The benefice a comedy / by R.W. D.D., author of Iter Boreale, written in his younger days, now made publick for promoting innocent mirth. Wild, Robert, 1609-1679. 1689 Approx. 136 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 34 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2004-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A65997 Wing W2123 ESTC R23046 12238697 ocm 12238697 56726 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A65997) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 56726) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 620:5) The benefice a comedy / by R.W. D.D., author of Iter Boreale, written in his younger days, now made publick for promoting innocent mirth. Wild, Robert, 1609-1679. 67 p. Printed, to be sold by R. Janeway ..., London : 1689. "To the reader" gives the author's name: Dr. R. Wild. Reproduction of original in Huntington Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. 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Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng 2003-08 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2003-09 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2003-10 John Latta Sampled and proofread 2003-10 John Latta Text and markup reviewed and edited 2003-12 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion THE BENEFICE . A COMEDY . By R. W. D. D. Author of ITER BOREALE . Written in his Younger Days : Now made Publick for promoting Innocent Mirth . — Ridentum dicere verum Quid vetat ? Licensed and Enter'd . LONDON , Printed , to be Sold by R. Ianeway , in Queens-Head Court in Pater-Noster-Row . M.DC.LXXXIX . TO THE READER . 'T Is now several Years since these Papers , of the most Ingenious Dr. R. Wild's first fell into my Hands . Which ( having been the occasion of so much Innocent Mirth and Diversion , not only to my self , but to all I ever communicated them to ) I thought fit , at length ( lest I should seem either Envious or Injurious to others ) not any longer to engross the Pleasure of them wholly to my self ; but to invite the Publick to share in this , no contemptible Priviledg , by the Publication hereof : Which , without the least Diminution , Addition , or Alteration , is here presented to thee in the Author 's own Words . A further Recommendation being needless , to what will so assuredly Recommend it self , being Read ; I shall only add , That if Pure Wit , Harmless Jest , True Mirth , and Good Design are taking , I need not doubt but what followeth here , will highly Please , and Oblige thee to the Publisher , Farewel . Dramatis Personae . INvention .   Furor Poeticus , An Humorous Poet. Pedanto , A School-Master . Comaedia , A Girl . Ceres , The Goddess of Harvest . Marchurch , The Patron of a Living . Ursley , His Kitchin Wench . Mar-Pudding , A Cotquean ; Nephew to Marchurch . Book-Worm , A Young Divine . Sir Homily , An Old Curat . Hob-Nail , Marchurch's hind-Servant . Phantastes , A meer Scholar , newly come from the Vniversity . Goodman Scuttle , A New-English Basket-Maker . Two Watchmen .   A School-Boy .   Tinker , and a Gypsie his Wife .   Scena profi●gentis arbitrio . THE BENEFICE . ACT the First . Behind the Curtain a School-Master at study writing , with many Books before him ; and a little Boy under him with his Grammar in one Hand , and Bread and Butter in the other . [ Enter Invention and Furor Poeticus . ] Invention comes in Studying . After a Pause , he steps back and calls Furor Poeticus . Invention . FVror , Furor . So — Ho — Ho. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , — 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . Enter Furor , Panting and Blowing . Furor . Good Master Invention — Oh — You are too quick for me . You are in as much haste as a Schollar to get a Wife , or an Heir to Sell his Land. Hey Presto — Whip and away ; your Brains are as nimble as if Projections and Monopolies were alive again . Invent. Come Furor , you know I have a deal of Work to do ; since my name was Invention , I never knew such a busie time . — Let me see my Table-Book ; What Business have I to dispatch ? [ Pulls out his Table-Book . ] Ho! Bodkin the Taylor , I must invent for him new Fashion'd Breeches , with a Tippet here behind to turn up , that Gentlemen may go to Stool and not Untruss . Item , I must invent a Plot , how the Papists may escape the Purgatory of the Parliament . Furor . I have a Plot for that . Let them put their Heads through an Hempen Rosary , and say three Ave Mary's with a Wry-mouth ; and I 'll be their Bondslave they need not fear afterwards . Invent. Memorandum , I must invent a Plot how the Scots may get more Money , when that they have is gone . Fur. Pish — That 's easie . Let them come for 't . Invent. Arm 's for a Welch-Man . Fur. Two Trees Rampant , and another Crossant , a Ladder Ascendant , an Hangman Couchant , the Rope Pendant , and the Fields Sable , &c. Invent. To help a Chamber-Maid to her Maiden-Head . Fur. If she be Handsome , she shall have mine . Invent. Memorandum , Parson T. M. must have a Sermon made against Christmas , Pret. 2 s. 4 d. Hem. — Mr. &c. would learn to Preach after the New Cut. Fur. And that 's not the short Cut , I 'm sure . Invent. Item , I must find out a Cure for one that 's sick of two Livings . Fur. Let the Incumbent sweat three Weeks for Anger ; suck his Thumbs with Patience ; be soundly Cup'd twenty four Hours : After that , take the Wax of an old Commission for a Divine to be a Iustice of Peace ; and to it add a Quart of Abel's Wine , a Pound of Brumfield's Soap that hath scaped a Scouring , with an handful of Goring's Tobacco-roots ; mix them with the Oyl of Lambs Grease , boyl them in a Corner'd-Cap from an Arch-Bishop to a Bishop , from that to Dean , from that to an Arch-Deacon , from that to a Prebend , and so to a Commissary ( if you can Decoct them so low ) then strain it through a Lawn-Sleeve ; let it cool : Fiat Emplaistrum . Lay this to one of his Temples , and his Plurisy will leave him . Invent. Item , I must find out , How many Religions there be in London . — Item , Whether Strafford be dead with his Head off . — Item , I must make Verses for a young Gentleman , upon a Louse that was found in his Mistress's Head , six Foot long , upon the fifth of November last . Fur. — Avaunt Six-footed Monster , if I catch thee , My Pollux Onix quickly shall dispatch thee . [ Invention looks about him . ] Invent. Brother Furor , where are we ? — What Place is this ? It should be a Conventicle , with so many Heads and Faces in it , and all together in a Barn too . [ Boy behind the Curtain ] As in presenti perfectum format in avi . Invent. Heark — Here 's a School , I think . [ Furor peeps within the Curtain . ] Fur. Ay , and here 's the old one in his Form , as sad as if he had two Livings , and had Sold one of them : He looks as Melancholy , as if some Woman had Scratch'd him by the Face , for whipping her Boy ; Or if he were studying to Decline . — Hist — Hist. — Come hither little Boy . [ Enter Boy . ] Boy . Now Gentlemen , what 's your Pleasure ? Fur. Prithee what 's thy Master studying on ? He 's so close at it . Boy . Why , He 's making a Play , for an Exclusion . Invent. And hath he done it ? Boy . Done it ! I think he hath gnawed three Quills to the Hilts for a Line or two . The Frost hath gotten into his Nose I think ; and till his Brains be thawed , we shall not have a Drop more done in it . I think , if the Clasps and Keepers of Hope , did not hold up the Breeches of Discretion , He 'd do 't in 's Hose : And yet he hath all the Play Books in the Country to help him . Like the Cuckooe , he sucks other 's Eggs : Here he steals a Word , and there he filches a Line , as we Boys do for Theams . He hath studied himself out of his Wits about it , and if it should not take , ( I hope it will not ) I believe it will be his last . He 'll run away for shame . Invent. And why do'st thou hope it will not take ? Boy . Why ? Because I have never a Part in it . — But he shall come short of a Christmas Dinner , my Mother says . Kissing goes by Favour , she says . — Pray ye Gentlemen step in to him , while I run home to Breakfast . Exit Boy . [ Invention draws the Curtain aside . ] Invent. By your leave Sir , — God bless your Learning . Fur. Apollo bless thy Brains , thy Brains so fickle , And Souse them in pure Heliconian Pickle . Invent. Marry , and Soust Hog's Head is no ill Meat , Furor . Pedanto . Gentlemen you are welcome . Ye take me at a hard Task here . Fur. Why ? Prithee Pedanto what 's thy Negotium ? Ped. Why Gentlemen , my Trade is to teach Wild-Geese how t● fly in the Figure of Criss-Cross-Row . — That is to say in English , I am a School-master ; and here against Christmas , I am blowing my Nose for a Dialogue . Invent. A Dialogue ? What 's that ? It 's neither Prologue , nor Epilogue , nor Tragedy , nor Comedy , nor Pastoral , nor Satyr , nor Masque , nor Morrice-Dance . — What 's a Dialogue ? Ped. Why Gentlemen , a Dialogue is a Poetical Pudding , or the Muses Hodg-Podg ; a Discourse like that between Dr. Faustus and the Devil , or two or three Men in a Pig-Market . — That 's a Dialogue . Invent. May I be so bold as to peruse your Library ? Ped. Yes Sir , if you please ; see the Books I have borrowed for the Business . [ Invention takes up the Books , looks in them , and speaks . ] Invent. Plautus . A subtile Diver into Man , and yet The fate of Poets , Poverty and Wit ; Pimp Mercury , and Cuckold-making Iove , Amphitrion's Horns , and Alcamena's Love Could not find out a better Quill , nor we A better Father for our Poetry . Fur. And yet he came off in his last Act , like a Costive Man from the Stool , without wiping . His Splay-feet were too broad for Verse . He 'd been a pretty Fellow , but that they fed him with Mill-Corn and Pottage . — So take him Jaylor . Invent. Ben. Iohnson . Great Brick-bat Ben , the Envy of thy Days ! Thy only English Brow deserves the Bays . Others did wear the Ivy-Bush as Sign , Not of their Wit , but , Lattice-face , and Wine . But thy Industrious Brain ( great Ben ! ) did seem To make the Lawrel , which thou wore , grow Green. Thine are the Tragicks and the Comick Lays ; And thou' rt th'Refiner of our Drossy Phrase ; And so thy Alchymy , I dare be bold , Hath turn'd our baser Mettal into Gold. Fur. Pritty ! Pritty ! — An ordinary Wit would make him Piss and Stink at th'Stake like an old Bear. — And then damnable tedious and costly too . — Every half quarter of an Hour a glass of Sack must be sent of an Errand into his Guts , to tell his Brains they must come up quickly , and help out with a Line . — So take him Jaylor . Invent. Shakspear . His Quill as quick as Feather from the Bow ! O who can such another Falstaff show ? And if thy Learning had been like thy Wit , Ben would have blusht , and Iohnson never writ . Fur. Pish. — I never read any of him but in Tobacco-papers , and the bottom of Pigeon-Pies . — But he had been a Curate to the Stage so long , that he could not choose but get some ends and bottoms ; — I , and they were his Fees too ; — — But for the fine and true Dramatick Law , He was a Dunce and scribled with a Straw . Invent. Beaumont and Fletcher . The Muse's Twins ; and in our English Sphere Castor and Pollux , so they did appear . 'T is thought , when they were Born , Appollo's Will Was to divide th'Two-top't Parnassus Hill , That Beaumont ( Lofty Beaumont ! ) might have one , And Fletcher take the other for his Throne . Fur. A pair of Journey-Men . They write both with a Quill . — — Thus have I seen two Grey-hound Puppies play With one another's itching Tails all day . A couple of Cowards . Part them , and like two Worms , they would shrink in their Heads . Marry , — Take them together , and let them spit in one another's Mouths , and they would do smartly . They would Club for Verse . One find Rhyme , and another Reason . — So take them Jaylor . Invent. Tom Randolph's Poems . A sweeter Swan did never Sing upon The Downy Banks of Oylie Helicon . Methinks , I see the Fates and Muses fight , Who 's Chaplain Tom should be ; and in despight , Like Iealous Lovers , bring him to his Herse , That they might kiss his Chin , and read his Verse . Fur. — 'T was Tom a Bedlam , not Tom Randolph sure , His Wit 's too Violent long to endure . Pitty ! so rare a Fancy should have found An Helicon so deep as to be drown'd . Tom's dead and every Muse hath vow'd to be , For Stafford's sake , a Stafford's Niobe . Take him Jaylor . Invent. These Authors are as good as you can have . — Have you done the Dialogue ? Ped. Alass ! Gentlemen , I am allowed no fuel to my Sacred fire of Poetry ; but I am fain to Curb and Curtail my Fancy . I scorn a Dialogue , as I do Toys and Pamphlets . — I had intended to have had my Scene , Delphos , Apollo and the Nine Muses should have been in a Masque . — But we have no Clothes , unless we would dress them like Gypsies , or Butter-Queens with Baskets on their Arms. — I would have had an Oracle , Priest , Poet and Notaries . — And that Oracle should have told Fortunes ; All these Poet's Ghosts should have come in their Winding-Sheets ; — But in truth , we have not so much Linnen in the Town as would have dress'd them . — I had much ado to borrow an old Doublet to act a Tinker in ; and am fain to pay for Hair to make Beards of , as if the Horse-Tail was the Golden-Fleece . Fur. Difficile est Satyram non scribere . [ He overthrows all the Books . ] Must Poet's Fancies thus be starv'd and tortur'd ! Avant , ye Bastards of Parnassus Mount ! Forswear the Stage ! Undoff your Comick Sock . Which , being sold , this Ignorant Age will scarce Bestow the washing of th'Illiterate World ! Poets were once Crowned and Godded too ; Now not a Penny to buy them Ink withal , And no more Sack than what they take in Spoons , [ He snatcheth away the Quills . ] As dying Men do from your dirty Nurses , Away with that same Quill , away with 't Boy . I would some Prentice would light on 't to cross his Master's Debt-Books when he 's Drunk . Or some Elder-Brother find it , to Subscribe to Ten i' th' Hundred . Or it would serve a whole Corporation to set their Marks to a Petition against Bishops . May it be so full of Teeth , as to write a Libel first , and then the Sentence against the Libellor's Ears . — — But to lie sucking of the Fingers thus , Making a Plot fit for the Theatre , Or Roscius to present , and have no Scene , No Clothes , no Properties , no Candle scarce ! 'T is this makes Furor mad , makes Furor fret ; Wit , that should nothing want , doth nothing get . Ped. But my Credit lies at stake , Gentlemen . There 's never an empty Head of my Trade hereabouts , but ventures to be Witty ; and therefore something must be done ; and something in English too , because here 's Gentlemen will be present at it ; and something for the Times ; and all out of Nothing . Invent. And something shall be done . — Furor , shall we conjure ? Fur. Furor shall conjure ; and I 'll raise the Poets , and charm their Quills to write a Satyr for thee . A Satyr , that shall Sting , and Lash , and Scratch ; sharp like a Razor , that shall make Men hang themselves . And those Nine Brats of Helicon , shall leave their Horse-Pool , to come and grease thy Buskins with their Sweat. Invent. — Speak , — shall it be a Tragedy or a Comedy ; a Pastoral or Satyr ? Invention can do any thing . Fur. Furor Poeticus can do more , you Rogue . I made an Alderman a Poet once , and he never said Grace afterward , but it was in Rhyme ; nor wore his Holy-day Breeches but in Meeter . Ped. Then for Apollo's sake , charm open that Trunk ; there lies Comaedia , a most Pritty Girl . There she lies Fetter'd in that fatal Trunk , and hath done ever since Dialogues came in , and Latine-Speeches under every Sign-post . — Raise her good Furor ; raise her from her Vrn. — — And every Year one Act in five , shall be A Sacrifice unto this God and thee . Invent. I 'll wake her ; and then thou shalt get her out . Fur. Do. — [ Invention with a white Wand goes about the Trunk , and says . ] Invent. The Muses scorn to give their Eyes To Morpheus for a Sacrifice , Therefore Comaedia quickly rise . Upon Parnassus I do know Drowsie Poppy ne'r did grow , No nor Anadine below . Comaedia do no longer snort , Awake , and thank Invention for 't . Comaedia within . Oh — Oh — Oh. — Who calls ? Fur. Come now , I 'll get her out , I 'll warrant thee . Come out you Slut , or else I 'll Knock For Vulcan to break op'e the Lock ; And he shall rend thy Comick Sock , Or make thee Dance without a Smock . Come out , for Furor's in a Rage To see such Goblins on a Stage ; Come drink good Sack and Claret , And thank Poeticus Furor for it . [ Enter Comaedia . ] Com. What ? My Servant Invention ! And Furor my Companion ! — Thanks to you both for my Liberty . — Who is this ? Invent. A true Well-wisher to your Ladyship , and one that desires your Help . Com. I am a Stranger to this Place and him . The Prentices Seven Champions scared me so , that I fled hither for safety . — But he being a Friend of yours , I 'll do what he 'll command me . Fur. A cast of thine Office , sweet Rogue . — Sirrah , speak to her . — Let him kiss thy hand , Wench . — Come . — Swear him first . — Come you little Pedanto ; if you be a Poet , — you shall Swear , — That you will never Drink but till two a Clock in the Morning . — Item , — You shall never be Master of more than one Suit at a time ; and lie in Bed while that is Loused , and put into the Fashion . — Item , You shall keep three or four to admire you , and so pay for the Shot . — Item , Endeavour to get more Comaedians . — Item , Get the Pox in Policy , that no Man may make a Bridg of your Nose . — Item , Be sure to die in Debt . Ped. I will do my Endeavour . Com. You two pass your words for him ? Both , Yes , yes . Ped. This is , fair Lady , but the second Year of Schooling , and I am not provided with old Verses and Knacks , as they are at Stamford , and those stale Places , ( where Verses on the Fifth of November , do serve an Apprentiship before they be set free ) therefore I implore your Aid . Fur. Hang Anagrams , and Acrosticks , and Singing Rhymes , like Pipers at a Wake ; — Tho'st have it . Com. I am not in Tune now . But something I will do for you now ; more hereafter . [ Ceres speaks from above . ] What bold Attempt is this , ye Mortal Shapes , And Brats of Impudence ? Do you not know This place is Ceres's Temple ? And that you dare With your foul Feet trample on my Threshing-floor ! What makes this Concourse here ? Where are my Taskers ? My Threshers that do sacrifice their Sweat And brawny Hands to Ceres ? Out with these Candles , Or I will blast them . Will you fire my Stacks ? And make me die a Martyr ? — Brother Iove ! Lend me a Thunder-bolt . — Fur. A fools Bolt is soon shot . If we burn this Barn , I 'll get her more Barns if she 'll let me . — This is Ceres , and she is woondy angry because we are upon her Ground . — We must please her ; No Ceres no Barley , no Barley no Malt , no Malt no Ale , no Ale no Poets . — We must please her . Com. Invention speak to her . Invent. Let us stand all together . Fur. Surely she lives like Cats and Owls , by catching of Mice . — Ask her , who eat up her Oats in the High-fields last Year . Invent. Peace . Ceres . What ? Are ye Dumb ? Answer me . What 's your Business ? Know ye not that I can Curse your Lands ? Fur. For 2 pence you shall Curse all the Lands that we four have . Ceres . And charge the Fertile Fields to teem no more . The Crooked Plow-man may go slice the Ocean And sow the frothy Furrows of the Sea , With as much hope of Harvest , as his Clods , If I command the Hoary Earth to be No longer Occupied . — Provoke me not . Invent. Great Goddess of our Harvest and great'st Plenty ! Your Frowns can make Invention barren too As well as Grounds . Religion drives us hither . This innocent Multitude , that here is set , Meet not for Mutiny . They 'r no Rebellious Rout. But here they 'r set to see Children play Men , And Boys wear Beards . This Lady , young and soft , And Phoenix downy like , is Comaedia . Innocent Wench ! Not hurt a Mouse within your Walls , You shall not loose a Cob-Nut by our Sport. Ceres . Why come you here to Act it ? Look a Stage That may deserve such glorious Spectators . Ped. Great Goddess ! I am that unhappy Man Unworthy Shepherd of a pretty Flock , But have no where to Fold them , but i th' Temple . I am a bold Incroacher on the Gods , And steal their Free-hold ; But against my Will. And tho we learn and weep , and bleed and play , Among the Untomb'd Ashes of our Fathers ▪ And with prophane Feet , trample o're their Urns ; Yet there to vent our Folly , and build our Stage , Were to challenge Thunder-bolts from Iove . We rather choose to hazard Ceres's frown , Than yield . — That we hereafter may confess , That Ceres was the Muses Patroness . Fur. Do , do , — And I will promise you a Days-Work in Harvest . Ceres . Is Mirth all your intent ? All. Yes , yes . Ceres . Then go about it quickly . You 'r Welcome . — — And I will be an Actor in your Play , There 's none but Ceres shall your Prologue say . [ They all Sing . ] SONG . 1. MNemosyne no more shall be The Muses Mother Crown'd with Bays , We have found one more kind than she ; 'T is Ceres best deserves our Praise . 'T is she , 't is she Henceforth shall be , The Muses kindest Landlady . 2. Parnassus is but barren Ground , Apollo but a Beardless Boy ; In Helicon we 'll here be drown'd , But Ceres she shall be our Ioy. 'T is she , 't is she Deserves the Knee For this Days gracious Liberty . 'T is she , &c. [ The PROLOGUE spoken from above by Ceres . ] GAllants ye 'r Welcome , Ceres bids ye so , And hath a Blessing for you , er'e ye go . You that are Clergy , if you 'll Merry be , I 'll see your Tith-Shocks paid more Honestly ; And he that Cheats you , this shall be his Pain , Above all Knaves , to be A Knave in Grain . If Married Men will Laugh ; For them I pray May on their Heads fall Cornu-Copia ▪ But he that from hence Discontented goes , May a whole Harvest of Corns grow on 's Toes . And you Good Women , if you 'll sit and see Both Wives and Maids , you shall all Fruitful be : You that Good Fellows are , but like our Sport , And you shall have the price of Malt fall for 't . In this , my Blessing to you all appears , I 'll give you Corn , if you will lend us Ears . Fall to then Gallants ; I confess your Fare Is course and homely , but you Welcome are . You 'r Welcome ; and in this your Welcome stands , That you would soundly ply your Mouths and Hands . Exeunt . ACT the Second . [ Enter Marchurch reading a Letter . ] Marchurch . A Fever ? — I would it had been the Plague , or a whole Kennel of Diseases . — Yet the Fever is a good sound Card. — Out upon them ; these Parsons live for Wagers , I think . — Fourscore and odd ! — His Parish have been weary of him this thirty Years , and I these Forty . — Three or four that have bought a Tith-Pig in Poke have paid for the Advowson , and are all Dead , and now , God be thanked , he hath found in his heart to be Sickish . — If the old Rogue die — Ha , ha , ha , what a Flock of Flesh-Crows , Learned Creatures in Black Coats , shall I have Nawing about me , like so many Jack-Daws about a Steeple . I 'll get that Oath against Symony well oyled and greased , that it may go down glib with the Gudgeons . [ Enter Ursely to him , Big-belly'd . ] Vrs. Do ye hear , Sir ? let me not Lie-in here . Your Kinsman Marpudding will never endure me . He 's never out of the Kitchin , prying up and down . I 'me so fearful of him lest he should spie my Belly — [ She crys . ] — I know that it cannot be helped now , But — but — you would be doing with me . — I would , — I would , — I had been in my Grave . Mar. Come , come , Wench , leave your crying , Fool ; I know thou hast Brains in thy Belly . — No body knows of it , do's there ? Vrs ▪ No , no , Sir — But I would I had taken of that Savin in time you gave me ; but now it is too late . Mar. Come , come , Girl , — [ He looked about him , and Kisses her . ] — Here , here , you Slut , buy thee some Clouts , and keep close , — I 'll make it the bravest Bastard in England , and yet there are great ones abroad too . — What ? If all fail , I 'll make him my own Clark ; and if he come once to have a twang in the Law , I 'll warrant — . Vrs. Yea , Sir , But you 'll divide the Mony that he should have for Warrants . I had rather that he were made Priest and then Clark. — Hold still , your Ruff's unpin'd , — [ She kisses him . ] — Sir , I hear Mr. Parson 's a dying ; — you may put me and my Belly to some poor Minister ; Alass ! all will be a case to him . — Look you here , — [ She pulls out a black Hood and puts it on . ] Do I not look well in it ? — I shall make a Gentlewoman quickly . — I look as well as some Body . — I pray , Sir , — I even long to be in my Pew , and my loose Gown , and to take the Wall. Mar. A pritty Woman , — Go thy way Wench , I 'll think on thee ; but here we are in danger to be seen . — I fear nothing but that the old Pitch-barrel hath Fire in him still . — If he recover this Fit , the Devil 's in him . — I would he might live to see all Learning call'd in , and his Chancel turn'd into a Barn , for me to lay my Corn in , and he and his Tribe die all mad in poor English. — Go thy way , Wench , — [ Kisses her again . ] Vrs. Do I not kiss better in my black Bag ? — I pray , Sir , remember me . Exit . [ Marchurch remains alone . ] Scena Secunda . Mar. Si non Castè tamen faute ; It is the Statute Henrici Vicesimo . — Hum , hum , give me a Wench with a Dishclout in her Mouth for my Mony. O , a Kitchin-wench will melt sweetly , and she 's cheap too . They may talk ; but I would aslieve smell Coal-dust and ashes , as Civet and Perfumes . Hang Catamountains , give me a Pole-Cat ; she 's cheap , she 's cheap , and hath sound Buttocks . — Come to London , and there must be Wine , Oysters , Lobsters , Sturgeon , Canary , Anchovis , Patagia's ( out on 't , one Pye cost me five Pounds ) a Periwig for Mr. Bawd , a new set of Teeth for old Whore Grandmother , with a Pok . — Come , come , three penny worth of Lechery is enough at a time in Conscience . If this Wench would but Deliver it once as her Act and Deed , I would make it and her presently go off with a Presentation . — And yet it is a Good Living . — I had an hundred Pieces , my Wife a Sattin Gown , and my Man a new Livery , for one worse than this by a good deal . — I cannot tell what I should do . — Let me see this Letter again , — it does me good to read that the old Priest is a dying . — I could find in my heart for good Luck , to send him a Mess of Porredge and Mercury . [ He stands reading to himself . ] [ Enter two Watchmen . ] Watch. 1. Come Neighbour Dungo , — it hath oft even grieved me to see how negligent Watchmen are in that great Office they are in ; setting their Rusty Holberds against prophane Ale-house Doors , till they , being even Drunk , have charged them to aid them Home in the King's Name . Since I am called to the Place , I will do the best Demeanour to bring these paltry Ale-houses into Reformation . March. How now Friends , — how now , — what are ye Watchmen these dangerous times ? Ha ? Watch. 1. Yes , if it may please your good Worship . Mar. Well , Christmas is coming , I hope you will Watch your time to bring me my Capons and Pullets . Watch. 1. I have a couple of fine Fowl for your Worship , God bless ' em . Mar. Ay , well said Neighbours . — Do you know what a Trust the King hath committed to you ? Watch. 1. La'ye there now , we are next to the King. ( aside . ) Watch. 2. No , indeed Sir , not so well as we ought . Mar. Well , I think I shall be Mayor next Year , and therefore I have made a Speech in readiness ; and , tho I say it , a very Learned one . — Come , it may do you good . — Suppose now I was Mayor , and you my Servants . — Suppose your Bills were Maces , and I , having drunk my Gill of Muskadine , and polished my Venerable Beard , were set . — Hum , hum , — hum , — thus I begin . — Mark Neighbours , I pray you . Watch. 1. Sir , our Ears are even open , and do desire as it were to be attentive to you . Mar. Whereas , or forasmuch as the chief Man in a Kingdom , whom the Latines call Rex , We , A King , — Hum — cannot , or is not able to see all places , like the Bird which the Poets call Argus with his hundred Eyes ; — He therefore hath appointed under him two Officers , the one a Magistrate , the other a Governor . — Do you mark , — and these two are the Rat-Traps of the Kingdom , as it were , baited with the soft Cheese of Justice , to take those who gnaw holes in the Commonwealth , the Cubbard of the Kingdom . — And these two , like those two Friends I read of in Prophane Writ , Caesar and Pompey , are to joyn together , — Hum — Fratres in Malo , as one saith , Brethren in Coats of Male , to keep off danger . — And forasmuch as I am called to one of these Duties under the Vulgar Title of Mayor , give me leave to tell you according to the Statute of Richard the Sixth , what a Mayor is . A Mayor is a Magistrate with two Legs , Sadled and Bridled for his Masters service , very stable without stumbling , being foremost in a Team of Aldermen . — Now this Mayor comes to his Office two ways , either he is Chosen or Elected . For you must know , two Places are capable of a Major , the one a Corporation , the other a Body-Politick ; Chosen by two sorts of Men , the one Brethren , the other Fraternity . — Since therefore I am Elected , I will not Nod away my time , but spend it as that famous Cateline did , when he was Mayor in Rome , and in punishing Usury an Hundred and sixty Years ago . — And so Brethren , hoping that some of you will help me , and other some of you assist me , I rest , — God save the King. Watch. 2. The King ? — I say , God save your Worship . — I'm but an ignorant Man , but in my opinion it is a rare Speech ; is 't not Neighbour ? — Our Vicar , for all his black Coat , hath not such a word in his Belly . Mar. Well Friends , I think this will do , — If the Fools had chosen me Burgess , I would have Speech'd it in better Stuff than this is . — All 's one , — Caetere quaecunque volunt , go , look to your Business . Ambo. God bless you , Sir , and many a good Mayor's Speech may you make . [ Exeunt Watchmen . ] Mar. alone . Well , — this Wenches Belly is a vile Pull-back , But — here comes my Nephew . — What Bookish too ? Cookery or Houswifery I trow . [ Enter Marpudding reading . ] Well , he 's worth twenty Wenches . I think the best Porridg-maker in the World. I 'll listen a while . Marpud. Ha — How to make a Hen lay twice a day , after Saint Andrews . But a Cock to his Crew , That at Treading is true ; For 't is that which they say , Doth cause the Hen to lay . And when your Hen hath laid her Egg , She 'll Cackle and stretch out her Leg. Then fill her full of Grain , And something she will Lay again . Well , I 'll make our Maids look after the second Laying , or I 'll — A pretty Book this is , — I wonder why it sets not down what Egg-shells are good for . It goes to my Heart to see so many Egg-shells thrown away and broken . — How to make good Pottage for Servants . — Ay marry — [ Reads . ] Take green Puddle out of a Bog , Thickned with the Spawn of a Frog : Let there be a Dishclout in 't , And of Barley Flower a Pint — Marry this is costly . Bullocks Liver is good stuff , Boyl them till they be enough : The Duck-weed Liqour being green , Is like Pot-herbs quickly seen . The Dishclout will both fat the Pot , And make Brewiss too I wot . The Liver will make 't of Meat to taste , And if they will not eat it , let them fast . ] Well , I 'll have this by heart . March. Why , how now Nephew ! What Book have you got there ? The Practice of Piety . Marpud. Piety ? No. — The Practice of good Housewifery , I trow , an excellent Book this is . — I pray you , Sir , speak to your Servants , they call me Cotquean , and I know not what , if I look but a little after them . Would you think they cannot Fry a bit of Pudding without Butter . — There 's your Maid Vrseley , your Kitchin-wench , is more Sauce than Pig ; and they cozen me too : For I 'll be sworn I grop'd the Hens this Morning , and there were a Dozen of them with Egg , I 'm sure , and I can find but Five . — Your Scotchman Hob too , since he came into England , hath learnt to pare his Cheese . — Uncle , Uncle , they 'r Corn-fed ; pray you Chide them . March. I will Iohn , I will. — What have we to Dinner I pray you ? — Let us spare a little . Next Year I must be Mayor , and then we will be Liquorish . Marpud. Why , there is Sassages which you left cold last Night , and good warm Milk-Porredg . I was a making a Pudding too , but I came to look you . The Parson is dead , and there 's one stays with a Letter to speak to you ; Pray order it so , that I may have something too . March. Good News , good News , I 'll warrant you . [ Exit March. ] Marpud. Well , I must read good thrifty Cookery against next Year , [ He pulls out his Book again ] — How to wash Clothes without Soap ; Take Hogs-dung a good deal — [ Enter Ursley stirring a Pudding . ] — What do you follow me for ? Can I never be at quiet ? What do you want , I wonder ? Vrs. Want ? I would my Quarter were come out , I would see you hang'd e're I would dwell here . Your Uncle sends word he 'll have a Minister Dine here , and is this a Pudding fitting ? Never an Egg in it , nor a bit of Suet. For love of God give us some , and some Money for Plumbs . Marpud. Plumbs ? — Yes , — Do you long ? — Come , come , you stir it handsomely ! [ He takes it from her and stirs it . ] I 'll make this a good Pudding , I 'll warrant you . — Here go you and put these Onions into the Pot. — [ Gives her some Onions out of his Pocket . ] Vrs. Nay then , take Apron and all . — [ She pulls off her Apron , and he spies her great Belly . ] Marpud. Ha! brave Whisking ! What , are you with Child ? As I 'm an honest Man , big Belly'd ! — This is good Gear . Vrs. Yes , Sir , that I am with Child , and to your cost too . — ( Aside . ) [ I'll vex him since he hath spy'd it . ] Marpud. Mine you Whore ! What , would be seen ? Vrs. Goodly Mr. Iohn , how strange you make it ! Well , I 'll never trust Man again ! — You 've forgot what you did to me , I warrant you ; but I have something to show for 't : You are like to be a Father , I promise you . Do you remember the Pantry last Lent , when you wanted a bit of Flesh ? Marpud. O you impudent Jade ! When ? What ? Where ? Did I ever touch you ? Vrs. Did you not ? How dare you stand in 't ? — Did you not ? — And did not I tell you I was with Child , and long'd for a Turnip , which you gave me , and bid me keep close ? Marpud. O damn'd Whore ! I was accurst that ever I had to do with thee , you Quean ! Vrs. It seems you had knowledg of me then ; well , — your Tongue will not suffer you to Lie. Marpud. Husie ! — Did I ever meddle or make with thee ? Vrs. Make with me ! — Ay that you did . — We joyn'd to make a Child . Marpud. I joyn , you Strumpet ? The Devil is in thee . Vrs. He was when you were in me , but never else . Marpud. A Pox on your Pudding , — [ He throws it down ] — Husie , I 'll go tell my Uncle . Vrs. Nay , I 'll be there before you . He and all the Town shall know it . — They know partly you are never out of the Kitchin , prying up and down after my Tail , snooking in every Hole ; — Cotquean ! Who should do it but you Sirrah ? — [ She offers to go out . ] Marpud. Nay , but stay Vrsley ; one word . Did I ever touch you ? No , never in all my Life . — You will undo me for ever . Vrs. Did you ? Ay , and did not I tell you I would find another Father ? — And so I will yet , if you will be rul'd . — Meddle or not Meddle , how will you help your self if I lay it to you ? — Come , come . Marpud. Ay , that 's true ; you may undo me if you will , but I hope you will have more honesty . Vrs. Yes , yes , I 'll teach you to meddle in Womens Matters . — I swear , unless you will give me the Keys of all , I will open all . Marpud. Well Vrsley , I could never have smelt out this Plot. — But name me not , and I will. Vrs. Will you let me have Butter ? Marpud. Ay. Vrs. And Oat-meal ? Marpud. Ay. Vrs. And Plumbs ; or any thing ? Marpud. Ay. Vrs. Well , look ye do ; I have that will keep you in awe . Give me the Pantry Key now . Marpud. Well , would I had never seen it . — Will you not wrong me ? Vrs. No , if you will hold your Tongue , and take no notice , but I must bind you to the Peace ; for if my Master know it , I 'll lay it to you . Marpud. A Pox of all your Gipsy Jades . — Must I be thus Tongue-ti'd for nothing . — There 's a good Pudding spoil'd too . Vrs. Ha , ha , ha , — come , few words to a Bargain . — Will you hold your Tongue , and I will hold mine ? Marpud. Here is the Keys . — The Devil take ' em . — Fare you well . — I 'll be Reveng'd . Exit . Vrs. So , so , a brave Plot ! Now I 'm provided with all things against the Hour ; and this Gudgeon is in a Net safe . — If I can but be laid and up again , to go off with the Living ; all 's Right . Exit . ACT the Third . Enter Bookworm alone , as from the Patron . Bookworm . HA ! True , true old Menander ! 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . The Blood and Life of Man is powerful Gold , Of which you have none I dare be bold ; You may a while Breath , or Move , or Walk , or so , But for a Dead Man , amongst Men you 'll go . 'T is so , 't is so . Greek , Hebrew Fool ! how have I spent my time ? My precious Midnight-hours ? Ten tedious Winters ; Burnt out a thousand Lamps ; out-watch'd the Moon , When she sate longest up and been most pale ; My constant Candle was a surer Friend To Watchmen , Bellmen , and the Drowsie Weights ; The Ominous Night-crow , envying my Light , Would try to scare me from my Aristotle , Beating her self against my Window Bars , Whilst I within have lean'd upon this Elbow Searching Philosophy , as dark as Night , And conning Plato , as Boys do their Grammars ; Brooding each Line , and sitting on each Verse , As close as Moth or Canker , till mine Eyes With so much Labour , oft would sweat a Tear Upon my knotty Task . At last . ( God wot ) My Father dies , and leaves two hundred Pounds More for his hopeful Boy , to buy him Books . And robb'd his other Sons to make me Rich. Then did I mount the Sphears , and pose the Stars , Catechise Planets , what their Natures were , I left an hundred of my Angels there . Then did I search the Oracle of Heaven , And plum'd the Ocean of Divinity ; Provided still against the Day I should be call'd to do the Church some Service . But — now I see I studied Poverty , And purchas'd Beggary at too dear a rate . Coming to Marchurch for this Living With Learning , Manners , Orders , Bishops Letters ; O , Sir , ( says he ) Bishops are out of Credit ; And for your Learning it will serve i th' Belfrey To teach young Children : But the Living's gone — Unless your Money call it back again . Why , Sir , ( said I ) I 'll give four hundred Pounds , I 'me sure my Knowledg cost me little less . A Pox of Knowledg ( cries the greedy Churl ) You Scholars are too troublesome . Farewel . What shall I do ? I cannot Curse him , nor my self . Poor Wretch ! he knows not the price of Virtue ; and I do too well . — 'T is dear , 't is dear , the Money I have spent would have bought me Land or Living , House or Wife ; it would have maintain'd me in Scarlet and Livery , and lasted a while in Hawks or Horses ; I could have Sworn it away , or Drunk it either , or Plaid it out for Pots at Shuffleboard or Billiards : — But it 's gone , and I as far to seek as Men in Leather-breeches at the Statues . — Here 's all is left . — Some thirteen Shillings . It is in vain to grieve . — I 'll pawn my Clothes and buy some others , and with my little Sum of Mony go trade in Toys and Pamphlets . — A Profession that will get more Money than Disputing . And tho I have Read much , and Studied long , I will give all my Learning for a Song . Exit . Scena Secunda . Enter Marchurch and Sir Homily . March. Is he Dead , are you sure ? Sir Hom. Yea indeed , as Sylva Synogaga saith very well upon that very place . E vivis exirit , he is Dead . March. Dead , Sir Homily ? Why , a Dog is dead . Fie upon 't , are you a Scholar , and no better Expression in your Mouth ? Sir Hom. Why truly your Worship's Observation is very good ; for tho the English read it Dead , yet the Geneva Translation , which we most follow , renders it Departed ; so that he is not Dead only , but Departed also , if please your Worship . March. aside . [ I made this Mungrel once a promise of the Living , and now he 's come for 't ] — Please me Sir Homily ? Yes , it would please me if you would depart too ; I shall never have such an Honest Man as he that is gone . — Aside . [ A very Knave . ] Sir Hom. I desire your Worship to consider my Suit. March. Why , what is your Suit ? Fur. [ His Suit ? Ha , ha , ha , — it 's a very poor one . — That 's ready to Depart , I 'me sure . ] Sir Hom. Even , Sir , that you would be pleased to stand my friend Amicis opitulari , as the Master of the Sentences hath it . March. Pitulari ? — Pray thee Fellow leave this Canting ; I understand no Latine , but Summa Totalis . Sir Hom. Why , Sir , the Summa Totalis is , That I may succeed him in your Living . March. In the Living ? Why , how dare you think of such a thing ? With what Face canst thou ask it ? There 's never a Scholar of you all deserves such a Living . Aside . — [ Ay , this Fellow hath been Curate , and taught School here this dozen Years ; he may have Horn-book'd himself into some Money . ] — Hark you , Sir Homily , How long have you been Curate here ? — A good while , I trow ? Sir Hom. Why Sir , as I remember , some twelve Years . I bought these Clothes then , and they are almost worn out now . March. Well , Sir Homily , you are a Moneyed Man , they say ; Can you lend me ten Pieces ? Sir Hom. Alas Sir , Opus est mihi Viginti minis ! March. Come , come , Opus and Vsus must go together with me ; and Viginti minis be in the Dative Case too . — Beside , Sir Homily , How dare you come to me for the Living ? Sir Hom. Why Sir ? March. How oft have I heard you ▪ with blushing , rail and complain against me ? against Vsury principally ? Which I put up a good while and said nothing : But I must have one will be quiet and peaceable , and Preach but once a Month. Fur. [ One ! — within this twelve Months you might have had an Hundred would have Preached but once a Quarter . ] March. Again , Sir Homily , the Women of the Town cry out against you exceedingly ; you have almost kill'd their Children with Whipping of them . — I can tell you ; you 've made a Rod for your own — Sir Hom. I warrant you , Sir , I can please the Women , I can have both their Hands and their Voices . March. Ay , their Voices to scold at you , and their Hands about your Ears . — Come , Sir Homily , I must use your own Language . now ; — If you have the Living , Untruss , untruss . Sir Hom. What Sir ? March. Why , your Purse-strings ; nothing else . Sir Hom. Why Sir , I have nothing but a little AEs in presenti , as the School-men say ; but you promis'd me once , when I was a Witness for you at the Assize , that I should have it for nothing . March. Nay , if you be at Promises , I promise you , you shall come short on 't . Come , come , you 'r a sawcy Knave Homily . The Living is now mine ; and therefore I give you Warning here to provide for your self , you shall be no longer Curate here Sirrah . — Get you gone . Sir Hom. Nay , I beseech you Sir. March. Nay , I beseech you be gone , or I 'll beat that Latine Nose of yours , to your English Face . Sir Hom. Latine Nose ? You ventured far to have said a French Nose . — Will you not be as good as your word , Sir ? March. Yes that I will , Sirrah , — [ Beats him . ] Sir Hom. Farewel Canker . — Have I this payment for my Service ! Exit . March. So , I 'me glad I am deliver'd of this Bryar . If Vrsely can but be Delivered well , we are safe . Why , this is it to countenance a Scholar ! A Chimney-sweeper shall have it first ; or any thing that goes in Black. This Fellow , if I should give it him freely , ( as God forgive me that ever I should have such a thought ) would be the first Man that would make Vrsely do Penance , and me help to Repair Pauls . No , no , if I can get but an honest Book-learn'd Fellow , that will come off with more Gold and less Latine , it 's right . — I 'll look to this Rascal ; I know he 'll come anone and recant , and offer Money too . — But I 'll serve him a Trick . [ He knocks with his Stick ] Why Hob , — why Hobnail there . — Hob answers within , I 'll come anon . March. There comes a Fellow that I 'll set upon the Service ; a Northern-Fellow that hath got well under me . I 've made him Constable this Year . He 's a Fellow that never could endure any thing in Black , but a black Iack or Pot ; — as brave a Scare-crow as ever hung upon a Dunghil . Enter Hob. Hob. God give you a good e'ne Master , did you call ? March. Ay Hob , ay . Hob. I was at Mumle-ty-Peg with a Barley Bag-pudding below . Much good do 't me . March. What news from the Field , Hob ? Hob. Why , there 's Brock , your Grisle Mare , cannot Gang for Kibes . We must get some Brimstone , and Train-Oyl , and anoint them I trow . — We have plow'd all the Land next the Dike-Nook to Day . March. But hark you Hob , you must undertake a Business for me to day , and do it lustily . Hob. What 's that , marry ? March. Why this is it Hob ; Our Parson 's Dead . Hob. Marry , the Dule rest his Cragg . — He did so spose me a while agon , I could not con him an Answer : He askt me who gave me my Name ? March. Nay hold , but here me speak . There 's Curate Homily . March. Nay hold , but hear me speak . There 's Curate Homily . — Hob. Ay , as Honest a Man as ever break Crust . March. Pish , pish , a Knave , a very Knave . March. That 's no matter , tho he be a Knave , he 's an Honest Man for all that . March. Nay , be quiet a little Hob. He was here awhile ago , Railing and Complaining against you mightily . Hob. Against me ! The Dule on him ! What does he ken o' me ? March. Why , he says , I let thee have too cheap a Pennyworth of thy Farm ; and that thou art so Covetous . — Besides he comes to claim the Living of me ; I think he was Drunk too . Hob. Hark you Sir , I am Constable , and I 'll have a pair of Stocks made with ten Holes , and he shall have Tithe ; and if he have not his Pass about him , I 'll set fast his Hands by the Heels . March. No , I 'll tell you a better way . Stand you here with your Whip , whilst I go down and watch for him ; I think he 'll come this way presently again ; if he does , Yerk him soundly , and forwarn him my Ground . Hob. Well , let me alone . — I 'll louk the Sloven . — I 'll sponge his Gaskins . March. Prithee do , soundly ; spare him not . Exit March. Hob. I 'll warrant you Master . — I have not quite Din'd yet . — This Marpudding cuts us vile short ; I 'se womble i' th' Crop still , but I shall have the better Stomach to him . — Abuse me and my Master ! — What the Dule harm have I done him ? I'se gar mumble the Sloven if he Gang this way , I 'se line his black Coat for him ; — I 'se make him past standing two Hours a Sunday to spoil our Victuals . — Here he comes , I 'se step and listen a little . Enter Sir Homily . Sir Hom. Well , Fallere fallentem non est fraus , so saith my Author . He that does promise make , and then deceive , To cozen him 's not Knavery , by your leave . What an Ass was I , to think Learning would get a Man a Living ? If Parnassus was this Churl 's ground , he 'd plow it up , and make the poor Muses gather Stones out on 't , as they do Irish Women . — O , if I had come with my thirty or forty Pieces , I should have been some Sundays bidden to Dinner to my own Tithe-Pig . — Marry , and then I might have set at the lower end of the Table with the Folks , and have said Grace . — No , no , I am resolved to have a Plot , if I could meet with Hob. Hob aside . [ Hob will meet with you presently . ] Sir Hom. Yonder are two more Scholars that he hath turn'd away . — Faith , I 've got a Plot will fit his Worship ; and may hap , make him turn his Ruff into a Band , otherwise called an Halter . Hob. Hey , ho , whirry : [ Whips Sir Hom. ] Sir Hom. Nay , good Hob , good Hob. Hob. How now Sirrah ? Plain Hob ? Do you know who you speak to ? It might be Mr. Constable Hob in your Mouth , Goodman Curate , you shew your Manners . Sir Hom. Nay , pray , what do you mean ? Will you kill me ? Hob. No , Sirrah , I will Fley you alive . — Abuse me , and my Master no more , Sirrah . — You say I have my Farm too cheap ; But you shall pay dear enough for it . [ Whispers him . ] Sir Hom. O , no , never in my Life . I am come to speak with you for your good . Hob. Ay , Sirrah , this is for your good too . — Ha ? Sir Hom. Nay , hold , I 'll make thee a Man , — a Gentleman . Furor . [ Faith he seems to be no very Gentle-man , by his Whipping thee . ] Hob. Come , quickly , make me a Gentleman streight . Come get up , I 'll give you leave . Sir Hom. Why , thus it is , — Our old Parson 's Dead , and the Living is in your Masters Disposing . He will not part with it without Money , and I have none my self , or if I had , he will not let me have it . If you 'll make your self , now venture for this Living . — None now can have two Livings a piece . The price of Steeples will fall . 'T is but thirty or forty Pieces ( as you are a Money'd Man , I 'me sure ) and you 'r made for ever . You cannot miss of it . And what a brave thing is it to be a Parson ! Hob. Ha! — Cuds-foot it 's a brave Plot. But how can that be ? I am not Book-learn'd above my single Psalter . I must read Prayers with a Feskew . Sir Hom. No , no , trouble not your self about Prayers . — Can you lie long in Bed with an handsome Wife ? Eat good fat Pigs ? Ride a Hunting ? That 's all you shall do ; ler me alone with the Service ; I 'll be your Curate . Hob. This is good Gear . — But how must I do for Sermons ? Sir Hom. Paw , waw ! What do you talk of Sermons ? Talk what comes at Tongues-end , can't you ? Hob. Ay , but I have no Latine to spout at him , if he spose me . Sir Hom. Latin ? — It is that which undoes many a Man. Take heed of that while you breath . I 'll learn you a word or two shall serve , I 'll warrant you . Hob. Ay , but he 'll ken me to be Hob , his Man , I doubt . Sir Hom. No , no , you shall have a false Beard on , that shall make you look very Grave ; and I 'll lend you my Clothes ; I 'll put on a Gray Cloke and wait on you , as your Man ; and you shall call your self by some other Name . Never fear , I 'll warrant you speed . I 'll stand behind you , and tell you . — Be sure to shew good store of Money , and Bargain with him presently . Hob. Why , methinks I feel my self creeping into a Gentleman ( Mr. Doctor Parson Hob ) already . I may be a Bishop before I die . Why , what a vile Knave was I , to whip so Honest a Man ? Here , Sir Homily , besworn you shall whip me now , because I whipt you . — Besworn you shall . — Nay , Cuds-digs you shall . Sir Hom. Nay , but your Clothes are thicker than mine ; mine are but thin . Hob. Why , I 'll strip me to the very Sark . Sir Hom. No , no , I 'll forgive thee freely . — Let 's go and dress our selves quickly . [ Offers to go . ] Hob. Nay , stay — hark you . — Great words butter no Parsnips . — I 'se not buy a Pig i th' Poke . — Have you seen the Comedy ? Sir Hom. What Comedy ? Hob. Why , the Comedy you ken , — The Living . Sir Hom. Why , it is worth an Hundred Pounds a Year , Man. Hob. What , must I wear this Gray Hat too ? Sir Hom. No , you shall have mine ; 'T is a Steeple-crown'd , and it will do better for a Gentleman . Hob. I had rather you would teach me a little Latine now , I 'se con't , be-like , as we gang . Sir Hom. Why , in your Discourse , if he ask you who you are , you may say Ego sum Clericus . Hob. What 's that ? Sir Hom. I am a Clark. Hob. Clark ? Why , I thought I should have been Parson ; must I be but Clark ? Sir Hom. Pish. Why , then thou shalt say , Ego sum Presbyteros . Hob. What 's that , — Bread and Butter ? Sir Hom. No , it 's Greek and Latine too , — I am a Priest. Hob. Ay , marry ; I would have the Priest forget that ever he was Clark. Sir Hom. And if he use you well , cry Gratias ago Domine . Hob. So. — But if he ask how Old I am ? — Sir Hom. Why , cannot you tell that ? Hob. No , by my troth , it 's so long ago , that I'se forgotten . Sir Hom. Why , then you may say , I am about Fifty ; and the elder you are , the cheaper you 'l have it . Hob. — Ay , that 's true . — Come let us gang . — But what 's the Latin thing ? Sir Hom. Why , Gratias ago Domine . Hob. Oh , oh — Gratias ago Homily . Exeunt . ACT the Fourth . Enter Bookworm like a Ballad-man . Bookw. HOW shall he Sing , whose Throat is hoarse with care ? Or he keep Time , whose Heart-strings broken are ? Alas ! how shall I sing that am so much out of Tune ? I had rather confute Bellarmine , or turn Aquinas into English Verse . Yet this is better than the Mill of School , where they grind Grammar Toll-free ; and the poor Master turns round in 's Accidence till his Eyes drop out . Nay , faith , it 's better than a Parlour Lecture , tho not so sweet and gainful ; where the Men with their smooth Chin , and Velvet Caps , stand damning the Tongues ; Unless the Hebrew escape , because , like Women , it doth backward fall . All Learning , to Reprobrates , is as ungodly as Logick . — But I shall forget my Knacks . — Come , come , come . New Almanacks , new Almanacks , new Almanacks new — Who buys an Almanack ? without Saint-Days , and Ember Weeks in 't , or any superstitious Feast-Days that end in Mass , Christmass , Candlemass — Who buys an Almanack , with a new Chronology of Memorable Accidents ? — Since the Conquest , one Year . Since the Rising in the North — Since Hallifax went to the Tower — Since Finch and Windebank departed this Nation — Since Doctors Commons were enclosed — Since the Scots had Mony — Who buys an Almanack , with new Fairs and Markets . — As for Example — Upon the thirty first of February , there shall be a Fair throughout all England ; At which there will be sold Northern-Cloth that will not shrink ; Sponges that will not Drink . Tradesmen may buy Consciences . Whore's Maiden-heads , and French-men Noses . There will be also Tongues tip't with true Latin for Attornies ; and Pens that will write true English for Gentlewomen . Extemporary Prayers without Tautologies . Fellowships for Scholars , and Scholarships for Fellows ; and Benefices so plentiful , they shall go a begging . — Come , who buys an Almanack ? Memorandum ; There shall be great Eclipses in the Star-Chamber , by reason of the happy Conjunction of the two Houses with Sol. The Sea of Rome will be at so low a Tide , that it shall not come up to Labeth . There will be also great Thundrings among great Ones , m and that will cause great Lightnings among the Subjects , which will clear the Air mightily . — This Year also , Lords will have but one Lady ; Ladies but one Face ; Doctors will preach twice a Day , and their Curats eat Roast-meat ; Scholars will be all of one Opinion ; England of one Religion ; Birds all of a Colour , and Shrove-Tuesday will fall upon a Munday . — But these things will not be seen of us in this Kingdom . — There will be also strange Apparitions — Two Phoenix's — Three blew Beans in a blew Bladder . Four silent Women — Six true Taylors . Ten Maids at One and Twenty . Twelve Honest Men of a Jury . Lawyers will plead for Nothing . Poets will purchase Land , because Sack will be at a Penny a Gallon . Courtiers will pay their Debts . May Day will fall on the 12 th of August . — Come — Will no Body buy my Almanacks ? Fur. Alas , poor Scholar ! He shall take some Mony of me . Hear you , Friend , What is the price of that Book ? Bookw. But two pence , Sir. Fur. Sack , at a penny a Gallon , say'st thou ? Bookw. Yes . Fur. If this be true , 'Faith I 'le quaff burnt Sack. Bookw. And if it be not true , 'Faith burn my Almanack . Fur. There 's Six pence for thee ; give me the rest in Books . — Hast thou not pretty Knacks ? Bookw. Yes , here 's a Cobler's Sermon , ( I have but one of them of thirty left since morning ) And Father Phillips philip'd too — New come out . Fur. Well said ; give me them . Bookw. — Almanacks , Almanacks , Almanacks , New — Let me see . It 's cold ; I 'le go spend my two-pence at the Ale house , and hear what News , and come again . [ Exit & Redi●t . ] — God save me ; Here comes Fantastes of our Colledg : A pritty Scholar , yet a meer Animal . — He comes for the Living too . Faith , I 'le sit down a little while and see the Issue . Enter Fantastes like a Scholar , with one Boot Russet , and the other Black. Fur. [ Alas ! here comes another Aristotle in a black Cover . — Ha , ha , ha , his Boots are of two several Opinions , or else of two several Vniversities ; The one of Cambridg , the other of Oxford . — God bless him ; what a fatal Cap he hath on ! It looks as if it had served an Apprentiship at the Gallows , to teach those that are hang'd Blind-man's Buff. ] Fantastes opens his Box. Fantastes . Let me see my Colledg-Letters ? — Oh , safe — My Orders ? Oh , safe . — My Petition — Oh! — Come , I 'le read it over once more . — First , I must premise two Legs ( that 's the least ) — But how if there should be Gentlewomen ? I never kist any Body in a black Bag in my Life . Fur. [ What ? Man ? Set a good Face on 't . You are not the first Scholar that kiss'd a Lady . ] They say , they 'l turn their Cheeks — And then I 'le do , Quicquid in Buccam Venerit ▪ — I do not remember any thing in Aristostle concerning Kissing . Fur. [ Unless in his Posteriorum . ] Fant . 'Faith , I 'le turn and blow my Nose , if any come by , as if I did not see them . And for my Hat — Here , thus — Or rather thus — Nay , better thus : Most Propitious Patron : AS I was Equitating in these Rural Dimensions , the intelligence of the Vacuity of your Worship 's Ecclesiastical Donation , did dexterously occur and perforate my Auricles ; And forthwith , gratifying my Beast with a Measure of Pinguifying Provender , I did approperate to your resplendent Habitation , to impenetrate the Beneficial Presentation to me , A profound Aristotelian . — Sir Fortune hath not Beatify'd me with Mundane Promotions , neither have I conglomerated any Terrestrial Substance ; But if you please , with your perspicuous Luminaries to contemplate and perscrutate these Testifications , you shall be animadverted of my Deportment in the Oxfordian Society , in my modification for Literature . Here is moreover in this Membrane with the cerous Assignments , the Episcopal Assign to gratify your Supplicant , ( ponderating the Premises ) you shall vivificate the mortiferous Essence of my Intellectuals , and invocate into this Domical one that will not contaminate your Family ; but perprecate the Deities for the longitude of their Benediction upon your Propagation : And remain , Your Incarcerated Creature , Fantastes . There 's Rhetorick in every word , I 'me sure . Fur. [ In troth , I hope some body will take him for a Conjurer , and beat him soundly ; or else throw him into Goal for Coining false English , and then he will be Incarcerated indeed . ] Fant . I fear nothing but that I come too late . These Livings , they are like Herrings . They are Novelty , but they will not keep long . Fur. [ I fear your's will be a Shotten one . ] Fant . These scurvy Boots , — How shall I make them both of a Colour ? — I 'll black them with the inside of my Coat . Enter Goodman Scuttle . Scuttle . Now verily and indeed , I am glad that I am called out of New-England : The Brethren there do multiply too fast , and the Sisters are not plentiful in their Benevolence towards us , so as they be here . — And then many of them do Back-slide from what I did there deliver to them . — Truly I will quite leave my Basket-making , unless now and then a Cradle for some Elect Babe . — Sure if I do not get this Living ( as Marchurch , by report , is a Carnal Man ) I can by my Short-hand , and Repetition , get a Competency . — Fur. [ This Fellow hath the Living's fresh scent in his Nose , too . ] Fant . How now ? Who 's this ? Nay , as long as he is not in Black I care not . — It may be he is some Servant in the House . — God save you , Sir. Scut . ( aside . ) God save you ? Ha! — Truly Popery at the very first word . These Vniversity Men are all in some measure corrupted with it . For tho I know I shall be saved , yet he knows not what I am . He might have said the same to some Reprobate Hell-hound , and to him it is Popery . — I will not answer so vain a Word . Fant . Do you live here I pray you ? Scut . ( aside . ) Truly , this Arminian's business is revealed unto me . He comes about the Living as well as I ; and being wicked as he is , I ought to deceive him for the Churches good . I will Lye unto him . — Yes , Sir , I do Inhabit here . Fant . Inhabit here ! — Nay , if you can vary the Phrase , have at you . — Is the Regulator of the Domicil segregated from his Negotiations , I pray you , Sir ? Scut . Ah Sir ! these Popish words become you not . — They edifie not . — If I were to write you a Sermon , I have not a Character for such words . I pray you speak teachably and plainly . Fant . Is the Gentleman of the House at home , can you tell me ? Scut . No indeed , he is not at Home ; he is newly rid Abroad . Fant . When will he return again ? Scut . Not this Week I believe . What 's your Business , I pray you , with him ? Fant . Is his Living void , can you tell me ? Scut . Ha! — I thought so . — Yea , truly it is void ; but it is in vain for such as you are , to look after it . Fant . Why so ? Scut . Why truly , you are prophane Men , and Idolatrous , and can do nothing but with Study and Popish Books . — I wonder what you should do at a Colledg so long . — No good I warrant you . Fant . What! We read Philosophy , Logick , Divinity . — We learn the Tongues — Hebrew , Greek , and Latin , to fit us for the Church ; and all little enough . Scut . Ah! — I thought that would be your Answer . — Does not the Pope the like ? I dare my self Preach with you for the Living ; and he that gives over first , shall lose it . Fant . What Trade are you , Sir ? — You talk madly . — Ah! such as you are have undone us all . Scut . Nay , you vile Priest , such as you are . — And I intend to get this Living . — If such Wretches as you are get it , you must be Parson and have Tithes . — No , no. — I 'll at Composition and stand to their Benevolence . Fant . O , Domine , is't come to this ! [ Surgit Bookworm . ] Bookworm . [ I'll set them together by th' Ears . ] — Come — Who buys a Ballad ? [ Sings . ] God prosper long our Noble King , &c. — Who buys a new Ballad ? [ He sings again . ] I am confirm'd a Scholar can , Be this or that , or any Man ; And Ovid taught all Students this , To make a Metamorphosis . And when he cannot change a Groat , He 'll turn his Skin and change his Coat . Scut . Do you hear , Sir Scholar ? You Black-Coats can be any thing , and Temporizers . I 'll buy it of him . — Honest Man , pray let me have that Ballad . — Have you any thing against Bishops ? Bookw. Yes , Sir. — There is Little Laud in Limbo , and Lambeth Fair , and Rome for a Corner'd Cap , and the Character of a Bishop . Scut . I shall think the better of you Ballad-men hereafter . — The price of them ? Bookw. Two Groats . Scut . Very cheap . — If I get the Living , I 'll have thee my Clark. Fant . Hang you Rascal . — I 'll venture in ▪ — I 'll serve your Turn . Scut . Nay , Sir , I 'll give them a Character of you , you Popeling , I 'll be there as soon as you , I warrant you . [ They justle at the Door . ] Exeunt . Bookw. These are brave Times ! — I 'll lay Ten Pound the Basket-maker carries it away . Exit . Enter a Tinker singing . Tinker . When Alexander cross'd the Seas , King Pippin and Diogenes . Mul'd Sack is good to cure the Fleas . Tom Tinker lives a merry Life , And is o' th' mending hand , A Copper Nose , a Brazen Face , He hath at your Command . Come , come , Have you any Work for a Tinker ? — Have you any Bellows or Bowls to mend ? Any Dishes , Kettles or Skillets , or old Frying-Pans to mend ? — Come , come , I can mend Platter-Faces , or Crack'd Maiden-Heads , or Tipt Cuckold's-Horns . Who will buy a brave Candlestick ? — My Wares are all sound , but I must crack of them , to make them sell the better . He that useth this Candlestick shall do more with a Week , than another with a Quarter ; and he that tells his Gold by this Candlestick , without ever a Candle in 't , shall not find it Light. — I 'll warrant , this was the Candlestick Diogenes sought for an Honest Man with . — I was offer'd Moneys enough for it two Years ago by an old Blade , to set upon an Altar in his Chancel : But now Conformity burns and stinks in the Socket , and Wax-Candles wax dim , and are like to go out in a Snuff ; yet it serves a Papist to light him to Rome . For the Pope's Fire begins to burn Blew , and it 's thought he wants a pair of Tongs to turn up his Purgatory-bottom-Cake . — Come , who buys it ? That the Tinker may have some better Mettal to melt into Ale. He that will chaffer , shall have this Prolonger into the Bargain . — O brave Prolonger ! — If Patents and Monopolies had had Prolongers , they had not gone out yet . — You that are the Lights of the Church have Extinguishers enow , but your two Steeples like double-wick'd-Candles , wont Prolongers . — Ship-Money , Star Chamber , High-Commission , Michaelmas Term , — all want Prolongers . — But I shall prolong the time , and take nothing . — But who comes here ? — Another Black Coat . — Sure here is some Carrion here-abouts , I see so many Crows stirring ! — Have you any Work for a Tinker ? Enter Fantastes . Fant . This is as brave as can be . — I 'll set him on Work now . Jovial Tinker ! Where 's the best Liquor ? — Ha ? Tink . God bless your Learning , Master . There is good Liquor , I never Drunk quicker ; And if thou 'lt follow me ; Thou 'st find Chink , And I 'll find Drink , And so we 'll Merry be . — Master will you set a poor Tinker on Work ? Fant . Alas ! What Work should Scholars have for Tinkers ? Tink . What ? — Master , will you give me leave , — You are but Tinkers your selves , many of you . Fant . As how prithee ! Tink . How ? — Why you keep such a Hammering of a poor Text , before you can hit the right Nail on the head ; — and then in stopping one Hole , you oftentimes make two . — Fant . Thou' rt a mad Blade . Tink . Nay , and none but Scholars and Tinkers carry all their Tools about them , to mend this Brass and Iron Age. Fant . Hark thee , Tom , canst Fight lustily ? Tink . Ay Faith , therein we differ . — You Black Coats are Cowards , and we are not . — Yes , I can play at Quarter-staff a little . Fant . Wilt thou be true to me ? Tink . Will I not Bully ? Hector , try me . Fant . Why , Sirrah , here is a Living void here in Town , and I am come to try my Fortune for it . Here , even now , I met with a Roguish Sniveling New-English Basket-maker , that does abuse me and all Scholars as past — Wouldst thou think that he is gone in here to get the Living from us all Tink . Does he snivle in the Nose , Master ? Fant . Ay , Tom , that he does . Tink . By Iove , I 'll sell him a pair of Snuffers . Fant . Stand here and watch for him , and search his Pockets ▪ and thou shalt see what Authors he reads . — Look you — There 's Twelve-pence for thee , and meet me half an Hour hence at the Ale-House , and whether thou speedest or not , I 'll give thee half a dozen of Ale , and we 'll Laugh and be Merry . Tink . Hark you Master , I 'll make him down on his Knees , and pray for Bishops e're I have done with him . — Let me alone . Fant . Be sure you Pay him soundly . — Spare him not . Exit . Tink . This is Handsome ! — A Basket-maker get a Living ! — He had best bring a pair of Hilts with him . — I 'll have a bout at Wastrels with him . — I 'll teach him how to baste a Pulpit . — Here he comes . — I 'll listen awhile what Tune his Nose is in , that I may mend it . Enter Goodman Scuttle . Scut . Ah , as very a wicked Man as ever I came near , a very Reprobate , not any good word came from him . — But he must have Money , Money . — 'T is a thousand pitties that such good Men as we , should be put aside by such Carnal and Unsanctify'd Patrons . Tink . Have you any Work for a Tinker ? — Yo — Friend , — Will you set a poor Tinker on Work ? Scut . Away , away for Banbury . — I have no Work for such Fellows as you are . Tink . Yea , but Sirrah , Rascal . — I 'll Work for nothing . — Beats him . Scut . Oh , — Murder , — Murder . — Will you kill me ? Tink . Sirrah , It is revealed unto me that you have a mind to Preach , and to leave your Trade . — Thus and thus — and then thus , you must thump the Cushion . — [ Beats him . ] — Come on you Knave . — You told never a Lye to day for the good of the Church , did you ? Scut . Yea indeed , but I 'll do so no more . — Pray spare my Bife . Tink . Sirrah , Will you lead me to a Cup of good Ale ? Scut . Ay , ay . Tink . And to a pritty Wench ? Scut . Ay , so it may be private . Tink . And will you love good Scholars ? Scut . Ay , indeed . Tink . And pray for Bishops ? Scut . Ay , and Arch-Bishops too . Tink . Nay , now I see you are a dissembling Knave . I 'll have you Silenc'd i'Faith . — You gaped for a Benefice . — Now gape , [ gags him ] so now let me see what is in your Pockets . Scut . Awe , awe , awe ▪ — [ He feels in his Pockets , and pulls out a Book of Characters . ] Tink . Ay , I 'll keep you in awe . — How now , what 's here ? A Book of Characters ! O Sirrah , you write Characters do you ? I 'll pay you in Words at length . — Here 's good Gear indeed . — Come on . — Now get up ▪ — So — let me see . — [ Pins his Book on his Back . ] Come , I 'll give you Induction , you have your Orders about you . — Come , Sirrah , or I 'll choak thee . Scut . Au , au , au . — Exeunt . Enter Marchurch alone . March. Oh , the blessed'st days that ever came ! I think , when I was Born , all ill Fortune was lull'd asleep , and the fatal Planets were in a Swoon . — I never saw that wrinkled Brow of Fortune . Her clearer Face hath always shined upon my Days . — Nay , — Now , — just now ▪ — When I look'd to have been Branded for ever , for this same Vrsely , I think there was a Mask or Vizard drawn over the Eyes of the World. — My Servants and People , all from Home . — And Vrsely had no sooner spawn'd , but there comes a Gypsie Beggar-woman to my Door , who for Twenty Shillings took away the Bastard with her . I made her a sufficient Pass to carry her far enough . In troth Vrsely's was an excellent Plot to keep my Nephew in Aw . — If it be possible , I 'll Marry her off with this Living . — One , two , three , four , five Black Coats , but not a Penny among them all . — I wonder what 's become of Hob ! — He hath paid Homily soundly , they say . — [ Draws out a Letter ▪ ] — Here 's a Letter . Good News ; I hope , some Chapman for the Living . — [ He opens the Letter . ] Enter Hob dress'd like a Parson , and Homily as his Man. Hob. Cud's Noun's , Sir Homily . — Here 's my Master . Sir Hom. Peace , peace . You must not call me Homily , but Iack. Hob. Why then , Iack Homily . Sir Hom. Nay , that 's worst of all . Call me plain Iack. Hob. Why then Plain Iack. — Come , stand close . — Fifteen Years old am I say'st thou ? Sir Hom. Pish. — I say Fifty . Hob. Fifty . — How many Twenties is that ? Sir Hom. It 's twenty to one , you 'll spoyl all . Hob. Now , now . — Come stand close by me good Homily . — O , Iack I would say . — You , — Hear , — Ho , Honest Man. — Hark ye me . — Hear . — Does not Mr. Marchurch live here , I 'se pray ? Sir Hom. O , that 's well done . Hob. Cud's duds — He 'll know me . March. Lawye now ! — Here 's another , that makes Six . — Marry he hath a Man waits on him . — Yes Sir , Mr. Marchurch does dwell here : Would you speak with him ? Hob. Yea , marry would I. — I 'se come forty Miles to speak with him . — God speed Plough . March. I am the Man , Sir , Marchurch is my Name . Hob. Iack , Iack , must I ask him , Who gave him that Name ? Sir Hom. No , no. — Tell him , you are a Suitor to him for the Living . Hob. Why , Sir , — Goodine to your Worship . — I 'se hear you have a Living in your Gift . I'se a poor Minister , Sir , and shall be bound to pray for your Worship , and you shall give it me . I 'll live like an Honest Man among you . March. Alas , Sir , you are a meer Stranger to me , but by your Language , you seem to be a Northern Man. Hob. Yea Sir , I was Born in Cumberland , and had a good Living in the North ( tho I say it ) but when the Scots came last Year , I was fain to fly , and make Money of what I had . March. Nay , if you have Money , have at you , as errand a Clown as you are . [ Aside . ] Why , Sir , a Cumberland Man , say you ? I have a Tenant here in Town , your Country-man ; his name is Hob , — an Honest Man. Hob. Cuds duds , cuds duds , cuds duds , — Iack. — ( Aside . ) Sir Hom. Sir , I pray you speak louder , my Master is somewhat Deaf . — He hears you not . Hob. God-a-mercy , Iack. — Why Sir , Hob say you is his Name ? There is a famous Cudgel-player of his Name . March. I pray you , Sir , what may be your Name ? Hob. What 's my Name ? — My Name , — my Name is — Richmond . My Father was a good Gentleman , I 'se sure . March. That Skil's not worth what your Father was ; your own Parsonage shews you to be a Man sufficient . Hob. Yea , Sir , but your Parsonage would do it better . March. Why , Sir , I must needs confess , there is a pritty Living in my Hands . Hob. Yea , Sir. — There 's something in my Hand too . — Shews him Money . March. Why , I hope that you and I shall shake Hands presently . What University are you of ? Hob. Oxford . March. Have you taken your Degrees there , Sir ? Hob. Degrees ? — I have spent an Hundred Pounds there by Degrees . March. Was you ever Fellow of any House ? Hob. Yea , marry , now and then , Fellow of an Ale-House . March. The Canon doth not require any thing , but that you be able to speak a piece of Latin. Hob. Latin ! — yea , that I can , Twenty pieces of better Mettal than Latin. — Hang Latin , it is good for nothing but Dripping-pans . March. You say right . — There is a great deal of Popery in it . — You have no Living as yet , Sir , I pray you ? Hob. No , indeed , Sir , — you are my first Chapman . — I have not bidden a Penny to any Man but your Worship . Pray use me well , and you shall have more of my Custom . March. Marry , and I have another Commodity for thee , if thou be'st not Marry'd . — ( aside . ) How Old are you , Sir , I pray ? Hob. Why , Sir , — Ise two Twenties and Ten. — Fifteen . March. That 's nothing , you Parsons live long . Sir Hom Coff , and make your self Sick. — ( aside . ) Hob. Alas , Sir , I am Old and Crazy . Ho , ho , ho , — Hold my Head , Iack. — Oh , Sick. Sir Hom. O , admirably well done . — ( aside . ) Hob. Oh , ho , ho , — I am so troubled with the Coughing of the Lungs , it will e'en kill me . March. I hope it will , e're long . — ( aside . ) — Alas , Sir , I am sorry to see you so Sickly . — [ Pulls out an Aquavitae-bottle . ] Here , Sir , — I pray you drink a little of this . — I never go without my Bottle . Hob. Oh , ho , ho , — God thank your Worship . — It will even fall again into your hands before seven Years come to an end . March. Why , Sir , because I see you are so Sickly , and likely to be an Honest Man among us ; hark you . — Whispers him . Hob. Fifty Pieces ! Marry , God bless us , you had need lend me your Aquavitae-bottle again ; this gangs cold to my Heart . Fifty Pieces ! March. Ay , Twenty down now , and I 'll take your word for the rest . Sir Hom. Offer him Twenty , offer him Twenty . — Do , do . — Aside . Hob. Why will Twenty fetch it down now upon the Stubs ? Here it is in good Gold. If I live tway Years more , I 'se give you Ten Pounds more if I like my Bargain . What , Sir , Livings are fallen now . March. In truth , I thought mine would never have fallen . Ha , ha , ha . — These are dangerous Times . — I shall have some Chaplain or other come with the King's Title and cozen me , or some Mischief , if I keep it in my Hands . — ( Aside . ) — Are you a Married Man , Sir ? Hob. No marry not I , Sir. March. If I use you well , I hope you 'll not speak on 't . Hob. No , no , I 'se be as Mum as a Lawyer without his Fee. March. I hope you 'll live Peaceably among us , and not go to Law , or present any Man ? Hob. Yea marry , I 'se present your Worship with a Tith-Pig , or so . March. You say well for that . — But hark you , Sir , you shall allow me two or three Quarters of Wheat every Christmas . Hob. No , no , Sir. — You shall not catch old Birds with Chaff . — Is it a Bargain ? Here 's my Money , will you strike me Luck on 't ? March. Come , give me your hand , Mr. Parson . — It 's done . — Your Name is Mr. Richmond , you say . Hob. Yea , Sir , that 's my Name . March. Well , Sir , God give you Joy ▪ — I will go write your Presentation , and about two Hours hence I will expect you . Hob. Very well . Our Horses are at yonder Ale-House ; We 'll come to you anon . March. You shall be Welcome . Hob. Iack , Iack , — What 's the Latin thing ? Aside . Sir Hom. Why , Gratias ago Domine . — Aside . Hob. Gratias ago Homily ▪ — Exit cum Homily . Manet Marchurch solus . March. Ha , ha , ha , — How bravely have I taken my old Black Jack by the Ear , and drained him ! What an interest have I got in this Verb Impersonal . — If I should have made an Hue and Cry from In Speech to For the due joyning , I should not have found such a Participle in Rus. — Well , let him be what he will , ( as I think he is not guilty of much Learning ) let him be Pulpit-Monger , Desk-Thumper , and Sermon-Braker ( as I think he hath as few new ones , as any here ) if he be able to set out a Stave in a Psalm right ( as he is Old enough ) I care not . — I 'll humour him till he is safe , and then , may-hap , I may pin Vrsely on his Back . Fur. [ Nay , rather pin him upon her Belly . But if you geld him so as you begin , he 'll be able to do nothing ; you have taken away his Gold now , and his pretious Stones will be next . ] However I am glad , I have crack'd the Flea Homily . — I 'll in , and expect my Animal . Exit . Surgit Furor . & Canit . 1. I Have been a Jovial Rambler , And have Travel'd many Nations . I have seen How Men have delighted in , Several Transformations . Yet still do I cry , Let them chop , let them change Boy , Let them turn and never spare ; But to see a Lurch , That 's put upon the Church , O this fetches off my Hair. 2. Old Proteus stands amazed , To see himself put down , Copernicus Did prophesy of us , When he said the World turn'd round . Yet still , &c. 3. Your Rich Men turn'd to Lions , Your Rich Men , an Ass in Fashion , Marry'd Wives wear Fox-skins , And their Husbands Ox-skins ; Oh , ho , 't is a Jugling Nation . But still , &c. 4. I have seen a Beggar in Scarlet , Made a Master of a Gaffer , No Gentleman bred , Become one of the first Head , At which I am a Scoffer . Yet still , &c. 5. I have seen a Deck of Religions , Pack'd and Shuffl'd most rarely ; The Papists in a Dump , 'Cause Puritan is Trump , And swears they Deal not fairly . Yet still , &c. 6. I have been in many a Parlour , Where Sermons have been Plenty , I heard a Ladkin Pray , Both a Night and a Day , And yet could scarce tell Twenty . Yet still do I cry , Let them chop , let them change Boy ; Let them turn and never spare , But to see a Lurch , That 's put upon the Church , O , this fetches off my Hair. ACT the Fifth . Enter Furor . Furor . A Carter get a Living ! — I 'll put a spoke in his Wheel . — ( If it were Carter upon Seton , it would have been another matter ) — Who of both , he had better have bought the Schoolmasters Place , and then all would have been but a Whipping still ; but now he will never be able to set out a Psalm right without Whisling ; or say Grace without Rhymes for 's heart . — But see where he comes . — How now , Drunk ! — He hath been Preaching over a Black Pot already . — I marvel what 's become of his Man Homily ! He is not his own Man I 'me sure . — Well , I 'll to my Kennel once more , and mark the Catastrophe . ] Enter Hob Drunk , with a Pipe of Tobacco in 's Mouth . Hob. Cuds duds — Curis Tobacco ! — Room there for Parson Hob. — Mr. Marpudding can be hang'd e're he can do thus . [ Puffs , Whisles , and Sings . ] Come on , and let 's be Merry , And why should we be Sad ? We 'll have a Living anon , Whether it be good or bad . Whoop , Ha. — Well sung Parson Hob. — Sirrah , Boy , drive your Cart that way . [ He Reels . ] Fur. [ Thou 'lt overthrow presently ; thou hast thy Load . — Whoist . ] Hob. I 'll have my Frock dy'd Black , and it will make a good Cassock . — [ Open's his Primmer . ] — I must learn to Read against Sunday . — G — r — a — c — e. — Grace . — B — e — f — o — r — e , — Before . — M — e — a — t , — Meat . — Grace before Meat . — O brave Doctor Hobs ! — Pease-Porridg hot , Pease-Porridg cold . — Pease Porridg nine days old , — spell That with four Letters . — First begin with the Horn-book , the Horn-book , the Horn-book . And then go on to the Primmer — ( And so far I 'm advanc'd . And here good Fellow 's an Health to thee , and an Health to thee , There 's no deceit in a Brimmer . — Why — where 's my Man Homily ? — How Letcherous are these Black Breeches the Rogue lent me ! — [ Whoops and Sings . ] But still she replies , good Sir let it be , If ever I have any Man , Black Coat for me . How proud am I ? Fur. [ Ay — your Pride will have a fall presently . ] You — Sexton — Whip the Dog out of the Parson's Pew there . — Fur. [ Spew there . ] Whoist there — Hob — [ Falls down . ] [ So , so — The Living's fallen again already . ] Hob. I 'se Parson of the Parish ; I think the Clark is mad . — The Sexton Chimes all-in . — Fy , fy — What a lean Tith Pig is this ? — [ He falls asleep and snores . ] Fur. [ What , cannot you be contented to Fall , but you must fall asleep too ? — It 's hard Rising for a Church-man , when he 's once down . Thou had'st need , I 'me sure , sleep soundly ; thy Coat hath not had a Nap this seven Years . [ Enter Sir Homily . ] Sir Homily . Did ever any Man serve such a Master ? — A Parson too ? — Ha , ha , ha , — Parson Hob ! — After we went down from old Marchurch , even now Hob for joy , would needs have me to the Ale-House ; where after a while Tipling on 't soundly , I put a Pouder into his Drink to Fox him , and to make him Sleep securely . He steals away from me . — I know he is so far gone , that he cannot be gone far . — [ Spies him . ] — Ha , ha , ha , Have I found thee ? — Malus Pastor dormit sapinus ! — But it 's no Talking . — Now if ever , good Fortune stand to me ! — This is the time that Marchurch expects him to come for the Presentation . — As long as I have been in Town , they know not my Name . They call me Sir Homily , but my Name is Richmond ; and that I gave him for his false Name . — His Cloak and his false Beard , I 'll make bold withal , to Disfigure me . — Above half the Money he hath paid , and the other shall never be paid ; for he knows ( and shall do better if I speed ) what Symony is . — I 'll try if I can Act him , and get it . — And if thou hast not hang'd thy self before I come again , I 'll wrangle it out well enough with thee , I 'll warrant thee . — Exit . Enter a Gypsie Woman with a Child on her Back . Gypsie . I wonder what 's become of my Tinker ? — This will make us good Sport. — Here 's Twenty Shillings to Bous and Ken this Christmas . — I hope his Gold is not so Light as his Whore. — Ha , ha , ha . — Here 's a Pass too that will carry us all England over , in spight of Stocks , and Whipping-Posts . — She sings . Lullaby , Lullaby Baby , Lullaby , Sweetly Sleep and sweetly Slumber ; Sweetly Sleep and make no Moan , Thee as mine I must now Number , Tho indeed thou' rt not mine own . Fur. [ Not thine own ? — I hope it 's no Bodies in this Company . — I 'll lay my Life , It 's a Chip of the old Block ; Marchurch supra Vrsely , newly Printed . ] Gypsie . Ho yes . — If any Man or Woman , in Town or Country , will buy a Barn. — [ Spies Hob. ] — How now ? Who 's this ? — 'T is a Scholar . Fur. [ Ay marry , if all that went in Black were Scholars , there would be a great many more than there are . ] Gypsie . A Scholar , as I live . — If I had not taken this from the old Letcher now , I should have sworn that it had been thine . — However I 'll look no farther for a Father . — [ Takes the Child from her Back . ] — Ha! — He 's fast asleep . — By the complexion of his Clothes , he should have no Money . — But I fear no Colours ; I 'll search him . — [ Searcheth his Pockets . ] — Oh , — Rich , Rich — very Rich. — Surely he hath had two Livings , and sold one of them . — Well , I 'll take your Money , but I 'll leave you a sufficient Pawn here . — [ She lays the Child by him . ] — Ha! — I have no Shooes to hang on my Feet ; what if I should take his Boots ? — I have known Women wear the Breeches , why not the Boots too ? — But stay , let me smell at him . — Hang him he smells of Drink . — He 's full enough . — I 'll off with them . — [ She pulls off his Boots . ] — Nay , a right Scholar , he wears them but for want of Stockins . — I 'll e'ne change with him . — He 'll make Legs better by half in my Shooes than in his Boots . — Come , hang 't — he shall have the Skin too . — I 'll cover him with this Sheet . Fur. [ An incomparable good Plot ! — God-a-mercy little Comaedia ! — If the Basket-maker were here , he might now make a Cradle . ] Gypsie . I 'll not stay to put them on here , till I have got further . — To the Auditors . — Look you Gentlemen , if any of you have such a Commodity to put off ; Twenty Shillings is my Price ; but I 'll use you kindly . — This is the last time of asking . — Exit . Hob wakes , and stretches himself . Hob. Oh — oh — Come Hostes , what 's to pay ? — Starts up . — Oh my Boots ! — Where the Dule have I been Bare-foot and Bare-leg'd . — Oh — my Beard 's gone ! — My false Beard hath deceived me , — Ha! — what 's — what 's — a Child ! Oh — I 'me undone — undone , — undone . — Sure I 'me brought a Bed ! — I wonder'd my Belly did so ake — and I was with Child . — Oh — what an He Whore am I ! — Is this the Living I stood for so long ! — Oh , oh , — It 's mine . — I have heard them say , that Parsons have commonly first a Child , and then a Living afterwards . — And 't is so indeed ; for I remember my Breeches were Leacherous . — Let me see . — Surely it cannot be mine . — Oh , oh — yes . — It is mine , — now it is mine . — They say when they have a Child they Travel with it ; and I warrant I travel'd all Night with it , and that hath worn my Boots to a pair of Shoes . — I remember I said to Homily , that I was with Child till I had got the Living . — It 's so indeed . — Oh , it 's mine , I doubt — I did so dream of a Christning to Night . Fur. [ Why then I pray you , Name the Child ▪ ] Hob. Stay , — How can it be mine ? — Can a Man be with Child ? — Unless it should come with Drinking . Ay , ay — It was that — It was that . — Too much Drinking will make a Man Big belly'd . — I warrant , I spued it up . — Oh what a Drunken Whore am I ! — [ He feels in his Pocket . ] — Oh — Mad — Mad — Undone — Undone — My Money , My Money — Why , — I 'me not only deliver'd of my Child , but of my Purse too — O — this Rogue Homily ! — What shall I do ? — Would the Steeple were in his Belly . — O — hang his lousy Cloaths — [ Puts off his Cloaths . ] — My Master will see me hang'd e're he will give me my Mony again . — And then this Bastard of mine too . — Stay , I am Constable ! — May I not command my self to hang my self ? — I should have in these Breeches an Halter , and there 's a Beam will fit my turn . — Here 's a Sheet . I 'le do Pennance in it , as I hang , for my Whoredom . — Oh what a drunken Whore am I ! — Come on — Is this all the Bell-ropes I must have ? Enter first Watchman . 1 st Watch. Our Landlord , and Mr. Marpudding will think I am run away , if I bring not my Christmass Capons . I would the Bones were in one of their Bellies , and the Feathers in the other . Fur. [ Nay , would he himself were a Capon — Alas ! poor Hob , how hard is he at his Devotion ! Enter second Watchman . Watch. 2. O Neigbour Dungo , we are undone , if Mr. Marchurch be here before us — Come , come , yonder is at the Ale-house , Gypsies , Tinkers , and Ballad-singers , roaring ; and the Constable Hob , the Clown , is drunk himself some-where — Come , come — Let 's go rout ' em . Watch. 1. Say ye me so ? — I may venture my Basket here till I return — Come on . — Exeunt . Hob. Ah — I confess I deserve this Death — I have been a Drunkard , and covetous Churl , and would have cheated my Master of his Living . Besides , I once kiss'd a Wench behind the Stable-door ; and now I am a Whore. — Ah Hob , thou art a Whore ! — I did not think thou wouldst have come to this . — [ He puts the Rope about his Neck , and sings . ] Good People all give ear a while to me , And let my End all your Examples be . When I was Drunk , then I was got with Child . I bought a Living , but I am beguil'd . All honest Men , I pray , take my Advice , Meddle not with Parsons not in any wise : Follow your Trades , and do not soar so high , For at the last you will repent like I. Fourty good Pounds in seven Years I got , But now it 's gone , and Mony I have not . To ring my Bells , by this time I did hope , But now I ring my Hands , and hang by th' Rope . So , now I forgive all the World — but Homily . [ Enter Homily . ] Sir Hom. So , Policy hath got that which Prayers could not . — I have it here — But stay — what have we here — A Basket ? — [ Looks into it . ] — Two fat Capons and some Beef for this old Marchurch — I hear a whispering in the Town of a Bastard of Vrsleys ; It must needs be his or Marpudding's ; and if it be so , — I 'le keep him in awe . — But stay , — Who owns this ? — He is not far off here — [ Spies Hob ] How now ! — Parson Hob doing Service in his Sunplice already ! — Why Hob — Hob , Mr. Hob. Hob. I am a little busy , — I pray leave me . Sir Hom. Nay — but Master — do you not know me ? Hob. No Gentleman — Poor Parson Hob now — [ Look on him . ] a Dule on thee , is it thee ? I pray let me alone . — You will cozen me of this Preferment too presently . Sir Hom. Nay — Pish — Hob ! — Why did you steal from me at the Ale-house ? — For this ? — Where have you been ? Hob. Where ? — Why , committing Fornication with a Jug of Ale I-trow . Look you here — [ He points to the Child . ] — I am a Whore , — I fell asleep , and when I was awaked , I found my self delivered of this Bastard — My Boots are gone — and my Mony all gone — and this Sheet left me for a Winding-sheet . — This was your Plot. — You would make me a Parson and be hang'd . — Will you be my Curat , and do this for me ? Sir Hom. What — hang my self ? No indeed , nor you shall not neither . — Come , come . Hob. Do you see that ? Sir Hom. I 'le lay my Life this is Marchurch's Bastard , however it came here . — Away Fool — Your Child ? — If it be , I will keep it . Hob. Will you ? Sir Hom. Ay , that I will , and set all right and streight again if I can , — Help you to your Mony again , and take this Child . — Will you be a Parson , or a Plowman . Hob. — Parson ! — No — Zuckers — They shall have an hundred Livings a piece first . — Would I had my Gold again . Sir Hom. Why then , Hark you . — Did you fall asleep here ? Hob. — Ay , Drunk , — like a Rogue as I was . Sir Hom. Why , you would needs go to the Ale-house ; It was not my doings . — And what , when thou wakedst , thou found'st this Child , and thy Pockets pick'd , and thy Boots gone ? Hob. — Yea marry did I. — And what of all this ? Sir Hom. What ? — I smell a Rat — This Bastard , Sirrah , is Vrsleys . — I 'le venture a Wager thy Master got it . Hob. How 's that ! — Cuds duds , she was main saucy with him as ever I saw . Sir Hom. Nay , it is so I warrant thee . — Hear but me . — Will you be but contented to let me have the Living , if I rid you of it , and get you your Mony again ? Hob. — Will I not ? — Yea , and love thee all the days of my Life for it . Sir Hom. Why then to tell the truth , I have got it . — I found thee here asleep , and took thy Cloak and thy Beard from thee , and went in thy Name , and sped well . — There I heard a whispering of this Bastard ; and Vrsley could not be seen . 'T is so , I 'le warrant thee . — I 'le give thee good Bonds for thy Mony , and something beside . Hob. — Yea. — But I must be hang'd , now or never , for I have confess'd my Sins . Sir Hom. What dost do with that Primmer ; was it thine ? Hob. — Ay , 't is mine . I got it to learn to read my Letters against I should be Parson . Sir Hom. And what , — thou wouldst have made a long Letter of thy self ? — Come — look you here ; This Basket some Body hath left — [ Peeps aside . ] There are two Capons a going in it to your Master . Wee 'l put this Chicken too under the Capons , and leave it . Hob. Ha! — I think thou l't prove an honest Man. Sir Hom. Ay , ay , — Come — pull your Block-head out of the Noose . — [ Pulls out his Head. ] Hob. — So — Shall I live ? Sir Hom. Ay , and richly . Hob. Why then I will un-confess all my Sins again . — I never was a Drunkard , nor Covetous , nor Parson , nor kiss'd any Body behind the Stable-door — Not I. Sir Hom. Come now look you here Sir. — [ He puts the Child into the Basket. ] Hob. — Ha , ha , ha — These Black-Coats can put off Children to other Men — Ha , ha , ha — How I shall laugh anon , when I am Hob again , to see Marchurch have an Heir — Marpudding will knock it i th' Head within 's two days , if it offer to eat any thing . — And will you give me your Bond for my Mony too ? Sir Hom. Ay , that I will. Hob. — Come on Sirrah Hob — Your are a Rogue — But I will let you live a while longer . Sir Hom. Go thou into my House , and put on my Boots ; by that time I 'le come . — But I 'le scout here a while to see what this Basket will do . Hob. I 'le go — But stay — If you give me Bond , I must have Witnesses . — I 'le go no further . — [ To the Auditors . ] — Pray , Gentlemen , set your Hands to it . — Methinks this is better than making out of hand with my self by half . — Exit . Manet Homily . Sir Hom. What a Fool was this ! — If Men should hang themselves when they are cheated of their Mony , what dangling would there be this Christmass ? — No sooner Parson but suspended . — I will be honest . The Clown shall have all his Mony again . — But this Primmer shall go in to teach the Baby too . — But whist — Here comes Dungo . — 'T is as I said . — I 'le scout and listen . Enter Dungo the first Watchman . Watch. 1. Oh — That 's well . — My Basket is safe . — Ha , ha , ha . Yonder is a Gipsy-woman at the Ale-house — A pritty Woman indeed ; and two Scholars which have been here for the Living , they do so smooth her up . — She 's a Fortune-teller too . — She call'd me Gentleman , besworn . — Yet she said I should have some ill Luck come unto me . — I was afraid of nothing but my Capons , and they ( I see ) are safe enough . — Now truly they are very fat . How heavy they be ! — However I 'le away . — Enter Marchurch . March. So that Cure is cur'd . — I never met with such a Clown in all my Life as my new Parson . He 's gone to the Bishop . — 'T is well the Times are as they are , he would be stay'd else for a Dunce . Let him look to his Flock , but I 'le fleece him I 'le warrant him . Dung. Good'ine to your Worship . March. How now Neighbour , What have you there ? — Ha ? Dung. A couple of Christmass-Capons for your Worship — I love to keep touch . Mar. Why , it is honestly done . — Are they Fat ? Dung. Fine fed Fowls — if it please you . Fur. [ Yet not better fed than taught . There 's a Primmer among them , will bring you to your Psalms of Mercy . ] Dung. Here 's one , a good tender Bird , of your Worship 's own breed , your Worship may do well to keep it . Mar. Ay , and so I will. — My People , Neighbour , are not at Home to bid you drink , — But here 's a couple of Pence for you . — Give me the Basket. Dung. I thank your Worship . I hope they will prove well , and give you Content . — By your leave . Exit . Mar. Farewel , farewel . — Oh , I love this young Flesh at my Heart . — My Nephew , since the Keys were gone , and he in danger to be a Father , is grown very kind . I 'le in , and Vrsley is pritty hearty , she shall dress one of them and we will be merry . — Exit . Fur. Gramarcy Invention , This is even as I would have it . Homily comes forth . Sir Hom. This is sweet Revenge ! — I 'le now to Horse , and away to the Bishop . — When I return , if his two Capons be alive , I 'le pluck a Feather with him . I 'le have an Order of Pennance for him , and make him pay Hob his Mony again for Simony : — But I hope he 'l prevent all , and hang himself — When I return , then shall I tend to sing , I 'le take possession , and my Bells shall ring ; Shall ring these Changes ; and at every Knell Marchurch shall cry , It is his Passing-Bell . And if with Bells my self I cannot deal , I pray you lend your Hands to ring a Peal . — Exit . Fur. Why so , — Is not this better than a Dialogue , or some stew'd Prunes ? — I 'le in , and Fox little Comaedia's Nose for this , and send you out an Epilogue . — Exit . The EPILOGUE . ALL 's well that ends well . This , tho not allow'd , Yet like light Gold , it may go in a Crowd . I know the Folks are pleas'd ; they think it rare , Because it glitters . — But you Touch-stones are . Our trembling Author wishes that it might Rather have gone a Trust , than pay what 's Light. Sir Homily in 's Pars'nage doubtful sits , Lest you put in your Quare Impedit's . Marchurch will bargain for a Plaudite , If you 'l strike Hands , it 's made . — Hum — Simonie . His Cotquean Nephew bids you , without stud'ing , Be fair-condition'd , and eat Bread with Pudding . Hob swears , if he were Parson , he would know Whether Laughs were due to him , or no ? The Basket-maker to this Point will stand : In taking Iest you must not use Short-hand . Nay more ; the Tinker ( so it be by stealth ) Hath made him swear , that he will drink your Health . Your Palm'stry is more than the Gipsie's skill ; Can tell your Fortune , whether Good or Ill. Ceres , after the Epilogue , speaks from Above . Looking for Barley here , I hope you 've found , With AEsop's Cock , some Jewel on the Ground : And if you have ; Truth , let it so appear Like Jewels , let each word hang on your Ear. The Sport was Innocent , and if I 'd had A worthier Stage , I should have been more glad . Hower'e , these shall be welcome to this Place Each Year , and Ceres takes it for a Grace . FINIS .