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diff --git a/old/13425.txt b/old/13425.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..361307e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13425.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4128 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wit Without Money, by Francis Beaumont + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Wit Without Money + The Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher + +Author: Francis Beaumont + +Release Date: September 10, 2004 [EBook #13425] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WIT WITHOUT MONEY *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + +WIT WITHOUT MONEY, + +A COMEDY. + + * * * * * + +Persons Represented in the Play. + + +Valentine, _a Gallant that will not be perswaded to keep his Estate_. + +Francisco, _his younger Brother_. + +_Master_ Lovegood _their Uncle_. + +_A_ Merchant, _Friend to Master_ Lovegood. + + Fountain, } + Bellamore,} _companions of_ Valentine, _and Sutors to the_ Widow. + Hairbrain,} + +Lance, _a Falkner, and an ancient servant to_ Valentines _Father_. + +Shorthose, _the Clown, and servant to the_ Widow. + +Roger, Ralph, _and_ Humphrey, _three servants to the_ Widow. + +_Three Servants_. + +_Musicians_. + +Lady Hartwel, a _Widow_. + +Isabel, _her Sister_. + +Luce, _a waiting Gentlewoman to the Widow_. + + * * * * * + + + + +_Actus primus. Scena prima._ + + * * * * * + +_Enter_ Uncle _and_ Merchant. + +_Merc._ When saw you _Valentine_? + +_Uncle._ Not since the Horse-race, he's taken up with those that +woo the Widow. + +_Mer._ How can he live by snatches from such people? he bore a +worthy mind. + +_Uncle._ Alas, he's sunk, his means are gone, he wants, and which +is worse, +Takes a delight in doing so. + +_Mer._ That's strange. + +_Unc._ Runs Lunatick, if you but talk of states, he cannot be +brought (now he has spent his own) to think there's inheritance, or +means, but all a common riches, all men bound to be his Bailiffs. + +_Mer._ This is something dangerous. + +_Uncle._ No Gentleman that has estate to use it in keeping house, +or followers, for those wayes he cries against, for Eating sins, dull +Surfeits, cramming of Serving-men, mustering of Beggars, maintaining +Hospitals for Kites, and Curs, grounding their fat faiths upon old +Country proverbs, God bless the Founders; these he would have ventured +into more manly uses, Wit, and carriage, and never thinks of state, or +means, the ground-works: holding it monstrous, men should feed their +bodies, and starve their understandings. + +_Mer._ That's most certain. + +_Uncle._ Yes, if he could stay there. + +_Mer._ Why let him marry, and that way rise again. + +_Uncle._ It's most impossible, he will not look with any +handsomeness upon a Woman. + +_Mer._ Is he so strange to Women? + +_Uncle._ I know not what it is, a foolish glory he has got, I know +not where, to balk those benefits, and yet he will converse and flatter +'em, make 'em, or fair, or foul, rugged, or smooth, as his impression +serves, for he affirms, they are only lumps, and undigested pieces, +lickt over to a form by our affections, and then they show. The Lovers +let 'em pass. + +_Enter_ Fountain, Bellamore, Hairbrain. + +_Mer._ He might be one, he carries as much promise; they are +wondrous merry. + +_Uncle._ O their hopes are high, Sir. + +_Fount._ Is _Valentine_ come to Town? + +_Bella._ Last night, I heard. + +_Fount._ We miss him monstrously in our directions, for this Widow +is as stately, and as crafty, and stands I warrant you-- + +_Hair._ Let her stand sure, she falls before us else, come let's go +seek _Valentine_. + +_Mer._ This Widow seems a Gallant. + +_Uncle._ A goodly Woman, and to her handsomness she bears her +state, reserved, and great Fortune has made her Mistress of a full +means, and well she knows to use it. + +_M[e]r._ I would _Valentine_ had her. + +_Uncle._ There's no hope of that, Sir. + +_Mer._ O' that condition, he had his Mortgage in again. + +_Uncle._ I would he had. + +_Mer._ Seek means, and see what I'le do, however let the Money be +paid in, I never sought a Gentlemans undoing, nor eat the bread of other +mens vexations, you told me of another Brother. + +_Uncle._ Yes Sir, more miserable than he, for he has eat him, and +drunk him up, a handsome Gentleman, and fine Scholar. + +_Enter three_ Tenants. + +_Mer._ What are these? + +_Unc._ The Tenants, they'll do what they can. + +_Mer._ It is well prepared, be earnest, honest friends, and loud +upon him, he is deaf to his own good. + +_Lance._ We mean to tell him part of our minds an't please you. + +_Mer._ Do, and do it home, and in what my care may help, or my +perswasions when we meet next. + +_Unc._ Do but perswade him fairly; and for your money, mine, and +these mens thanks too, and what we can be able. + +_Mer._ Y'are most honest, you shall find me no less, and so I leave +you, prosper your business my friends. [_Ex._ Mer. + +_Unc._ Pray Heaven it may, Sir. + +_Lance._ Nay if he will be mad, I'le be mad with him, and tell him +that I'le not spare him, his Father kept good Meat, good Drink, good +Fellows, good Hawks, good Hounds, and bid his Neighbours welcome; kept +him too, and supplied his prodigality, yet kept his state still; must +we turn Tenants now, after we have lived under the race of Gentry, and +maintained good Yeomantry, to some of the City, to a great shoulder of +Mutton and a Custard, and have our state turned into Cabbidge Gardens, +must it be so? + +_Unc._ You must be milder to him. + +_Lance._ That's as he makes his game. + +_Unc._ Intreat him lovingly, and make him feel. + +_Lance._ I'le pinch him to the bones else. + +[_Valen._ _Within_.] And tell the Gentleman, I'le be with him +presently, say I want money too, I must not fail boy. + +_Lance._ You'l want Cloaths, I hope. + +_Enter_ Valentine. + +_Val._ Bid the young Courtier repair to me anon, I'le read to him. + +_Unc._ He comes, [b]e diligent, but not too rugged, start him, but +affright him not. + +_Val._ Phew, are you there? + +_Unc._ We come to see you Nephew, be not angry. + +_Val._ Why do you dog me thus, with these strange people? why, all +the world shall never make me rich more, nor master of these troubles. + +_Tenants._ We beseech you for our poor Childrens sake. + +_Val._ Who bid you get 'em? have you not threshing work enough, but +Children must be bang'd out o'th' sheaf too? other men with all their +delicates, and healthful diets, can get but wind eggs: you with a clove +of Garlick, a piece of Cheese would break a Saw, and sowre Milk, can +mount like Stallions, and I must maintain these tumblers. + +_Lance._ You ought to maintain us, we have maintained you, and when +you slept provided for you; who bought the Silk you wear? I think our +labours; reckon, you'll find it so: who found your Horses perpetual +pots of Ale, maintain'd your Taverns, and who extol'd you in the +Half-crown-boxes, where you might sit and muster all the Beauties? +we had no hand in these; no, we are all puppies? Your Tenants base +vexations. + +_Val._ Very well, Sir. + +_Lance._ Had you Land, Sir, and honest men to serve your purposes, +honest and faithful, and will you run away from 'em, betray your self, +and your poor Tribe to misery; mortgage all us, like old Cloaks; where +will you hunt next? you had a thousand Acres, fair and open: The +Kings-Bench is enclos'd, there's no good riding, the Counter is full +of thorns and brakes, take heed Sir, and boggs, you'l quickly find what +broth they're made of. + +_Val._ Y'are short and pithy. + +_Lance._ They say y'are a fine Gentleman, and of excellent +judgement, they report you have a wit; keep your self out o'th' Rain, +and take your Cloak with you, which by interpretation is your State, +Sir, or I shall think your fame belied you, you have money, and may +have means. + +_Val._ I prethee leave prating, does my good lye within thy brain +to further, or my undoing in thy pity? go, go, get you home, there +whistle to your Horses, and let them edifie; away, sow Hemp to hang your +selves withal: what am I to you, or you to me; am I your Landlord, +puppies? + +_Unc._ This is uncivil. + +_Val._ More unmerciful you, to vex me with these Bacon +Broth and Puddings, they are the walking shapes of all my +sorrows. + +_3 Tenants._ Your Fathers Worship would have used us better. + +_Val._ My Fathers Worship was a Fool. + +_Lance._ Hey, hey boys, old _Valentine_ i'faith, the old boy still. + +_Unc._ Fie Cousin. + +_Val._ I mean besotted to his state, he had never left me the +misery of so much means else, which till I sold, was a meer meagrim to +me: If you will talk, turn out these Tenants, they are as killing to my +nature Uncle, as water to a Feaver. + +_Lance._ We will go, but it is like Rams, to come again the +stronger, and you shall keep your state. + +_Val._ Thou lyest, I will not. + +_Lance._ Sweet Sir, thou lyest, thou shalt, and so good morrow. +[_Exeunt_ Tenants. + +_Val._ This was my man, and of a noble breeding: now to your +business Uncle. + +_Unc._ To your state then. + +_Val._ 'Tis gone, and I am glad on't, name it no more, 'tis that +I pray against, and Heaven has heard me, I tell you, Sir, I am more +fearful of it, I mean, of thinking of more lands, or livings, than +sickly men are travelling o' Sundays, for being quell'd with Carriers; +out upon't, _caveat emptor_, let the fool out-sweat it, that thinks +he has got a catch on't. + +_Unc._ This is madness to be a wilful begger. + +_Val._ I am mad then, and so I mean to be, will that content you? +How bravely now I live, how jocund, how near the first inheritance, +without fears, how free from title-troubles! + +_Unc._ And from means too. + +_Val._ Means? why all good men's my means; my wit's my Plow, the +Town's my stock, Tavern's my standing-house, and all the world knows +there's no want; all Gentlemen that love Society, love me; all Purses +that wit and pleasure opens, are my Tenants; every mans Cloaths fit me, +the next fair lodging is but my next remove, and when I please to be +more eminent, and take the Air, a piece is levied, and a Coach prepared, +and I go I care not whither, what need state here? + +_Unc._ But say these means were honest, will they last, Sir? + +_Val._ Far longer than your jerkin, and wear fairer, should I take +ought of you, 'tis true, I beg'd now, or which is worse than that, I +stole a kindness, and which is worst of all, I lost my way in't; your +mind's enclosed, nothing lies open nobly, your very thoughts are Hinds +that work on nothing but daily sweat and trouble: were my way so full of +dirt as this, 'tis true I'd shift it; are my acquaintance Grasiers? but +Sir, know, no man that I am allied to, in my living, but makes it equal, +whether his own use, or my necessity pull first, nor is this forc'd, but +the meer quality and poisure of goodness, and do you think I venture +nothing equal? + +_Unc._ You pose me Cousin. + +_Val._ What's my knowledge Uncle, is't not worth mony? what's my +understanding, travel, reading, wit, all these digested, my daily making +men, some to speak, that too much flegm had frozen up, some that spoke +too much, to hold their peace, and put their tongues to pensions, some +to wear their cloaths, and some to keep 'em, these are nothing Uncle; +besides these wayes, to teach the way of nature, a manly love, community +to all that are deservers, not examining how much, or what's done for +them, 'tis wicked, and such a one like you, chews his thoughts [double], +making 'em only food for his repentance. + +_Enter two_ Servants. + +_1 Ser._ This cloak and hat Sir, and my Masters love. + +_Val._ Commend's to thy Master, and take that, and leave 'em at my +lodging. + +_1 Ser._ I shall do it Sir. + +_Val._ I do not think of these things. + +_2 Ser._ Please you Sir, I have gold here for you. + +_Val._ Give it me, drink that and commend me to thy Master; look +you Uncle, do I beg these? + +_Unc._ No sure, 'tis your worth, Sir. + +_Val._ 'Tis like enough, but pray satisfie me, are not these ways +as honest as persecuting the starved inheritance, with musty Corn, the +very rats were fain to run away from, or felling rotten wood by the +pound, like spices, which Gentlemen do after burn by th' ounces? do not +I know your way of feeding beasts with grains, and windy stuff, to blow +up Butchers? your racking Pastures, that have eaten up as many singing +Shepherds, and their issues, as _Andeluzia_ breeds? these are +authentique, I tell you Sir, I would not change ways with you, unless it +were to sell your state that hour, and if it were possible to spend it +then too, for all your Beans in _Rumnillo_, now you know me. + +_Unc._ I would you knew your self, but since you are grown such a +strange enemy to all that fits you, give me leave to make your Brothers +fortune. + +_Val._ How? + +_Unc._ From your mortgage, which yet you may recover, I'le find the +means. + +_Val._ Pray save your labour Sir, my Brother and my self will run +one fortune, and I think what I hold a meer vexation, cannot be safe +for him, I love him better, he has wit at will, the world has means, +he shall live without this trick of state, we are heirs both, and all +the world before us. + +_Unc._ My last offer, and then I am gone. + +_Val._ What is't, and then I'le answer. + +_Unc._ What think you of a wife yet to restore you, and tell me +seriously without these trifles. + +_Val._ And you can find one, that can please my fancy, you shall +not find me stubborn. + +_Unc._ Speak your Woman. + +_Val._ One without eyes, that is, self commendations, for when they +find they are handsom, they are unwholsome; one without ears, not giving +time to flatterers, for she that hears her self commended, wavers, and +points men out a way to make 'em wicked; one without substance of her +self; that woman without the pleasure of her life, that's wanton; though +she be young, forgetting it, though fair, making her glass the eyes of +honest men, not her own admiration, all her ends obedience, all her +hours new blessings, if there may be such a woman. + +_Unc._ Yes there may be. + +_Val._ And without state too. + +_Unc._ You are disposed to trifle, well, fare you well Sir, when +you want me next, you'l seek me out a better sence. + +_Val._ Farewell Uncle, and as you love your estate, let not me hear +on't. [_Exit._ + +_Unc._ It shall not trouble you, I'le watch him still, +And when his friends fall off then bend his will. [_Exit._ + +_Enter_ Isabella, _and_ Luce. + +_Luce._ I know the cause of all this sadness now, your sister has +ingrost all the brave Lovers. + +_Isab._ She has wherewithall, much good may't do her, prethee speak +softly, we are open to mens ears. + +_Luce._ Fear not, we are safe, we may see all that pass, hear all, +and make our selves merry with their language, and yet stand +undiscovered, be not melancholy, you are as fair as she. + +_Isab._ Who I? I thank you, I am as haste ordain'd me, a thing +slubber'd, my sister is a goodly portly Lady, a woman of a presence, she +spreads sattens, as the Kings ships do canvas every where, she may spare +me her misen, and her bonnets, strike her main Petticoat, and yet +outsail me, I am a Carvel to her. + +_Luce._ But a tight one. + +_Isab._ She is excellent, well built too. + +_Luce._ And yet she's old. + +_Isab._ She never saw above one voyage _Luce_, and credit me +after another, her Hull will serve again, a right good Merchant: she +plaies, and sings too, dances and discourses, comes very near Essays, a +pretty Poet, begins to piddle with Philosophic, a subtil Chymick Wench, +and can extract the Spirit of mens Estates, she has the light before +her, and cannot miss her choice for me, 'tis reason I wait my mean +fortune. + +_Luce._ You are so bashfull. + +_Isab._ It is not at first word up and ride, thou art cozen'd, +that would shew mad i' faith: besides, we lose the main part of our +politick government: if we become provokers, then we are fair, and fit +for mens imbraces, when like towns, they lie before us ages, yet not +carried, hold out their strongest batteries, then compound too without +the loss of honour, and march off with our fair wedding, Colours flying. +Who are these? + +_Enter_ Franc, _and_ Lance. + +_Luce._ I know not, nor I care not. + +_Isab._ Prethee peace then, a well built Gentleman. + +_Luce._ But poorly thatcht. + +_Lance._ Has he devour'd you too? + +_Fran._ H'as gulp'd me down _Lance_. + +_Lance._ Left you no means to study? + +_Fran._ Not a farthing: dispatcht my poor annuity I thank him, +here's all the hope I have left, one bare ten shillings. + +_Lan._ You are fit for great mens services. + +_Fran._ I am fit, but who'le take me thus? mens miseries are now +accounted stains in their natures. I have travelled, and I have studied +long, observed all Kingdoms, know all the promises of Art and manners, +yet that I am not bold, nor cannot flatter, I shall not thrive, all +these are but vain Studies, art thou so rich as to get me a lodging +_Lance_? + +_Lan._ I'le sell the titles of my house else, my Horse, my Hawk, +nay's death I'le pawn my wife: Oh Mr. _Francis_, that I should see +your Fathers house fall thus! + +_Isab._ An honest fellow. + +_Lan._ Your Fathers house, that fed me, that bred up all my name! + +_Isab._ A gratefull fellow. + +_Lan._ And fall by-- + +_Fran._ Peace, I know you are angry _Lance_, but I must not +hear with whom, he is my Brother, and though you hold him slight, my +most dear Brother: A Gentleman, excepting some few rubs, he were too +excellent to live here else, fraughted as deep with noble and brave +parts, the issues of a noble and manly Spirit, as any he alive. I must +not hear you; though I am miserable, and he made me so, yet still he +is my Brother, still I love him, and to that tye of blood link my +affections. + +_Isab._ A noble nature! dost thou know him _Luce_? + +_Luce._ No, Mistress. + +_Isab._ Thou shouldest ever know such good men, what a fair body +and mind are married! did he not say he wanted? + +_Luce._ What's that to you? + +_Isab._ 'Tis true, but 'tis great pity. + +_Luce._ How she changes! ten thousand more than he, as handsom men too. + +_Isab._ 'Tis like enough, but as I live, this Gentleman among ten +thousand thousand! is there no knowing him? why should he want? fellows +of no merit, slight and puft souls, that walk like shadows, by leaving +no print of what they are, or poise, let them complain. + +_Luce._ Her colour changes strangely. + +_Isab._ This man was made, to mark his wants to waken us; alas poor +Gentleman, but will that keep him from cold and hunger, believe me he is +well bred, and cannot be but of a noble linage, mark him, mark him well. + +_Luce._ 'Is a handsom man. + +_Isab._ The sweetness of his sufferance sets him off, O _Luce_, but +whither go I? + +_Luce._ You cannot hide it. + +_Isab._ I would he had what I can spare. + +_Luce._ 'Tis charitable. + +_Lance._ Come Sir, I'le see you lodg'd, you have tied my tongue +fast, I'le steal before you want, 'tis but a hanging. + +_Isab._ That's a good fellow too, an honest fellow, why, this would +move a stone, I must needs know; but that some other time. +[_Exit_ Lance, _and_ Franc. + +_Luce._ Is the wind there? that makes for me. + +_Isab._ Come, I forgot a business. + + + + +_Actus [Secundus]. Scena Prima._ + +_Enter_ Widow, _and_ Luce. + + +_Wid._ My sister, and a woman of so base a pity! what was the +fellow? + +_Luce,_ Why, an ordinary man, Madam. + +_Wid._ Poor? + +_Luce._ Poor enough, and no man knows from whence neither. + +_Wid._ What could she see? + +_Luce._ Only his misery, for else she might behold a hundred handsomer. + +_Wid._ Did she change much? + +_Luce._ Extreamly, when he spoke, and then her pity, like an +Orator, I fear her love framed such a commendation, and followed it so +far, as made me wonder. + +_Wid._ Is she so hot, or such a want of lovers, that she must doat +upon afflictions? why does she not go romage all the prisons, and there +bestow her youth, bewray her wantonness, and flie her honour, common +both to beggery: did she speak to him? + +_Luce._ No, he saw us not, but ever since, she hath been mainly +troubled. + +_Wid._ Was he young? + +_Luce._ Yes, young enough. + +_Wid._ And looked he like a Gentleman? + +_Luce._ Like such a Gentleman, that would pawn ten oaths for twelve +pence. + +_Wid._ My sister, and sink basely! this must not be, does she use +means to know him? + +_Luce._ Yes Madam, and has employed a Squire called _Shorthose_. + +_Wid._ O that's a precious Knave: keep all this private, but still +be near her lodging: _Luce_, what you can gather by any means, let +me understand: I'le stop her heat, and turn her charity another way, to +bless her self first; be still close to her counsels; a begger and a +stranger! there's a bless'dness! I'le none of that; I have a toy yet, +sister, shall tell you this is foul, and make you find it, and for your +pains take you the last gown I wore; this makes me mad, but I shall +force a remedy. + +_Enter_ Fountain, Bellamore, Harebrain, Valentine. + +_Fount._ Sirra, we have so lookt for thee, and long'd for thee; +this widow is the strangest thing, the stateliest, and stands so much +upon her excellencies. + +_Bel._ She hath put us off, this month now, for an answer. + +_Hare._ No man must visit her, nor look upon her, no, not say, good +morrow, nor good even, till that's past. + +_Val._ She has found what dough you are made of, and so kneads you: +are you good at nothing, but these after-games? I have told you often +enough what things they are, what precious things, these widows-- + +_Hare._ If we had 'em. + +_Val._ Why the Devil has not craft enough to wooe 'em, there be three +kinds of fools, mark this note Gentlemen, mark it, and understand it. + +_Fount._ Well, go forward. + +_Val_ An Innocent, a knave fool, a fool politick: the last of which +are lovers, widow lovers. + +_Bell._ Will you allow no fortune? + +_Val._ No such blind one. + +_Fount._ We gave you reasons, why 'twas needful for us. + +_Val._ As you are those fools, I did allow those reasons, but as my +Scholars and companions damn'd 'em: do you know what it is to wooe a +widow? answer me coolely now, and understandingly. + +_Hare._ Why to lie with her, and to enjoy her wealth. + +_Val._ Why there you are fools still, crafty to catch your selves, +pure politick fools, I lookt for such an answer; once more hear me, it +is, to wed a widow, to be doubted mainly, whether the state you have be +yours or no, or those old boots you ride in. Mark me, widows are long +extents in Law upon news, livings upon their bodies winding-sheets, they +that enjoy 'em, lie but with dead mens monuments, and beget only their +own ill Epitaphs: Is not this plain now? + +_Bell._ Plain spoken. + +_Val._ And plain truth; but if you'le needs do things of danger, do +but lose your selves, not any part concerns your understandings, for +then you are Meacocks, fools, and miserable march off amain, within an +inch of a Fircug, turn me o'th' toe like a Weather-cock, kill every day +a Sergeant for a twelve month, rob the Exchequer, and burn all the +Rolls, and these will make a shew. + +_Hare._ And these are trifles. + +_Val._ Considered to a Widow, empty nothings, for here you venture +but your persons, there the varnish of your persons, your discretions; +why 'tis a monstrous thing to marry at all, especially as now 'tis made; +me thinks a man, an understanding man, is more wise to me, and of a +nobler tie, than all these trinkets; what do we get by women, but our +senses, which is the rankest part about us, satisfied, and when that's +done, what are we? Crest-fallen Cowards. What benefit can children be, +but charges and disobedience? What's the love they render at one and +twenty years? I pray die Father: when they are young, they are like +bells rung backwards, nothing but noise and giddiness; and come to years +once, there drops a son by th' sword in his Mistresses quarrel, a great +joy to his parents: A Daughter ripe too, grows high and lusty in her +blood, must have a heating, runs away with a supple ham'd Servingman: +his twenty Nobles spent, takes to a trade, and learns to spin mens hair +off; there's another, and most are of this nature, will you marry? + +_Fount._ For my part yes, for any doubt I feel yet. + +_Val._ And this same widow? + +_Fount._ If I may, and me thinks, however you are pleased to +dispute these dangers, such a warm match, and for you, Sir, were not +hurtfull. + +_Val._ Not half so killing as for you, for me she cannot with all +the Art she has, make me more miserable, or much more fortunate, I have +no state left, a benefit that none of you can brag of, and there's the +Antidote against a Widow, nothing to lose, but that my soul inherits, +which she can neither law nor claw away; to that, but little flesh, it +were too much else; and that unwholsom too, it were too rich else; and +to all this contempt of what she do's I can laugh at her tears, neglect +her angers, hear her without a faith, so pity her as if she were a +Traytour, moan her person, but deadly hate her pride; if you could do +these, and had but this discretion, and like fortune, it were but an +equal venture. + +_Fount._ This is malice. + +_Val._ When she lies with your land, and not with you, grows great +with joyntures, and is brought to bed with all the state you have, +you'le find this certain; but is it come to pass you must marry, is +there no buff will hold you? + +_Bel._ Grant it be so. + +_Val._ Then chuse the tamer evil, take a maid, a maid not worth a +penny; make her yours, knead her, and mould her yours, a maid worth +nothing, there's a vertuous spell in that word nothing; a maid makes +conscience of half a Crown a week for pins and puppits, a maid will be +content with one Coach and two Horses, not falling out because they are +not matches; with one man satisfied, with one rein guided, with one +faith, one content, one bed, aged she makes the wise, preserves the fame +and issue; a widow is a Christmas-box that sweeps all. + +_Fount._ Yet all this cannot sink us. + +_Val._ You are my friends, and all my loving friends, I spend your +mony, yet I deserve it too, you are my friends still, I ride your +horses, when I want I sell 'em; I eat your meat, help to wear her +linnen, sometimes I make you drunk, and then you seal, for which I'le do +you this commodity, be ruled, and let me try her, I will discover her, +the truth is, I will never leave to trouble her, till I see through her, +then if I find her worthy. + +_Hare._ This was our meaning _Valentine_. + +_Val._ 'Tis done then, I must want nothing. + +_Hare._ Nothing but the woman. + +_Val._ No jealousie; for when I marry, the Devil must be wiser than +I take him; and the flesh foolisher: come let's to dinner, and when I am +well whetted with wine, have at her. [_Exeunt._ + +_Enter_ Isabella, _and_ Luce. + +_Isab._ But art thou sure? + +_Luce._ No surer than I heard. + +_Hare._ That it was that flouting fellows Brother? + +_Luce._ Yes, _Shorthose_ told me so. + +_Hare._ He did searc[h] out the truth? + +_Luce._ It seems he did. + +_Har._ Prethee _Luce_ call him hither, if he be no worse, I +never repent my pity, now sirra, what was he we sent you after, the +Gentleman i'th' black? + +_Enter_ Shorthose. + +_Short._ I'th' torn black? + +_Isab._ Yes, the same Sir. + +_Short._ What would your Worship with him? + +_Isab._ Why, my Worship would know his name, and what he is. + +_Short._ 'Is nothing, he is a man, and yet he is no man. + +_Isab._ You must needs play the fool. + +_Short._ 'Tis my profession. + +_Isab._ How is he a man, and no man? + +_Short._ He's a begger, only the sign of a man, the bush pull'd +down, which shows the house stands emptie. + +_Isab._ What's his calling? + +_Short._ They call him begger. + +_Isab._ What's his kindred? + +_Short._ Beggers. + +_Isab._ His worth? + +_Short._ A learned begger, a poor Scholar. + +_Isab._ How does he live? + +_Short._ Like worms, he eats old Books. + +_Isab._ Is _Valentine_ his Brother. + +_Short._ His begging Brother. + +_Isab._ What may his name be? + +_Short._ _Orson_. + +_Isab._ Leave your fooling. + +_Short._ You had as good say, leave your living. + +_Isab._ Once more tell me his name directly. + +_Short._ I'le be hang'd first, unless I heard him Christned, but I +can tell what foolish people call him. + +_Isab._ What? + +_Short._ _Francisco_. + +_Isab._ Where lies this learning, Sir? + +_Short._ In _Pauls_ Church yard forsooth. + +_Isab._ I mean the Gentleman, fool. + +_Short._ O that fool, he lies in loose sheets every where, that's +no where. + +_Luce._ You have glean'd since you came to _London_: in the +Country, _Shorthose_, you were an arrant fool, a dull cold +coxcombe, here every Tavern teaches you, the pint pot has so belaboured +you with wit, your brave acquaintance that gives you Ale, so fortified +your mazard, that now there's no talking to you. + +_Isab._ 'Is much improved, a fellow, a fine discourser. + +_Short._ I hope so, I have not waited at the tail of wit so long to +be an Ass. + +_Luce._ But say now, _Shorthose_, my Lady should remove into +the Country. + +_Short._ I had as lieve she should remove to Heaven, and as soon I +would undertake to follow her. + +_Luce._ Where no old Charnico is, nor no Anchoves, nor Master +such-a-one, to meet at the Rose, and bring my Lady, such-a-ones chief +Chamber-maid. + +_Isab._ No bouncing healths to this brave Lad, dear +_Shorthose_, nor down o'th' knees to that illustrious Lady. + +_Luce._ No fiddles, nor no lusty noise of drawer, carry this pottle +to my Father _Shorthose_. + +_Isab._ No plays, nor gaily foists, no strange Embassadors to run +and wonder at, till thou beest oyl, and then come home again, and lye +byth' Legend. + +_Luc._ Say she should go. + +_Short._ If I say, I'le be hang'd, or if I thought she would go. + +_Luce._ What? + +_Short._ I would go with her. + +_Luce._ But _Shorthose_, where thy heart is? + +_Isab._ Do not fright him. + +_Luce._ By this hand Mistris 'tis a noise, a loud one too, and from +her own mouth, presently to be gone too, but why, or to what end? + +_Short._ May not a man die first? she'l give him so much time. + +_Isab._ Gone o'th' sudden? thou dost but jest, she must not mock +the Gentlemen. + +_Luce._ She has put them off a month, th[e]y dare not see her, +believe me Mistris, what I hear I tell you. + +_Isab._ Is this true, wench? gone on so short a warning! what trick +is this? she never told me of it, it must not be, sirra, attend me +presently, you know I have been a carefull friend unto you, attend me in +the Hall, and next be faithful, cry not, we shall not go. + +_Short._ Her Coach may crack. + +_Enter_ Valentine, Francisco, _and_ Lance. + +_Val._ Which way to live! how darest thou come to town, to ask such +an idle question? + +_Fran._ Me thinks 'tis necessary, unless you could restore that +Annuitie you have tipled up in Taverns. + +_Val._ Where hast thou been, and how brought up _Francisco_, +that thou talkest thus out of _France_? thou wert a pretty fellow, +and of a handsom knowledge; who has spoiled thee? + +_Lan._ He that has spoil'd himself, to make him sport, and by +Copie, will spoil all comes near him: buy but a Glass, if you be yet so +wealthy, and look there who? + +_Val._ Well said, old Copihold. + +_Lan._ My heart's good Freehold Sir, and so you'l find it, this +Gentleman's your Brother, your hopeful Brother, for there is no hope of +you, use him thereafter. + +_Val._ E'ne as well as I use my self, what would'st thou have _Frank_? + +_Fran._ Can you procure me a hundred pound? + +_Lan._ Hark what he saies to you, O try your wits, they say you are +excellent at it, for your Land has lain long bedrid, and unsensible. + +_Fran._ And I'le forget all wrongs, you see my state, and to what +wretchedness your will has brought me; but what it may be, by this +benefit, if timely done, and like a noble Brother, both you and I may +feel, and to our comforts. + +_Val._ (A hundred pound!) dost thou know what thou hast said Boy? + +_Fran._ I said a hundred pound. + +_Val._ Thou hast said more than any man can justifie, believe it: +procure a hundred pounds! I say to thee there's no such sum in nature, +forty shillings there may be now i'th' Mint and that's a Treasure, +I have seen five pound, but let me tell it, and 'tis as wonderful as +Calves with five Legs; here's five shillings, _Frank_, the harvest +of five weeks, and a good crop too, take it, and pay thy first fruits, +I'le come down and eat it out. + +_Fran._ 'Tis patience must meet with you Sir, not love. + +_Lanc._ Deal roundly, and leave these fiddle faddles. + +_Val._ Leave thy prating, thou thinkest thou art a notable wise +fellow, thou and thy rotten Sparrow Hawk; two of the reverent. + +_Lanc._ I think you are mad, or if you be not, will be, with the +next moon, what would you have him do? + +_Val._ How? + +_Lanc._ To get money first, that's to live, you have shewed him how +to want. + +_Val._ 'Slife how do I live? why, what dull fool would ask that +question? three hundred three pilds more, I and live bravely: the better +half o'th' Town live most gloriously, and ask them what states they +have, or what Annuities, or when they pray for seasonable Harvests: thou +hast a handsome Wit, stir into the world, _Frank_, stir, stir for +shame, thou art a pretty Scholar: ask how to live? write, write, write +any thing, the World's a fine believing World, write News. + +_Lan._ Dragons in _Sussex_, Sir, or fiery Battels seen in the +Air at _Aspurge_. + +_Val._ There's the way _Frank_, and in the tail of these, +fright me the Kingdom with a sharp Prognostication, that shall scowr +them, Dearth upon Dearth, like leven Taffaties, predictions of +Sea-breaches, Wars, and want of Herrings on our Coast, with bloudy +Noses. + +_Lan._ Whirl-winds, that shall take off the top of _Grantham_ +Steeple, and clap it on _Pauls_, and after these, a Lenvoy to the +City for their sins. + +_Val._ _Probatum est_, thou canst not want a pension, go +switch me up a Covey of young Scholars, there's twenty nobles, and two +loads of Coals, are not these ready wayes? Cosmography thou art deeply +read in, draw me a Map from the Mermaid, I mean a midnight Map to scape +the Watches, and such long sensless examinations, and Gentlemen shall +feed thee, right good Gentlemen, I cannot stay long. + +_Lan._ You have read learnedly, and would you have him follow these +Megera's, did you begin with Ballads? + +_Fran._ Well, I will leave you, I see my wants are grown +ridiculous, yours may be so, I will not curse you neither; you may +think, when these wanton fits are over, who bred me, and who ruined me, +look to your self, Sir, a providence I wait on. + +_Val._ Thou art passionate, hast thou been brought up with Girls? + +_Enter_ Shorthose _with a bag_. + +_Short._ Rest you merry, Gentlemen. + +_Val._ Not so merry as you suppose, Sir. + +_Short._ Pray stay a while, and let me take a view of you, I may +put my Spoon into the wrong Pottage-pot else. + +_Val._ Why, wilt thou muster us? + +_Short._ No, you are not he, you are a thought too handsome. + +_Lan._ Who wouldst thou speak withal, why dost thou peep so? + +_Short._ I am looking birds nests, I can find none in your bush +beard, I would speak with you, black Gentleman. + +_Fran._ With me, my friend? + +_Short._ Yes sure, and the best friend, Sir, it seems you spake +withal this twelve-month, Gentleman, there's money for you. + +_Val._ How? + +_Short._ There's none for you, Sir, be not so brief, not a penny; +law how he itches at it, stand off, you stir my colour. + +_Lan._ Take it, 'tis money. + +_Short._ You are too quick too, first be sure you have it, you seem +to be a Faulkoner, but a foolish one. + +_Lan._ Take it, and say nothing. + +_Short._ You are cozen'd too, 'tis take it, and spend it. + +_Fran._ From whom came it, Sir? + +_Short._ Such another word, and you shall have none on't. + +_Fran._ I thank you, Sir, I doubly thank you. + +_Short._ Well, Sir, then buy you better Cloaths, and get your Hat +drest, and your Laundress to wash your Boots white. + +_Fran._ Pray stay Sir, may you not be mistaken. + +_Short._ I think I am, give me the money again, come quick, quick, +quick. + +_Fran._ I would be loth to render, till I am sure it be so. + +_Short._ Hark in your ear, is not your name _Francisco_? + +_Fran._ Yes. + +_Short._ Be quiet then, it may Thunder a hundred times, before such +stones fall: do you not need it? + +_Fran._ Yes. + +_Short._ And 'tis thought you have it. + +_Fran._ I think I have. + +_Short._ Then hold it fast, 'tis not fly-blown, you may pay for the +poundage, you forget your self, I have not seen a Gentleman so backward, +a wanting Gentleman. + +_Fran._ Your mercy, Sir. + +_Short._ Friend, you have mercy, a whole bag full of mercy, be +merry with it, and be wise. + +_Fran._ I would fain, if it please you, but know-- + +_Short._ It does not please me, tell over your money, and be not +mad, Boy. + +_Val._ You have no more such bags? + +_Short._ More such there are, Sir, but few I fear for you, I have +cast your water, you have wit, you need no money. [_Exit._ + +_Lan._ Be not amazed, Sir, 'tis good gold, good old gold, this is +restorative, and in good time, it comes to do you good, keep it and use +it, let honest fingers feel it, yours be too quick Sir. + +_Fran._ He named me, and he gave it me, but from whom. + +_Lan._ Let 'em send more, and then examine it, this can be but a +Preface. + +_Fran._ Being a stranger, of whom can I deserve this? + +_Lan._ Sir, of any man that has but eyes, and manly understanding +to find mens wants, good men are bound to do so. + +_Val._ Now you see, _Frank_, there are more wayes than +certainties, now you believe: What Plough brought you this Harvest, what +sale of Timber, Coals, or what Annuities? These feed no Hinds, nor wait +the expectation of Quarterdaies, you see it showers in to you, you are +an Ass, lie plodding, and lie fooling, about this Blazing Star, and that +bo-peep, whining, and fasting, to find the natural reason why a Dog +turns twice about before he lie down, what use of these, or what joy in +Annuities, where every man's thy study, and thy Tenant, I am ashamed on +thee. + +_Lan._ Yes, I have seen this fellow, there's a wealthy Widow hard +by. + +_Val._ Yes marry is there. + +_Lan._ I think he's her servant, or I am couzen'd else, I am sure +on't. + +_Fran._ I am glad on't. + +_Lan._ She's a good Woman. + +_Fran._ I am gladder. + +_Lan._ And young enough believe. + +_Fran._ I am gladder of all, Sir. + +_Val_. _Frank_, you shall lye with me soon. + +_Fran._ I thank my money. + +_Lan._ His money shall lie with me, three in a Bed, Sir, will be +too much this weather. + +_Val._ Meet me at the Mermaid, and thou shalt see what things-- + +_Lan._ Trust to your self Sir. [_Exeunt_ Fran. _and_ Val. + +_Enter_ Fount. Bella. _and_ Valentine. + +_Fount._ O _Valentine_! + +_Val._ How now, why do you look so? + +_Bella._ The Widow's going, man. + +_Val._ Why let her go, man. + +_Hare._ She's going out o'th' Town. + +_Val._ The Town's the happier, I would they were all gone. + +_Fount._ We cannot come to speak with her. + +_Val._ Not to speak to her? + +_Bel._ She will be gone within this hour, either now _Val._ + +_Fount._ _Hare._ Now, now, now, good _Val._ + +_Val._ I had rather march i'th' mouth o'th' Cannon, but adiew, if +she be above ground, go, away to your prayers, away I say, away, she +shall be spoken withall. [_Exeunt._ + +_Enter_ Shorthose _with one boot on_, Roger,_and_ Humphrey. + +_Rog._ She will go, _Shorthose_. + +_Short._ Who can help it _Roger_? + +_Raph._ [_within._] Help down with the hangings. + +_Rog._ By and by _Raph._ I am making up o'th' trunks here. + +_Raph._ _Shorthose_. + +_Short._ Well. + +_Raph._ Who looks to my Ladys wardrobe? _Humphrey_. + +_Hum._ Here. + +_Raph._ Down with the boxes in the gallery, and bring away the +Coach cushions. + +_Short._ Will it not rain, no conjuring abroad, nor no devices to +stop this journey? + +_Rog._ Why go now, why now, why o'th' sudden now? what preparation, +what horses have we ready, what provision laid in i'th' Country? + +_Hum._ Not an egge I hope. + +_Rog._ No nor one drop of good drink boyes, there's the devil. + +_Short._ I heartily pray the malt be musty, and then we must come +up again. + +_Hum._ What sayes the Steward? + +_Rog._ He's at's wits end, for some four hours since, out of his +haste and providence, he mistook the Millars mangie mare, for his own +nagge. + +_Short._ And she may break his neck, and save the journy. Oh +_London_ how I love thee! + +_Hum._ I have no boots nor none I'le buy: or if I had, refuse me if +I would venture my ability, before a Cloak-Bag, men are men. + +_Short._ For my part, if I be brought, as I know it will be aimed +at, to carry any durty dairy Cream-pot, or any gentle Lady of the +Laundry, Chambring, or wantonness behind my Gelding, with all her +Streamers, Knapsacks, Glasses, Gugawes, as if I were a running flippery, +I'le give 'em leave to cut my girts, and slay me. I'le not be troubled +with their Distibations, at every half miles end, I understand my self, +and am resolved. + +_Hum._ To morrow night at _Olivers_! who shall be there boys, +who shall meet the wenches? + +_Rog._ The well brew'd stand of Ale, we should have met at! + +_Short._ These griefs like to another Tale of _Troy_, would +mollifie the hearts of barbarous people, and Tom Butcher weep, +_Aeneas_ enters, and now the town's lost. + +_Raph._ Well whither run you, my Lady is mad. + +_Short._ I would she were in Bedlam. + +_Raph._ The carts are come, no hands to help to load 'em? the stuff +lies in the hall, the plate. [_Within Widow._] Why knaves there, +where be these idle fellows? + +_Short._ Shall I ride with one Boot? + +_Wid._ Why where I say? + +_Raph._ Away, away, it must be so. + +_Short._ O for a tickling storm, to last but ten days. [_Exeunt._ + + + + +_Actus Tertius. Scena Prima._ + +_Enter_ Isabella, _and_ Luce. + + +_Luc._ By my troth Mistris I did it for the best. + +_Isab._ It may be so, but _Luce_, you have a tongue, a dish of +meat in your mouth, which if it were minced _Luce_, would do a +great deal better. + +_Luce._ I protest Mistress. + +_Isab._ It will be your own one time or other: _Walter_. + +_Walter_ [_within._] Anon forsooth. + +_Isab._ Lay my hat ready, my fan and cloak, you are so full of +providence; and _Walter_, tuck up my little box behind the Coach, +and bid my maid make ready, my sweet service to your good Lady Mistress; +and my dog, good let the Coachman carry him. + +_Luce._ But hear me. + +_Isab._ I am in love sweet _Luce_, and you are so skilfull, +that I must needs undo my self; and hear me, let _Oliver_ pack up +my Glass discreetly, and see my Curles well carried. O sweet +_Luce_, you have a tongue, and open tongues have open you know +what, _Luce._ + +_Luce._ Pray you be satisfied. + +_Isab._ Yes and contented too, before I leave you: there's a +_Roger_, which some call a Butcher, I speak of certainties, I do +not fish _Luce_, nay do not stare, I have a tongue can talk too: +and a Green Chamber _Luce_, a back door opens to a long Gallerie; +there was a night _Luce_, do you perceive, do you perceive me yet? +O do you blush _Luce_? a Friday night I saw your Saint, _Luce_: +for t'other box of Marmalade, all's thine sweet _Roger_, this I heard +and kept too. + +_Luce._ E'ne as you are a woman Mistress. + +_Isab._ This I allow as good and Physical sometime, these meetings, +and for the cheering of the heart; but _Luce_, to have your own +turn served, and to your friend to be a dog-bolt. + +_Luce._ I confess it Mistress. + +_Isab._ As you have made my sister jealous of me, and foolishly, +and childishly pursued it, I have found out your haunt, and traced your +purposes; for which mine honour suffers; your best waies must be applied +to bring her back again, and seriously and suddenly, that so I may have +a means to clear my self, and she a fair opinion of me, else you +peevish-- + +_Luce._ My power and prayers Mistress. + +_Isab._ What's the matter? + +_Enter_ Shorthose, _and_ Widow. + +_Short._ I have been with the Gentleman, he has it, much good may +do him with it. + +_Wid._ Come, are you ready? you love so to delay time, the day +grows on. + +_Isab._ I have sent for a few trifles, when those are come; And now +I know your reason. + +_Wid._ Know your own honour then, about your business, see the +Coach ready presently, I'le tell you more then. + +[_Ex._ Luce, _and_ Shorthose. + +And understand it well, you must not think your sister so tender eyed as +not to see your follies, alas I know your heart, and must imagine, and +truly too; 'tis not your charitie can coin such sums to give away as you +have done, in that you have no wisdom _Isabel_, no nor modesty, +where nobler uses are at home; I tell you, I am ashamed to find this in +your years, far more in your discretion, none to chuse but things for +pity, none to seal your thoughts on, but one of no abiding, of no name; +nothing to bring you to but this, cold and hunger: A jolly Joynture +sister, you are happy, no mony, no not ten shillings. + +_Isab._ You search nearly. + +_Wid._ I know it as I know your folly, one that knows not where he +shall eat his next meal, take his rest, unless it be i'th' stocks; what +kindred has he, but a more wanting Brother, or what vertues. + +_Isab._ You have had rare intelligence, I see, sister. + +_Wid._ Or say the man had vertue, is vertue in this age a full +inheritance? what Joynture can he make you, _Plutarchs Morals_, or +so much penny rent in the small Poets? this is not well, 'tis weak, and +I grieve to know it. + +_Isab._ And this you quit the town for? + +_Wid._ Is't not time? + +_Isab._ You are better read in my affairs than I am, that's all I +have to answer, I'le go with you, and willingly, and what you think most +dangerous, I'le sit laugh at. For sister 'tis not folly but good +discretion governs our main fortunes. + +_Wid._ I am glad to hear you say so. + +_Isa._ I am for you. + +_Enter_ Shorthose, _and_ Humphrey, _with riding rods._ + +_Hum._ The Devil cannot stay her, she'l on't, eat an egg now, and +then we must away. + +_Short._ I am gaul'd already, yet I will pray, may _London_ +wayes from henceforth be full of holes, and Coaches crack their wheels, +may zealous Smiths so housel all our Hackneys, that they may feel +compunction in their feet, and tire at _High-gate_, may it rain +above all Almanacks till Carriers sail, and the Kings Fish-monger ride +like _Bike Arion_ upon a Trout to _London_. + +_Hum._ At S. _Albanes_, let all the Inns be drunk, not an Host +sober to bid her worship welcom. + +_Short._ Not a Fiddle, but all preach't down with Puritans; no meat +but Legs of Beef. + +_Hum._ No beds but Wool-Packs. + +_Short._ And those so crammed with Warrens of starved Fleas that +bite like Bandogs; let _Mims_ be angry at their S. _Bel-Swagger_, +and we pass in the heat on't and be beaten, beaten abominably, beaten +horse and man, and all my Ladies linnen sprinkled with suds and +dish-water. + +_Short._ Not a wheel but out of joynt. + +_Enter_ Roger _laugh-ing._ + +_Hum._ Why dost thou laugh? + +_Rog._ There's a Gentleman, and the rarest Gentleman, and makes the +rarest sport. + +_Short._ Where, where? + +_Rog._ Within here, h'as made the gayest sport with _Tom_ the +Coachman, so tewed him up with Sack that he lies lashing a But of +Malmsie for his Mares. + +_Short._ 'Tis very good. + +_Rog._ And talks and laughs, and sings the rarest songs, and +_Shorthose_, he has so maul'd the Red Deer pies, made such an alms +i'th' butterie. + +_Short._ Better still. + +_Enter_ Val. Widow. + +_Hum._ My Lady in a rage with the Gentleman? + +_Short._ May he anger her into a feather. [_Exeunt._ + +_Wid._ I pray tell me, who sent you hither? for I imagine it is not +your condition, you look so temperately, and like a Gentleman, to ask me +these milde questions. + +_Val._ Do you think I use to walk of errands, gentle Lady, or deal +with women out of dreams from others? + +_Wid._ You have not know[n] me sure? + +_Val._ Not much. + +_Wid._ What reason have you then to be so tender of my credit, you +are no kinsman? + +_Val._ If you take it so, the honest office that I came to do you, +is not so heavy but I can return it: now I perceive you are too proud, +not worth my visit. + +_Wid._ Pray stay, a little proud. + +_Val._ Monstrous proud, I griev'd to hear a woman of your value, +and your abundant parts stung by the people, but now I see 'tis true, +you look upon me as if I were a rude and saucie fellow that borrowed all +my breeding from a dunghil, or such a one, as should now fall and +worship you in hope of pardon: you are cozen'd Lady, I came to prove +opinion a loud liar, to see a woman only great in goodness, and Mistress +of a greater fame than fortune, but-- + +_Wid._ You are a strange Gentleman, if I were proud now, I should be +monstrous angry, which I am not, and shew the effects of pride; I should +despise you, but you are welcom Sir: To think well of our selves, if we +deserve it, it is a lustre in us, and every good we have, strives to +shew gracious, what use is it else? old age like Seer-trees, is seldom +seen affected, stirs sometimes at rehearsal of such acts as his daring +youth endeavour'd. + +_Val._ This is well, and now you speak to the purpose, you please +me, but to be place proud? + +_Wid._ If it be our own, why are we set here with distinction else, +degrees, and orders given us? In you men, 'tis held a coolness, if you +lose your right, affronts and loss of honour: streets, and walls, and +upper ends of tables, had they tongues could tell what blood has +followed, and what feud about your ranks; are we so much below you, that +till you have us, are the tops of nature, to be accounted drones without +a difference? you will make us beasts indeed. + +_Val._ Nay worse than this too, proud of your cloaths, they swear +a Mercers Lucifer, a tumour tackt together by a Taylour, nay yet worse, +proud of red and white, a varnish that butter-milk can better. + +_Wid._ Lord, how little will vex these poor blind people! if my +cloaths be sometimes gay and glorious, does it follow, my mind must be +my Mercers too? or say my beauty please some weak eyes, must it please +them to think, that blows me up, that every hour blows off? this is an +Infants anger. + +_Val._ Thus they say too, what though you have a Coach lined +through with velvet, and four fair _Flanders_ mares, why should the +streets be troubled continually with you, till Carmen curse you? can +there be ought in this but pride of shew Lady, and pride of bum-beating, +till the learned lawyers with their fat bags, are thrust against the +bulks till all their causes crack? why should this Lady, and t'other +Lady, and the third sweet Lady, and Madam at _Mile-end_, be daily +visited, and your poorer neighbours, with course napfes neglected, +fashions conferr'd about, pouncings, and paintings, and young mens +bodies read on like Anatomies. + +_Wid._ You are very credulous, and somewhat desperate, to deliver +this Sir, to her you know not, but you shall confess me, and find I will +not start; in us all meetings lie open to these lewd reports, and our +thoughts at Church, our very meditations some will swear, which all +should fear to judge, at least uncharitably, are mingled with your +memories, cannot sleep, but this sweet Gentleman swims in our fancies, +that scarlet man of war, and that smooth senior; not dress our heads +without new ambushes, how to surprize that greatness, or that glorie; +our very smiles are subject to constructions; nay Sir, it's come to this +we cannot pish, but 'tis a favour for some fool or other: should we +examine you thus, wer't not possible to take you without Perspectives? + +[_Val._] It may be, but these excuse not. + +_Wid._ Nor yours force no truth Sir, what deadly tongues you have, +and to those tongues what hearts, and what inventions? O' my conscience, +and 'twere not for sharp justice, you would venture to aim at your own +mothers, and account it glorie to say you had done so: all you think are +counsels, and cannot erre, 'tis we still that shew double, giddy, or +gorg'd with passion; we that build Babels for mens conclusions, we that +scatter, as day does his warm light; our killing curses over Gods +creatures, next to the devils malice: lets intreat your good words. + +_Val._ Well, this woman has a brave soul. + +_Wid._ Are not we gaily blest then, and much beholding to you for +your substance? you may do what you list, we what beseems us, and +narrowly do that too, and precisely, our names are served in else at +Ordinaries, and belcht abroad in Taverns. + +_Val._ O most brave Wench, and able to redeem an age of women. + +_Wid._ You are no Whoremasters? Alas, no, Gentlemen, it were an +impudence to think you vicious: you are so holy, handsome Ladies fright +you, you are the cool things of the time, the temperance, meer Emblems +of the Law, and veils of Vertue, you are not daily mending like Dutch +Watches, and plastering like old Walls; they are not Gentlemen, that +with their secret sins increase our Surgeons, and lie in Foraign +Countries, for new sores; Women are all these Vices; you are not +envious, false, covetous, vain-glorious, irreligious, drunken, +revengeful, giddie-eyed like Parrots, eaters of others honours. + +_Val._ You are angry. + +_Wid._ No by my troth, and yet I could say more too, for when men +make me angry, I am miserable. + +_Val._ Sure 'tis a man, she could not bear it thus bravely else, it +may be I am tedious. + +_Wid._ Not at all, Sir, I am content at this time you should +trouble me. + +_Val._ You are distrustful. + +_Wid._ Where I find no truth, Sir. + +_Val._ Come, come, you are full of passion. + +_Wid._ Some I have, I were too near the nature o' God else. + +_Val._ You are monstrous peevish. + +_Wid._ Because they are monstrous foolish, and know not how to use +that should try me. + +_Val._ I was never answered thus; were you never drunk Lady? + +_Wid._ No sure, not drunk, Sir; yet I love good Wine, as I love +health and joy of heart, but temperately, why do you ask that question? + +_Val._ For that sin that they most charge you with, is this sin's +servant, they say you are monstrous-- + +_Wid._ What, Sir, what? + +_Pal._ Most strangely. + +_Wid._ It has a name sure? + +_Pal._ Infinitely lustful, without all bounds, they swear you +kill'd your Husband. + +_Wid._ Let us have it all for Heavens sake, 'tis good mirth, Sir. + +_Val._ They say you will have four now, and those four stuck in +four quarters, like four winds to cool you: will she not cry nor curse? + +_Wid._ On with your story. + +_Val._ And that you are forcing out of dispensations with sums of +money to that purpose. + +_Wid._ Four Husbands! should not I be blest, Sir, for example? +Lord, what should I do with them? turn a Malt-mill, or Tithe them out +like Town-bulls to my Tenants, you come to make me angry, but you +cannot. + +_Val._ I'le make you merry then, you are a brave Woman, and in +despite of envy a right one, go thy wayes, truth thou art as good a +Woman, as any Lord of them all can lay his Leg over, I do not often +commend your Sex. + +_Wid._ It seems so, your commendations are so studied for. + +_Val._ I came to see you and sift you into Flowr to know your +pureness, and I have found you excellent, I thank you; continue so, and +shew men how to tread, and women how to follow: get an Husband, an +honest man, you are a good woman, and live hedg'd in from scandal, let +him be too an understanding man, and to that stedfast; 'tis pity your +fair Figure should miscarry, and then [you] are fixt: farewel. + +_Wid._ Pray stay a little, I love your company now you are so +pleasant, and to my disposition set so even. + +_Val._ I can no longer. [_Exit._ + +_Wid._ As I live a fine fellow, this manly handsome bluntness shews +him honest; what is he, or from whence? bless me, four Husbands! how +prettily he fooled me into Vices, to stir my jealousie, and find my +nature; a proper Gentleman: I am not well o'th' sudden, such a companion +I could live and dye with, his angers are meer mirth. + +_Enter_ Isabella. + +_Isa._ Come, come, I am ready. + +_Wid._ Are you so? + +_Isa._ What ails she? the Coach stales, and the people, the day +goes on, I am as ready now as you desire, Sister: fie, who stays now, +why do you sit and pout thus? + +_Wid._ Prethee be quiet, I am not well. + +_Isa._ For Heav'us sake let's not ride staggering in the night, +come, pray you take some Sweet-meats in your pocket, if your stomach-- + +_Wid._ I have a little business. + +_Isab._ To abuse me, you shall not find new dreams, and new +suspicions, to horse withal. + +_Wid._ Lord who made you a Commander! hey ho, my heart. + +_Isab._ Is the wind come thither, and Coward like, do you lose your +Colours to 'em? are you sick o'th' _Valentine_? sweet Sister, come +let's away, the Country will so quicken you, and we shall live so +sweetly: _Luce_, my Ladies Cloak; nay, you have put me into such a +gog of going, I would not stay for all the world; if I live here, you +have so knock'd this love into my head, that I shall love any body, and +I find my body, I know not how, so apt--pray let's be gone, Sister, +I stand on thorns. + +_Wid._ I prethee _Isabella_, i'faith I have some business that +concerns me, I will suspect no more, here, wear that for me, and I'le +pay the hundred pound you owe your Taylor. + +_Enter_ Shorthose, Roger, Humphrey, Ralph. + +_Isab._ I had rather go, but-- + +_Wid._ Come walk in with me, we'll go to Cards, unsaddle the +Horses. + +_Short._ A Jubile, a Jubile, we stay, Boys. + +_Enter_ Uncle, Lan. Foun. Bella. Harebrain _following_. + +_Unc._ Are they behind us? + +_Lan._ Close, close, speak aloud, Sir. + +_Unc._ I am glad my Nephew has so much discretion, at length to +find his wants: did she entertain him? + +_Lance._ Most bravely, nobly, and gave him such a welcome! + +_Unc._ For his own sake do you think? + +_Lance._ Most certain, Sir, and in his own cause bestir'd himself +too, and wan such liking from her, she dotes on him, h'as the command of +all the house already. + +_Unc._ He deals not well with his friends. + +_Lance._ Let him deal on, and be his own friend, he has most need +of her. + +_Unc._ I wonder they would put him-- + +_Lan._ You are in the right on't, a man that must raise himself, I +knew he would couzen 'em, and glad I am he has: he watched occasion, and +found it i'th' nick. + +_Unc._ He has deceived me. + +_Lan._ I told you howsoever he wheel'd about, he would charge home +at length: how I could laugh now, to think of these tame fools! + +_Unc._ 'Twas not well done, because they trusted him, yet. + +_Bel._ Hark you Gentlemen. + +_Unc._ We are upon a business, pray excuse us, they have it home. + +_Lane._ Come let it work good on Gentlemen. + +[_Exeunt_ Uncle, Lance. + +_Font._ 'Tis true, he is a knave, I ever thought it. + +_Hare._ And we are fools, tame fools. + +_Bell._ Come let's go seek him, he shall be hang'd before he colt +us basely. [_Exeunt._ + +_Enter_ Isabella, Luce. + +_Isab._ Art sure she loves him? + +_Luce._ Am I sure I live? and I have clapt on such a commendation +on your revenge. + +_Isab._ Faith, he is a pretty Gentleman. + +_Luce._ Handsome enough, and that her eye has found out. + +_Isa._ He talks the best they say, and yet the maddest. + +_Luce._ H'as the right way. + +_Isa._ How is she? + +_Luce._ Bears it well, as if she cared not, but a man may see with +half an eye through all her forced behaviour, and find who is her +_Valentine_. + +_Isa._ Come let's go see her, I long to prosecute. + +_Luce._ By no means Mistress, let her take better hold first. + +_Isab._ I could burst now. [_Exeunt._ + +_Enter_ Valentine, Fountain, Bellamore, Harebrain. + +_Val._ Upbraid me with your benefits, you Pilchers, you shotten, +sold, slight fellows? was't not I that undertook you first from empty +barrels, and brought those barking mouths that gaped like bung-holes to +utter sence? where got you understanding? who taught you manners and apt +carriage to rank your selves? who filled you in fit Taverns? were those +born with your worships when you came hither? what brought you from the +Universities of moment matter to allow you, besides your small base +sentences? + +_Bell._ 'Tis well, Sir. + +_Val._ Long Cloaks with two-hand-rapiers, boot-hoses with +penny-poses, and twenty fools opinions, who looked on you but piping +rites that knew you would be prizing, and Prentices in Paul's +Church-yard, that scented your want of _Britains_ Books. + +_Enter_ Widow, Luce, Hairbrain. + +_Font._ This cannot save you. + +_Val._ Taunt my integrity you Whelps? + +_Bell._ You may talk the stock we gave you out, but see no further. + +_Hair._ You tempt our patience, we have found you out, and what +your trust comes to, ye're well feathered, thank us, and think now of an +honest course, 'tis time; men now begin to look, and narrowly into your +tumbling tricks, they are stale. + +_Wid._ Is not that he? + +_Luce._ 'Tis he. + +_Wid._ Be still and mark him. + +_Val._ How miserable will these poor wretches be when I forsake +'em! but things have their necessities, I am sorry, to what a vomit must +they turn again, now to their own dear Dunghil breeding; never hope +after I cast you off, you men of _Motley_, you most undone things +below pity, any that has a soul and six-pence dares relieve you, my name +shall bar that blessing, there's your Cloak, Sir, keep it close to you, +it may yet preserve you a fortnight longer from the fool; your Hat, pray +be covered, and there's the Sattin that your Worship sent me, will serve +you at a Sizes yet. + +_Fount._ Nay, faith Sir, you may e'ne rub these out now. + +_Val._ No such relique, nor the least rag of such a sordid weakness +shall keep me warm, these Breeches are mine own, purchased, and paid +for, without your compassion, a Christian Breeches founded in +Black-Friers, and so I'le maintain 'em. + +_Hare._ So they seem, Sir. + +_Val._ Only the thirteen shillings in these Breeches, and the odd +groat, I take it, shall be yours, Sir, a mark to know a Knave by, pray +preserve it, do not displease more, but take it presently, now help me +off with my Boots. + +_Hare._ We are no Grooms, Sir. + +_Val._ For once you shall be, do it willingly, or by this hand I'le +make you. + +_Bell._ To our own, Sir, we may apply our hands. + +_Val._ There's your Hangers, you may deserve a strong pair, and a +girdle will hold you without buckles; now I am perfect, and now the +proudest of your worships tell me I am beholding to you. + +_Fount._ No such matter. + +_Val._ And take heed how you pity me, 'tis dangerous, exceeding +dangerous, to prate of pity; which are the poorer? you are now puppies; +I without you, or you without my knowledge? be Rogues, and so be gone, +be Rogues and reply not, for if you do-- + +_Bell._ Only thus much, and then we'll leave you: the Air is far +sharper than our anger, Sir, and these you may reserve to rail in +warmer. + +_Hare._ Pray have a care, Sir, of your health. [_Ex. Lovers._ + +_Val._ Yes Hog-hounds, more than you can have of your wits; 'tis +cold, and I am very sensible, extreamly cold too, yet I will not off, +till I have shamed these Rascals; I have indured as ill heats as +another, and every way if one could perish my body, you'll bear the +blame on't; I am colder here, not a poor penny left. + +_Enter_ Uncle _with a Bag_. + +_Unc._ 'Thas taken rarely, and now he's flead he will be ruled. + +_Lan._ To him, tew him, abuse him, and nip him close. + +_Unc._. Why how now, Cousin, sunning your self this weather? + +_Val._ As you see, Sir, in a hot fit, I thank my friends. + +_Unc._ But Cousin, where are your Cloaths man? those are no +inheritance, your scruple may compound with those I take it, this is no +fashion, Cousin. + +_Val._ Not much followed, I must confess; yet Uncle I determine to +try what may be done next Term. + +_Lance._ How came you thus, Sir, for you are strangely moved. + +_Val._ Rags, toys and trifles, fit only for those fools that first +possessed 'em, a[n]d to those Knaves they are rendred. Freemen, Uncle, +ought to appear like innocents, old _Adam_, a fair Fig-leaf sufficient. + +_Unc._ Take me with you, were these your friends, that clear'd you +thus? + +_Val._ Hang friends, and even reckonings that make friends. + +_Unc._ I thought till now, there had been no such living, no such +purchase, for all the rest is labour, as a list of honourable friends; +do such men as you, Sir, in lieu of all your understandings, travels, +and those great gifts of nature, aim at no more than casting off your +Coats? I am strangely cozen'd. + +_Lance._ Should not the Town shake at the cold you feel now, and +all the Gentry suffer interdiction, no more sense spoken, all things +_Goth_ and _Vandal_, till you be summed again, Velvets and Scarlets, +anointed with gold Lace, and Cloth of silver turned into _Spanish_ +Cottens for a penance, wits blasted with your Bulls and Taverns withered, +as though the Term lay at _St. Albans_? + +_Val._ Gentlemen, you have spoken long and level, I beseech you +take breath a while and hear me; you imagine now, by the twirling of +your strings, that I am at the last, as also that my friends are flown +like Swallows after Summer. + +_Unc._ Yes, Sir. + +_Val._ And that I have no more in this poor Pannier, to raise me up +again above your rents, Uncle. + +_Unc._ All this I do believe. + +_Val._ You have no mind to better me. + +_Unc._ Yes, Cousin, and to that end I come, and once more offer you +all that my power is master of. + +_Val._ A match then, lay me down fifty pounds there. + +_Unc._ There it is, Sir. + +_Val._ And on it write, that you are pleased to give this, as due +unto my merit, without caution of land redeeming, tedious thanks, or +thrift hereafter to be hoped for. + +_Unc._ How? [Luce _lays a Suit and Letter at the door._ + +_Val._ Without daring, when you are drunk, to relish of revilings, +to which you are prone in Sack, Uncle. + +_Unc._ I thank you, Sir. + +_Lance._ Come, come away, let the young wanton play a while, away I +say, Sir, let him go forward with his naked fashion, he will seek you +too morrow; goodly weather, sultry hot, sultry, how I sweat! + +_Unc._ Farewel, Sir. [_Exeunt_ Uncle _and_ Lance. + +_Val._ Would I sweat too, I am monstrous vext, and cold too; and +these are but thin pumps to walk the streets in; clothes I must get, +this fashion will not fadge with me; besides, 'tis an ill winter +wear,--What art thou? yes, they are clothes, and rich ones, some fool +has left 'em: and if I should utter--what's this paper here? Let these +be only worn by the most noble and deserving Gentleman _Valentine,_--dropt +out o'th' clouds! I think they are full of gold too; well, I'le leave +my wonder, and be warm again, in the next house I'le shift. [_Exit._ + + + + +_Actus Quartus. Scena Prima._ + +_Enter_ Francisco, Uncle, _and_ Lance. + + +_Fran._ Why do you deal thus with him? 'tis unnobly. + +_Unc._ Peace Cousin peace, you are too tender of him, he must be +dealt thus with, he must be cured thus, the violence of his disease +_Francisco,_ must not be jested with, 'tis grown infectious, and +now strong Corrosives must cure him. + +_Lance._ H'as had a stinger, has eaten off his clothes, the next +his skin comes. + +_Unc._ And let it search him to the bones, 'tis better, 'twill make +him feel it. + +_Lance._ Where be his noble friends now? will his fantastical +opinions cloath him, or the learned Art of having nothing feed him? + +_Unc._ It must needs greedily, for all his friends have flung him +off, he is naked, and where to skin himself again, if I know, or can +devise how he should get himself lodging, his Spirit must be bowed, and +now we have him, have him at that we hoped for. + +_Lance._ Next time we meet him cracking of nuts, with half a cloak +about him, for all means are cut off, or borrowing sixpence, to shew his +bounty in the pottage Ordinary? + +_Fran._ Which way went he? + +_Lance._ Pox, why should you ask after him, you have been trimm'd +already, let him take his fortune, [he] spun it out himself, Sir, +there's no pitie. + +_Unc._ Besides some good to you now, from this miserie. + +_Fran._ I rise upon his ruines! fie, fie, Uncle, fie honest +_Lance._ Those Gentlemen were base people, that could so soon take +fire to his destruction. + +_Unc._ You are a fool, you are a fool, a young man. + +_Enter_ Valentine. + +_Val._ Morrow Uncle, morrow _Frank_, sweet _Frank_, and +how, and how d'ee, think now, how shew matters? morrow Bandog. + +_Unc._ How? + +_Fran._ Is this man naked, forsaken of his friends? + +_Val._ Th'art handsom, _Frank_, a pretty Gentleman, i'faith +thou lookest well, and yet here may be those that look as handsom. + +_Lance._ Sure he can conjure, and has the Devil for his Tailor. + +_Unc._ New and rich! 'tis most impossible he should recover. + +_Lan._ Give him this luck, and fling him into the Sea. + +_Unc._ 'Tis not he, imagination cannot work this miracle. + +_Val._ Yes, yes, 'tis he, I will assure you Uncle, the very he, the +he your wisdom plaid withall, I thank you for't, neighed at his +nakednesse, and made his cold and poverty your pastime; you see I live, +and the best can do no more Uncle, and though I have no state, I keep +the streets still, and take my pleasure in the Town, like a poor +Gentleman, wear clothes to keep me warm, poor things they serve me, can +make a shew too if I list, yes uncle, and ring a peal in my pockets, +ding dong, uncle, these are mad foolish wayes, but who can help 'em? + +_Unc._ I am amazed. + +_Lan._ I'le sell my Copyhold, for since there are such excellent +new nothings, why should I labour? is there no Fairy haunts him, no Rat, +nor no old woman? + +_Unc._ You are _Valentine_. + +_Val._ I think so, I cannot tell, I have been call'd so, and some +say Christened, why do you wonder at me, and swell, as if you had met a +Sergeant fasting, did you ever know desert want? y'are fools, a little +stoop there may be to allay him, he would grow too rank else, a small +eclipse to shadow him, but out he must break, glowingly again, and with +a great lustre, look you uncle, motion and majesty. + +_Unc._ I am confounded. + +_Fran._ I am of his faith. + +_Val._ Walk by his careless kinsman, and turn again and walk, and +look thus Uncle, taking some one by the hand, he loves best, leave them +to the mercy of the hog-market, come _Frank_, Fortune is now my +friend, let me instruct thee. + +_Fran._ Good morrow Uncle, I must needs go with him. + +_Val._ Flay me, and turn me out where none inhabits, within two +hours I shall be thus again, now wonder on, and laugh at your own +ignorance. [_Ex._ Val. _and_ Franc. + +_Unc._ I do believe him. + +_Lan._ So do I, and heartily upon my conscience, burie him stark +naked, he would rise again, within two hours imbroidered: sow +mustard-seeds, and they cannot come up so thick as his new sattens do, +and clothes of silver, there's no striving. + +_Unc._ Let him play a while then, and let's search out what hand:-- + +_Lan._ I, there the game lies. [_Exeunt._ + +_Enter_ Fountain, Bellamore, _and_ Harebrain. + +_Foun._ Come, let's speak for our selves, we have lodg'd him sure +enough, his nakedness dare no[t] peep out to cross us. + +_Bel._ We can have no admittance. + +_Hare._ Let's in boldly, and use our best arts, who she deigns to +favour, we are all content. + +_Foun._ Much good may do her with him, no civil wars. + +_Bel._ By no means, now do I wonder in what old tod Ivie he lies +whistling for means, nor clothes he hath none, nor none will trust him, +we have made that side sure, teach him a new wooing. + +_Hare._ Say it is his Uncles spite. + +_Foun._ It is all one Gentlemen, 'thas rid us of a fair +incumbrance, and makes us look about to our own fortunes. Who are these? + +_Enter_ Isabel _and_ Luce. + +_Isab._ Not see this man yet! well, I shall be wiser: but +_Luce_, didst ever know a woman melt so? she is finely hurt to +hunt. + +_Luce._ Peace, the three Suitors. + +_Isab._ I could so titter now and laugh, I was lost _Luce_, +and I must love, I know not what; O _Cupid_, what pretty gins thou +hast to halter Woodcocks! and we must into the Country in all haste, +_Luce_. + +_Luce._ For Heaven's sake, Mistris. + +_Isab._ Nay, I have done, I must laugh though; but Scholar, I shall +teach you. + +_Foun._ 'Tis her sister. + +_Bel._ Save you Ladies. + +_Lab._ Fair met Gentlemen, you are visiting my sister, I assure my +self. + +_Hare._ We would fain bless our eyes. + +_Isab._ Behold and welcom, you would see her? + +_Foun._ 'Tis our business. + +_Isab._ You shall see her, and you shall talk with her. + +_Luce._ She will not see 'em, nor spend a word. + +_Isab._ I'le make her fr[e]t a thousand, nay now I have found the +s[c]ab, I will so scratch her. + +_Luce._ She cannot endure 'em. + +_Isab._ She loves 'em but too dearly, come follow me, I'le bring +you toth' party Gentlemen, then make your own conditions. + +_Luce._ She is sick you know. + +_Isab._ I'le make her well, or kill her, and take no idle answer, +you are fools then, nor stand off for her state, she'I scorn you all +then, but urge her still, and though she fret, still follow her, a widow +must be won so. + +_Bel._ She speaks bravely. + +_Isab._ I would fain have a Brother in law, I love mens company, +and if she call for dinner to avoid you, be sure you stay; follow her +into her chamber, if she retire to Pray, pray with her, and boldly, like +honest lovers. + +_Luce._ This will kill her. + +_Foun._ You have shewed us one way, do but lead the tother. + +_Isab._ I know you stand o'thorns, come I'le dispatch you. + +_Luce._ If you live after this. + +_Isab._ I have lost my aim. + +_Enter_ Valentine, _and_ Francisco. + +_Fran._ Did you not see 'em since. + +_Val._ No hang 'em, hang 'em. + +_Fran._ Nor will you not be seen by 'em? + +_Val._ Let 'em alone _Frank_, I'le make 'em their own justice, +and a jerker. + +_Fran._ Such base discourteous Dog-whelps. + +_Val._ I shall dog 'em, and double dog 'em, ere I have done. + +_Fran._ Will you go with me, for I would fain find out this piece +of bountie, it was the Widows man, that I am certain of. + +_Val._ To what end would you go? + +_Fran._ To give thanks. + +_Val._ Hang giving thanks, hast not thou parts deserve it? it +includes a further will to be beholding, beggars can do no more at door, +if you will go, there lies your way. + +_Fran._ I hope you will go. + +_Val._ No not in ceremony, and to a woman, with mine own Father, +were he living _Frank_; I would toth' Court with Bears first, if it +be that wench, I think it is, for t'other's wiser, I would not be so +lookt upon, and laught at, so made a ladder for her wit, to climb upon, +for 'tis the tartest tit in Christendom, I know her well _Frank_, +and have buckled with her, so lickt, and stroaked, flear'd upon, and +flouted, and shown to Chambermaids, like a strange beast, she had +purchased with her penny. + +_Fran._ You are a strange man, but do you think it was a woman? + +_Val._ There's no doubt on't, who can be there to do it else? +besides the manner of the circumstances. + +_Fran._ Then such courtesies, who ever does 'em sir, saving your +own wisdom, must be more lookt into, and better answered, than with +deserving slights, or what we ought to have conferred upon us, men may +starve else, means are not gotten now with crying out I am a gallant +fellow, a good Souldier, a man of learning, or fit to be employed, +immediate blessings cease like miracles, and we must grow by second +means, I pray go with me, even as you love me Sir. + +_Val._ I will come to thee, but _Frank_, I will not stay to +hear your fopperies, dispatch those e're I come. + +_Fran._ You will not fail me. + +_Val._ Some two hours hence expect me. + +_Fran._ I thank you, and will look for you. [_Exeunt._ + +_Enter_ Widow, Shorthose, _and_ Roger. + +_Wid._ Who let in these puppies? you blind rascals, you drunken +Knaves several. + +_Short._ Yes forsooth, I'le let 'em in presently,--Gentlemen. + +_Wid._ Sprecious, you blown Pudding, bawling Rogue. + +_Short._ I bawl as loud as I can, would you have me fetch 'em upon +my back. + +_Wid._ Get 'em out rascal, out with 'em, out, I sweat to have 'em +near me. + +_Short._ I should sweat more to carry 'em out. + +_Roger._ They are Gentlemen Madam. + +_Short._ Shall we get 'em into th' butterie, and make'em drunk? + +_Wid._ Do any thing, so I be eased. + +_Enter_ Isabel, Fount, Bella, Hare. + +_Isab._ Now to her Sir, fear nothing. + +_Rog._ Slip aside boy, I know she loves 'em, howsoever she carries +it, and has invited 'em, my young Mistress told me so. + +_Short._ Away to tables then. [_Exeunt._ + +_Isab._ I shall burst with the sport on't. + +_Fount._ You are too curious Madam, too full of preparation, we +expect it not. + +_Bella._ Me thinks the house is handsom, every place decent, what +need you be vext? + +_Hare._ We are no strangers. + +_Fount._ What though we come e're you expected us, do not we know +your entertainments Madam are free, and full at all times? + +_Wid._ You are merry, Gentlemen. + +_Bel._ We come to be merry Madam, and very merry, men love to laugh +heartily, and now and then Lady a little of our old plea. + +_Wid._ I am busie, and very busie too, will none deliver me. + +_Hare._ There is a time for all, you may be busie, but when your +friends come, you have as much power Madam. + +_Wid._ This is a tedious torment. + +_Foun._ How hansomly this little piece of anger shews upon her! +well Madam well, you know not how to grace your self. + +_Bel._ Nay every thing she does breeds a new sweetness. + +_Wid._ I must go up, I must go up, I have a business waits upon me, +some wine for the Gentlemen. + +_Hare._ Nay, we'l go with you, we never saw your chambers yet. + +_Isab._ Hold there boyes. + +_Wid._ Say I go to my prayers? + +_Foun._ We'l pray with you, and help your meditations. + +_Wid._ This is boysterous, or say I go to sleep, will you go to +sleep with me? + +_Bel._ So suddenly before meat will be dangerous, we know your +dinner's ready Lady, you will not sleep. + +_Wid._ Give me my Coach, I will take the air. + +_Hare._ We'l wait on you, and then your meat after a quickned +stomach. + +_Wid._ Let it alone, and call my Steward to me, and bid him bring +his reckonings into the Orchard, these unmannerly rude puppies-- +[_Exit Widow._ + +_Foun._ We'l walk after you and view the pleasure of the place. + +_Isab._ Let her not rest, for if you give her breath, she'l scorn +and flout you, seem how she will, this is the way to win her, be bold +and prosper. + +_Bel._ Nay if we do not tire her.-- + [_Exeunt._ + +_Isab._ I'le teach you to worm me, good Lady sister, and peep into +my privacies to suspect me, I'le torture you, with that you hate, most +daintily, and when I have done that, laugh at that you love most. + +_Enter_ Luce. + +_Luce._ What have you done, she chafes and fumes outragiously, and +still they persecute her. + +_Isab._ Long may they do so, I'le teach her to declaim against my +pities, why is she not gone out o'th' town, but gives occasion for men +to run mad after her? + +_Luc._ I shall be hanged. + +_Isab._ This in me had been high treason, three at a time, and +private in her Orchard! I hope she'l cast her reckonings right now. + +_Enter_ Widow. + +_Wid._ Well, I shall find who brought 'em. + +_Isab._ Ha, ha, ha. + +_Wid._ Why do you laugh sister? I fear me 'tis your trick, 'twas +neatly done of you, and well becomes your pleasure. + +_Isab._ What have you done with 'em? + +_Wid._ Lockt 'em i'th' Orchard, there I'le make 'em dance and caper +too, before they get their liberty, unmannerly rude puppies. + +_Isab._ They are somewhat saucy, but yet I'le let 'em out, and once +more sound 'em, why were they not beaten out? + +_Wid._ I was about it, but because they came as suiters. + +_Isab._ Why did you not answer 'em? + +_Wid._ They are so impudent they will receive none: More yet! how +came these in? + +_Enter_ Francisco _and_ Lance. + +_Lan._ At the door, Madam. + +_Isab._ It is that face. + +_Luce._ This is the Gentleman. + +_Wid._ She sent the money to? + +_Luce._ The same. + +_Isab._ Fie leave you, they have some business. + +_Wid._ Nay, you shall stay, Sister, they are strangers both to me; +how her face alters! + +_Isab._ I am sorry he comes now. + +_Wid._ I am glad he is here now though. Who would you speak with, +Gentlemen? + +_Lan._ You Lady, or your fair Sister there, here's a Gentleman that +has received a benefit. + +_Wid._ From whom, Sir? + +_Lan._ From one of you, as he supposes, Madam, your man delivered +it. + +_Wid._ I pray go forward. + +_Lan._ And of so great a goodness, that he dares not, without the +tender of his thanks and service, pass by the house. + +_Wid._ Which is the Gentleman? + +_Lan._ This, Madam. + +_Wid._ What's your name, Sir? + +_Fran._ They that know me call me _Francisco_, Lady, one not +so proud to scorn so timely a benefit, nor so wretched to hide a +gratitude. + +_Wid._ It is well bestowed then. + +_Fran._ Your fair self, or your Sister as it seems, for what desert +I dare not know, unless a handsome subject for your charities, or +aptness in your noble will to do it, have showred upon my wants a timely +bounty, which makes me rich in thanks, my best inheritance. + +_Wid._ I am sorry 'twas not mine, this is the Gentlewoman, fie, do +not blush, go roundly to the matter, the man is a pretty man. + +_Isab._ You have three fine ones. + +_Fran._ Then to you, dear Lady? + +_Isab._ I pray no more, Sir, if I may perswade you, your only +aptness to do this is recompence, and more than I expected. + +_Fran._ But good Lady. + +_Isab._ And for me further to be acquainted with it besides the +imputation of vain glory, were greedy thankings of my self, I did it not +to be more affected to; I did it, and if it happened where I thought it +fitted, I have my end; more to enquire is curious in either of us, more +than that suspicious. + +_Fran._ But gentle Lady, 'twill be necessary. + +_Isab._ About the right way nothing, do not fright it, being to +pious use and tender sighted, with the blown face of Complements, it +blasts it; had you not come at all, but thought thanks, it had been too +much, 'twas not to see your person. + +_Wid._ A brave dissembling Rogue, and how she carries it! + +_Isa._ Though I believe few handsomer; or hear you, though I affect +a good tongue well; or try you, though my years desire a friend, that I +relieved you. + +_Wid._ A plaguie cunning quean. + +_Isab._ For so I carried it, my end's too glorious in mine eyes, +and bettered the goodness I propounded with opinion. + +_Wid._ Fear her not, Sir. + +_Isa._ You cannot catch me, Sister. + +_Fran._ Will you both teach, and tie my tongue up Lady? + +_Isa._ Let it suffice you have it, it was never mine, whilest good +men wanted it. + +_Lan._ This is a Saint sure. + +_Isa._ And if you be not such a one, restore it. + +_Fran._ To commend my self, were more officious than you think my +thanks are, to doubt I may be worth your gift a treason, both to mine +own good and understanding, I know my mind clear, and though modesty +tells me, he that intreats intrudes; yet I must think something, and of +some season, met with your better taste, this had not been else. + +_Wid._ What ward for that, wench? + +_Isa._ Alas, it never touched me. + +_Fran._ Well, gentle Lady, yours is the first money I ever took +upon a forced ill manners. + +_Isa._ The last of me, if ever you use other. + +_Fran._ How may I do, and your way to be thought a grateful taker? + +_Isa._ Spend it, and say nothing, your modesty may deserve more. + +_Wid._ O Sister will you bar thankfulness? + +_Isa._ Dogs dance for meat, would ye have men do worse? for they +can speak, cry out like Wood-mongers, good deeds by the hundreds, I did +it that my best friend should not know it, wine and vain glory does as +much as I else, if you will force my merit, against my meaning, use it +in well bestowing it, in shewing it came to be a benefit, and was so; +and not examining a Woman did it, or to what end, in not believing +sometimes your self, when drink and stirring conversation may ripen +strange perswasions. + +_Fran._ Gentle Lady, I were a base receiver of a courtesie, and you +a worse disposer, were my nature unfurnished of these fore-sights. +Ladies honours were ever in my thoughts, unspotted Crimes, their good +deeds holy Temples, where the incense burns not; to common eyes your +fears are vertuous, and so I shall preserve 'em. + +_Isa._ Keep but this way, and from this place to tell me so, you +have paid me; and so I wish you see all fortune. [_Exit._ + +_Wid._ Fear not, the Woman will be thanked, I do not doubt it. Are +you so crafty, carry it so precisely? this is to wake my fears, or to +abuse me, I shall look narrowly: despair not Gentlemen, there is an hour +to catch a Woman in, if you be wise, so, I must leave you too; Now will +I go laugh at my Suitors. [_Exit._ + +_Lan._ Sir, what courage? + +_Fran._ This Woman is a founder, and cites Statutes to all her +benefits. + +_Lan._ I never knew yet, so few years and so cunning, yet believe +me she has an itch, but how to make her confess it, for it is a crafty +Tit, and plays about you, will not bite home, she would fain, but she +dares not; carry your self but so discreetly, Sir, that want or +wantonness seem not to search you, and you shall see her open. + +_Fran._ I do love her, and were I rich, would give two thousand +pound to wed her wit but one hour, oh 'tis a Dragon, and such a spritely +way of pleasure, ha _Lance_. + +_Lan._ Your ha _Lance_ broken once, you would cry, ho, ho, +_Lance_. + +_Fran._ Some leaden landed Rogue will have this wench now, when +all's done, some such youth will carry her, and wear her, greasie out +like stuff, some Dunce that knows no more but Markets, and admires +nothing but a long charge at Sizes: O the fortunes! + +_Enter_ Isabel _and_ Luce. + +_Lan._ Comfort your self. + +_Luce._ They are here yet, and alone too, boldly upon't; nay, +Mistress, I still told you, how 'twould find your trust, this 'tis to +venture your charity upon a boy. + +_Lan._ Now, what's the matter? stand fast, and like your self. + +_Isa._ Prethee no more Wench. + +_Luce._ What was his want to you? + +_Isa._ 'Tis true. + +_Luce._ Or misery, or say he had been i'th' Cage, was there no +mercy to look abroad but yours? + +_Isa._ I am paid for fooling. + +_Lu._ Must every slight companion that can purchase a shew of +poverty and beggerly planet fall under your compassion? + +_Lane._ Here's a new matter. + +_Luce._ Nay, you are served but too well, here he staies yet, yet +as I live. + +_Fran._ How her face alters on me! + +_Luce._ Out of a confidence I hope. + +_Isab._ I am glad on't. + +_Fran._ How do you gentle Lady? + +_Isab._ Much ashamed Sir, (but first stand further off me, y'are +infectious) to find such vanitie, nay almost impudence, where I believ'd +a worth: is this your thanks, the gratitude you were so mad to make me, +your trim counsel Gentlemen? + +_Lane._ What, Lady? + +_Isab._ Take your device again, it will not serve Sir, the woman +will not bite, you are finely cozened, drop it no more for shame. + +_Luce._ Do you think you are here Sir amongst your wast-coateers, +your base wenches that scratch at such occasions? you are deluded: This +is a Gentlewoman of a noble house, born to a better fame than you can +build her, and eyes above your pitch. + +_Fran._ I do acknowledge-- + +_Isab._ Then I beseech you Sir, what could 'see, (speak boldly, and +speak truly, shame the Devil,) in my behaviour of such easiness that you +durst venture to do this? + +_Fran._ You amaze me, this Ring is none of mine, nor did I drop it. + +_Luce._ I saw you drop it, Sir. + +_Isab._ I took it up too, still looking when your modesty should +miss it, why, what a childish part was this? + +_Fran._ I vow. + +_Isab._ Vow me no vowes, he that dares do this, has bred himself to +boldness, to forswear too; there take your gew-gaw, you are too much +pampered, and I repent my part, as you grow older grow wiser if you can, +and so farewel Sir. + +[_Exeunt_ Isabella, _and_ Luce. + +_Lan._ Grow wiser if you can? she has put it to you, 'tis a rich +Ring, did you drop it? + +_Fran._ Never, ne're saw it afore, _Lance_. + +_Lan._ Thereby hangs a tail then: what slight she makes to catch +her self! look up Sir, you cannot lose her if you would, how daintily +she flies upon the Lure, and cunningly she makes her stops! whistle and +she'l come to you. + +_Fran._ I would I were so happy. + +_Lan._ Maids are Clocks, the greatest Wheel they show, goes slowest +to us, and make's hang on tedious hopes; the lesser, which are +concealed, being often oyl'd with wishes, flee like desires, and never +leave that motion, till the tongue strikes; she is flesh, blood and +marrow, young as her purpose, and soft as pity; no Monument to worship, +but a mould to make men in, a neat one, and I know how e're she appears +now, which is near enough, you are stark blind if you hit not soon at +night; she would venture forty pounds more but to feel a Flea in your +shape bite her: drop no more Rings forsooth, this was the prettiest +thing to know her heart by. + +_Fran._ Thou putst me in much comfort. + +_Lan._ Put your self in good comfort, if she do not point you out +the way, drop no more Rings, she'l drop her self into you. + +_Fran._ I wonder my Brother comes not. + +_Lan._ Let him alone, and feed your self on your own fortunes; come +be frolick, and let's be monstrous wise and full of counsel, drop no +more Rings. [_Exeunt._ + +_Enter_ Widow, Fountain, Bellamore, Harebrain. + +_Wid._ If you will needs be foolish you must be used so: who sent +for you? who entertained you Gentlemen? who bid you welcom hither? you +came crowding, and impudently bold; press on my patience, as if I kept a +house for all Companions, and of all sorts: will 'have your wills, will +vex me and force my liking from you I ne're ow'd you? + +_Fount._ For all this we will dine with you. + +_Bel._ And for all this will have a better answer from you. + +_Wid._ You shall never, neither have an answer nor dinner, unless +you use me with a more staid respect, and stay your time too. + +_Enter_ Isabella, Shorthose, Roger, Humphrey, Ralph, _with dishes +of meat_. + +_Isab._ Forward with the meat now. + +_Rog._ Come Gentlemen, march fairly. + +_Short._ _Roger_, you are a weak Serving-man, your white +broath runs from you; fie, how I sweat under this Pile of Beef; an +Elephant can do more! Oh for such a back now, and in these times, what +might a man arrive at! Goose, grase you up, and Woodcock march behinde +thee, I am almost foundred. + +_Wid._ Who bid you bring the meat yet? away you knaves, I will not +dine these two hours: how am I vext and chafed! go carry it back and +tell the Cook, he's an arrant Rascal, to send before I called. + +_Short._ Face about Gentlemen, beat a mournfull march then, and +give some supporters, or else I perish-- + [_Exeunt_ Servants. + +_Isab._ It does me much good to see her chafe thus. + +_Hare._ We can stay Madam, and will stay and dwell here, 'tis good +Air. + +_Fount._ I know you have beds enough, and meat you never want. + +_Wid._ You want a little. + +_Bel._ We dare to pretend no. Since you are churlish, we'l give you +Physick, you must purge this anger, it burns you and decays you. + +_Wid._ If I had you out once, I would be at the charge of a +portcullis for you. + +_Enter_ Valentine. + +_Val._ Good morrow noble Lady. + +_Wid._ Good morrow Sir. How sweetly now he looks, and how full +manly! what slaves were these to use him so! + +_Val._ I come to look a young man I call Brother. + +_Wid._ Such a one was here Sir, as I remember your own Brother, but +gone almost an hour agoe. + +_Val._ Good ee'n then. + +_Wid._ You must not so soon Sir, here be some Gentlemen, it may be +you are acquainted with 'em. + +_Hare._ Will nothing make him miserable? + +_Fount._ How glorious! + +_Bel._ It is the very he, does it rain fortunes, or has he a +familiar? + +_Hare._ How doggedly he looks too? + +_Fount._ I am beyond my faith, pray let's be going. + +_Val._ Where are these Gentlemen? + +_Wid._ Here. + +_Val._ Yes I know 'em, and will be more familiar. + +_Bel._ Morrow Madam. + +_Wid._ Nay stay and dine. + +_Val._ You shall stay till I talk with you, and not dine neither, +but fastingly my fury, you think you have undone me, think so still, and +swallow that belief, till you be company for Court-hand Clarks, and +starved Atturnies, till you break in at playes like Prentices for three +a groat, and crack Nuts with the Scholars in peny Rooms again, and fight +for Apples, till you return to what I found you, people betrai'd into +the hands of Fencers, Challengers, Tooth-drawers Bills, and tedious +Proclamations in Meal-markets, with throngings to see Cutpurses: stir +not, but hear, and mark, I'le cut your throats else, till Water works, +and rumours of New Rivers rid you again and run you into questions who +built Thames, till you run mad for Lotteries, and stand there with your +Tables to glean the golden Sentences, and cite 'em secre[t]ly to +Servingmen for sound Essayes, till Taverns allow you but a Towel room to +Tipple Wine in, that the Bell hath gone for twice, and Glasses that look +like broken promises, tied up with wicker protestations, English Tobacco +with half Pipes, nor in half a year once burnt, and Bisket that Bawds +have rubb'd their gums upon like Corals to bring the mark again, tell +these hour Rascals so, this most fatal hour will come again, think I sit +down the looser. + +_Wid._ Will you stay Gentlemen, a piece of Beef and a cold Capon, +that's all, you know you are welcom. + +_Hum._ That was cast to abuse us. + +_Bel._ Steal off, the Devil is in his anger. + +_Wid._ Nay I am sure you will not leave me so discourteously, now I +have provided for you. + +_Val._ What do you here? why do ye vex a woman of her goodness, her +state and worth? can you bring a fair certificate that you deserve to be +her footmen? husbands, you puppies? husbands for Whores and Bawds, away +you wind suckers; do not look big, nor prate, nor stay, nor grumble and +when you are gone, seem to laugh at my fury, and slight this Lady, I +shall hear, and know this: and though I am not bound to fight for women, +as far they are good I dare preserve 'em: be not too bold, for if you +be, I'le swinge you monstrously without all pity, your honours now goe, +avoid me mainly. [_Exeunt._ + +_Wid._ Well Sir, you have delivered me, I thank you, and with your +nobleness prevented danger, their tongues might utter, we'll all go and +eat Sir. + +_Vol._ No, no, I dare not trust my self with women, go to your +meat, eat little, take less ease, and tie your body to a daily labour, +you may live honestly, and so I thank you. [_Exit._ + +_Wid._ Well go thy ways, thou art a noble fellow, and some means I +must work to have thee know it. [_Exit._ + + + + +_Actus Quintus. Scena Prima._ + +_Enter_ Uncle, _and_ Merchant. + + +_Unc._ Most certain 'tis her hands that hold him up, and her sister +relieves _Frank_. + +_Mer._ I am glad to hear it: but wherefore do they not pursue this +fortune to some fair end? + +_Unc._ The women are too craftie, _Valentine_ too coy, and +_Frank_ too bashfull, had any wise man hold of such a blessing, +they would strike it out o'th' flint but they would form it. + +_Enter_ Widow, _and_ Shorthose. + +_Mer._ The Widow sure, why does she stir so early? + +_Wid._ 'Tis strange, I cannot force him to understand me, and make +a benefit of what I would bring him: tell my sister I'le use my +devotions at home this morning, she may if she please go to Church. + +_Short._ Hey ho. + +_Wid._ And do you wait upon her with a torch Sir. + +_Short._ Hey ho. + +_Wid._ You lazie Knave. + +_Short._ Here is such a tinkle tanklings that we can ne're lie +quiet, and sleep our prayers out. _Ralph_, pray emptie my right +shooe that you made your Chamber-pot, and burn a little Rosemarie in't, +I must wait 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 sleep and swilling! + +_Short._ Had you been bitten with Bandog fleas, as I have been, and +haunted with the night Mare. + +_Wid._ With an Ale-pot. + +_Short._ You would have little list to morning Prayers, pray take +my fellow _Ralph_, he has a Psalm Book, I am an ingrum man. + +_Wid._ Get you ready quickly, and when she is ready wait upon her +handsomely; no more, be gone. + +_Short._ If I do snore my part out-- [_Exit_ Short. + +_Unc._ Now to our purposes. + +_Mer._ Good morrow, Madam. + +_Wid._ Good morrow, Gentlemen. + +_Unc._ Good joy and fortune. + +_Wid._ These are good things, and worth my thanks, I thank you Sir. + +_Mer._ Much joy I hope you'l find, we came to gratulate your new +knit marriage-band. + +_Wid._ How? + +_Unc._ He's a Gentleman, although he be my kinsman, my fair Niece. + +_Wid._ Niece, Sir? + +_Unc._ 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._ What's all this? I understand you not, what Niece, what +marriage-knot? + +_Unc._ I'le tell plainly, you are my Niece, and _Valentine_ +the Gentleman has made you so by marriage. + +_Wid._ Marriage? + +_Unc._ Yes Lady, and 'twas a noble and vertuous part, to take a +falling man to your protection, and buoy him up again to all his +glories. + +_Wid._ The men are mad. + +_Mer._ What though he wanted these outward things, that flie away +like shadows, was not his mind a full one, and a brave one? You have +wealth enough to give him gloss and outside, and he wit enough to give +way to love a Lady. + +_Unc._ I ever thought he would do well. + +_Mer._ Nay, I knew how ever he wheel'd about like a loose Cabine, +he would charge home at length, like a brave Gentleman; Heavens blessing +o' your heart Lady, we are so bound to honour you, in all your service +so devoted to you. + +_Unc._ Do not look so strange Widow, it must be known, better a +general joy; no stirring here yet, come, come, you cannot hide 'em. + +_Wid._ Pray be not impudent, these are the finest toyes, belike 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? + +_Unc._ No, great they say not, but 'tis a full opinion you are with +child, and great joy among the Gentlemen, your husband hath bestirred +himself fairly. + +_Mer._ Alas, we know his private hours of entrance, how long, and +when he stayed, could name the bed too, where he paid down his +first-fruits. + +_Wid._ I shall believe anon. + +_Unc._ And we consider for some private reasons, you would have it +private, yet take your own pleasure; and so good morrow, my best Niece, +my sweetest. + +_Wid._ No, no, pray stay. + +_Unc._ I know you would be with him, love him, and love him well. + +_Mer._ You'l find him noble, this may beget-- + +_Unc._ It must needs work upon her. + +[_Exit_ Uncle, _and_ Mer. + +_Wid._ These are fine bobs i'faith, married, and with child too! +how long has this been, I trow? they seem grave fellows, they should not +come to flout; married, and bedded, the world takes notice too! where +lies this May-game? I could be vext extreamly now, and rail too, but +'tis to no end, though I itch a little, must I be scratcht I know not +how, who waits there? + +_Enter_ Humphrey, _a_ Servant. + +_Hum._ Madam. + +_Wid._ Make ready my Coach quickly, and wait you only, and hark you +Sir, be secret and speedy, inquire out where he lies. + +_Hum._ I shall do it, Madam. + +_Wid._ Married, and got with child in a dream! 'tis fine i'faith, +sure he that did this, would do better waking. [_Exit._ + +_Enter_ Valentine, Fran. Lance, _and a Boy with a Torch_. + +_Val._ Hold thy Torch handsomely: how dost thou _Frank_? +_Peter Bassel_, bear up. + +_Fran._ You have fried me soundly, Sack do you call this drink? + +_Val._ A shrewd dog, _Frank_, 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 own natural master, yet my sack says +thou art no man, thou art a Pagan, and pawnest thy land, which a noble +cause. + +_Val._ No arms, nor arms, good _Lancelot_, dear _Lance_, +no fighting here, we will have Lands boy, Livings, and Titles, thou +shalt be a Vice-Roy, hang fighting, hang't 'tis out of fashion. + +_Lan._ I would fain labour you into your lands again, go to, it is +behoveful. + +_Fran._ Fie _Lance_, fie. + +_Lan._ I must beat some body, and why not my Master, before a +stranger? charity and beating begins at home. + +_Val._ Come, thou shalt beat me. + +_Lan._ I will not be compel'd, and you were two Masters, I scorn +the motion. + +_Val._ Wilt thou sleep? + +_Lan._ I scorn sleep. + +_Val._ Wilt thou go eat? + +_Lan._ I scorn meat, I come for rompering, I come to wait upon my +charge discreetly; for look you, if you will not take your Mortgage +again, here do I lie S' George, and so forth. + +_Val._ And here do I S' George, bestride the Dragon, thus with my +Lance. + +_Lan._ I sting, I sting with my tail. + +_Val._ Do you so, do you so, Sir? I shall tail you presently. + +_Fran._ By no means, do not hurt him. + +_Val._ Take this _Nelson_, and now rise, thou Maiden Knight of +Malllgo, lace on thy Helmet of inchanted Sack, and charge again. + +_Lan._ I'le play no more, you abuse me, will you go? + +_Fran._ I'le bid you good morrow, Brother, for sleep I cannot, I +have a thousand fancies. + +_Val._ Now thou art arrived, go bravely to the matter, and do +something of worth, _Frank_. + +_Lan._ You shall hear from us. [_Exeunt_ Lance _and_ +Frank. + +_Val._ This Rogue, if he had been sober, sure had beaten me, is the +most tettish Knave. + +_Enter_ Uncle _and_ Merchant, _Boy with a Torch_. + +_Unc._ 'Tis he. + +_Mer._ Good morrow. + +_Val._ Why, Sir, good morrow to you too, and you be so lusty. + +_Unc._ You have made your Brother a fine man, we met him. + +_Val._ I made him a fine Gentleman, he was a fool before, brought up +amongst the midst of Small-Beer-Brew-houses, what would you have with me? + +_Mer._ I come to tell you, your latest hour is come. + +_Val._ Are you my sentence? + +_Mer._ The sentence of your state. + +_Val._ Let it be hang'd then, and let it be hang'd high enough, I +may not see it. + +_Unc._ A gracious resolution. + +_Val._ What would you have else with me, will you go drink, and let +the world slide, Uncle? Ha, ha, ha, boyes, drink Sack 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 pounds. + +_Mer._ What then, Sir? + +_Val._ Then bring thy Wife along, and thy fair Sisters, thy +Neighbours and their Wives, and all their trinkets, let me have forty +Trumpets, and such Wine, we'll laugh at all the miseries of Mortgage, +and then in state I'le render thee an answer. + +_Mer._ What say you to this? + +_Unc._ I dare not say, nor think neither. + +_Mer._ Will you redeem your state, speak to the point, Sir? + +_Pal._ Not, not if it were mine heir in the _Turks_ Gallies. + +_Mer._ Then I must take an order? + +_Val._ Take a thousand, I will not keep it, nor thou shalt not have +it, because thou camest i'th' nick, thou shalt not have it, go 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, go down in +glory, and march upon my land, and cry, All's mine; cry as the Devil +did, and be the Devil, mark what an Echo follows, build fine +March-panes, to entertain Sir Silk-worm and his Lady, and pull the +Chappel down, and raise a Chamber for Mistress Silver-pin, to lay her +belly in, mark what an Earthquake comes. Then foolish Merchant my +Tenants are no Subjects, they obey nothing, and they are people too +never Christened, they know no Law nor Conscience, they'll devour thee; +and thou mortal, the stopple, they'll confound thee within three days; +no bit nor memory of what thou wert, no not the Wart upon thy Nose +there, shall be e're heard of more; go take possession, and bring thy +Children down, to rost like Rabbets, they love young Toasts and Butter, +_Bow-bell_ Suckers; as they love mischief, and hate Law, they are +Cannibals; bring down thy kindred too, that be not fruitful, there be +those Mandrakes that will mollifie 'em, go take possession. I'le go to +my Chamber, afore Boy go. [_Exeunt._ + +_Mer._ He's mad sure. + +_Unc._ He's half drunk sure: and yet I like this unwillingness to +lose it, this looking back. + +_Mer._ Yes, if he did it handsomely, but he's so harsh and strange. + +_Unc._ Believe it 'tis his drink, Sir, and I am glad his drink has +thrust it out. + +_Mer._ Cannibals? if ever I come to view his Regiment, if fair +terms may be had. + +_Unc._ He tells you true, Sir, they are a bunch of the most +boisterous Rascals disorder ever made, let 'em be mad once, the power of +the whole Country cannot cool 'em, be patient but a while. + +_Mer._ As long as you will, Sir, before I buy a bargain of such +Runts, I'le buy a Colledge for Bears, and live among 'em. + +_Enter_ Francisco, Lance, _Boy with a Torch_. + +_Fran._ How dost thou now? + +_Lan._ Better than I was, and straighter, but my head's a Hogshead +still, it rowls and tumbles. + +_Fran._ Thou wert cruelly paid. + +_Lan._ I may live to requite it, put a Snaffle of Sack in my mouth +and then ride me very well. + +_Fran._ 'Twas all but sport, I'le tell thee what I mean now, I mean +to see this Wench. + +_Lan._ Where a Devil is she? and there were two, 'twere better. + +_Fran._ Dost thou hear the Bell ring? + +_Lan._ Yes, yes. + +_Fran._ Then she comes to prayers, early each morning thither: Now +if I could but meet her, for I am of another mettle now. + +_Enter_ Isabel, _and_ Shorthose _with a Torch_. + +_Lan._ What light's yon? + +_Fran._ Ha, 'tis a light, take her by the hand and court her. + +_Lan._ Take her below the girdle, you'l never speed else, it comes +on this way still, oh that I had but such an opportunity in a Saw-pit, +how it comes on, comes on! 'tis here. + +_Fran._ 'Tis she: fortune I kiss thy hand--Good morrow Lady. + +_Isa._ What voice is that, Sirra, do you sleep as you go, 'tis he, +I am glad on't. Why, _Shorthose_? + +_Short._ Yes forsooth, I was dreamt, I was going to Church. + +_Lan._ She sees you as plain as I do. + +_Isab._ Hold the torch up. + +_Short._ Here's nothing but a stall, and a Butcher's Dog asleep +in't, where did you see the voice? + +_Fran._ She looks still angry. + +_Lan._ To her and meet Sir. + +_Isab._ Here, here. + +_Fran._ Yes Lady, never bless your self, I am but a man, and like +an honest man, now I will thank you-- + +_Isab._ What do you mean, who sent for you, who desired you? + +_Short._ Shall I put out the Torch forsooth? + +_Isab._ Can I not go about my private meditations, Ha, but such +companions as you must ruffle me? you had best go with me Sir? + +_Fran._ 'Twas my purpose. + +_Isab._ Why, what an impudence is this! you had best, being so near +the Church, provide a Priest, and perswade me to marry you. + +_Fran._ It was my meaning, and such a husband, so loving, and so +carefull, my youth, and all my fortunes shall arrive at--Hark you? + +_Isab._ 'Tis strange you should be thus unmannerly, turn home again +sirra, you had best now force my man to lead your way. + +_Lan._ Yes marry shall he Lady, forward my friend. + +_Isab._ This is a pretty Riot, it may grow to a rape. + +_Fran._ Do you like that better? I can ravish you an hundred times, +and never hurt you. + +_Short._ I see nothing, I am asleep still, when you have done tell +me, and then I'le wake Mistris. + +_Isab._ Are you in earnest Sir, do you long to be hang'd? + +_Fran._ Yes by my troth Lady in these fair Tresses. + +_Isab._ Shall I call out for help? + +_Fran._ No by no means, that were a weak trick Lady, I'le kiss, and +stop your mouth. + +_Isab._ You'l answer all these? + +_Fran._ A thousand kisses more. + +_Isab._ I was never abused thus, you had best give out too, that +you found me willing, and say I doted on you? + +_Fran._ That's known already, and no man living shall now carry you +from me. + +_Isab._ This is fine i'faith. + +_Fran._ It shall be ten times finer. + +_Isab._ Well, seeing you are so valiant, keep your way, I will to +Church. + +_Fran._ And I will wait upon you. + +_Isab._ And it is most likely there's a Priest, if you dare venture +as you profess, I would wish you look about you, to do these rude +tricks, for you know the recompences, and trust not to my mercy. + +_Fran._ But I will Lady. + +_Isab._ For I'le so handle you. + +_Fran._ That's it I look for. + +_Lan._ Afore thou dream. + +_Shor._ Have you done? + +_Isab._ Go on Sir, and follow if you dare. + +_Fran._ If I do not, hang me. + +_Lan._ 'Tis all thine own boy, an 'twere a million, god a mercy +Sack, when would small Beer have done this? + +_Knocking within. Enter_ Valentine. + +_Val._ Whose that that knocks and bounces, what a Devil ails you, +is hell broke loose, or do you keep an Iron mill? + +_Enter a_ Servant. + +_Ser._ 'Tis a Gentlewoman Sir that must needs speak with you. + +_Val._ A Gentlewoman? what Gentlewoman, what have I to do with +Gentlewomen? + +_Ser._ She will not be answered Sir. + +_Val._ Fling up the bed and let her in, I'le try how gentle she is-- + [_Exit_ Servant. + +This Sack has fill'd my head so full of babies, 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, I'le +forswear it. + +_Enter_ Widow. + +_Wid._ O you're a noble Gallant, send off your Servant pray. +[_Exit_ Servant. + +_Val._ She will not ravish me? by this light she looks as sharp set +as a Sparrow hawk, what wouldst thou woman? + +_Wid._ O you have used me kindly, and like a Gentleman, this is to +trust to you. + +_Val._ Trust to me, for what? + +_Wid._ Because I said in jest once, you were a handsom man, one I +could like well, and fooling, made you believe I loved you, and might be +brought to marrie. + +_Val._ The widow is drunk too. + +_Wid._ You out of this, which is a fine discretion, give out the +matter's done, you have won and wed me, and that you have put, fairly +put for an heir too, these are fine rumours to advance my credit: i'th' +name of mischief what did you mean? + +_Val._ That you loved me, and that you might be brought to marrie +me? why, what a Devil do you mean, widow? + +_Wid._ 'Twas a fine trick too, to tell the world though you had +enjoyed your first wish you wished, the wealth you aimed at, that I was +poor, which is most true, I am, have sold my lands, because I love not +those vexations, yet for mine honours sake, if you must be prating, and +for my credits sake in the Town. + +_Val._ I tell thee widow, I like thee ten times better, now thou +hast no Lands, for now thy hopes and cares lye on thy husband, if e're +thou marryest more. + +_Wid._ Have not you married me, and for this main cause, now as you +report it, to be your Nurse? + +_Val._ My Nurse? why, what am I grown to, give me the Glass, my +Nurse. + +_Wid._ You n'er said truer, I must confess I did a little favour +you, and with some labour might have been perswaded, but when I found I +must be hourly troubled, with making broths, and dawbing your decayes +with swadling, and with stitching up your ruines, for the world so +reports. + +_Val._ Do not provoke me. + +_Wid._ And half an eye may see. + +_Val._ Do not provoke me, the world's a lying world, and thou shalt +find it, have a good heart, and take a strong faith to thee, and mark +what follows, my Nurse, yes, you shall rock me: Widow I'le keep you +waking. + +_Wid._ You are disposed Sir. + +_Val._ Yes marry am I Widow, and you shall feel it, nay and they +touch my freehold, I am a Tiger. + +_Wid._ I think so. + +_Val._ Come. + +_Wid._ Whither? + +_Val._ Any whither. [_Sings._ + + The fit's upon me now, the fit's upon me now, + Come quickly gentle Ladie, the fit's upon me now, + The world shall know they're fools, + And so shalt thou do too, + Let the Cobler meddle with his tools, + The fit's upon me now. + + +Take me quickly, while I am in this vein, away with me, for if I have +but two hours to consider, all the widows in the world cannot recover +me. + +_Wid._ If you will, go with me Sir. + +_Val._ Yes marrie will I, but 'tis in anger yet, and I will marrie +thee, do not cross me; yes, and I will lie with thee, and get a whole +bundle of babies, and I will kiss thee, stand still and kiss me +handsomely, but do not provoke me, stir neither hand nor foot, for I am +dangerous, I drunk sack yesternight, do not allure me: Thou art no widow +of this world, come in pitie, and in spite I'le marrie thee, not a word +more, and I may be brought to love thee. [_Exeunt._ + +_Enter_ Merchant, _and_ Uncle, _at several doors_. + +_Mer._ Well met again, and what good news yet? + +_Unc._ Faith nothing. + +_Mer._ No fruits of what we sowed? + +_Unc._ Nothing I hear of. + +_Mer._ No turning in this tide yet? + +_Unc._ 'Tis all flood, and till that fall away, there's no expecting. + +_Enter_ Fran. Isab. Lance, Shorthose, _a torch_. + +_Mer._ Is not this his younger Brother? + +_Unc._ With a Gentlewoman the widow's sister, as I live he smiles, +he has got good hold, why well said _Frank_ i'faith, let's stay and +mark. + +_Isab._ Well, you are the prettiest youth, and so you have handled +me, think you ha' me sure. + +_Fran._ As sure as wedlock. + +_Isab._ You had best lie with me too. + +_Fran._ Yes indeed will I, and get such black ey'd boyes. + +_Unc._ God a Mercy, _Frank_. + +_Isab._ This is a merrie world, poor simple Gentlewomen that think +no harm, cannot walk about their business, but they must be catcht up I +know not how. + +_Fran._ I'le tell you, and I'le instruct ye too, have I caught you, +Mistress? + +_Isab._ Well, and it were not for pure pity, I would give you the +slip yet, but being as it is. + +_Fran._ It shall be better. + +_Enter_ Valentine, Widow, _and_ Ralph, _with a torch_. + +_Isab._ My sister, as I live, your Brother with her! sure, I think +you are the Kings takers. + +_Unc._ Now it works. + +_Val._ Nay, you shall know I am a man. + +_Wid._ I think so. + +_Val._ And such proof you shall have. + +_Wid._ I pray speak softly. + +_Val._ I'le speak it out Widow, yes and you shall confess too, I am +no Nurse-child, I went for a man, a good one, if you can beat me out +o'th' pit. + +_Wid._ I did but jest with you. + +_Val._ I'le handle you in earnest, and so handle you: Nay, when my +credit calls. + +_Wid._ Are you mad? + +_Val._ I am mad, I am mad. + +_Fran._ Good morrow, Sir, I like your preparation. + +_Val._ Thou hast been at it, _Frank_. + +_Fran._ Yes faith, 'tis done Sir. + +_Val._ Along with me then, never hang an arse, widow. + +_Isab._ 'Tis to no purpose, sister. + +_Val._ Well said Black-brows, advance your torches Gentlemen. + +_Unc._ Yes, yes Sir. + +_Val._ And keep your ranks. + +_Mer._ _Lance_, carrie this before him. + +_Unc._ Carrie it in state. + +_Enter_ Musicians, Fount. Hare. Bel. + +_Val._ What are you, Musicians? I know your coming, and what are +those behind you? + +_Musi._ Gentlemen that sent us to give the Lady a good morrow. + +_Val._ O I know them, come boy sing the song I taught you, +And sing it lustily, come forward Gentlemen, you're welcom, +Welcom, now we are all friends, go get the Priest ready, +And let him not be long, we have much business: +Come _Frank_, rejoyce with me, thou hast got the start boy, +But I'le so tumble after, come my friends lead, +Lead cheerfully, and let your Fiddles ring boyes, +My follies and my fancies have an end here, +Display the morgage _Lance_, Merchant I'le pay you, +And every thing shall be in joynt again. + +_Unc._ Afore, afore. + +_Val._ And now confess, and know, _Wit without Money, sometimes +gives the blow_. [_Exeunt._ + + + + +APPENDIX + + +WIT WITHOUT MONEY. + + +(A) Wit with-|out Money. | A Comedie, | As it hath beene +Presented with good | Applause at the private house in Drurie Lane, | by +her Majesties Servants. | Written by Francis Beamount, and John Flecher. +Gent. | London | Printed by Thomas Cotes, for Andrew Crooke, | and +William Cooke. 1639. + +(B) Wit | without | Money. | A | Comedie, | As it hath been +Presented with good Ap-|plause at the private house in Drury Lane, by | +Her Hajesties (sic) Servants | Written by Francis Beamount and John +Flecher. Gent. | The second Impression Corrected. | London, | Printed +for Andrew Crooke, at the Green Dragon in | St. Pauls-Church-Yard, 1661. + +On the last leaf appears a list of 17 'Plays written by Francis Beamount +and John Flecher, | printed in Quarto.' + +(C)= The Second Folio. + +p. 146, + l. 6. A and B] The Actors names. + +p. 147, + l. 7. A and B] No Gent. + l. 10. A and B] maintaine Hospitals. + l. 24. A and B] flatter um, make um. (The same form occurs almost +throughout A and B and is not here repeated.) + +p. 148, + l. 4. C _misprints_] Mar. + l. 6. A and B] A that. + l. 10. A _adds_] vexations, the morgage shall be rendred backe, + take time fort, you. + l. 13. A] and a fine. + +p. 149, + l. 9. C _misprints_] de. + l. 21. A _omits_] can mount like Stallions. + l. 29. A _omits_] all. + l. 32. A _omits_] Sir. + +p. 150, + l. 2. A and B _omit_] of. + l. 10. A] and hang. + l. 24. A and B] meagrom. + l. 24. A] tenements. + l. 37. A and B] a Sundaies. + +p. 151, + l. 10. A] next remove, and when I please to remove; and when. + l. 18. A] are hid, that work. + l. 20. A and B] I shifted; are. + l. 27. A] my travel. + l. 29. A] some other that. + l. 35. B and C _misprint_] doule. + +p. 152, + l. 14. A and B] Andeluria. + l. 24. B _omits_] find. + l. 27. A] safe from. + +p. 153, + l. 17. A] may do. + l. 24. A] satten. + l. 32. A] and a. + +p. 154, + l. 1. A] meane part. + l. 5. A] with the loss. + l. 35. A _omits_] the. + +p. 155, + l. 3. A] married there together. + ll. 10 and 11. B] puft solus. + ll. 15 and 16. A] but will that fledge him, keep him from cold, + beleeve me. + l. 17. A] him, and marke. + l. 31. C _misprints_] Quartus. + +p. 156, + l. 18. A _omits_] that. + l. 34. A] lookt thee. + l. 37. A] She has. + ll. 38 and 39. A] her, not say. + +p. 157, + l. 23. A] or no, are those. + l. 37. A] empty nothing. + +p. 158, + l. 9. A] in's. + l. 11. A] supple hand. + +p. 159, + l. 2. A] a maid content. + l. 5. A] makes the wife. + l. 28. B _omits_] _Hare_. C _misprints_] searce. + +p. 160, + l. 28. A and B] that Gentleman. + +p. 161, + l. 12. B] Legend. + l. 14. A] say so. A] hangd first. + l. 27. C _misprints_] thy. + l. 34. A _adds_] Exeunt. + +p. 162, + l. 4. A] himself sport. + l. 5. A] by his Copie. + l. 9. A] Gentleman your. + +p. 163, + l. 3. A and B] towne, and live. A and B _omit_] and. + +p. 164, + l. 8. A] twelve moneths. + l. 17. A] spent it. + l. 30. A] do not you. + +p. 165, + l. 30. A] servant, I am cosend if after her, I. + +p. 166, + l. 22. A and B] Roger help down. + +p. 167, + l. 25. A] Why whither. + +p. 168, + l. 27. A] sometimes. + +p. 169, + l. 11. A] my sister. + l. 19. A] bring you but this. + l. 22. A and B] that know not. + l. 29. A] small pots. + l. 32. A] Its. + l. 35. A] sit and laugh. + +p. 170, + l. 27. A and B] here, has made. + +p. 171, + l. 6. C _misprints_] know. + l. 14. A and B] I grieve to. + l. 25. A] deserve it, is a. + l. 28. A _omits_] as. + +p. 172, + l. 14. A] their Cases. + l. 32. A and B] Prospectives. + l. 33. C _misprints_] Wid. + l. 36. A and B] Ah my. + l. 40. A] mens confusions. + +p. 173, + l. 32. A and B] a god else. + l. 36. B] was you never. + +p. 174, + l. 8. A] Lets have. + l. 31. C _misprints_] your. + +p. 175, + l. 17. A and B] sick ath. + l. 32. A _adds_] Exeunt. + +p. 176, + l. 6. A and B] has. + l. 16. A] charge whom. + l. 35. A and B] Has the. + l. 38. A and B] behaviours. + +p. 177, + l. 10. A] filed. + l. 13. A] small bare. + +p. 178, + l. 2. A and B] worships. + l. 3. A] at a sizer. + ll. 7 and 8. A] and Christian bleeches. + l. 12. A] displease me more. + l. 37. A and B _omit_] Enter. + +p. 179, + l. 9. B] Tarm. + l. 12. C _misprints_] and. + +p. 180, + l. 1. A] pound. + l. 30. A] most cure. + l. 31. A and B] Has had. + +p. 181, + l. 7. A] clocke. + l. 11. C] som spun. + +p. 182, + l. 33. C] nor. + l. 39. A] he has none. + +p. 183, + ll. 27 and 28. B and C] frat ... sab. + +p. 184, + l. 5. A] but lend. + l. 6. A and B] a thornes. + l. 22. A] thanks Sir. + l. 23. B] part. A and B] deserves. + l. 24. A and B] to a. + l. 25. A] doores. + +p. 185, + l. 15. A] let me in. + l. 18. A] Spercious. A] you bawling. + l. 30. B] aside bay. + l. 37. A] be so vext. + +p. 186, + ll. 5 and 6. A] men live. + l. 12. A] title peece. + +p. 187, + l. 23. A] more hound um. + +p. 188, + l. 20. A] wils. + +p. 189, + l. 7. A and B] and bartered. + l. 31. A] would you. + +p. 190, + l. 35. A and B] and a love too. + l. 36. A] how'would. + +p. 191, + l. 18. A and B] I beleeve. + +p. 193, + l. 18. A and B] Faces about. + l. 19. B] I or else perish. + l. 27. A] pretend on. + l. 30. A and B] at charge. + l. 35. A and B] was these. + +p. 194, + l. 1. A] God e'n then. + l. 28. C _misprints_] secrely. + l. 30. A and B] tipple in wine. + +p. 195, + l. 3. A _omits_] ye. + l. 11. A _repeats_] He swinge you. + l. 15. A] utter, will all. + l. 35. A and B] any devotions. + +p. 196, + l. 2. B] with torch. + l. 18. A _misprints_] _Short_, for _Wid._ + +p. 197, + l. 2. A] and a vertuous + l. 3. A] bay him up. + l. 13. B] a your. + +p. 198, + l. 2. A] take. + l. 3. A _omits_] a. + l. 25. A] No armes, no armes. + l. 27. A and B] hang 'tis. + l. 33. A _omits_] a. + +p. 199, + l. 5. B] An here. + l. 10. A] his Nelson. + l. 37. A _omits_] have. + +p. 200, + l. 3. A] pound. + l. 10. A _omits_] you. + l. 20. B] such knell. + ll. 23 and 24. A] to raise. + +p. 201, + l. 5. A] regements. + l. 30. A and B] yond. + +p. 202, + l. 2. B] sees yon. + l. 3. A and B] thy Torch. + l. 13. A] hay, but. + l. 26. A and B] shall a Lady. + +p. 203, + l. 10. A] their recompences. + l. 20. A and B _add_] Exeunt. + +p. 204, + l. 2. B _omits_] as. + l. 4. A and B] this 'tis to. + l. 12. A _omits_] put. + l. 28. A and B] too. + +p. 205, + l. 10. A] they are. B] they 'are. + +p. 207, + l. 21. A and B _add_] Finis. + + * * * * * + + +BEGGARS BUSH + + +(A) The First Folio, 1647. + + +(B) The | Beggars | Bush. | Written by | Francis Beaumont, and +John Fletcher, Gentlemen. | [wood-cut] London, | Printed for Humphrey +Robinson, and Anne Mosley, | at the three Pigeons, and at the Princes +Arms | in Saint Pauls Church-yard, 1661. + +Another issue of the above, dated 1661, has a fresh title-page and bears +the following notice:--'You may speedily expect those other Playes, +which | Kirkman, and his Hawkers have deceived the | buyers withall, +selling them at treble the value, that | this and the rest will be sold +for, which are the | onely Originall and corrected copies, as they | +were first purchased by us at no mean | rate, and since printed by us.' + +B prints the Prologue and Epilogue to _The Captaine_ as though they +belonged to _Beggars Bush_, apparently treating the last page of +_The Captain_ in A as though it were the first page of _Beggars +Bush_. + +(C) The Second Folio. + +p. 208. + A _omits_] A Comedy ... The Scene Flanders. + ll. 2-4. B] Dramatis Personae. _These are as follows:_ + +Dramatis Personae. + +_Goswin_ a young Merchant of _Bruges_, viz. _Florez_ the right Earl + of _Flanders_ + +_Woolfort_, Usurper of the Earldome, + +_Clause_ King of Beggars, _viz. Gerrard_ Father to _Florez_, + +_Hubert_ disguised like a Huntsman, A Lord of Flanders + +_Hemskirk_, A Favourite of the Usurper. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wit Without Money, by Francis Beaumont + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WIT WITHOUT MONEY *** + +***** This file should be named 13425.txt or 13425.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/4/2/13425/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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