I wonder;Is he your brother, Sir?Bust.Yes, would he were buried,I feare hee'l make an asse of me a younger.
Ang.Speake not so softly Sir, tis very likely.
Bri.Come leave your finical talke, and let's dispatch,Charles.
Cha.Dispatch? What?Bri.Why the land.Cha.You are deceiv'd, Sir,Now I perceive what 'tis that woes a woman,And what maintaines her when shee's woo'd: Ile stop here.A wilfull poverty nere made a beauty,Nor want of meanes maintain'd it vertuously:Though land and monies be no happinesse,Yet they are counted good additions.That use Ile make; He that neglects a blessing,Though he want present knowledge how to use it,Neglects himself; May be I have done you wrong Lady,Whose love and hope went hand in hand together;May be my brother, that has long expectedThe happie houre and blest my ignorance;Pray give me leave Sir, I shall cleare all doubts.Why did they shew me you? Pray tell me that?
(Mir.Hee'l talke thee into a pension for thy knaverie)
Cha.You happie you, why did you breake unto me?The rosie sugred morne nere broke so sweetly:I am a man, and have desires within me,Affections too, though they were drown'd a while,And lay dead, till the Spring of beautie rais'd them;Till I saw those eyes, I was but a lump;A Chaos of confusedness dwelt in me;Then from those eyes shot Love, and he distinguisht,And into forme he drew my faculties;And now I know my Land, and now I love too.
Bri.We had best remove the Maide.Cha.It is too late Sir.I have her figure here. Nay frowne notEustace,There are lesse worthie soules for younger brothers;This is no forme of silk but sanctitie,Which wilde lascivious hearts can never dignifie.Remove her where you will, I walk along still;For like the light we make no separation;You may sooner part the billowes of the Sea,And put a barre betwixt their fellowships,Than blot out my remembrance; sooner shutOld time into a Den, and stay his motion,Wash off the swift houres from his downie wings,Or steale eternitie to stop his glasse,Than shut the sweet Idea I have in me.Roome for an elder brother, pray give place, Sir.
Mir.Has studied duel too, take heed, hee'l beat thee.Has frighted the old Justice into a fever;I hope hee'l disinherit him too for an asse;For though he be grave with yeeres, hee's a great babie.
Cha.Doe not you think me mad?Ang.No certain, Sir, I have heard nothing from you but things excellent.
Cha.You looke upon my cloathes and laugh at me, My scurvie clothes!Ang.They have rich linings Sir. I would your brother—Cha.His are gold and gawdie.
Ang.But touch 'em inwardlie, they smell of Copper.
Cha.Can ye love me? I am an heire, sweet Ladie,How ever I appeare a poore dependant;Love you with honour, I shall love so ever;Is your eye ambitious? I may be a great man.Is't wealth or lands you covet? my father must dye.
Mir.That was well put in, I hope hee'l take it deepely.
Cha.Old men are not immortal, as I take it;Is it, you looke for, youth and handsomness?I doe confess my brother's a handsome Gentleman,But he shall give me leave to lead the way Ladie,Can you love for love, and make that the reward?The old man shall not love his heapes of goldWith a more doting superstition,Than Ile love you. The young man his delights,The merchant when he ploughs the angrie sea up,And sees the mountaine billows failling on him,As if all Elements, and all their angersWere turn'd into one vow'd destruction;Shall not with greater joy embrace his safetie.Wee'l live together like two wanton Vines,Circling our soules and loves in one another,Wee'l spring together and weel beare one fruit;One joy shall make us smile, and one griefe mourne;One age go with us, and one houre of deathShall shut our eyes, and one grave make us happie.
Ang.And one hand scale the match, Ime yours for ever.
Lew.Nay, stay, stay, stay.Ang.Nay certainly, tis done Sir.
Bri.There was a contract.Ang.Onely conditional,That if he had the Land, he had my love too;This Gentleman's the heire, and hee'll maintaine it.Pray be not angrie Sir at what I say;Or if you be, tis at your owne adventure.You have the out side of a pretty Gentleman,But by my troth you[r] inside is but barren;Tis not a face I onely am in love with,Nor will I say your face is excellent,A reasonable hunting face to Court the winde with;Nor th'are not words unlesse they be well plac'd too,Nor your sweete Dam-mes, nor your hired verses,Nor telling me of Cloathes, nor Coach and horses,No nor your visits each day in new suites,Nor you[r] black patches you weare variouslie,Some cut like starres, some in halfe Moones, some Lozenges,(All which but shew you still a younger brother.)
Mir.Gramercie Wench, thou hast a noble soule too.
Ang.Nor you[r] long travailes, not your little knowledge,Can make me doate upon you. Faith goe studie,And gleane some goodness, that you may shew manlie;Your Brother at my suit Ime sure will teach you;Or onely studie how to get a wife Sir,Y'are cast far behind, tis good you should be melancholie,It shewes like a Gamester that had lost his money,And t'is the fashon to weare your arme in a skarfe Sir,For you have had a shrewd cut ore the fingers.
Lew.But are y' in earnest?Ang.Yes, beleeve me father,You shall nere choose for me, y'are old and dim Sir,And th' shaddow of the earth ecclips'd your judgement,Y'have had your time without controwle deare father,And you must give me leave to take mine now Sir.
Bri.This is the last time of asking, Will you set your hand to?
Cha.This is the last time of answering, I will never.
Bris.Out of my doores.Char.Most willingly.Miram.He shall Jew, Thou of the Tribe ofMan-y-assesCoxcombe, And never trouble thee more till thy chops be cold foole.
Ang.Must I be gone too?Lew.I will never know thee.
Ang.Then this man will; what fortune he shall run, father, Bee't good or bad, I must partake it with him.
EnterEgremont.
When shall the Masque begins?Eust.Tis done alreadie,All, all, is broken off, I am undone friend,My brother's wise againe, and has spoil'd all,Will not release the land, has wone the Wench too.
Egre.Could he not stay till th' Masque was past? W'are ready.What a skirvie trick's this?Mir.O you may vanish,Performe it at some Hall, where the Citizens wivesMay see't for six pence a peece, and a cold supper.Come let's goeCharles; And now my noble Daughter,Ile sell the tiles of my house ere thou shall want Wench.Rate up your dinner Sir, and sell it cheape,Some younger brother will take 't up in commodities.Send you joy, NephewEustace, if you studie the Law,Keep your great pippin-pies, they'l goe far with ye.
Cha.Ide have your blessing.Bri.No, no, meet me no more, Farewell, thou wilt blast mine eyes else.Cha.I will not.
Lew.Nor send not you for Gownes.Ang.Ile weare course flannel first.
Bri.Come let's goe take some counsel.Lew.Tis too late.
Bri.Then stay and dine, It may be we shall vexe 'em.Exeunt.
Actus 4. Scaena 1.
EnterBrisac, Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy.
Nere talke to me, you are no men but Masquers,Shapes, shadowes, and the signes of men, Court bubbles,That every breath or breakes or blowes away,You have no soules, no metal in your bloods,No heat to stir ye when ye have occasion,Frozen dull things that must be turn'd with leavers;Are you the Courtiers and the travail'd Gallants?The spritely fellowes, that the people talk of?Ye have no more Spirit than three sleepy sops.
Eust.What would ye have me doe, Sir?Bri.Follow your brother,And get ye out of doores, and seeke your fortune,Stand still becalm'd, and let an aged Dotard,A haire-brain'd puppie, and a bookish boy,That never knew a blade above a penknife,And how to cut his meat in Characters,Crosse my designe, and take thine owne Wench from thee,In mine owne house too? Thou dispis'd poore fellow!
Eust.The reverence that I ever bare to you Sir,Then to my Uncle, with whom't had been but sawcinesseT'have been so rough—Egre.And we not seeing himStrive in his owne cause, that was principal,And should have led us on, thought it ill mannersTo begin a quarrel here.Bri.You dare doe nothing.Doe you make your care the excuse of your cowardlinesse?Three boyes on hobbie-horses with three penny halberts,Would beat you all.Cow.You must not say so.Bri.Yes,And sing it too.Cow.You are a man of peace,Therefore we must give way.Bri.Ile make my way;And therefore quickly leave me, or Ile force you;And having first torne off your flaunting feathers,Ile tramble on 'em; and if that cannot teach youTo quit my house, Ile kick ye out of my gates;You gawdie glow-wormes carrying seeming fire,Yet have no heat within ye.Cow.O blest travaile!How much we owe thee for our power to suffer?
Egre.Some spleenative youths now that had never seenMore than thy Countrie smoak, will grow in choler.It would shew fine in us.Eust.Yes marry would it,That are prime Courtiers, and must know no angers,But give thankes for our injuries, if we purposeTo hold our places.Bri.Will you find the doore?And finde it suddenlie, you shall lead the way, Sir,With your perfum'd retinew, and coverThe now lostAngellina, or build on it,I will adopt some beggers doubtful issueBefore thou shall inherit.Eust.Wee'l to councel,And what may be done by mans wit or valourWee'l put in execution.Bri.Doe, or neverHope I shall know thee.Le.O Sir, have I found you? [Exeunt.Ent. Lewis.
Bri.I never hid my selfe, whence flows this fury? With which as it appeares, you come to fright me.
Lew.I smell a plot, meere conspiracyAmong ye all to defeate me of my daughter,And if she be not suddenly delivered,Untainted in her reputation too,The best of France shall know how I am juggled with.She is my heire, and if she may be ravishtThus from my care, farewel Nobilitie;Honour and blood are meer neglected nothings.
Bri.Nay then, my Lord you go too far, and tax himWhose innocencie understands not what feare is;If your unconstant daughter will not dwellOn certainties, must you thenceforth conclude,That I am fickle? What have I omitted,To make good my integritie and truth?Nor can her lightnesse, nor your suppositionCast an aspersion on me.Lew.I am woundedIn fact, nor can words cure it: doe not trifle,But speedilie, once more I doe repeate it,Restore my daughter as I brought her hither.Or you shall heare from me in such a kinde,As you will blush to answer.Bri.all the worldI think conspires to vex me, yet I will notTorment my selfe; some spriteful mirth must banishThe rage and melancholie which hath almost choak'd me,T'a knowing man tis Physick, and tis thought on,One merrie houre Ile have in spight of fortune,To cheare my heart, and this is that appointed,This night Ile hugge myLillyin mine armes,Provocatives are sent before to cheare me;We old men need 'em, and though we pay deare,For our stolne pleasures, so it be done securely;The charge much like a sharp sawce gives 'm relish.Well honestAndrew, I gave you a farme,And it shall have a beacon to give warningTo my other Tenants when the Foe approaches;And presently, you being bestowed else where,Ile graffe it with dexteritie on your forehead;Indeed I willLilly. I come pooreAndrew.Exit.
Actus IV. Scaena II.
EnterMiramont, Andrew.
Do they chafe roundly?And.As they were rubb'd with soap, Sir,And now they sweare alowd, now calme again,Like a ring of bells whose sound the wind still alters,And then they sit in councel what to doe,And then they jar againe what shall be done;They talke of Warrants from the Parliament,Complaints to the King, and forces from the Province,They have a thousand heads in a thousand minutes,Yet nere a one head worth a head of garlick.
Mir.Long may they chafe, and long may we laugh at 'em,A couple of pure puppies yok'd together.But what sayes the young Courtier MasterEustace,And his two warlike friends?And.They say but little,How much they think I know not; they looke ruefully,As if they had newly come from a vaulting house,And had beene quite shot through 'tween winde and waterBy a she Dunkirke, and had sprung a leake, Sir.Certaine my master was too blame.Mir.WhyAndrew?
And.To take away the Wench oth' sudden from him,And give him no lawful warning, he is tender;And of a young girles constitution, Sir,Readie to get the greene sickness with conceit;Had he but tane his leave innavailing language,Or bought an Elegie of his condolement,That th' world might have tane notice, he had beeneAn Asse, 't had beene some favour.Mir.Thou sayest true,WiseAndrew, but these Schollars are such thingsWhen they can prattle.And.Very parlous things Sir.
Mir.And when they gaine the Libertie to distinguishThe difference 'twixt a father and a foole,To looke below and spie a younger brotherPruning up and dressing up his expectationsIn a rare glasse of beauty, too good for him:Those dreaming Scholars then turne Tyrants,Andrew,And shew no mercy.And.The more's the pittie, Sir.
Mir.Thou told'st me of a trick to catch my brother,And anger him a little farther,Andrew,It shall be onely anger I assure thee,And little shame.And.And I can fit you, Sir;Hark in your eare.Mir.Thy wife?And.So I assure ye;This night at twelve a clock.Mir.Tis neat and handsome;There are twentie Crownes due to thy projectAndrew;I've time to visitCharles, and see what LectureHe reades to his Mistresse. That done, Ile not faileTo be with you.And.Nor I to watch my Master—Exeunt.
Actus IV. Scaena III.
Angellina, Sylvia,with a taper.
I'me worse than ere I was; for now I feare,That that I love, that that I onely dote on;He followes me through every roome I passe,And with a strong set eye he gazes on me,As if his spark of innocence were blowneInto a flame of lust; Vertue defend me.His Uncle to is absent, and 'tis night;And what these opportunities may teach him—What feare and endlesse care tis to be honest!To be a maide, what miserie, what mischiefe!Would I were rid of it, so it were fairlie.
Syl.You need not feare that, will you be a childe still?He followes you, but still to looke upon you;Or if he did desire to lie with ye,Tis but your owne desire, you love for that end;Ile lay my life, if he were now abed w'ye,He is so modest, he would fall a sleepe straight.
Ang. Dare you venter that?Syl. Let him consent, and have at ye;I feare him not, he knowes not what a woman is,Nor how to find the mysterie men aime at.Are you afraid of your own shadow, Madam?
Ang. He followes still, yet with a sober face; Would I might know the worst, and then I were satisfied.
Syl. You may both, and let him but goe with ye.
Cha. Why doe you fle me? What have I so ill About me or within me to deserve it?
Ang. I am going to bed Sir.Cha. And I am come to light ye; I am a maide, and 'tis a maidens office.
Ang. You may have me to bed Sir, without a scruple, And yet I am charie too who comes about me. Two Innocents should not feare one another.
Syl. The Gentleman sayes true. Pluck up your heart, Madam.
Cha. The glorious Sun both rising and decliningWe boldly looke upon; even then sweet Ladie,When like a modest bride he drawes nights curtaines,Even then he blushes, that men should behold him.
Ang. I feare he will perswade me to mistake him.
Syl. Tis easily done, if you will give your minde to't.
Ang. Pray ye to your bed.Cha. Why not to yours, dear Mistress,One heart and one bed.Ang. True Sir, when 'tis lawful;But yet you know—Cha. I would not know, forget it;Those are but sickly loves that hang on Ceremonie,Nurst up with doubts and feares, ours high and healthful,Full of beleefe, and fit to teach the Priest;Love shall seale first, then hands confirme the bargaine.
Ang. I shall be an Heretique if this continue. What would you doe a bed? you make me blush, Sir.
Cha. Ide see you sleepe, for sure your sleepes are excellentYou that are waking such a noted wonder,Must in your slumber prove an admiration:I would behold your dreames too, if't were possible;Those were rich showes.Ang. I am becomming Traitor.
Cha. Then like blewNeptunecourting of an Hand,Where all the perfumes and the pretious thingsThat wait upon great Nature are laid up,Ide clip it in mine armes, and chastly kiss it,Dwell in your bosome like your dearest thoughts,And sigh and weepe.Ang. I've too much woman in me.
Cha. And those true teares falling on your pure Chrystals, Should turne to armelets for great Queenes 't adore.
Ang. I must be gone.Cha. Do not, I will not hurt ye;This is to let you know, my worthiest Lady,Y'have clear'd my mind, and I can speak of love too;Feare not my manners, though I never knewBefore these few houres what a beautie was,And such a one that fires all hearts that feele it;Yet I have read of vertuous temperance,And studied it among my other secrets,And sooner would I force a separationBetwixt this Spirit and the case of flesh,Than but conceive one rudeness against chastitie.
An[g]. Then we may walk.Cha. And talk of any thing,Any thing fit for your eares, and my language;Though I was bred up dull I was ever civil;Tis true, I have found it hard to looke on you,And not desire; Twil prove a wise mans task;Yet those desires I have so mingled stillAnd tempered with the quality of honour,That if you should yeeld, I should hate you for't.I am no Courtier of a light condition,Apt to take fire at every beautious face.That onely serves his will and wantonness,And lets the serious part run byAs thin neglected sand. Whitness of name,You must be mine; why should I robbe my selfeOf that that lawfully must make me happy?Why should I seeke to cuckold my delights,And widow all those sweets I aime at in you?We'l loose our selves inVenusgroves of mirtleWhere every little bird shall be aCupid,And sing of love and youth, each winde that blowesAnd curles the velvet leaves shall breed delights,The wanton springs shall call us to their bankes,And on the perfum'd flowers wee'l feast our senses,Yet wee'l walk by untainted of their pleasures,And as they were pure Temples wee'l talk in them.
Ang. To bed, and pray then, we may have a faire endOf our faire loves; would I [w]ere worthy of you,Or of such parents that might give you thankes;But I am poore in all but in your love.Once more, good night.Cha. A good night t'ye, and mayThe dew of sleepe fall gently on you, sweet one,And lock up those faire lights in pleasing slumbers;No dreames but chast and cleare attempt your fancie,And break betimes sweet morne, I've lost my light else.
Ang. Let it be ever night when I lose you.
Syl. This Scholar never went to a Free-Schoo[le], he's so simple
[Enter a servant.]
Ser. Your brother with two Gallants is at dore, Sir And they're so violent, they'l take no denial.
Ang. this is no time of night.Cha. Let 'em in Mistresse.
Serv. They stay no leave; Shall I raise the house on 'm?
Cha. Not a man, nor make no murmur of't, I charge ye.
EnterEustace, Egremont, Cowsy.
Th'are here, my Uncle absent, stand close to me.How doe you brother with your curious story?Have you not read her yet sufficiently?
Cha. No, brother, no, I stay yet in the Preface; The stile's too hard for you.Eust. I must entreat her. Shee's parcel of my goods.Cha. Shee's all when you have her.
Ang.Hold off your hands, unmannerly, rude Sir; Nor I, nor what I have depend on you.
Cha.Do, let her alone, she gives good counsel; doe not Trouble your selfe with Ladies, they are too light; Let out your land, and get a provident Steward.
Ang.I cannot love ye, let that satisfie you; Such vanities as you are to be laught at.
Eust.Nay, Then you must goe, I must claime mine owne.
Both.A way, a way with her.Cha.Let her alone, [She strikes off Eustace's hat] Pray let her alone, and take your coxcombe up: Let me talk civilly a while with you brother. It may be on some termes I may part with her.
Eust.O; is your heart come downe? what are your termes, Sir?Put up, put up.Cha.This is the first and cheifest,[Snatches away his sword.]Let's walk a turne; now stand off fooles, I advise ye,Stand as far off as you would hope for mercy:This is the first sword yet I ever handled,And a sword's a beauteous thing to looke upon,And if it hold, I shall so hunt your insolence:Tis sharp I'm sure, and if I put it home,Tis ten to one I shall new pink your Sattins:I find I have spirit enough to dispose of it,And will enough to make ye all examples;Let me tosse it round, I have the full command on't:Fetch me a native Fencer, I defie him;I feele the fire of ten strong spirits in me.Doe you watch me when my Uncle is absent?This is my griefe, I shall be flesht on Cowards;Teach me to fight, I willing am to learne.Are ye all gilded flies, nothing but shew in ye?Why stand ye gaping? who now touches her?Who calls her his, or who dares name her to me?But name her as his owne; who dares look on her?That shall be mortal too; but think, 'tis dangerous.Art thou a fit man to inherit land,And hast no wit nor spirit to maintaine it?Stand still thou signe of man, and pray for thy friends,Pray heartilie, good prayers may restore ye.
Ang.But doe not kill 'em Sir.Cha.You speak too late, Deare,It is my first fight, and I must doe bravely,I must not looke with partial eyes on any;I cannot spare a button of these Gentlemen;Did life lye in their heelAchilleslike,Ide shoot my anger at those parts and kill 'um.Who waits within?Ser.Sir.Cha.View all these, view 'em wellGoe round a bout 'em and still view their faces,Round about yet; See how death waits upon 'em,For thou shall never view 'em more.Eust.Pray hold, Sir.
Cha.I cannot hold, you stand so fair before me,I must not hold 'twill darken all my glories.Goe to my Uncle, bid him poste to the King,And get my pardon instantly, I have need on't.
Eust.Are you so unnatural?Cha.You shall die last Sir, Ile talke thee dead, thou art no man to fight with. Come, will ye come? me thinkes I've fought whole battailes.
Cow. We have no quarel to you, that we know on, Sir.
Egre. Wee'l quit the house and ask ye mercie too:Good Ladie, let no murther be done here;We came but to parly.Cha. How my swordThirsts after them? stand away Sweet.Eust.Pray Sir,Take my submission, and I disclaime for ever.
Cha. Away ye poore things, ye despicable Creatures!Doe you come poste to fetch a Ladie from me,From a poore Schoole-boy that ye scorn'd of late?And grow lame in your hearts when you should execute?Pray take her, take her, I am weary of her;What did ye bring to carrie her.Egre. A Coach and four horses.
Cha. But are they good?Egre. As good asFrancecan shew Sir.
Cha. Are you willing to leave those, and take your safeties? Speak quickly.Eust. Yes with all our hearts.Cha. Tis done then. Many have got one horse, I've got foure by th' bargaine.
EnterMiramont.
Mi.How Now, who's here.Ser. Nay Now, y'are gon without bail.
Mir. What, drawne my friends! Fetch me my two-hand sword; I will not leave a head on your shoulders, Wretches.
Eust. In troth Sir, I came but to doe my dutie.
Both. And we to renew our loves.Mir. Bring me a blanket.What came they for?Ang. To borrow me a while, Sir;But one that never fought yet has so curried,So bastina[d]o'd them with manly carriage,They stand like thingsGorgonhad turn'd to stone;They watch'd your being absent, and then thoughtThey might doe wonders here, and they have done so?For by my troth, I wonder at their coldness,The nipping North or frost never came neere them,St.Georgeupon a Signe would grow more sensible:If the name of honour were for ever to be lost,These were the most sufficient men to doe itIn all the world, and yet they are but young,What will they rise to? They're as full of fireAs a frozen Glo-wormes ratle, and shine as goodly;Nobilitie and patience are match'd rarelyIn these three Gentlemen, they have right use on't;They'l stand still for an houre and be beaten.These are the Anagrammes of three great Worthies.
Mir. They will infect my house with cowardize,If they breathe longer in it; my roofe coversNo baffl'd Monsieurs, walk and aire your selves;As I live, they stay not here, while liver'd wretchesWithout one word to ask a reason why,Vanish, 'tis the last warning, and with speed,For if I take ye in hand I shall dissect you,And read upon your flegmatick dull carcases.My horse againe there: I have other business,Which you shall heare hereafter and laugh at it.Good nightCharles, faire goodness to you dear LadieTis late, 'tis late.Ang.Pray Sir be careful of us.
Mir.It is enough, my best care shall attend ye.Exeunt.
Actus IV. Scaena IV.
EnterAndrew.
Are you come old Master? very good, your horseIs well set up, but ere ye part, Ile ride youAnd spur your reverend Justiceship such a question,As I shall make the sides of your reputation bleed,Trulie I will. Now must I play at Bo-peep—A banquet—well, Potatoes and Eringoes,And as I take it, Cantharides,—Excellent,A Priapisme followes, and as Ile handle it,It shall old lecherous Goat in authoritie.Now they begin to bill; how he slavers her![G]ramercieLilly, she spits his kisses out,And now he offers to fumble she fals off,(That's a good Wench) and cries fair play above boordWho are they in the corner? As I live,A covey ofFidlers; I shall have some musick yetAt my making free oth' Companie of Horners;There's the comfort, and a Song too! He beckons for one—Sure 'tis no Anthem nor no borrowed rhymesOut of the Schoole of vertue; I will listen— ASong.This was never penn'd atGeneva, the note's too spritely.So, so, the musicke's paid for, and now what followes?O that MonsieurMiramontwould but keep his word.Here were a feast to make him fat with laughter,At the most 'tis not six minutes riding from his house,Nor will he break I hope—O are you come Sir?The prey is in the net and will break inUpon occasion.Mir.Thou shall rule meAndrew.O th' infinite fright that will assaile this Gentleman!The quarterns, tertians, and quotidiansThat will hang like Sargeants on his worships shoulders!The humiliation of the flesh of this man!This grave austere man will be wondred at.How will those solemne lookes appeare to me;And that severe face, that speak chaines and shackles?Now I take him in the nick, ere I done with him,He had better have stood between two panes of wainscot;And made his recantation in the market,Than heare me conjure him.And.He must passe this way,To th' onely bed I have, he comes, stand close.
Bri.Well done, well done, give me my night-cap. So.Quick, quick, untruss me; I will truss and trounce thee;Come Wench a kiss between each point; kiss close;It is a sweet Parenthesis.Lil.Y'are merry Sir.
Bri.Merry I will be anon, and thou shall feele it, Thou shall myLilly.Lil.Shall I aire your bed, Sir?
Bri.No, no, Ile use no warming pan but thine, Girle; That's all; Come kiss me again.Lil.Ha'ye done yet?
Bri.No, but I will doe, and doe wonders,Lilly.Shew me the way.Lil.You cannot misse it, Sir;You shall have a Cawdle in the morning, forYour worships breakfast.Bri.How, ith' morning.Lilly?Th'art such a wittie thing to draw me on.Leave fooling,Lilly, I am hungry now,And th' hast another Kickshaw, I must tast it.
Lil.Twill make you surfet, I am tender of you: Y'have all y'are like to have.And.And can this be earnest?
Mir.it seemes so, and she honest.Bri.Have I notThy promiseLilly?Lil.Yes and I have performedEnough to a man of your yeares, this is truth,And you shall find Sir, you have kist and tows'd me,Handled my legg and foote, what would you more, Sir,?As for the rest, it requires youth and strength,And the labour in an old man would breed Agues,Sciaticaes, and Cramps; you shall not curse me,For taking from you what you cannot spare, Sir:Be good unto your selfe, y'ave tane alreadieAll you can take with ease; you are past threshing,It is a worke too boisterous for you; leaveSuch drudgerie toAndrew.Mir.How she jeeres him?
Lil.LetAndrewalone with his owne tillage,Hee's tough, and can manure it.Bri.Y'are a queane,A scoffing jeering quean.Lil.It may be so, butI'me sure, Ile nere be yours.Bri.Doe not provoke me,If thou do'st, Ile have my Farm againe, and turneThee out a begging.Lil.Though you have the will,And want of honestie to deny your Deed, Sir,Yet I hopeAndrewhas got so much learningFrom my young Master, as to keep his own;At the worst, Ile tell a short tale to the Judges,For what grave ends you sign'd your Lease, and onWhat termes you would revoke it.Bri.Whore thou dar'st not.Yeeld or Ile have thee whipt; How my bloud boiles,As if t'were ore a furnace!Mir.I shall coole it.
Bri.Yet gentleLilly, pitie and forgive me, Ile be a friend t'ye, such a loving bountiful friend—
Lil.To avoid suites in Law, I would grant a litle,But should fierceAndrewknow it, what would becomeOf me?And.A whore, a whore!Bri.Nothing but well Wench,I will put such a strong bit in his mouth,As thou shalt ride him how thou wilt, myLilly:Nay, he shall hold the doore, as I will worke him,And thank thee for the office.Mir.Take heedAndrew,These are shrewd temptations.And.Pray you knowYour Cue, and second me Sir; By your Worships favour.
Bri.Andrew!And.I come in time to take possessionOf th' office you assigne me; hold the doore,Alas 'tis nothing for a simple manTo stay without when a deepe understandingHolds conference within, say with his wife:A trifle Sir, I know I hold my farmeIn Cuckolds Tenure: you are Lord o'the soile Sir,Lillyis a Weft, a Straie shee's yours, to use Sir,I claime no interest in her.Bri.Art thou serious?Speak honestAndrew, since thou hast oreheard us,And wink at small faults, man; I'me but a pidler,A little will serve my turne; thou'lt finde enoughWhen I've my bellyfull; wilt thou be privateAnd silent?And.By all meanes, Ile onely haveA Ballad made of't, sung to some lewd Tune,And the name of it shall beJustice Trap,It will sell rarely with your Worships name,AndLillieson the top.Bri.Seek not the ruineO' my reputation,Andrew.And.Tis for your credit,MonsieurBrisacprinted in capital letters,Then pasted upon all the posts inParis.