Englishmen For my Money: OR, A pleasant Comedy, called, A Woman will have her Will.  
 
Imprinted at London by W. White, dwelling in Cow-lane. 1616.   

The Actors names.  

Pisaro, a Portingale.  


Pisaro's Daughters.  
Laurentia,  
Marina,  
Mathea,    
Anthony, a Schoolmaster to them.  


Suitors to Pisaro's Daughters.  
harvey,  
Ferdinand, or Heigham,  
Ned, or Walgrave,    


Suitors also to the 3. daughters.  
Delion, a Frenchman,  
Alvaro, an Italian,  
Vandal, a Dutchman,    
Frisco a Clown, Pisaro's man.  
M. Moore.  
Towerson a Merchant.  
Balsaro.  
Browne a Clothier  
A Post.  
A bellman.    
Enter PISARO. Pisaro. 
HOw smug this gray-eyed Morning seems to be,  
A pleasant sight; but yet more pleasure have I  
To think upon this moistening south-west Wind,  
That drives my laden Ships from fertile Spain:  
But come what will, no Wind can come amiss,  
For two and thirty Winds that rules the Seas,  
And blows about this airy Region;  
thirty two Ships have I to equal them:  
Whose wealthy fraughts do make Pisaro rich:  
Thus every Soil to me is natural:  
Indeed by birth, I am a Portingale,  
Who driven by Western winds on English shore,  
Here liking of the soil, I married,  
And have Three Daughters: But impartial Death  
Long since, deprived me of her dearest life:  
Since whose disease, in London I have dwelled:  
And by the sweet loud trade of Usury,  
Letting for Interest, and on Mortgages.  
Do I wax rich, though many Gentlemen  
By my extortion comes to misery:  
Amongst the rest, three English Gentlemen,  
Have pawned to me their Livings and their Lands:  
Each several hoping, though their hopes are vain,  
By marriage of my Daughters, to possess  
Their Patrimonies and their Lands again:  
But Gold is sweet, and they deceive themselves;  
For though I guild my Temples with a smile,  
It is but judas-like, to work their ends.  
But soft, What noise of footing do I hear?  Enter Laurentia, Marina, Mathea, and Anthony. Laur. 
Now Master, what intend you to read to us?  Anth. 
Pisaro your Father would have me read moral Philosophy.  Mari. 
What's that?  Anth. 
First tell me how you like it?  Math. 
First tell us what it is.  Pisa. 
They be my Daughters and their Schoolmaster, Pisaro, not a word, but list their talk.  Anth. 
Gentlewomen, to paint Philosophy,  
Is to present youth with so sour a dish,  
As their abhorring stomachs nill digests.  
When first my mother Oxford (England's pride)  
Fostered me pupil-like, with her rich store,  
My study was to read Philosophy:  
But since, my headstrong youth's unbridled will,  
Scorning the leaden fetters of restraint,  
Hath pruned my feathers to a higher pitch.  
Gentlewomen, Moral Philosophy is a kind of art,  
The most contrary to your tender sexes;  
It teacheth to be grave: and on that brow,  
Where Beauty in her rarest glory shines,  
Plants the sad semblance of decayed age:  
Those Weeds that with their riches should adorn,  
And grace fair Nature's curious workmanship,  
Must be converted to a black faced veil,  
Griefs livery, and sorrows semblance:  
Your food must be your hearts abundant sighs,  
Steeped in the brinish liquor of your tears:  
Daylight as dark-night, dark-night spent in prayer:  
Thoughts your companions, and repentant minds,  
The recreation of your tired spirits:  
Gentlewomen, if you can like this modesty,  
Then will I read to you Philosophy.  Laur. 
Not I.  Mari. 
Fie upon it.  Math. 
Hang up Philosophy, I'll none of it.  Pisar. 
A Tutor said I; a Tutor for the Devil.  Anth. 
No Gentlewomen, Anthony hath learned  
To read a Lector of more pleasing worth.  
Marina, read these lines, young harvey sent them,  
There every line repugns Philosophy:  
Then love him, for he hates the thing thou hates.  
Laurentia, this is thine from Ferdinand:  
Think every golden circle that thou seest,  
The rich unvalued circle of his worth.  
Mathea, with these Gloves thy Ned salutes thee;  
As often as these, hide these from the Sun,  
And Wanton steals a kiss from thy fair hand,  
Presents his serviceable true heart's zeal,  
Which waits upon the censure of thy doom:  
What though their Lands be mortgaged to your Father;  
Yet may your Dowries redeem that debt:  
Think they are Gentlemen, and think they love;  
And be that thought, their true loves advocate.  
Say you should wed for Wealth; for to that scope  
Your Father's greedy disposition tends,  
The world would say, that you were had for Wealth,  
And so fair Beauties honour quite distinct:  
A mass of Wealth being powered upon another,  
Little augments the show, although the sum;  
But being lightly scattered by itself,  
It doubles what it seemed, although but one:  
Even so yourselves, for wedded to the Rich,  
His style was as it was, a Rich man still:  
But wedding these, to wed true Love, is duty:  
You make them rich in Wealth, but more in Beauty:  
I need not plead that smile, that smile shows hearts consent,  
That kiss show'd love, that on that gift was lent:  
And last thine Eyes, that tears of true joy sends,  
As comfortable tidings for my friends.  Mari. 
Have done, have done; what needest thou more procure,  
When long ere this I stooped to that fair lure:  
Thy ever loving harvey I delight it:  
Marina ever loving shall requite it young.  
Teach us Philosophy? I'll be no Nun;  
Age scorns Delight, I love it being:  
There's not a word of this, not a word's part,  
But shall be stamped, sealed, printed on my heart;  
On this I'll read, on this my senses ply:  
All Arts being vain, but this Philosophy.  Laur. 
Why was I made a Maid, but for a Man?  
And why Laurentia, but for Ferdinand?  
The chastest Soul these Angels could entice?  
Much more himself, an Angel of more price:  
were't thyself present, as my heart could wish,  
Such usage thou shouldst have, as I give this.  Anth. 
Then you would kiss him?  Laur. 
If I did, how then?  Anth. 
Nay I say nothing to it, but Amen.  Pisa. 
The clerk must have his fees, I'll pay you them.  Math. 
Good God, how abject is this single life,  
I'll not abide it; Father, Friends, nor Kin,  
Shall once dissuade me from affecting:  
A man's a man; and Ned is more than one:  
i faith I'll have thee Ned, or I'll have none;  
Do what they can, chafe, chide, or storm their fill,  
Mathea is resolved to have her will.  Pisa. 
I can no longer hold my patience.  
Impudent villainy, and lascivious Girls,  
I have o'erheard your vild conversions:  
You scorn Philosophy: You'll be no Nun,  
You must needs kiss the Purse, because he sent it.  
And you forsooth, you flurgill, minion,  
A brat scant folded in the dozens at most,  
You'll have your will forsooth; What will you have?  Math. 
But twelve year old? nay Father that's not so,  
Our Sexton told me I was three years more.  Pisa. 
I say but twelve: you're best tell me I lie.  
What sirrah Anthony.  Anth. 
Here sir.  Pisa. 
Come here sir, & you light housewives get you in:  
Stare not upon me, move me not to ire: Exeunt sisters.  
Nay sirrah stay you here, I'll talk with you:  
Did I retain thee (villain) in my house,  
Gave thee a stipend twenty Marks by year,  
And hast thou thus infected my three Girls,  
Urging the love of those, I most abhorred;  
Unthrifts, Beggars; what is worse,  
And all because they are your Countrymen?  Anth. 
Why sir, I taught them not to keep a merchants Book, or cast account: yet to a word much like that word Account.  Pisa. 
A Knave past grace, is past recovery.  
Why sirrah Frisco, Villain, Loggerhead, where art thou?  Enter Frisco, the Clown. Frisc. 
here's a calling indeed; a man were better to live a lord's life and do nothing, than a serving creature, and never be idle. Oh Master, what a mess of brewis stands now upon the point of spoiling by your hastiness; why they were able to have got a good Stomach with child even with the sight of them; and for a Vapour, oh precious Vapour, let but a Wench come near them with a Painted face, and you should see the Paint drop and curdle on her Cheeks, like a piece of dry Essex Cheese toasted at the fire.  Pisa. 
Well sirrah, leave this thought, & mind my words,  
Give diligence, inquire about  
For one that is expert in Languages,  
A good physician, and a Frenchman borne;  
And bring him hither to instruct my Daughters,  
I'll near trust more a smooth-faced Englishman.  Frisc. 
What, must I bring one that can speak Languages? what an old Ass is my Master; why he may speak flaunt taunt as well as French, for I cannot understand him.  Pisa. 
If he speak French, thus he will say, Awee awee:  
What, canst thou remember it?  Frisc. 
Oh, I have it now, for I remember my great Grandfathers Grandmothers sisters cousin told me, that Pigs and Frenchmen, speak one Language, awee awee; I am Dog at this: But what must he speak else?  Pisa. 
Dutch.  Frisc. 
Let's hear it?  Pisa. 
Haunce butterkin slowpin.  Fris. 
Oh this is nothing, for I can speak perfect Dutch when I list.  Pisa. 
Can you, I pray let's hear some?  Frisc. 
Nay I must have my mouth full of Meat first, and then you shall hear me grumble it forth full mouth, as Haunce Butterkin slowpin frokin: No, I am a simple Dutchman: Well, I'll about it.  Pisa. 
Stay sirrah, you are too hasty; for he must speak one Language more.  Frisc. 
More Languages? I trust he shall have Tongues enough for one mouth: But what is the third?  Pisa. 
Italian.  Fris. 
Why that is the easiest of all, for I can tell whether he have any Italian in him even by looking on him.  Pisa. 
Can you so, as how?  Frisc. 
Marry by these three points; a Wanton Eye. Pride in his Apparel, and the Devil in his Countenance. Well, God keep me from the Devil in seeking this Frenchman: But do you hear me Master, what shall my fellow Anthony do, it seems he shall serve for nothing but to put Latin into my young Mistresses.  Exit Frisco. Pisa. 
Hence ass, hence loggerhead, begone I say.  
And now to you that reads Philosophy,  
Pack from my house, I do discharge thy service,  
And come not near my doors; for if thou dost,  
I'll make thee a public example to the world.  Antho. 
Well crafty Fox, you that work by wit,  
It may be, I may live to fit you yet.  Exit Antho. Pisa. 
Ah sirrah, this trick was spied in time,  
For if but two such Lectures more they'd heard,  
For ever had their honest names been marred:  
I'll in and rate them: yet that's not best,  
The Girls are wilful, and severity  
May make them careless, mad, or desperate.  
What shall I do? Oh! I have found it now,  
There are three wealthy Merchants in the Town,  
All Strangers, and my very special friends,  
The one of them is an Italian:  
A Frenchman, and a dutchman, be the other:  
These three entirely do affect my Daughters,  
And therefore mean I, they shall have the tongues,  
That they may answer in their several Language:  
But what helps that? they must not stay so long,  
For whiles they are a learning Languages,  
My English Youths, both wed, and bed them too:  
Which to prevent, I'll seek the Strangers out,  
Let's look: 'tis past eleven, Exchange time full,  
There shall I meet them, and confer with them,  
This work craves haste, my Daughters must be Wed,  
For one Months stay, sayth farewell Maiden head.  Exit. Enter harvey, Heigham, and Walgraue. Heigh. 
Come Gentlemen, we're almost at the house,  
I promise you this walk over Tower-hill,  
Of all the places London can afford,  
Hath sweetest Air, and fitting our desires.  Haru. 
Good reason, so it leads to Croched-Fryers  
Where old Pisaro, and his Daughters dwell,  
Look to your feet, the broad way leads to Hell:  
They say Hell stands below, down in the deep,  
I'll down that Hill, where such good Wenches keep,  
But sirrah Ned, what says Mathea to thee?  
willt fadge? willt fadge? What, will it be a match?  Walg. 
A match say you? a mischief 'twill as soon:  
Should I can scarce begin to speak to her,  
But I am interrupted by her father.  
Ha, what say you? and then put o'er his snout,  
Able to shadow Paul's, it is so great.  
Well, 'tis no matter, sirs, this is his House,  
Knock for the Churl bid him bring out his Daughter;  
I'll, 'sblood I will, though I be hanged for it,  Heigh. 
Hoyda, hoyda, nothing with you but up & ride,  
You'll be within, ere you can reach the Door,  
And have the Wench, before you compass her:  
You are too hasty, Pisaro is a man,  
Not to be fed with Words, but won with Gold.  
But who comes here?  Enter Anthony. Walg. 
Whom, Anthony our friend?  
Say man, how fares our Loves? How doth Mathea?  
Can she love Ned? how doth she like my suit?  
Will old Pisaro take me for his Son;  
For I thank God, he kindly takes our Lands,  
Swearing, Good Gentlemen you shall not want,  
Whilst old Pisaro, and his credit holds:  
He will be damned the rogue, before he do't?  Haru. 
Prithee talk milder: let but thee alone,  
And thou in one bare hour will ask him more,  
Than he'll remember in a hundred years:  
Come from him Anthony, and say what news?  Antho. 
The news for me is bad; and this it is:  
Pisaro hath discharged me of his service.  Heigh. 
Discharged thee of his service; for what cause?  Anth. 
Nothing, but that his Daughters learn Philosophy.  Haru. 
Maids should read, that it teacheth modesty.  Antho. 
ay, but I left out mediocrity,  
And with effectual reasons, urged your loves.  Walg. 
The fault was small, we three will to thy Master  
And beg thy pardon.  Antho. 
Oh, that cannot be,  
He hates you far worser, than he hates me;  
For all the love he shows, is for your Lands,  
Which he hopes sure will fall into his hands:  
Yet Gentlemen, this comfort take of me,  
His Daughters to your loves affected be:  
Their father is abroad, they three at home,  
Go cheerly in, and cease that is your own:  
And for myself, but grace what I intend,  
I'll overreach the Churl, and help my Friend.  Heigh. 
Build on our helps, and but devise the means.  Antho. 
Pisaro did command Frisco his man,  
(A simple sot, kept only but for mirth)  
To inquire about in London for a man,  
That were a Frenchman and physician,  
To be (as I suppose) his daughter's Tutor:  
Him if you meet, as like enough you shall,  
He will inquire of you of his affairs;  
Then make him answer, you three came from Paul's,  
And in the middle walk, one you espied,  
Fit for his purpose; then describe this Cloak,  
This Beard and Hat: for in this borrowed shape,  
Must I beguile and overreach the Fool:  
The Maids must be acquainted with this drift.  
The Door doth ope, I dare not stay reply,  
lest being descried: Gentlemen adieu,  
And help him now, that oft hath helped you.  Exit. Enter Frisco the Clown. Wal. 
How now sirrah, whither are you going?  Fris. 
Whither am I going, how shall I tell you, when I do not know myself, nor understand myself?  Heigh. 
What dost thou mean by that?  Frisc. 
Marry sir, I am seeking a Needle in a Bottle of Hay, a Monster in the likeness of a Man: one that in stead of good morrow, asketh what porridge you have to Dinner, Parley vous signior? one that never washes his fingers, but licks them clean with kisses; a clipper of the king's English: and to conclude, an eternal enemy to all good Language.  Haru. 
What's this? what's this?  Fris. 
Do not you smell me? Well, I perceive that wit doth not always dwell in a satin-doublet: why, 'tis a Frenchman, Bassimon cue, how do you?  Haru. 
I thank you sir, but tell me what wouldest thou do with a Frenchman:  Fris. 
Nay faith, I would do nothing with him, unless I set him to teach Parrots to speak: marry the old Ass my Master, would have him to teach his Daughters, though I trust the whole world sees, that there be such in his house that can serve his daughter's turn, as well as the proudest Frenchman: but if you be good lads, tell me where I may find such a man?  Heigh. 
We will, go high thee straight to Paul's,  
There shalt thou find one fitting thy desire;  
Thou soon mayst know him, for his Beard is black,  
Such is his raiment, if thou runnest apace,  
Thou canst not miss him Frisco.  Fris. 
Lord, Lord, how shall poor Phrisco reward your rich tidings Gentlemen: I am yours till Shrove-Tuesday, for then change I my Copy, & look like nothing but Red-Herring cobs, and stockfish; yet I'll do somewhat for you in the mean time: my Master is abroad, and my young Mistresses at home: if you can do any good on them before the Frenchman corn, why so? Ah Gentlemen, do not suffer a litter of Languages to spring up amongst us: I must to the Walk in Paul's, you to the Vestry. Gentlemen, as to myself, and so forth.  Exit Frisco, Haru. 
fools tell the truth men say, and so may he:  
Wenches we come now, Love our conduct be.  
Ned, knock at the door: but soft forbear;  Enter Lawrentia, Marina, and Mathea. 
The Cloud breaks up, and our three Suns appear.  
To this I fly, shine bright my lives sole stay,  
And make griefs night a glorious summer's day.  Mari. 
Gentlemen, how welcome you are here,  
Guess by our looks, for other means by fear  
Prevented is: our father's quick return  
Forbids the welcome, else we would have done.  Walg. 
Mathea, How these faithful thoughts obey,  Mat. 
No more sweet love, I know what thou wouldst say:  
You say you love me, so I wish you still,  
Love hath loves hire, being balanced with good will:  
But say; come you to us, or come you rather  
To pawn more Lands for money to our father?  
I know 'tis so, a God's name spend at large:  
What man? our marriage day will all discharge;  
Our father (by his leave) must pardon us,  
Age save of age, of nothing can discuss:  
But in our loves, the proverb we'll fulfil:  
Women and Maids, must always have their will.  Heigh. 
Say thou as much, and add life to this corpse,  Law. 
yourself & your good news doth more enforce:  
How these have set forth love by all their wit,  
I swear in heart, I more than double it.  
Sisters be glad, for he hath made it plain,  
The means to get our Schoolmaster again:  
But Gentlemen, for this time cease our loves,  
This open street perhaps suspicion moves,  
Fain we would stay, bid you walk in more rather,  
But that we fear the coming of our father:  
Go to th' Exchange, crave Gold as you intend,  
Pisaro scrapes for us; for us you spend:  
We say farewell, more sadlier be bold,  
Then would my greedy father to his Gold:  
we here, you there, ask Gold; and Gold you shall:  
we'll pay the interest, and the principal. Exeunt Sisters  Walg. 
That's my good Girls, and I'll pay you for all.  Haru. 
Come to th' Exchange, and when I feel decay,  
Send me such Wenches, Heavens I still shall pray.  Exeunt. Enter Pisaro, Delion the Frenchman, Vandal the Dutchman, Aluaro the Italian, and other Merchants, at several doors. Pisa. 
Good morrow, M. Strangers.  Strang. 
Good morrow sir.  Pisaro. 
This (loving friends) hath thus emboldened me,  
For knowing the affection and the love  
Master Vandal, that you bear my Daughter:  
Likewise, and that with joy considering too,  
you monsieur Delion, would fain dispatch:  
I promise you, methinks the time did fit,  
And does by’r lady too, in mine advice,  
This day to clap a full conclusion up:  
And therefore made I bold to call on you,  
Meaning (our business done here at the Burse)  
That you at mine entreaty should walk home,  
And take in worth such Viands as I have:  
And then we would, and so I hope we shall,  
Loosely tie up the knot that you desire,  
But for a day or two; and then Church rites  
Shall sure conform, confirm, and make all fast.  Vand. 
Seker Mester Pisaro, me do so groterly dank you, dat you macke me so sure of de Wench, datt ic can neit dank you genough.  Delio. 
Monsieur Pisaro, mon pere, mon Vadere, Oh de grand joy you give me (oconte) me sal go home to your House, sal eat your Bacon, sal eat your Beef, and shall tack de Wench, de fine Damoysella.  Pisa. 
You shall, and welcome; welcome as my soul:  
But were my third Son sweet Alvaro here,  
we would not stay at the Exchange today,  
But high us home and there end our affairs.  Enter moor, and Towerson. Moore. 
Good day master Pisaro.  Pisa. 
Master Moore, marry with all my heart good morrow sir; What news? What news?  Moore. 
This Merchant here my friend, would speak with you.  Tower. 
Sir, this jolly south-west wind with gentle blast,  
Hath driven home our long expected Ships,  
All laden with the wealth of ample Spain,  
And but a day is past since they arrived  
Safely at Plymouth, where they yet abide.  Pisa. 
Thanks is too small a guerdon for such news.  
How like you this News friends? Master Vandal,  
here's somewhat towards for my daughter's Dowry:  
here's somewhat more than we did yet expect.  Tower. 
But hear you sir, my business is not done;  
From these same Ships I did receive these lines,  
And there enclosed this same Bill of exchange,  
To pay at sight; if so you please accept it.  Pisa. 
Accept it, why? What sir should I accept,  
Have you received Letters, and not I?  
Where is this lazy villain, this slow Post:  
What, brings he every man his Letters home,  
And makes me nobody; does he, does he?  
I would not have you bring me counterfeit;  
And if you do, assure you I shall smell it:  
I know my Factors writing well enough.  Tower. 
You do sir; then see your factor's writing:  
I scorn as much as you, to counterfeit,  Pisa. 
'tis well you do sir.  Enter harvey, Walgraue, and Heighun. 
What Master Walgrave, and my other friends:  
You are grown strangers to Pisaro's house,  
I pray make bold with me.  Walsg. 
ay, with your Daughters  
You may be sworn, we'll be as bold as may be.  Pisa. 
Would you have aught with me, I pray now speak.  Heigh. 
Sir, I think you understand our suit,  
By the repairing we have had to you:  
Gentlemen you know, must want no Coin,  
Nor are they slaves unto it, when they have:  
You may perceive our minds; What say you to't?  Pisa. 
Gentlemen all, I love you all:  
Which more to manifest, this afternoon  
Between the hours of two and three repair to me;  
And were it half the substance that I have,  
Whilst it is mine, 'tis yours to command.  
But Gentlemen, as I have regard to you,  
So do I wish you'll have respect to me:  
You know that all of us are mortal men,  
Subject to change and mUTABILITY;  
You may, or I may, soon pitch o'er the Perch,  
Or so, or so, have contrary crosses:  
Wherefore I deem but mere equity,  
That some thing may betwixt us be to show.  Heigh. 
M. Pisaro, within this two months without fail,  
We will repay.  Enter Browne. Browne. 
God save you Gentlemen.  Gentlemen. 
Good morrow sin.  Pisa. 
What M. brown, the only man I wished for,  
Does your price fall? what shall I have these Clothes?  
For I would ship them straight away for Stoade:  
I do wish you my Money fore another.  Brow. 
Faith you know my price sir, if you have them.  Pisa. 
You are too dear in sadness, master Heigham:  
You were about to say somewhat, pray proceed.  Heigh. 
Then this it was: those Lands that are not mortgaged  Enter Post. Post. 
God bless your worship.  Pisaro. 
I must crave pardon; Oh sirrah, are you come?  Walg. 
Hoyda, hoyda; What's the matter now;  
Sure, yonder fellow will be torn in pieces.  Haru. 
What's he, sweet youths; that so they flock about:  
What old Pisaro tainted with this madness?  Heigh. 
Upon my life, 'tis somebody brings news;  
The Court breaks up, and we shall know their Counsel:  
Look, look, how busily they fall to reading.  Pisa. 
I am the last, you should have kept it still:  
Well, we shall see what news you bring with you;  
Our duty premised, and we have sent unto your worship Sack, seville Oils, Pepper, Barbery sugar, and such other commodities as we thought most requisite, we wanted money therefore we are fain to take up 200. l. of Master Towerson's man, which by a bill of Exchange sent to him, we would request your worship pay accordingly. You shall command sir, you shall command sir, The news here is, that the English ships, the Fortune, your ship, the adventure and good luck of London coasting along by Italy Towards Turkey, were set upon by to Spanish-galleys, what became of them we know not, but doubt much by reason of the weather's calmness.  Pisa 
How be't six to one the weather calm,  
Now afore God who would not doubt their safety,  
A plague upon these Spanish-galley Pirates,  
Roaring Charybdis, or devouring Scylla,  
Were half such terror to the antic world,  
As these same antic Villains now of late,  
Have made the straits twixt Spain and Barbary.  Tower 
Now sir, what doth your factor's letters say?  Pisa. 
Marry he saith, these witless luckless dolts,  
Have met, and are beset with Spanish Galleys,  
As they did sail along by Italy:  
What a bot's made the dolts near Italy,  
Could they not keep the coast of Barbary,  
Or having passed it, gone for Tripoli,  
Being on the other side of Sicily,  
As near, as where they were unto the straits:  
For by the globe, both Tripoli and it,  
Lie from the straits some twenty five degrees;  
And each degree makes threescore english miles?  Tower. 
Very true sir: But it makes nothing to my Bill of exchange: this dealing fits not one of your account.  Pisa. 
And what fits yours? a prating wrangling tongue,  
A woman's ceaseless and incessant babbling,  
That sees the world turned topsy-turvy with me;  
Yet hath not so much wit to stay a while,  
Till I bemoan my late excessive loss.  Walg. 
S'wounds 'tis dinner time, I'll stay no longer:  
Hark you a word sir.  Pisa. 
I tell you sir, it would have made you whine  
Worse then if shools of luckless croaking Ravens,  
Had ceased on you to feed their famished paunches:  
Had you heard news of such a ravenous rout,  
Ready to cease on half the wealth you have.  Wal. 
'sblood you might have kept at home & be hanged,  
What a pox care I.  Enter a Post. Post. 
God save your worship, a little money and so forth.  Pisa. 
But men are senseless now of others woe,  
This stony age is grown so stony hearted,  
That none respects their neighbours' miseries,  
I wish (as Poets do) that Saturn's times  
The long out worn world wear in use again,  
That men might sail without impediment.  Post. 
I marry sir that were a merry world indeed, I would hope to get more money of your worship in one quarter of a year, than I can do now in a whole twelvemonth.  Enter Balsaro. Balsa. 
Master Pisaro how I have run about,  
How I have toiled today to find you out,  
At home, abroad, at this man's house, at that,  
Why I was here an hour ago and more,  
Where I was told you were, but could not find you.  Pisa. 
Faith sir I was here but was driven home,  
Here's such a common haunt of Crackrope boys,  
That what for fear to have m'apparel spoiled,  
Or my Ruffs dirted, or Eyes struck out:  
I dare not walk where people do expect me:  
Well, things (I think) might be better looked unto,  
And such Coin to, which is bestowed on Knaves,  
Which should, but do not see things be reformed,  
Might be employed to many better uses:  
But what of beardless Boys, or such like trash;  
The Spanish Galleys: Oh, a vengeance on them.  Post. 
Mass, this man hath the luck on't, I think I can scarce ever come to him for money, but this a vengeance on, and that a vengeance on't, doth so trouble him, that I can get no Coin: Well, a vengeance on't for my part; for he shall fetch the next Letters himself.  Browne. 
I prithee, when thinkst thou the Ships will be come about from Plymouth?  Post. 
Next week, sir.  Heigh. 
Came you sir from Spain lately?  Post. 
ay sir; Why ask you that?  Ha. 
Marry sir, thou seems to have been in the hot countries, thy face looks so like a piece of rusty Bacon: had thy Host at Plymouth meat enough in the house, when thou wert there?  Post. 
What though he had not sir? but he had, how then?  Haru. 
Marry thank God for it; for otherwise, he would doubtless have Cut thee out in Rashers to have eaten thee; thou look'st as thou wert through broiled already.  Post. 
You have said sir; but I am no mere for his moing, nor yours neither: If I had you in place where, you should find me tough enough in digestion, I warrant you.  Walgr, 
What will you swagger sirrah, will ye swagger?  Brow. 
I beseech you Sir, hold your hand; Get home ye patch, cannot you suffer Gentlemen jest with you?  Post. 
I'd teach him a Gentle trick and I had him of the burse; but I'll watch him a good turn I warrant him.  Moor. 
Assure ye master Towerson, I cannot blame him,  
I warrant you it is no easy loss;  
How think you master Stranger? by my faith sir,  
there's twenty Merchants will be sorry for it,  
That shall be partners with him in his loss.  Stra. 
Why sir, what's the matter.  Moor. 
The Spanish-galleys have beset our ships,  
That lately were bound out for Siria.  March. 
What not? I promise you I am sorry for it.  Walg. 
What an old Ass is this to keep us here:  
Master Pisaro, pray dispatch us hence.  Pisa. 
Master Vandal I confess I wrong you;  
But I'll but talk a word or two with him, and straight turn to you.  
Ah sir, and how then i'?  Heigh. 
Turn to us, turn to the Gallows if you will,  Haru. 
'tis midsummer-moon with him: let him alone,  
He calls Ned Walgrave, Master Vandal.  Walg. 
Let it be shrovetide, I'll not stay an inch master Pisaro.  Pisa. 
What should you fear: end as I have vowed before,  
So now again; my Daughters shallbe yours:  
And therefore I beseech you and your friends,  
Defer your business till Dinner time;  
And what you'd say, keep it for table talk.  Haru. 
Marry and shall; a right good motion:  
Sirs, old Pisaro is grown kind of late,  
And in pure love, hath bid us home to dinner.  Heigh. 
Good news in truth: But wherefore art thou sad?  Walg. 
For fear the slave ere it be dinner time,  
Remembering what he did, recall his word:  
For by his idle speeches, you may swear,  
His heart was not confederate with his tongue.  Haru. 
Tut never doubt, keep stomachs till anon,  
And then we shall have cates to feed upon.  Pisa. 
Well sir, since things do fall so crossly out,  
I must dispose myself to patience:  
But for your business, do you assure yourself,  
At my repairing home from the Exchange,  
I'll set a helping hand unto the same.  Enter Aluaro the Italian. Alua. 
Bon iurno signeour Padre, why be de melancholy so much, and grave in you a: what News make you look so nought?  Pisa. 
nought is too good an epithet by much,  
For to distinguish such contrariousness:  
Hath not swift Fame told you our slow sailed Ships  
Have been o'ertaken by the swift sail Galleys,  
And all my cared-for goods within the lurch  
Of that same caterpillar brood of Spain.  Alua. 
signior si, how de Spaniola have almost tack de Ship dat go for Turkey: my Pader, hark you me on word, I have receive vnlettre lettre from my Factor de Vennise, dat after un piculo battalion, for un half hour de come a Wind fra de North, & de Sea go tumble here, & tumble dare, dat make de Galleys run away for fear be almost drowned.  Pisa. 
How sir; did the Wind rise at North, and Seas wax rough: and were the Galleys therefore glad to fly?  Alu. 
signor si, & de Ship go drite on de Iscola de Candy.  Pisa. 
Wert thou not my Alvaro my beloved,  
One whom I know does dearly count of me,  
Much should I doubt me that some scoffing lack,  
Had sent thee in the midst of all my griefs,  
To tell a feigned tale of happy luck.  Alua. 
will you no believe me? see dare dan, see de lettre.  Pisa. 
What is this world? or what this state of man,  
How in a moment cursed, in a trice blessed?  
But even now my happy state 'gan fade,  
And now again, my state is happy made,  
My Goods all safe, my Ships all scaped away,  
And none to bring me news of such good luck,  
But whom the Heavens have marked to be my Son:  
Were I a Lord as great as Alexander,  
None should more willingly be made mine Heir  
Than thee thou golden tongue, thou good-news teller  
joy stops my mouth.  The Exchange Bell rings. Balsa. 
M. Pisaro, the day is late, the Bell doth ring:  
willt please you hasten to perform this business?  Pisa. 
What business sir? God's me, I cry you mercy:  
Do it, yes sir, you shall command me more.  Tower. 
But sir, What do you mean, do you intend  
To pay this Bill, or else to palter with me?  Pisa. 
Marry God shield, that I should palter with you:  
I do accept it, and come when you please;  
You shall have money, you shall have your money due.  Post. 
I beseech your worship to consider me.  Pisa. 
Oh, you cannot cog: Go to, take that,  
Pray for my life: pray that I have good luck,  
And thou shalt see, I will not be thy worst master.  Post. 
Marry God bless your Worship; I came in happy time: What, a French crown? sure he knows not what he does: Well, I'll begone, lest he remember himself, and take it from me again.  Exit Post. Pisa 
Come on my lads, M. Vandal, sweet son Alvaro:  
Come don Balsaro, let's be jogging home  
by'r lakin sirs, I think 'tis one o'clock.  Exeunt Pisaro, Balsaro, Aluaro, Delion, and Vandal. Brow. 
Come M. Moore, th'Exchange is waxen thin,  
I think it best we get us home to dinner.  Moor. 
I know that I am looked for long ere this:  
Come master Towerson, let's walk along.  Exit Moore, Browne, Towerson, Strangers, & Merchant. Heigh. 
And if you be so hot upon your dinner,  
Your best way is, to haste Pisaro on,  
For he is cold enough, and slow enough;  
He hath so late digested such cold news.  Walg. 
marry and shall: Hear you master Pisaro.  Haru. 
Many Pisaro's here: Why how now Ned;  
Where is your Matt your welcome, and good cheer?  Walg. 
'swounds, let's follow him; why stay we here?  Heigh. 
Nay prithee Ned Walg. let's bethink ourselves,  
There's no such haste, we may come time enough:  
At first Pisaro bade us come to him  
Twixt two or three o'clock at afternoon?  
Then was he old Pisaro: but since then,  
What with his grief for loss, and joy for finding,  
He quite forgot himself, when he did bid us,  
And afterward forgot, that he had bade us.  Walg. 
I care not, I remember't well enough:  
He bade us home; and I will go, that's flat,  
To teach him better wit another time.  Haru. 
here'll be a gallant jest, when we come there,  
To see how mazed the greedy chuff will look  
Upon the nations, sects, and factions,  
That now have borne him company to dinner:  
But hark you, let's not go to vex the man;  
Prithee sweet Ned let's tarry, do not go.  Walg. 
Not go? indeed you may do what you please;  
I'll go, that's flat: nay, I am gone already,  
Stay you two, and consider further of it.  Heigh. 
Nay all will go, if one: I prithee stay;  
Thou'rt such a rash and giddy headed youth,  
Each Stone's a Thorn: Hoyda, he skips for haste;  
Young harvey did but jest; I know he'll go.  Walg. 
Nay, he may choose for me: But if he will,  
Why does he not? why stands he prating still?  
If you'll go, come: if not, farewell?  Haru. 
Higher a Post-horse for him (gentle Francke)  
here's haste, and more haste than a hasty Pudding:  
You madman, madcap, wild-oats; we are for you,  
It boots not stay, when you intend to go.  Walg. 
Come away then.  Exeunt. Enter Pisaro, Aluaro, Delion, and Vandal. Pisa. 
A thousand welcomes friends: monsieur Delion,  
Ten thousand Ben-venues unto yourself.  
signor Alvaro, Master Vandal;  
Proud am I, that my roof contains such Friends.  
Why Mall, Larentia, Matth; Where be these Girls?  Enter the three Sisters. 
Lively my Girls, and bid these Strangers welcome;  
They are my friends, your friends, and our well-willers:  
You cannot tell what good you may have on them.  
God's me, Why stir you not? Hark in your ear,  
These be the men the choice of many millions,  
That I your careful Father have provided  
To be your husband's: therefore bid them welcome.  Math. 
Nay by my troth, 'tis not the guise of maids,  
To give a slavering Salute to men: aside,  
If these sweet youths have not the wit to do it,  
we have the honesty to let them stand.  Vanda. 
God's sekerlin, dats vn-fra meskin, Monsieur Delion dare de Groat freisler, dare wode ic zene, 'tis un-fra Daughter, dare heb ic so long loud, dare Heb my desire so long gewest.  Alua. 
Ah Venice, Roma, Italia, Frauncia, Anglitera, nor all dis orb can show so much belliza, veremante de secunda, Madonade granda beauty.  Delio 
Certes me dincke de mine depeteta de little Angloise, de me Matresse Pisaro is un net, un becues, vn fra, et un tendra Damosella.  Pisa. 
What Stocks, what stones, what senseless Trunks be these?  
whenas I bid you speak, you hold your tongue:  
When I bid peace, then can you prate, and chat,  
And gossip: But go too, speak and bid welcome;  
Or (as I live) you were as good you did.  Mari. 
I cannot tell what Language I should speak:  
If I speak English (as I can none other)  
They cannot understand me, nor my welcome.  Alua. 
Bella Madonna, dare is no language so dulce; dulce, dat is sweet, as de language, dat you shall speak, and de vell come dat you sal say, sal be well know perfaytemente.  Mari. 
Pray sir, What is all this in English?  Alua. 
De usa sal vell teash you vat dat is; and if you sal please, I will teash you to parlour Italiano.  Pisa. 
And that methinks sir, not without need:  
And with Italian, to a Child's obedience,  
With such desire to seek to please their Parents,  
As others far more virtuous than themselves,  
Do daily strive to do: But 'tis no matter,  
I'll shortly pull your haughty stomachs down:  
I'll teach you urge your Father; make you run,  
When I bid run: and speak, when I bid speak:  
What greater cross can careful parents have knock within  
Then careless Children. Stir and see who knocks?  Enter harvey, Walgraue, and Heigham. Walgr. 
Good morrow to my good Mistress Mathea.  Mathe. 
As good a morrow, to the morrow giver.  Pisa. 
A murrain, what make these? What do they here?  Heigh. 
You see master Pisaro, we are bold guests,  
You could have bid no surer men than we.  Pisa. 
Hark you Gentlemen; I did expect you  
At afternoon, not before two o'clock.  Haru, 
Why sir, if you please, you shall have us here at two o'clock, at three o'clock, at four o'clock; nay till tomorrow this time: yet I assure you, sir, we came not to your house without inviting.  Pisa. 
Why Gentlemen, I pray who bade you now?  
whoever did it, sure hath done you wrong:  
For scarcely could you come to worser cheer.  Heigh. 
It was your own self bade us to your cheer,  
When you were busy with Balsaro talking;  
You bade us cease our suits till dinner time,  
And then to use it for our table talk:  
And we I warrant you, are as sure as Steel.  Pisa. 
A murrain on yourselves, and sureness too:  
How am I crossed: God's me, what shall I do,  
This was that ill news of the Spanish Pirates,  
That so disturbed me: well, I must dissemble,  
And bid them welcome; but for my Daughters  
I'll send them hence, they shall not stand and prate.  
Well my Masters, Gentlemen, and Friends,  
Though unexpected, yet most heartily welcome;  
(Welcome with a vengeance) but for your cheer,  
That will be small: yet too too much for you.  
Mall, in and get things ready.  
Laurentia, bid Maudlin lay the Cloth, take up the Meat:  
Look how she stirs; you sullen Elf, you Callet,  
Is this the haste you make?  Exeunt Marina & Laurentia. Alua. 
signior Pisaro, x soiat so malcontento de Gentlewoman your filigola did parlour but a litella to, de gentle homa i' our grand amico.  Pisa. 
But that grand amico, is your grand inimico:  
One, if they be suffered to parlar,  
Will poll you, I and pill you of your Wife:  
They love together: and the other two,  
Loves her two Sisters: but 'tis only you  
Shall crop the flower, that they esteem so much.  Alua. 
Do they so; vell let me lone, sal see me give dem de such grand mock, sal be shame of demselves.  Pisa. 
Do sir, I pray you do; set lustily upon them,  
And I'll be ready still to second you.  Walg. 
But Matt, art thou so mad as to turn French?  Math. 
Yes marry when two Sundays come together;  
Think you I'll learn to speak this gibberish,  
Or the pigs language? Why, if I fall sick,  
They'll say, the French (Etcetera) infected me.  Pisa. 
Why how now Minion; what, is this your service?  
Your other Sisters busy are employed,  
And you stand idle: get you in, or.  Exit Mathea. Walg. 
If you chide her, chide me (M. Pisaro:  
For but for me, she had gone in long since.  Pisa. 
I think she had: for we are sprights to scare her;  
But ere't be long, I'll drive that humour from her.  Alua. 
signior, me thinks you soud no macke de when she so hard, so disobedient to de padre as ditt madonna Matt.  Walg. 
signior, methinks you should learn to speak, before you should be so foolhardy, as to woe such a Maiden as that Madonna Matt?  Delio. 
Warrent you Monsieur, he sal parley wen you sal stand out the dour.  Haru. 
Hark you Monsieur, you would wish yourself half hanged, you were as sure to be let in as he.  Van. 
Macke no doubt de signior Alva. sal do vel enough  Heigh. 
perhaps so: but methinks your best way were to ship yourself for Stoad, and there to batter yourself for a commodity; for I can tell you, you are here out of liking.  Pisa. 
The worst perhaps dislike him, but the best esteem him best.  Haru. 
But by your patience sir, methinks none should know better who's Lord, than the Lady.  Alua. 
Den de Lady, vat Lady?  Haru. 
Marry sir, the Lady let her alone: one that means to let you alone for fear of trouble.  Pisa. 
Every man as he may: yet sometimes the blind may catch a Hare.  Heigh. 
ay sir, but he will first eat many a Fly:  
You know it must be a wonder, if a Crab catch a fowl.  Vand. 
Maer hortens; if he & ic & monsieur Delion be de Crab, we sal kash de Foul well genough, I warrent you.  Walg. 
ay, and the Fool well enough I warrant you;  
And much good may it do ye.  Alua. 
Me dincke such a piculo man as you be, sal have no de such grand luck madere.  Delio. 
Non da Monsieur, and he be so granda amorous op de Damosella, he sal have Mawdlyn de wit wench in de kitchen by matter Pisaro's leave.  Walg. 
By M. Pisaro's leave, Monsieur I'll mumble you, except you learn to know, whom you speak to: I tell thee Francois, I'll have (maugre thy teeth) her that shall make thee gnash thy teeth to want.  Pisa. 
Yet a man may want of his will, and bate an Ace of his wish: But Gentlemen, every man as his luck serves, and so agree we; I would not have you fall out in my house: Come, come, all this was in jest, now let's too't in earnest; I mean with our teeth, and try who's the best Trencherman.  Exeunt. Enter Frisco. Frisc. 
Ah sirrah, now I know, what manner of thing Paul's is; I did so mar'le afore what it was out of all count: For my master would say, Would I had Paul's full of Gold. My young Mistresses, and Grimkin our tailor, would wish they had Paul's full of Needles: ay, one asked my master half a yard of Freeze to make me a Coat and he cried whoop holiday, it was big enough to make Paul's a Nightgown. I have been told, that Duke humphrey dwells here, and that he keeps open house, and that a brave sort of Cammileres dine with him every day; now if I could see any vision in the world towards dinner, I would set in a foot: But the best is, o' the ancient English roman Orator saith, So-lame-men, Misers, Housewives, and so forth: the best is, that I have great store of company that do nothing but go up and down, and go up and down, and make a grumbling together, that the meat is so long making ready: Well, if I could meet this scurvy Frenchman, they should stay me, for I would be gone home.  Enter Anthony. Antho. 
I beseech you Monsieur, give me audience.  Frisc. 
What would you have? What should I give you?  Antho. 
Pardon, sir mine uncivil and presumptuous intrusion, who endeavour nothing less, than to provoke or exasperate you against me.  Frisc. 
They say, a word to the Wise is enough: so by this little French that he speaks, I see he is the very man I seek for: Sir, I pray what is your name?  Antho. 
I am nominated Monsieur Le Mouche, and rest at your bon service.  Frisc. 
I understand him partly; yea, and partly nay: Can you speak French? Content poor vous monsieur Madomo.  Antho. 
If I could not sir, I should ill understand you: you speak the best French that ever trod upon Shoe of Leather.  Frisc. 
Nay, I can speak more Languages than that: This is Italian, is it not? Nella slurde Curtezana.  Antho. 
Yes sir, and you speak it like a very Natural.  Frisc. 
I believe you well: now for Dutch:  
Ducky de do watt heb ye goe brought.  Antho. 
I pray stop your mouth, for I never heard such Dutch before brought.  Frsc. 
Nay I think you have not met with no peasant: Hear you M. Mouse, (so your name is I take it) I have considered of your learning in these aforesaid Languages, and find you reasonable: So, so, now this is the matter; Can you take the ease to teach these Tongues to two or three Gentlewomen of mine acquaintance, and I will see you paid for your labour.  Antho. 
Yes sir, and that most willingly.  Fris. 
Why then M. Mouse, to their use, I entertain ye, which had not been but for the troubles of the world, that I myself have no leisure to show my skill: Well sir, if you'll please to walk with me, I'll bring you to them.  Exeunt. Enter Laurentia, Marina, and Mathea. Lauren. 
Sit till dinners done; not I, I swear:  
Shall I stay? till he belch into mine ears  
Those rustic Phrases, and those Dutch French terms,  
Stammering half Sentences dogbolt Eloquence:  
And when he hath no love forsooth, why then  
He tells me Cloth is dear at Antwerp, and the men  
Of Amsterdam have lately made a law,  
That none but Dutch as he, may traffic there:  
Then stands he still and studies what to say;  
And after some half hour, because the Ass  
Hopes (as he thinks) I shall not contradict him.  
He tells me that my Father brought him to me,  
And that I must perform my Father's will.  
Well goodman Goosecap, when thou woo'st again,  
Thou shalt have simple ease, for thy loves pain.  Mathe. 
Alas poor Wench, I sorrow for thy hap,  
To see how thou art clogged with such a Dunce:  
Forsooth my Sire hath fitted me far better,  
My Frenchman comes upon me with the Sa, sa, sa;  
Sweet Madam pardon moye I pray:  
And then out goes his Hand, down goes his Head,  
Swallows his Spittle, frizzles his Beard; and then to me:  
Pardon moy mistress Mathea,  
If I be bold, to macke so bold met you,  
Think it go will dat spurs me dus up yow.  
Dan cast neit off so good and true Lover,  
Madama celestura de la, (I know not what)  
Do oft pray to God dat me would love her:  
And then he reckons a catalogue of names  
of such as love him, and yet cannot get him.  Mari. 
Nay, but your Monsieur's but a Mouse in cheese,  
Compared with my signior; he can tell  
Of Lady Venus, and her Son blind Cupid:  
Of the fair Scylla that was loved of Glaucus,  
And yet scorned Glaucus, and yet loved King Minos;  
Yet Minos hated her, and yet she helped him;  
And yet he scorned her, yet she killed her Father  
To do her good; yet he could not abide her:  
Nay, he'll be bawdy too in his discourse;  
And when he is so, he will take my Hand,  
And tickle the Palm, wink with his one Eye,  
Gape with his Mouth, and  Laur. 
And, hold thy tongue I prithee: here's my father.  Enter Pisaro, Aluaro, Vandal, Delion, harvey, Walgraue, and Heigham. Pisa. 
Unmannerly, untaught, unnurtured Girls,  
Do I bring Gentlemen, my very friends  
To feast with me, to revel at my House,  
That their good likings, may be set on you,  
And you like misbehaved and sullen Girls,  
Turn tail to such, as may advance your states:  
I shall remember't, when you think I do not.  
I am sorry Gentlemen, your cheer's no better;  
But what did want at Board, excuse me for,  
And you shall have amends be made in Bed.  
To them friends, to them; they are none but yours:  
For you I bred them, for you brought them up:  
For you I kept them, and you shall have them:  
I hate all others that resort to them:  
Then rouse your bloods, be bold with what's your own:  
For I and mine (my friends) be yours, or none.  Enter Frisco and anthony. Frisc. 
God-gee Good-morrow sir, I have brought you M. Mouse here to teach my young Mistresses: I assure you (forsooth) he is a brave Frenchman.  Pisa. 
Welcome friend, welcome: my man (I think)  
Hath at the full, resolved thee of my will.  
Monsieur Delion, I pray question him:  
I tell you sir, 'tis only for your sake,  
That I do mean to entertain this fellow,  Antho. 
A bots of all ill luck, how came these here?  
Now am I posed except the Wenches help me:  
I have no French to flap them in the mouth,  Haru. 
To see the luck of a good fellow, poor Anthony  
Could near have sorted out a worser time:  
Now will the pack of all our sly devices  
Be quite laid ope, as one undoes an Oyster:  
Francke, Heigham, and mad Ned, fall to your muses,  
To help poor Anthony now at a pinch,  
Or all our market will be spoiled and marred.  Walg. 
Tut man, let us alone, I warrant you.  Delio. 
Monsieur, Vous estes tresbien venu, de quell pais estes vous.  Anth. 
Vous, that's you: sure he says, how do men call you Monsieur le Mouche?  Mari. 
Sister, help sister; that's honest anthony,  
And he answers, your wooer cuius contrarium.  Delio. 
Monsieur, Vous n'entens pas, Je ne demand puit, vostre nom?  Math. 
Monsieur Delion, he that made your Shoes, made them not in fashion: they should have been cut square at the toe.  Delio. 
Madame, my Sho met de square toe, vat be dat?  Pisa. 
Why saucebox; how now you unreverent minx  
Why? in whose Stable haste thou been brought up,  
To interrupt a man in midst of speech?  
Monsieur Delion, disquiet not yourself,  
But as you have begun, I pray proceed  
To question with this Countryman of yours.  Delio. 
Dat me sal do tres beien, but de bella Madonna de june Gentlewoman do monster some sing of amour to speak lot me, epurce monsieur, me sal say but two tree four five word to dir francois: or sus Monsieur Le mouche en quelle party de Fraunce esties vous ne?  Haru. 
France.  Heigh. 
Ned.  Walg. 
'sblood, let me come.  
Master Pisaro, we have occasion of affairs,  
Which calls us hence with speed; wherefore I pray  
Defer this business till some fitter time,  
And to perform what at the Exchange we spoke of.  Antho. 
A blessing on that tongue, saith Anthony.  Pisa. 
Yes marry Gentlemen, I will, I will.  
Alvaro to your task, fall to your task,  
I'll bear away those three, who being here,  
Would set my Daughters on a merry pin:  
Then cheerly try your lucks; but speak, and speed,  
For you alone (say I) shall do the deed.  Exeunt Pisaro, Haruy, Walgraue, and Higham. Frisc. 
Hear you M. Mouse, did you dine today at Paul's with the rest of the Gentlemen there?  Antho. 
No sir, I am yet undined.  Frisc. 
methinks you should have a reasonable good stomach then by this time, as for me I can sell nothing within me from my mouth to my Codpiece but all Empty, wherefore I think a piece of wisdom to go in and see what Maudlin hath provided for our Dinner master Mouse will you go in?  Antho. 
With as good a stomach and desire as yourself.  Frisc. 
Let's pass in then  Exeunt Frisco, and anthony. Vanda. 
Han seg you Dochtor, vor vat cause, voer why bede also much grooterlie strange, Ic seg you wat, if datt ghy speak to me, is datt ghy love me.  Lauren. 
be't that I care not for you, be't that your breath stinks, if that your breath stinks not, you must learn sweeter English or I shall never understand your suit.  Delion. 
pardon moy Madame.  Math. 
With all my heart so you offend no more.  Delio. 
Is dat an offence to be amorous di one bell Gentlewoman.  Math. 
ay sir see your bell Gentlewoman cannot be amorous of you.  Mar. 
Then if I were as that bell Gentlewoman's lover,  
I would trouble her no further, nor be amorous any longer.  Aluar. 
madonna yet de Belleza of de face beauty deform of all de Corpo may be such datt no periculo, nor all de mal shaunce, can make him leave her dulce visage.  Laur. 
But signior Alvaro if the periculo or mal shaunce were such, that she should love and live with another, than the dulce visage must be left in spite of the lovers teeth, whilst he may whine at his own ill fortune.  Vanda. 
Datts waer matresse, for it is untrue saying, they wint he taught day verleift lie scrat sin gatt.  Math. 
And I think to are like to scratch there but never to claw any of my sister's love away.  Vand. 
Dan sal your sistre do 'gainst her vaders will, or your vader segt dat ick sal heb her vor mine wife.  Laur. 
I think not so sir, for I never heard him say so, but I'll go in and ask him if his meaning be so.  Mari. 
Hark sister signior Alvaro sayth, that I am the fairest of all us three,  Laur. 
Believe him not for he'll tell any lie.  
If so he thinks thou mayst be pleased thereby,  
Come go with me and near stand prating here,  
I have a jest to tell thee in thine ear,  
Shall make you laugh: come let your signior stand,  
I know there's not a Wench in all this Town,  
Scoffs at him more, or loves him less than thou.  
Master Vandal, as much I say for you;  
If needs you marry with an English Lass,  
Woe her in English, or she'll call you Ass.  Math. 
Tut that's a French cog; sure I think,  
There's near a Wench in France not half so fond,  
To woe and sue so for your Mounsership.  Delio. 
Par may foy Madame, she does tincke dare is no Wench so dure as you: for de Fillee was cree dulce, tender, and amorous for me to love her; now me tincke dat I being such a fine man, you should lova me.  Mathe. 
So think not I, sir.  Delio. 
But so tincke esh oder Damosellas.  Mathe. 
Nay I'll lay my love to your command,  
That my Sisters think not so: How say you sister Mall?  
Why how now Gentlemen, is this your talk?  
What beaten in plain field: where be your Maids?  
Nay then I see their loving humour fades,  
And they resign their interest up to me;  
And yet I cannot serve for all you three:  
But least two should be mad, that I love one,  
You shall be all alike, and I'll love none:  
The world is scant, when so many Jack Daws,  
Hover about one corpse with greedy paws:  
If needs you'll have me stay till I am dead,  
Carrion for Crows, Mathea for her Ned:  
And so farewell, we Sisters do agree,  
To have our wills, but near to have you three.  Exeunt. Delio. 
Madama attendez, Madama: is she all? do she mockque de nows in such sort?  Vand. 
Oh de pestilence, Noah if datick can neite dese Englese spreake vel, it shall her father seg how dit is to pass gecomen.  Enter Pisaro. Aluar. 
x parlate, see here signors de father.  Pisa. 
Now Friends, now Gentlemen, how speeds your work; have you not found them shrewd unhappy girls?  Vand. 
Mester Pisaro, de Dochter mistress Laurentia call me de Dyel, den Ass, for that ic can neit English spreken.  Alua. 
And dat we sal no parlour, dat we sal no havar den for de wive.  Pisa. 
Are they so lusty? Dare they be so proud?  
Well, I shall find a time to meet with them:  
In the mean season, pray frequent my house.  Enter Frisco running. 
Ho now sirrah, whither are you running?  Frisc. 
About a little tiny business.  Pisa. 
What business, Ass?  Frisc. 
Indeed I was not sent to you: and yet I was sent after the three Gen-men that dined here, to bid them come to our house at ten o'clock at night, when you were a-bed.  Pisa. 
Ha, what is this? Can this be true?  
What, art thou sure the Wenches bade them come?  Frisc. 
So they said, unless their minds be changed since: for a Woman is like a Weathercock they say, & I am sure of no more than I am certain of: but I'll go in and bid them send you word, whether they shall come or no.  Pisa. 
No sirrah, stay you here; but one word more: Did they appoint than come one by one, or else all together?  Frisc. 
Altogether: Lord that such a young man as you should have no more wit: why if they should come together, one could not make room for them; but coming one by one, they'll stand there if there were twenty of them.  Pisa. 
How this news glads me, and revives my soul: How say you sirs, what will you have a jest worth the telling; nay worth the acting: I have it Gentlemen, I have it Friends.  Alua. 
signior Pisaro, I pray de gratia watte maneire sal we have? what will the parlour? what bon do you know signior Pisaro, dicheti noi signior Pisaro.  Pisa. 
Oh that youth so sweet, so soon should turn to age; were I as you, why this were sport alone for me to do.  
Hark ye, hark ye; here my man,  
Saith, that the Girls have sent for Master Heigham  
And his two friends; I know they love them dear,  
And therefore wish them late at night be here  
To revel with them: Will you have a jest,  
To work my will, and give your longings rest:  
Why then M. Vandal, and you two,  
Shall soon at midnight come, as they should do,  
And court the Wenches; and to be unknown,  
And taken for the men, whom they alone  
So much affect; each one shall change his name:  
Master Vandal, you shall take Heigham, and you  
Young harvey, and monsieur Delion Ned,  
And under shadows be of substance sped:  
How like you this device? how think you of it?  Delio. 
Oh de brave de galliard devise: me sal come by de night and contier fair de Anglois Gentlehomes dictenous ainsi monsieur Pisaro.  Pisa. 
You are in the right sir.  Alua. 
And I sall name me de signior Haruy, end monsieur Delion sall be de piculo signior Ned, end when madonna Laurentia sall say, who be dare? mister Vandal sall say, Oh my sout Laid, hire be your love Mestro Heigham: Is no dis de bravissime, master Vandal?  Vanda. 
Slact up den tromele, van ick sall come  
up to de camerken, won my new Wincken  
Slact up den tromele, van ick sall come.  Pisa. 
Ha, ha, ha, master Vandal,  
I trow you will be merry soon at night,  
When you shall do in deed, what now you hope of.  Vanda. 
I sall v seg vader, Ick sall tesh your Daughter such a ting, make her laugh too.  Pisa. 
Well my Sons all, (for so I count you shall)  
What we have here devised, provide me for:  
But above all, do not (I pray) forget  
To come but one by one, as they did wish.  Vanda. 
Mar hortens vader, ick veite neite de wecke to your houis, hortens sall master Frisco your manneken come to call de me, and bring me to v house.  Pisa. 
Yes marry shall he: see that you be ready,  
And at the hour of eleven soon at night:  
Hie you to bucklersbury to his Chamber,  
And so direct him straight unto my house:  
My Son Alvaro, and monsieur Delion,  
I know, doth know the way exceeding well:  
Well, we'll to the Rose in Barken for an hour:  
And sirrah Frisco, see you prove no blab.  Exeunt Pisaro, Aluaro, Delion, and Vandal. Frisc. 
Oh monstrous, who would think my Master had so much wit in his old rotten budget: and yet i'fath he is not much troubled with it neither. Why what wise man in a kingdom would send me for the dutchman? Does he think I'll not cozen him: Oh fine, I'll have the bravest sport: Oh brave, I'll have the gallantest sport: Oh come; now if I can hold behind, while I may laugh a while, I care not: Ha, ha, ha.  Enter anthony. Antho. 
Why how now Frisco, why laughest thou so heartily?  Frisc. 
Laugh M. Mouse: Laugh, ha, ha, ha.  Antho 
Laugh, why should I laugh? or why art thou so merry?  Frisc. 
Oh master Mouse, master Mouse, it would make any Mouse, Rat, Cat, or Dog, laugh to think, what sport we shall have at our house soon at night: I'll tell you, all, my young Mistresses sent me after M. Heigham and his friends, to pray them come to our house after my old Master was a-bed: Now I went, and I went; and I run, and I went: and whom should I meet, but my Master and M. Pisaro and the Strangers; so my Master very worshipfully (I must needs say) examined me whither I went now? I durst not tell him an untruth, for fear of lying, but told him plainly and honestly mine errand: Now who would think my Master had such a monstrous plaguy wit, he was as glad as could be; out of all scotch and notch glad, out of all count glad? and so sirrah he bid the three uplandish-men come in their steads and woe my young Mistresses: Now it made me so laugh to think how they will be cozened, that I could not follow my Master: But I'll follow him, I know he is gone to the Tavern in his merry humour: Now if you will keep this as secret as I have done hitherto, we shall have the bravest sport soon, as can be. I must be gone, say nothing.  Antho. 
Well it is so:  
And we will have good sport, or it shall go hard;  
This must the Wenches know, or all is marred.  Enter the three Sisters. 
Hark you Mis. Moll, Mis. Laurentia, Mis. Matt,  
I have such news (my Girls) will make you smile.  Mari. 
What be they Master, how I long to hear it?  Antho. 
A Woman right, still longing, and with child,  
For every thing they hear, or light upon:  
Well. if you be mad Wenches, hear it now,  
Now may your knaveries give the deadliest blow  
To night-walkers, eavesdroppers, or outlandish love,  
That ere was stristen.  Math. 
Anthony Mowche,  
Move but the matter; tell us but the jest,  
And if you find us slack to execute,  
Never give credence, or believe us more.  Antho. 
Then know: The Strangers your Outlandish loves,  
Appointed by your Father, comes this night  
In stead of harvey, Heigham, and young Ned,  
Under their shadows to get to your bed:  
For Frisco simply told him why he went:  
I need not to instruct, you can conceive,  
You are not Stocks nor Stones, but have some store  
Of wit and knavery too.  Mathe. 
Anthony, thanks  
Is too too small a guerdon for this news;  
You must be English: Well sir signior sowse,  
I'll teach you tricks for coming to our house.  Laur. 
Are you so crafty, oh that night were come,  
That I might hear my Dutchman how he'd swear  
In his own mother Language, that he loves me:  
Well, if I quit him not, I here pray God,  
I may lead Apes in Hell, and die a Maid;  
And that were worser to me then a hanging.  Antho. 
Well said old honest huddles; here's a heap  
Of merry Lasses: Well, for myself,  
I'll hie me to your Lovers, bid them mask  
With us at night, and in some corner stay  
Near to our house, where they may make some play  
Upon your rivals, and when they are gone,  
Come to your windows.  Mari. 
Do so good Master.  Antho. 
Peace, begone; for this our sport,  
somebody soon will mourn.  Exeunt. Enter Pisaro. Pisa. 
How favourable Heaven and Earth is seen,  
To grace the mirthful complot that is laid,  
night's Candles burn obscure, and the pale Moon  
Favouring our drift, lies buried in a Cloud:  
I can but smile to see the simple Girls,  
Hoping to have their sweethearts hear tonight,  
Tickled with extreme joy, laugh in my face:  
But when they find, the Strangers in their steads,  
They'll change their note, and sing another song.  
Where be these Girls here? what, to bed, to bed:  
Maudlin make fast the Doors, rake up the Fire;  
Gods me, 'tis nine o'clock, hark Bow-bell rings: Knock.  
Some look down below, and see who knocks:  
And hark you Girls, settle your hearts at rest,  
And full resolve you, that tomorrow morn,  
You must be wed to such as I prefer;  
I mean Alvaro and his other friends:  
Let me no more be troubled with your nays.  
You shall do what I'll have, and so resolve.  Enter moor. 
Welcome M. Moore, welcome,  
What wind a-gods name drives you forth so late?  Moore. 
Faith sir, I am come to trouble you,  
My wife this present night is brought to bed.  Pisa. 
To bed, and what hath God sent you?  Moor. 
A jolly Girl, sir.  Pisa. 
And God bless her: But what's your will sir?  Moor. 
Faith sir, my house being full of Friends,  
Such as (I thank them) came to see my wife?  
I would request you, that for this one night,  
My daughter Susan might be lodged here.  Pisa. 
Lodge in my house, welcome with all my heart,  
Matt hark you, she shall lie with you,  
Trust me she could not come in fitter time.  
For hear you sir, tomorrow in the morning.  
All my three Daughters must be married,  
Good master Moore let's have your company,  
What say you sir; Welcome honest friend.  Enter a Servant. Moor. 
How now sirrah what's the news with you?  Pisa. 
Mowche hear you, stir betimes tomorrow,  
For then I mean your Scholars shall be wed:  
What news, what news man that you look so sad,  Moor. 
He brings me word my wife is new fallen sick,  
And that my daughter cannot come tonight:  
Or if she does, it will be very late.  Pisa, 
Believe me I am then more sorry for it.  
But for your daughter come she soon or late,  
Some of us will be up to let her in,  
For here be three means not to sleep tonight:  
Well you must be gone? commend me to your wife,  
Take heed how you go down, the stairs are bad,  
Bring here a light.  Moor. 
'tis well I thank you sir.  Exit. Pisa. 
Good night master Moore farewell honest friend,  
Come, come to bed, to bed 'tis nine and past,  
Do not stand prating here to make me fetch you,  
But get you to your Chambers. Exit Pisaro.  Antho. 
by’r lady here's short work, hark you Girls,  
Will you tomorrow marry with the strangers.  Mall. 
i' faith sir no I'll first leap out at window,  
Before Marina marry with a stranger,  Antho. 
Yes but your father swears, you shall have one.  Ma. 
Yes but his daughters, swears they shall have none,  
These whoreson Cannibals, these Philistines,  
These tango-mongoes shall not rule o'er me,  
I'll have my will and Ned, or I'll have none.  Antho. 
How will you get him? how will you get him?  
I know no other way except it be this,  
That when your fathers in his soundest sleep,  
You open the Door and run away with them,  All sisters. 
So we will rather then miss of them.  Antho. 
'tis well resolved i'fath and like yourselves,  
But hear you? to your Chambers presently,  
lest that your father do descry our drift, Exeunt Sisters.  
Mistress Susan should come but she cannot,  
Nor perhaps shall not, yet perhaps she shall,  
Might not a man conceit a pretty jest?  
And make as mad a Riddle as this is,  
If all things fadge not, as all things should do,  
we shall be sped i'faith, Matt shall have hue.  Enter Vandalle and Frisco. Vand. 
Wear be you mester Frisco.  Frisc. 
Here sir, here sir, now if I could cozen him, take heed sir hers a post.  Vand. 
Ick be so groterly hot, datt ick sweat, Oh wen sal we come dare.  Frisc. 
Be you so hot sir, let me carry your Cloak, I assure you it will ease you much.  Vand. 
Dare here, dare, 'tis so Dark eye can neit see.  Frisc. 
ay, so so: now you may travel in your Hose and Doublet: now look I as like the Dutchman, as if I were spit out of his mouth: I'll straight home, & speak groote and brood, and toot and gibberish; and in the dark I'll have a fling at the Wenches. Well, I say no more; farewell M. Mendall, I must go seek my fortune.  Exit Frisco. Vanda. 
Mester Frisco, mester Frisco, wat sal you no speak; make you de Fool? Why mester Frisco; Oh de skellum, he be ga met de Cloak, me sal seg his mester, han mester Frisco, waer sidy mester Frisco.  Exit Vandal. Enter harvey, Heigham, and Walgraue. Haruy. 
Goes the case so well signior bottlenose?  
It may be we shall overreach your drift;  
This is the time the Wenches sent us word  
Our bombast Dutchman and his mates will come.  
Well neat Italian, you must don my shape:  
Play your part well, or I may 'haps pay you.  
What, speechless Ned? faith whereon musest thou?  
'tis on your French corrival, for my life:  
He come eat vostre, and so forth,  
Till he hath foisted in a Brat or two?  
How then, how then?  Walg. 
'swounds I'll geld him first,  
Ere that incestuous lozel revel there.  
Well Matt, I think thou know'st what Ned can do;  
Shouldst thou change Ned for Noddy, me for him,  
Thou didst not know thy loss, i'fath thou didst not.  Heigh. 
Come leave this idle chat, and let's provide  
Which of us shall be scarecrow to these Fools,  
And set them out the way?  Walg. 
Why that will I.  Haru. 
Then put a Sword into a madman's hand:  
Thou art so hasty, that but cross thy humour,  
And thou'lt be ready cross them o'er the pates:  
Therefore for this time, I'll supply the room.  Heigh. 
And so we shall be sure of chat enough;  
You'll hold them with your flouts and gulls so long,  
That all the night will scarcely be enough  
To put in practice, what we have devised:  
Come, come, I'll be the man shall do the deed.  Haru. 
Well, I am content to save your longing.  
But soft, where are we? Ha, here's the house,  
Come let us take our stands: France stand you there,  
And Ned and I will cross tother side.  Heigh. 
Do so: But hush, I hear one passing hither.  Enter Aluaro. Aluar. 
Oh de favourable aspect of de heaven, 'tis so obscure, so dark, so black dat no mortal creature can know de me: I pray a Dio I sal have de reight Wench: Ah si I be recht, here be de huis of signior Pisaro, I sall have de madonna Marina, and darvor I sall knock to de door.  He knocks. Heigh. 
What a pox are you mad or drunk;  
What, do you mean to break my Glasses?  Alua. 
Wat be dat Glass? Wat drunk, what mad?  Heigh. 
What Glasses sir; why my Glasses: and if you be so crank, I'll call the Constable; you will not enter into a man's house (I hope) in spite of him?  Haru. 
Nor durst you be so bold as to stand there,  
If once the Master of the House did know it.  Alua. 
Is dit your House? be you de signior of dis Cassa?  Heigh. 
signior me no signors, nor cassa me no cassas: but get you hence, or you are like to taste of the Bastinado.  Heigh. 
Do, do, good Ferdinand, pummel the loggerhead.  Alua. 
Is this neit the House of mester Pisaro?  Heigh. 
Yes marry when? can you tell: how do you?  
I thank you heartily, my finger in your mouth.  Alua. 
Wat be dat?  Heigh. 
Marry that you are an Ass and a loggerhead,  
To seek master Pisaro's house here.  Alua. 
I pray de gratia, what be dis plash?  
Wat do ye call dit street?  Heigh. 
What sir; why Leadenhall, could you not see the four Spouts as you came along?  Alua. 
Certenemento Leden hall, I hit my head by de way, dare may be de voer Spouts: I pray de gratia, wish be de weigh to Crochefriers?  Heigh. 
How, to Croched-friers? Marry you must go along till you come to the Pump, and then turn on your right hand.  Alua. 
signior, adio.  Exit Aluaro. Haru. 
Farewell and be hanged signior:  
Now for your fellow, if the Ass would come.  Enter Delion. Delio. 
By my trot me do so much tincke of dit gentlewoman de fine Wenshe, dat me tincke esh hover ten day, and esh day ten year, till I come to her: Here be de huise of sin vader, sall all and knock. He knocks.  Heigh. 
What a bot's ail you, are you mad?  
Will you run over me and break my Glasses?  Delio. 
Glasses, what Glasses? Pray is monsieur Pisaro to de mayson?  Haru. 
Hark Ned, there's thy substance  Walg. 
Nay by the Mass, the substance's here,  
The shadow's but an Ass.  Heigh. 
What Master Pisaro?  
loggerhead, here's none of your Pisaro's?  Delio. 
Yes but dit is the houis of mester Pisaro.  Walg. 
Will not this monsieur Motley take his answer?  
I'll go and knock the ass about the pate.  Har. 
Nay by your leave sir, but I'll hold your worship.  
This stir we should have had, had you stood there.  Walg. 
Why, would it not vex one to hear the ass,  
Stand prating here of dit and dan, and den and dog?  Haru. 
One of thy mettle Ned, would surely do it:  
But peace, and hark to the rest.  Delio. 
Do no de fine Gentlewoman matresse Mathea dwell in dit Plash?  Heigh. 
No sir, here dwells none of your fine Gentlewoman: 'twere a good deed sirrah, to see who you are;  
You come hither to steal my Glasses.  
And then counterfeit you are going to your Queans.  Delio. 
I be deceu dis dark neight; here be no Wenshe, I be no in de right plash: I pray Monsieur, what be name dis Street, and wish be de way to Croshe-friers?  Heigh. 
Marry this is fanchurch-street,  
And the best way to Crotched-friers, is to follow your nose  Delio. 
Vanshe, street, how shaunce me come to Vanshe street? vell monsieur, me must all to Croche-friers.  Exit Delion. Walg. 
Farewell fortypence, go seek your signior,  
I hope you'll find yourselves two Dolts anon:  
Hush Ferdinand, I hear the last come stamping hither.  Enter Frisco. Frise. 
Ha sirrah, I have left my fat Dutchman, and run myself almost out of breath too: now to my young mistresses go I, somebody cast an old shoe after me: but soft, how shall I do to counterfeit the Dutchman, be cause I speak English so like a natural; Tush, take you no thought for that, let me alone for Squintum squantum: soft, her's my masters house,  High. 
whose's there.  Frisc. 
whose's there, why sir here is: Nay that's too good English; Why here be de growtte Dutchman.  Heigh. 
Then there's not only a grout head, but an Ass also.  Frisc. 
What be you, you be an English Ox to call a gentle moan Ass.  Haru. 
Hark Ned yonder's good greeting.  Frisc. 
But you, and you be Master Mouse that dwell here, tell your matressa Laurentia datt her sweet heart Master Vandal would speak with horde,  Heigh. 
Master Mendall, get you gone, lest you get a broken Pate and so mar all: here's no entrance for mistress Laurentios sweet heart.  Frisc. 
Gods sacaren watt is the luck now.  
Shall not I come to my friend master Pisar Hoose?  Heigh. 
Yes and to master Pisaro's Shoes too, if he or they were here.  Frisc. 
Why my grout friend, M. Pisaro doth dwell here.  Heigh. 
Sirrah, you lie, here dwells nobody but I, that have dwelled here this one & forty years, and sold Glasses.  Walg. 
Lie farther, one and fifty at the least.  Fris. 
Hoo, ho, ho; do you give the Gentleman the lie?  Haru. 
ay sir, and will give you a lick of my Cudgel, if ye stay long and trouble the whole street with your bawling: hence dolt, and go seek M. Pisaro's House.  Frisc. 
Go seek M. Pisaro's House;  
Where shall I go seek it?  Hegh. 
Why, you shall go seek it where it is.  Frisc. 
That is here in Crodched-friers.  Heigh. 
How Loggerhead, is Croched-friers here?  
I thought you were some such drunken Ass,  
That come to seek Croched-friers in Tower-street:  
But get you along on your left hand, and be hanged;  
You have kept me out of my Bed with your bangling,  
A good while longer than I would have been.  Frisc. 
Ah, ah, How is this? Is not this Croched-friers? Tell me, I'll hold a Crown they gave me so much Wine at the Tavern, that I am drunk, and know not out.  Haru. 
My Dutchman's out his Compass & his Card;  
he's reckoning what Wind hath drove him hither:  
I'll swear he thinks never to see Pisaro's.  Frisc. 
Nay 'tis so, I am sure drunk: Soft let me see, what was I about? Oh now I have it, I must go to my masters house and counterfeit the Dutchman, and get my young Mistress: well, and I must turn on my left hand, for I have forgot the way quite and clean: Fare de well good friend, I am a simple Dutchman I.  Exit Frisco. Heigh. 
Fair weather after you. And now my Lads,  
Have I not plied my part as I should do?  Haru. 
'twas well, 'twas well: But now let's cast about,  
To set these Woodcocks farther from the House,  
And afterwards return unto our Girls.  Walg. 
Content, content; come, come make haste.  Exeunt. Enter Aluaro. Alua. 
I go and turn, and dan I come to dis plash, I can no tell watt, and sall do I can no tell watt, turn by the Pump; I pump it fair.  Enter Delion. Delio. 
Me all, end all & can no come to Croche-friers.  Enter Frisco. Frisc. 
Oh miserable Black-pudding, if I can tell which is the way to my masters house, I am a Red-herring, and no honest Gentleman.  Alua. 
Who parlato dare?  Delio. 
Who be der? who all der?  Frisc. 
How's this? For my life here are the Strangers: Oh that I had the Dutchmans Hose, that I might creep into the Pockets; they'll all three fall upon me & beat me.  Alua. 
Who do der ander?  Delio. 
Amis?  Frisc. 
Oh brave; it's nobody but M. Pharoo and the Frenchman going to our House, on my life: well, I'll have some sport with them, if the Watch hinder me not. Who goes there?  Delio. 
Who parley der, in what plash, in what street be you?  Frisc. 
Why sir, I can tell where I am; I am in Tower-street: Where a Devil be you?  Delio. 
Io be here in Lede-hall.  Frisc. 
In Leadenhall? I trow I shall meet with you anon: in Leadenhall? What a simple Ass is this Frenchman. Some more of this: Where are you sir?  Alua. 
Moy I be here in Vanshe-streete.  Frisc. 
This is excellent ynfayth, as fit as a Fiddle: I in Tower-street, you in Leadenhall, and the third in fanchurch-street; and yet all three hear one another, and all three speak together: either we must be all three in Leadenhall, or all three in Tower-street, or all three in fanchurch-street; or all three Fools.  Alua. 
Monsieur Gentle-home, can you well tesh de weigh to Croshe-frier?  Frisc. 
How to Croched-friers? ay, I sir, passing well if you will follow me.  Delio. 
I dat me sal monsieur Gentle-home, and give you tanks.  Frisc. 
And monsiur Pharo, I shall lead you such a jaunt, that you shall scarce give me thanks for. Come sirs follow me: now for a dirty Puddle, the pissing conduit, or a great Post, that might turn these two from Asses to Oxen by knocking their Horns to their Foreheads.  Alua. 
Whaer be de now signior?  Frisc. 
even where you will signior, for I know not:  
Soft I smell: Oh pure Nose.  Delio. 
what do you smell?  Frisc. 
I have the scent of London-stone as full in my nose, as Abchurch-lane of mother Walls Pasties: Sirs feel about, I smell London-stone.  Alua. 
Wat be dis?  Frisc. 
Soft let me see; feel I should say, for I cannot see: Oh lads pray for my life, for we are almost at Croched-friers.  Delio. 
Dats good: but watt be dis Post?  Frisc. 
This Post; why 'tis the Maypole on Ivy-bridge going to Westminster.  Delio. 
Ho Westminster, how come we tol Westminster?  Frisc. 
Why on your Legs fools, how should you go? Soft, here's another: Oh now I know in deed where I am; we are now at the farthest end of Shoreditch, for this is the Maypole.  Delo. 
Sordiche; O dio, dear be some naughty tinge, some Spirit do lead us.  Frisc. 
You say true sir, for I am afeard your French spir't is up so far already, that you brought me this way, because you would find a Charm for it at the Blue Bore in the Spittle: But soft, who comes here?  Enter a bellman. Bel. 
Maids in your Smocks, look well to your Locks, Your Fire and your Light; and God give you good night.  Delia. 
Monsieur Gentle-home, I pray parle one, too, tree, fore, words vore us to dis oull man.  Frisc. 
Yes marry shall I sir. I pray honest Fellow, in what Street be we?  Bel. 
Ho Frisco, whither frisk you at this time of night?  Delio. 
What, Monsieur Frisco?  Alua. 
signior Frisco?  Frisc. 
The same, the same: Hark ye honesty, methinks you might do well to have an M. under your Girdle, considering how signior Pifaro, and this other Monsieur do hold of me.  Bell. 
Oh sir, I cry you mercy; pardon this fault, and I'll do as much for you the next time.  Fris. 
Well, passing over superfluical talk, I pray what Street is this; for it is so dark, I know not where I am?  Bell. 
Why art thou drunk, Dost thou not know fanchurch-street?  Frisc. 
ay sir, a good Fellow may sometimes be overseen among Friends; I was drinking with my Master and these Gentlemen, and therefore no marvel though I be none of the wisest at this present: But I pray thee Goodman Buttericke, bring me to my masters House.  Bel. 
Why I will, I will, push that you are so strange now adays: but it is an old said saw, Honours change Manners.  Frisc. 
Goodman Buttericke will you walk afore:  
Come honest Friends, will ye go to our House?  Delio. 
Ouy monsieur Frisco.  Alua. 
Si signior Frisco.  Enter Vandal. Vand. 
Oh de skellam Frisco, ic weit neit waer dat ic be, ic go and hit my nose op dit post, and ic go and hit my nose op danden post; Oh de villain: Well, waer ben ic now? Haw laet syen is dut neit croshe vrier, ya seker so ist and dit M. Pisaros huis: Oh de good shaunce, well ic sall now have de Wenshe Laurentia, mestris Laurentia.  Enter Laurentia, Marina, Mathea, above. Mari. 
Who's there, Master harvey?  Math. 
Master Walgrave?  Laur. 
Master Heigham?  Vand. 
Ya my Low, here be mester Heigham your groot friend.  Mari. 
How, Master Heigham my grot urined?  
Out alas, here's one of the Strangers.  Lauren. 
Peace you Mammet, let's see which it is; we may chance teach him a strange trick for his learning: M. Heigham, what wind drives you to our house so late?  Vand. 
Oh my leif Mesken, de love tol v be so groot, dat het bring me out my bed voor you.  Math. 
Ha, ha, we know the Ass by his ears; it is the Dutchman: what shall we do with him?  Laure. 
Peace, let him not know, that you are here: M. Heigham, if you will stay awhile that I may see, if my Father be asleep, and I'll make means we may come together  Vand. 
Dat sal ick my lova. Is dit no well counterfeit I speak so like mester Heigham as 'tis possible.  Laure. 
Well, what shall we do with this Lubber? (Lover I should say.)  Math. 
What shall we do with him?  
Why crown him with a—  Mart. 
Fie Slut: No, we'll use him cleanlier; you know we have never a Sign at the door, would not the jest prove currant, to make the Dutchman supply that want.  Laure. 
Nay, the fool will cry out, & so wake my father.  Mat. 
Why, then we'll cut the Rope & cast him down.  Laur. 
And so jest out a hanging; let's rather draw him up in the Basket, and so starve him to death this frosty night.  Mari. 
In sadness, well advised: Sister, do you hold him in talk, and we'll provide it whilst.  Laur. 
Go to then. M. Heigham, oh sweet M Higham, doth my Father think that his unkindness can part you & poor Laurentia? No, no, I have found a drift to bring you to my Chamber, if you have but the heart to venture it.  Vand. 
Ventre, salic go to de see, and be de see, and over de see and in de see voer my sweet Low.  Laur. 
Then you dare go into a Basket; for I know no other means to enjoy your company, then so: for my Father hath the Keys of the Door.  Vand. 
salic climb up tot you? sal ick fly up tot you? salic, wat segdy?  Math. 
Bid him do it Sister, we shall see his cunning.  Laur. 
Oh no, so you may catch a fall. There M. Heigham, Put yourself into that Basket, and I will draw you up: But no words I pray you, for fear my Sister hear you.  Vand. 
No, no; no word: Oh de feet wench, Ick come, Ick come.  Laur. 
Are you ready master Heigham?  Vand. 
ja ick my sout Lady.  Mari. 
Merrily then my Wenches.  Laur 
How heavy the Ass is: Master Heigham, is there any in the Basket but yourself?  Vand. 
Neit, neit, dare be no man.  Laur. 
Are you up sir?  Vand. 
Neit, neit.  Mari 
Nor never are you like to climb more higher: Sisters, the Woodcock's caught, the Fool is caged.  Vand. 
My sout Lady I be nuc neit up, pull me totv.  Math. 
When can you tell; what master Vandal,  
A wether beaten soldier an old wencher,  
Thus to be over reached by three young Girls:  
Ah sirrah now we'll brag with Mistress moor,  
To have as fine a parrot as she hath,  
Look sisters what a pretty fool it is:  
What a green greasy shining Coat he hath,  
An Almond for parrot, a Rope for parrot.  Vand. 
Do you moc que me seger seger,  
I sal seg your vader.  Laur. 
Do and you dare, you see here is your fortune,  
Disquiet not my father; if you do,  
I'll send you with a vengeance to the ground,  
Well we must confess we trouble you,  
And over watching makes a wiseman mad,  
Much more a fool, there's a Cushion for you.  Mar. 
To bore you through the nose.  Laur. 
To lay your head on.  
Couch in your Kennel sleep and fall to rest,  
And so good night for London maids scorn still,  
A dutchman should be seen to curb their will.  Vand. 
Hort ye Daughter, hort ye¿ gods se ker kin? will ye no let me come tot you? ick bid you let me come tot you watt sal ick don, ick would neit vor un hundred pound Alvaro & Delion, should see me open dit manner, well what sal ick don, ick mout neit call: vor de Wenshes will cut de rope and break my neck; ick sal here bleaven till de morning, & dan ick sal call to mester Pisaro, & make him shafe & shit his dauctors: Oh de skellum Frisco, Oh des cruel Hores.  Enter Pisaro. Pisa. 
I'll put the Light out, lest I be espied,  
For closely I have stolen me forth a doors,  
That I might know, how my three Sons have sped.  
Now (afore God) my heart is passing light,  
That I have overreached the Englishmen:  
Ha, ha, Master Vandal, many such nights  
Will suage your bog swollen bulk, and make it lank:  
When I was young; yet though my Hairs be grey,  
I have a Young man's spirit to the death,  
And can as nimbly trip it with a Girl,  
As those which fold the springtide in their Beards:  
Lord how the very thought of former times,  
Supples these near dried limbs with activeness:  
Well, thoughts are shadows, sooner lost than seen,  
Now to my Daughters, and their merry night,  
I hope Alvaro and his company,  
Have read to them moral Philosophy,  
And they are full with it: Here I'll stay,  
And tarry till my gallant youths come forth.  Enter harvey, Walgraue, and Heigham. Heigh. 
You madman, wild-oats, madcap, where art thou?  Walg. 
Here afore.  Haru. 
Oh ware what love is? Ned hath found the scent;  
And if the coney chance to miss her burrow,  
she's overborne i', she cannot stand it.  Pisa. 
I know that voice, or I am much deceived.  Heigh. 
Come, why loiter we? this is the Door:  
But soft, here's one asleep.  Walg. 
Come, let me feel:  
Oh 'tis some Rogue or other; spurn him, spurn him.  Haru. 
Be not so wilful, prithee let him lie.  Heigh. 
Come back, come back, for we are past the house  
Yonder's Matheas' Chamber with the light.  Pisa. 
Well fare a head, or I had been descried.  
God's me, what make the Youngsters here so late?  
I am a rogue, and spurn him: well Jack sauce,  
The Rogue is waking yet, to mar your sport.  Walg. 
Matt, Mistress Mathea; where be these Girls?  Enter Mathea alone. Math. 
Who's there below?  Walg. 
Thy Ned, kind Ned, thine honest trusty Ned.  Math. 
No, no, it is the Frenchman in his stead,  
That monsieur motley-coat that can dissemble:  
Hear you Frenchman, pack to your Whores in France;  
Though I am Portingale by the Father's side,  
And therefore should be lustful, wanton, light;  
Yet goodman Goosecap, I will let you know,  
That I have so much English by the Mother,  
That no base slavering French shall make me stoop:  
And so, sir Dandelion fare you well.  Walg. 
What speechless, not a word: why how now Ned?  Har. 
The Wench hath ta'en him down,  
He hangs his head.  Walg. 
You dandelion, you that talk so well:  
Hark you a word or two good Mistress Matt,  
Did you appoint your Friends to meet you here,  
And being come, tell us of Whores in France,  
A Spanish jennet, and an English Mare,  
A mongrel, half a Dog and half a Bitch;  
With Tran-dido, Dil-dido, and I know not what?  
Hear you, if you'll run away with Ned,  
And be content to take me as you find me,  
Why so law, I am yours: if otherwise,  
You'll change your Ned, to be a Frenchman's Trull?  
Why then, Madame Delion, je vous lassera a Die, et la bon fortune.  Math. 
That voice assures me, that it is my Love:  
Say truly, Art thou my Ned? art thou my Love?  Walg. 
'swounds who should I be but Ned?  
You make me swear.  Enter above Marina. Mari. 
Who speak you to? Mathea who's below?  Haru. 
Marina.  Mari. 
Young master Haruy? for that voice saith so.  Enter Laurentia. Alua. 
Speak sister Matt, is not my true Love there?  Math. 
Ned is.  Laur. 
Not master Heigham?  Heigh. 
Laurentia, here.  Laur. 
i'fath thou'rt welcome.  Heigh. 
Better cannot Fall.  Math. 
Sweet, so art thou.  Mari. 
As much to mine.  Laur. 
Nay Gentles, welcome all.  Pisa. 
Here's cunning harlotries, they feed these off  
With welcome, and kind words, whilst other Lads.  
Revel in that delight they should possess:  
Good Girls, I promise you I like you well.  Mari. 
Say master Haruy, saw you, as you came,  
That lecher, which my Sire appoints my man;  
I mean that wanton base Italian,  
That Spanish-leather spruce companion:  
That antic Ape tricked up in fashion?  
Had the Ass come, I'd learn him, difference been  
Betwixt an English Gentleman and him.  Heigh. 
How would you use him. (sweet).  
If he should come?  Mari. 
Nay nothing (sweet) but only wash his crown:  
Why the Ass woos in such an amorous key,  
That he presumes no Wench should say him nay:  
He slavers not his Fingers, wipes his Bill,  
And swears in faith you shall, in faith I will;  
That I am almost mad to bide his wooing.  Heigh. 
Look what he said in word, I'll act in doing.  Walg. 
Leave thought of him, for day steals on apace,  
And to our Loves: Will you perform your words;  
All things are ready, and the Parson stands,  
to join as hearts in hearts, our hands in hands,  
Night favours us, the thing is quickly done,  
Then truss up bag and Baggages, and be gone:  
And ere the morning, to augment your joys,  
we'll make you mothers of six goodly Boys.  Heigh. 
Promise them three good Ned, and say no more.  Walg. 
But I'll get three, and if I get not four.  Pisa. 
There's a sound Card at Maw, a lusty lad,  
Your father thought him well, when one he had,  Heigh. 
What say you sweets, will you perform your words?  Matt. 
Love to true love, no lesser meed affords?  
we say we love you, and that loves fair breath  
Shall lead us with you round about the Earth:  
And that our loves, vows, words, may all prove true,  
Prepare your Arms, for thus we fly to you. they Embrace.  Walg. 
This works like wax, now ere tomorrow day,  
If you two ply it but as well as I,  
we'll work our lands out of Pisaro's Daughters:  
And can sell all our bonds in their great Bellies,  
When the slave knows it, how the Rogue will curse.  Matt. 
Sweet heart.  Walg. 
Matt.  Mathe. 
Where art thou.  Pisa. 
Here.  Mathe. 
Oh jesus here's our father.  Walg. 
The Devil he is.  Haru 
Master Pisaro, twenty times God morrow.  Pisa, 
Good morrow? now I tell you Gentlemen,  
You wrong and move my patience overmuch,  
What will you Rob me, Kill me, Cut my Throat:  
And set mine own blood here against me too,  
You housewives? Baggages? or what is worse,  
Wilful, stubborn, disobedient:  
Use it not Gentlemen, abuse me not,  
Newgate hath room, there's law enough in England,  Heigh. 
Be not so testy, hear what we can say.  Pisa. 
Will you be wived? first learn to keep a wife,  
Learn to be thrifty, learn to keep your Lands,  
And learn to pay your debts to, I advise, else.  Walg. 
What else, what Lands, what Debts, what will you do?  
Have you not Land in Mortgage for your money,  
Nay since 'tis so, we owe you not a Penny,  
Fret not, Fume not, never bend the Brow:  
You take ten in the hundred more than Law,  
We can complain, extortion, simony,  
Newgate hath Rome, there's Law enough in England.  Heigh. 
prithee have done.  Walg. 
Prithee me no prithees.  
Here is my wife, 'sblood touch her, if thou darest,  
Hearst thou, I'll lie with her before thy face,  
Against the Cross in Cheap, here, anywhere.  
What you old crafty Fox you.  Heigh. 
Ned, stop there.  Pisa. 
Nay, nay speak out, bear witness Gentlemen,  
where's Mowche, charge my Musket, bring me my Bill,  
For here are some that mean to Rob thy master.  Enter Anthony. 
I am a Fox with you, well jack sauce,  
Beware least for a Goose, I pray on you.  Exeunt Pisaro and Daughters. 
In baggages, Mowche make fast the door.  Walg. 
A vengeance on ill luck,  Antho. 
What never storm,  
But bridle anger with wise government.  Heigh. 
Whom? Anthony our friend, Ah now our hopes,  
Are found too light to balance our ill haps.  Antho. 
Tut near say so, for Anthony  
Is not devoid of means to help his Friends.  Walg. 
'swounds, what a devil made he forth so late  
I'll lay my life 'twas he that feigned to sleep,  
And we all unsuspicious, termed a rogue:  
Oh God, had I but known him; if I had,  
I would have writ such Letters with my Sword  
Upon the bald skin of his parching pate,  
That he should near have lived to cross us more.  Antho. 
These menaces are vain, and helpeth nought:  
But I have in the depth of my conceit  
Found out a more material stratagem:  
Hark Master Walgrave, yours craves quick dispatch,  
About it straight, stay not to say farewell. Exit Walgraue.  
You Master Heigham, hie you to your Chamber,  
And stir not forth, my shadow, or myself,  
Will in the morning early visit you;  
Build on my promise sir, and good night. Exit Heigham.  
Last, yet as great in love, as to the first:  
If you remember, once I told a jest,  
How feigning to be sick, a Friend of mine  
Possessed the happy issue of his Love:  
That counterfeited humour must you play;  
I need not to instruct, you can conceive,  
Use master brown your Host, as chief in this:  
But first, to make the matter seem more true,  
Sickly and sadly bid the churl good night;  
I hear him at the Window, there he is.  Enter Pisaro above. 
Now for a trick to overreach the Devil.  
I tell you sir, you wrong my master much,  
And then to make amends, you give hard words:  
H'ath been a friend to you; nay more, a Father:  
I promise you, 'tis most ungently done.  Pisa. 
ay, well said Mouche, now I see thy love,  
And thou shalt see mine, one day if I live.  
None but my daughter's sir, hangs for your tooth:  
I'd rather see them hanged first, ere you get them.  Haru. 
Master Pisaro, hear a dead man speak,  
Who sings the woeful accents of his end.  
I do confess I love; then let not love  
Prove the sad engine of my lives remove:  
Marina's rich Possession was my bliss?  
Then in her loss, all joy eclipsed is:  
As every Plant takes virtue of the Sun;  
So from her Eyes, this life and being sprung:  
But now debarred of those clear shining Rays,  
Death for Earth gapes, and Earth to Death obeys:  
Each word thou spak'st, (oh speak not so again)  
Bore Deaths true image on the Word engraven;  
Which as it flew mixed with heavens airy breath,  
Summoned the dreadful Sessions of my death:  
I leave thee to thy wish, and may th'event  
Prove equal to thy hope and hearts content.  
Marina to that hap, that happiest is;  
My Body to the Grave, my Soul to bliss.  
Have I done well?  Exit harvey. Antho. 
Excellent well in troth.  Pisar. 
ay, go; ay, go: your words move me as much,  
As doth a Stone being cast against the air.  
But soft, What Light is that? What Folks be those? Oh 'tis Alvaro & his other Friends, I'll down & let them in.  Exit. Enter Belman, Frisco, Vandalle, Delion, & Aluaro. Frisc. 
Where are we now gaffer Buttericke?  Bell. 
Why know you not Croched-friers, where be your wits?  Aluar. 
Wat be tis Crosh-viers? vidite padre dare; tack you dat, me fall trouble you no far.  Bell. 
I thank you Gentlemen, good night:  
Good night Frisco.  Exit Belman. Frisc. 
Farewell Buttericke, what a Clown it is:  
Come on my masters merrily, I'll knock at the door.  Antho. 
Who's there, our three wise wooers,  
Blockhead our man? had he not been,  
They might have hanged themselves,  
For any Wenches they had hit upon:  
Good morrow, or good den, I know not whether.  Delio. 
Monsieur de Mowche, wat macke you out de Houis so late?  Enter Pisaro below. Pisa. 
What, what, young men & sluggards fie for shame  
You trifle time at home about vain toys,  
Whilst others in the mean time, steal your Brides:  
I tell you sir, the English Gentlemen  
Had well-nigh mated you, and me, and all;  
The Doors were open, and the Girls abroad,  
Their Sweethearts ready to receive them to:  
And gone forsooth they had been, had not I  
(I think by revelation) stopped their flight:  
But I have cooped them up, and so will keep them.  
But sirrah Frisco, where's the man I sent for?  
Whose Cloak have you got there?  
How now, where's Vandal?  Frisc. 
Forsooth he is not here:  
Master Mendall you mean, do you not?  Pisar. 
Why loggerhead, him I sent for, where is he?  
Where hast thou been? How hast thou spent thy time?  
Did I not send thee to my Son Vandal?  Frisc. 
I M. Mendall; why forsooth I was at his Chamber, and we were coming hitherward, and he was very hot, and bade me carry his Cloak; and I no sooner had it, but he (being very light) firks me down on the left hand, and I turned down on the left hand, and so lost him.  Pisa. 
Why then you turned together, Ass.  Frisc. 
No sir, we never saw one another since.  Pisa. 
Why, turned you not both on the left hand?  Frisc. 
No forsooth we turned both on the left hand.  Pisa. 
Hoyda, why yet you went both together.  Fris. 
Ah no, we went clean contrary one from another.  Pisa. 
Why Dolt, why Patch, why Ass,  
On which hand turned ye?  Frisc. 
Alas, alas, I cannot tell forsooth, it was so dark I could not see, on which hand we turned: But I am sure we turned one way.  Pisa. 
Was ever creature plagued with such a Dolt?  
My Son Vandal now hath lost himself,  
And shall all night go straying 'bout the Town;  
Or meet with some strange Watch that knows him not;  
And all by such an arrant Ass as this.  Anth. 
No, no, you may soon smell the Dutchmans lodging: Now for a Figure: Out alas, what's yonder?  Pisa. 
Where?  Fris. 
Hoyda, hoyda, a Basket: it turns, hoe.  Pisa. 
Peace ye Villain, and let's see who's there? Go look about the House; where are our weapons? What might this mean?  Frisc. 
Look, look, look; there's one in it, he peeps out: Is there near a Stone here to hurl at his Nose.  Pisa. 
What, wouldst thou break my Windows with a Stone? How now, who's there, who are you sir?  Frisc. 
Look, he peeps out again: Oh it's M. Mendall, it's M. Mendall: how got he up thither?  Pisa. 
What, my Son Vandal, how comes this to pass?  Alua. 
signior Vandal, what do you go to de wenshe in de Basket?  Vand. 
Oh Vadere, Vadere, here be sush cruel Dochterkens, ick ben also weary, also weary, also cold; for be in dit little Basket: lo prey help dene.  Frisc. 
He looks like the sign of the Mouth without bishop's gate, gaping, and a great Face, and a great Head, and nobody.  Pisa. 
Why how now Son, what have your Adamants  
Drawn you up so far, and there left you hanging  
Twixt Heaven and Earth like Mahomet's Sepulchre?  Antho. 
They did unkindly, whosoe'er they were,  
That plagued him here, like Tantalus in Hell,  
To touch his Lips like the desired Fruit,  
And then to snatch it from his gaping Chaps.  Alua. 
A little farther signior Vandal, and dan you may put v head into de windo and cash de Wensh.  Vand. 
Ick prey Vader dat you help de me, Ick prey Goody Vader.  Pisa. 
Help you, but how?  Frisc. 
Cut the Rope.  Antho. 
Sir, I'll go in and see,  
And if I can, I'll let him down to you.  Exit Anthony. Pisa. 
Do gentle Mouche: Why but here's a jest;  
They say, high climbers have the greatest falls:  
If you should fall; as how you'll do I know not,  
by’r lady I should doubt me of my Son:  
Pray to the Rope to hold: Art thou there Mouche?  Enter Anthony above. Antho. 
Yes sir, now you may choose, whether you'll stay till I let him down, or whether I shall cut him down?  Frisc. 
Cut him down master Mouse, cut him down And let's see, how he'll tumble.  Pisa. 
Why sauce, who asked your counsel?  
Let him down.  
What, with a Cushion too? why you provided  
To lead your life as did Diogenes;  
And for a Tub, to creep into a Basket.  Vanda. 
Ick sall seg v Vader, Ick quame here to your Huise and spreake tol de Dochterken.  Frisc. 
M. Mendall, you are welcome out of the Basket: I smell a Rat it was not for nothing, that you lost me.  Vand. 
Oh skellum, you run away from me.  Pisa. 
I thought so sirrah, you gave him the slip.  Frisc. 
Faw, no forsooth; I'll tell you how it was: when we come from bucklersbury into Cornwall, and I had taken the Cloak, than you should have turned down on your left hand and so have gone right forward, and so turned up again, and so have crossed the street; and you like an Ass.  Pisa. 
Why how now Rascal; is your manners such?  
You ass, you Dolt, why led you him through Cornhill,  
Your way had been to come through Canning street.  Frisc. 
Why so I did sir.  Pisa. 
Why thou seest ye were in Corn-Hill.  Fris. 
Indeed sir there was three faults, the Night was dark, Master Mendall drunk, and I sleepy, that we could not tell very well, which way we went.  Pisa. 
Sirrah I owe for this a cudgeling:  
But Gentlemen, sith things have fallen out so,  
And for I see Vandal quakes for cold,  
This night accept your Lodgings in my house,  
And in the morning forward with your marriage,  
Come on my sons, sirrah fetch up more wood.  Exeunt. Enter the three Sisters. Laur. 
Nay never weep Marina for the matter,  
Tears are but signs of sorrow, helping not.  Mari. 
Would it not mad one to be crossed as I,  
Being in the very height of my desire?  
The strangers frustrate all: our true love's come,  
Nay more, even at the door, and Harvy's arms  
Spread as a Rainbow ready to receive me,  
And then my Father meet us: Oh God, oh God.  Math. 
Weep who that list for me, in not I,  
Though I am youngest yet my stomach's great:  
Nor 'tis not father, friends, nor any one,  
Shall make me wed the man I cannot love:  
I'll have my will ynfayth, i'faith I will.  Laur. 
Let us determine Sisters what to do,  
My father means to wed us in the morning,  
And therefore something must be thought upon.  Mari. 
we'll to our father and so know his mind,  
I and his reason too, we are no fools,  
Or Babes neither, to be fed with words.  Laur. 
Agreed, agreed: but who shall speak for all?  Math. 
I will.  Mari. 
No I.  Laur. 
Thou wilt not speak for crying.  Mari. 
Yes, yes I warrant you, that humours left,  
Be I but moved a little, I shall speak,  
And anger him I fear, ere I have done.  Enter Anthony. All. 
Whom Anthony our friend, our Schoolmaster?  
Now help us Gentle Anthony, or never.  Antho. 
What is your hasty running changed to prayer,  
Say, where were you going?  Laur. 
even to our father,  
To know what he intends to do with us.  Antho. 
'tis bootless trust me, for he is resolved  
To marry you to.  Mari. 
The Strangers.  Antho. 
i' faith he is.  Math. 
i' faith he shall not.  
Frenchman, be sure we'll pluck a Crow together,  
Before you force me give my hand at Church.  Mari. 
Come to our Father speech this comfort finds,  
That we may scold out grief, and ease our minds.  Anth. 
Stay, Stay Marina, and advise you better,  
It is not Force, but Policy must serve:  
The Doors are locked, your Father keeps the Key,  
Wherefore unpossible to scape away:  
Yet have I plotted, and devised a drift,  
To frustrate your intended marriages,  
And give you full possession of your joys:  
Laurentia, ere the morning's light appear,  
You must play Anthony in my disguise.  Math. 
Anthony, what of us? What shall we wear?  Mari. 
Anthony, what of us? What shall we wear?  Anth. 
Soft, soft, you are too forward Girls, I swear,  
For you some other drift devised must be?  
One shadow for a substance: this is she.  
Nay weep not sweets, repose upon my care,  
For all alike, or good or bad shall share:  
You will have harvey, you Heigham, and you Ned;  
You shall have all your wish, or be I dead:  
For sooner may one day the Sea lie still,  
Then once restrain a Woman of her will.  All. 
Sweet Anthony, how shall we quit thy hire?  Anth. 
Not gifts, but your contentments I desire:  
To help my Countrymen I cast about,  
For Strangers loves blaze fresh, but soon burn out:  
Sweet rest dwell here, and frightful fear objure,  
These eyes shall wake to make your rest secure:  
For ere again dull night the dull eyes charms,  
Each one shall fold her Husband in her arms:  
Which if it chance, we may avouch it still,  
Women & Maids will always have their will.  Exeunt. Enter Pisaro and Frisco. Pisa. 
Are Wood & Coals brought up to make a fire?  
Is the Meat spitted ready to lie down:  
For Bakemeats I'll have none, the world's too hard:  
There's Geese too, now I remember me;  
Bid Maudlin lay the Giblets in Past,  
Here's nothing thought upon, but what I do.  
Stay Frisco, see who rings: look to the Door,  
Let none come in I charge, were he my Father,  
I'll keep them whilst I have them: Frisco, who is it?  Frisc. 
She is come ynfayth.  Pisa. 
Who is come?  Frisc. 
Mistress Sushaunce, Mistress moors daughter.  Pisa. 
Mistress Susan, Ass? Oh she must come in.  Frisc. 
Hang him, if he keep out a Wench:  
If the Wench keep not out him, so it is.  Enter Walgraue in Woman's attire. Pisa. 
Welcome Mistress Susan, welcome;  
I little thought you would have come tonight;  
But welcome (trust me) are you to my house:  
What, doth your Mother mend? doth she recover?  
I promise you I am sorry for her sickness.  Walg. 
She's better than she was, I thank God for it,  Pisa. 
Now afore God she is a sweet smug Girl,  
One might do good on her; the flesh is frail,  
Man hath infirmity, and such a Bride,  
Were able to change Age to hot desire:  
Hark you Sweetheart,  
Tomorrow are my Daughters to be wed,  
I pray you take the pains to go with them.  Walg. 
If sir you'll give me leave, I'll weight on them.  Pisa. 
Yes marry shall you, and a thousand thanks,  
Such company as you my daughter's want,  
Maids must grace Maids, when they are married:  
be't not a merry life (thinks thou) to wed,  
For to embrace, and be embraced a-bed.  Walg. 
I know not what you mean sir.  
here's an old Ferret Polecat.  Pisa. 
You may do, if you'll follow mine advice;  
I tell thee Mouse, I knew a Wench as nice:  
Well, she's at rest poor soul, I mean my Wife,  
That thought (alas good heart) Love was a toy,  
Until (well, that time is gone and passed away)  
But why speak I of this: Hark ye Sweeting,  
There's more in Wedlock, than the name can show;  
And now (by’r lady) you are ripe in years:  
And yet take heed Wench, there lies a Pad in Straw;  Walg. 
Old Fornicator, had I my Dagger,  
I'd break his Costard.  Pisa. 
Young men are slippery, fickle, wavering;  
Constant abiding graceth none but Age:  
Then Maids should now wax wise, and do so,  
As to choose constant men, let fickle go,  
Youth's unregarded, and unhonoured:  
An ancient Man doth make a Maid a Matron:  
And is not that an Honour, how say you? how say you?  Walg. 
Yes forsooth.  
(Oh old lust will you never let me go.)  Pisa. 
You say right well, and do but think thereon,  
How Husbands, honoured years, long cared-for wealth,  
Wise staidness, Experient government,  
Doth grace the Maid, that thus is made a Wise,  
And you will wish yourself such, on my life.  Walg. 
I think I must turn womankind altogether,  
And scratch out his eyes:  
For as long as he can see me, he'll near let me go.  Pisa. 
But go (sweetheart) to bed, I do thee wrong,  
The lateness now, makes all our talk seem long.  Enter Anthony. 
How now Mowche, be the Girls a-bed?  Anth. 
Mathea (and it like you) fain would sleep, but only tarrieth for her bedfellow.  Pisa. 
Ha, you say well: come, light her to her Chamber,  
Good rest wish I to thee; wish so to me,  
Than Susan and Pisaro shall agree:  
Think but what joy is near your bedfellow,  
Such may be yours; take counsel of your Pillow:  
Tomorrow we'll talk more; and so good night,  
Think what is said, may be, if all hit right.  Walg. 
What, have I passed the Pikes: knows he not Ned?  
I think I have deserved his daughter's bed.  Anth. 
'tis well, 'tis well: but this let me request,  
You keep unknown, till you be laid to rest:  
And then a good hand speed you.  Walg. 
Tut, near fear me,  
We two a-bed shall never disagree.  Exeunt Antho. & Walg. Frisc. 
I have stood still all this while, and could not speak for laughing: Lord what a Dialogue hath there been between Age and Youth. You do good on her? even as much as my Dutchman will do on my young Mistress: Master, follow my counsel; then send for M. Heigham to help him, for I'll lay my Cap to two Pence, that he will be asleep tomorrow at night, when he should go to bed to her: Marry for the Italian, he is of another humour, for therele be no dealings with him, till midnight; for he must slaver all the Wenches in the house at parting, or he is nobody: he hath been but a little while at our House, yet in that small time, he hath licked more Grease from our maudlin's lips, then would have served London Kitchen-stuff this twelvemonth. Yet for my money, well fare the Frenchman, Oh he is a forward Lad, for he'll no sooner come from the Church, but he'll fly to the Chamber; why he'll read his Lesson so often in the day time, that at night like an apt Scholar, he'll be ready to sell his old Book to buy him a new. Oh the generation of Languages that our House will bring forth: why every Bed will have a proper speech to himself, and have the founder's name written upon it in fair Capital letters, Here lay, and so forth.  Pisa. 
You'll be a villain still: Look who's at door?  Frisc. 
Nay by the Mass, you are M. Porter, for I'll be hanged if you lose that office, having so pretty a morsel under your keeping: I go (old huddle) for the best Nose at smelling out a Pinfold, that I know: well, take heed, you may haps pick up Worms so long, that at length some of them get into your Nose, and never out after: But what an Ass am I to think so, considering all the Lodgings are taken up already, and there's not a dog-kennel empty for a strange Worm to breed in.  Enter Anthony. Antho. 
The day is broke; Mathea and young Ned,  
By this time, are so surely linked together,  
That none in London can forbid the Banes.  
Laurentia she is near provided for:  
So that if Harvey's policy but hold,  
elsewhere the Strangers may go seek them Wives:  
But here they come.  Enter Pisaro and Browne. Pisa. 
Six o'clock say you; trust me, forward days:  
Hark you Mowche, hic you to Church,  
Bid M Bewford be in readiness:  
Where go you, that way?  Anth. 
For my Cloak, sir.  Pisa. 
Oh 'tis well: and M. brown,  
Trust me, your early stirring makes me muse,  
Is it to me your business?  Brown. 
even to yourself:  
I come (I think) to bring you welcome news,  Pisa. 
And welcome news,  
More welcome makes the bringer:  
Speak, speak, good M. brown, I long to hear them.  Brow. 
Then this it is. Young harvey late last night,  
Full weak and sickly came unto his lodging,  
From whence this sudden malady proceeds:  
'tis all uncertain, the Doctors and his Friends  
Affirm his health is unrecoverable:  
Young Heigham and Ned Walgrave lately left him,  
And I came hither to inform you of it.  Pisa. 
Young M. harvey sick; now afore God  
The news bites near the Bone: for should he die,  
His Living mortgaged would be redeemed,  
For not these three months doth the Bond bear date:  
Die now, marry God in heaven defend it;  
Oh my sweet Lands, lose thee, nay loose my life:  
And which is worst, I dare not ask mine own,  
For I take two and twenty in the hundred,  
When the Law gives but ten: But should he live,  
He careless would have left the debt unpaid,  
Then had the Lands been mine Pisaro's own,  
Mine, mine own Land, mine own Possession.  Brow. 
Nay hear me out.  Pisa. 
You're out too much already,  
Unless you give him life, and me his Land.  Brow. 
Whether 'tis love to you, or to your Daughter,  
I know not certain; but the Gentleman  
Hath made a deed of gift of all his Lands,  
Unto your beauteous Daughter fair Marina.  Pesa. 
Ha, say that word again, say it again,  
A good thing cannot be too often spoken:  
Marina say you, are you sure 'twas she,  
Or Mary, Margery; or some other Maid?  Brow. 
To none but your Daughter fair Marina;  
And for the gift might be more forcible,  
Your neighbour master Moore advised us,  
(Who is a witness of young Harvey's Will)  
Sick as he is, to bring him to your house:  
I know they are not far, but do attend,  
That they may know, what welcome they shall have.  Pisa. 
What welcome sir; as welcome as new life  
Given to the poor condemned Prisoner:  
Return (good master brown) assure their welcome,  
Say it, nay swear it; for they're welcome truly:  
For welcome are they to me which bring Gold.  
See down who knocks; it may be there they are:  
Frisco, call down my Sons, bid the Girls rise:  
Where's Mowche; what, is he gone or no?  Enter Laurentia in Anthony's attire. 
Oh hear you siera, bring along with you  
Master Balsaro the Spanish Merchant.  Laur. 
Many Balsaros I; I'll to my Love:  
And thanks to Anthony for this escape.  Pisa. 
Stay, take us with you. Hark, they knock again,  
Come my soul's comfort, thou good news bringer,  
I must needs hug thee even for pure affection.  Enter harvey brought in a Chair, moor, Browne, Aluaro, Vandalle, Delion, and Frisco. Pisa. 
Lift softly (good my friends) for hurting him.  
Look cheerly sir, you're welcome to my house.  
Hark M. Vandal, and my other Sons,  
Seem to be sad as grieving for his sickness,  
But inwardly rejoice. Master Vandal,  
signior Alvaro, Monsieur Delion,  
Bid my Friend welcome, pray bid him welcome:  
Take a good heart; I doubt not (by God's leave)  
You shall recover and do well enough:  
(If I should think so, I should hang myself.)  
Frisco, go bid Marina come to me. Exit Frisco.  
You are a Witness sir, of this man's Will:  
What think you M. moor, what say you to't?  Moor. 
Master Pisaro, follow mine advice:  
You see the Gentleman cannot escape,  
Then let him straight be wedded to your Daughter;  
So during life time, she shall hold his Land,  
When now (being nor kith nor kin to him)  
For all the deed of Gift, that he hath sealed,  
His younger Brother will enjoy the Land.  Pisa. 
Marry my Daughter: no by’r lady.  
Hear you Alvaro, my Friend counsel me,  
Seeing young M. harvey is so sick,  
To marry him incontinent to my Daughter.  
Or else the gift he hath bestowed, is vain:  
Marry and he recover; no my Son,  
I will not lose thy love, for all his Land.  Alua. 
hear you padre, do no lose his Lands, his hundred pont per anno 'tis wort to havar; let him have de matresse Marina in de marriage, 'tis but vor me to attendre une day more: if he will no die, I sal give him such a Drink, sush a Potion sal make him give de Bonos noches to all de world.  Pisa. 
Alvaro, here's my Keys, take all I have,  
My Money, Plate, Wealth, jewels, Daughter too:  
Now God be thanked, that I have a Daughter, worthy to be Alvaro's bed fellow:  
Oh how I do admire and praise thy wit,  
I'll straight about it: Hear you Master moor.  Enter Marina and Frisco. Frisc. 
Nay sayth he's sick, therefore though he be come, yet he can do you no good; there's no remedy but even to put yourself into the hands of the Italian, that by that time that he hath passed his growth, young harvey will be in case to come upon it with a size of fresh force.  Mari. 
Is my Love come, & sick? ay, now thou lovest me,  
How my heart joys: Oh God, get I my will,  
I'll drive away that Sickness with a kiss:  
I need not feign, for I could weep for joy.  Pisa. 
It shall be so; come hither Daughter.  
Master harvey, that you may see my love  
Comes from a single heart unfeignedly,  
See here my Daughter, her I make thine own:  
Nay look not strange, before these Gentlemen,  
I freely yield Marina for thy Wife.  Haru. 
Stay, stay good sir, forbear this idle work,  
My soul, is labouring for a higher place,  
Than this vain transitory world can yield:  
What, would you wed your Daughter to a Grave?  
For this is but Death's model in man's shape:  
You and Alvaro happy live together:  
Happy were I, to see you live together.  Pisa. 
Come sir, I trust you shall do well again:  
Here, here, it must be so; God give you joy,  
And bless you (not a day to live together.)  Vand. 
Hort ye brother, will ye let den ander heb your Wive? nempt haer, nempt haer yourself?  Alua. 
No, no; tush you be de fool, here be dat sal spoil de marriage of hem: you have deceue me of de fine Wensh signior Harvey, but I sal deceive you of de much Land.  Haru. 
Are all things sure Father, is all dispatched?  Pisa. 
What interest we have, we yield it you:  
Are you now satisfied, or rests there ought?  Haru. 
Nay Father, nothing doth remain, but thanks:  
Thanks to yourself first, that disdaining me,  
Yet loud my Lands, and for them gave a Wife.  
But next, unto Alvaro let me turn,  
To courteous gentle loving kind Alvaro,  
That rather then to see me die for love,  
For very love, would lose his beauteous Love.  Vand. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Deli. 
signior Alvaro, give him de ting quickly sal make hem die, autremant you sal lose de fine Wensh.  Alua. 
Oyime che havesse allhora appressata la mano all mio core, o suen curato ate, I che longo sei tu arrivato, o cieli, o terra.  Pisa. 
Am I awake? or do deluding Dreams  
Make that seem true, which most my soul did fear?  Haru 
Nay faith Father, it's very certain true,  
I am as well as any man on earth:  
Am I sick sirs? Look here, is harvey sick?  Pisa. 
What shall I do? What shall I say?  
Did not you counsel me to wed my Child?  
What Potion? Where's your help, your remedy.  Haru. 
I hope more happy Stars will reign today,  
And don Alvaro have more company.  Enter anthony. Antho. 
Now Anthony, this cottons as it should,  
And every thing sorts to his wished effect:  
harvey joys Moll: my Dutchman and the French,  
Thinking all sure, laughs at Alvaro's hap;  
But quickly I shall mar that merry vain,  
And make your Fortune's equal with your Friends.  Pisa. 
Sirrah Mowche, what answer brought you back?  
Will master Balsaro come, as I requested?  Anth. 
Master Balsaro; I know not who you mean.  Pisa. 
Know you not Ass, did I not send thee for him?  
Did not I bid thee bring him, with the Parson?  
What answer made he, will he come or no?  Anth. 
Sent me for him: why sir, you sent not me,  
I neither went for him, nor for the Parson:  
I am glad to see your Worship is so merry. Knock.  Pisa. 
Hence you forgetful dolt:  
Look down who knocks?  Exit Antho. Enter Frisco. Frisco. 
Oh Master, hang yourself: nay never stay for a session's: Master Vandal confess yourself, desire the people to pray for you; for your Bride she is gone: Laurentia is run away.  Vanda. 
Oh de Diabolo, de mal-fortune: is matresse Laurentia gaen awech?  Pisa. 
First tell me that I am a lifeless corpse;  
Tell me of Doomsday, tell me what you will,  
Before you say Laurentia is gone.  Mari. 
Master Vandal, how do you feel yourself?  
What, hang the head? fie man for shame I say,  
Look not so heavy on your marriage day.  Haru. 
Oh blame him not, his grief is quickly spied,  
That is a Bridegroom, and yet wants his Bride.  Enter Heigham, Laurentia, Balsaro, & Anthony. Bals. 
Master Pisaro, and Gentlemen, good day to all:  
According sir, as you requested me,  
This morn I made repair unto the Tower,  
Where as Laurentia now was married:  
And sir, I did expect your coming thither;  
Yet in your absence, we performed the rites:  
Therefore I pray sir, bid God give them joy.  Heigh. 
He tells you true, Laurentia is my Wife;  
Who knowing that her Sisters must be wed;  
Presuming also, that you'll bid her welcome,  
Are come to bear them company to Church.  Haru. 
You come too late, the Marriage rites are done:  
Yet welcome twentyfold unto the Feast.  
How say you sirs, did not I tell you true,  
These Wenches would have us, and none of you.  Laur. 
I cannot say for these; but on my life,  
This loves a Cushion better than a Wife.  Mall. 
And reason too, that Cushion fell out right,  
Else hard had been his lodging all last night.  Bals. 
Master Pisaro, why stand you speechless thus?  Pisa. 
Anger, and extreme grief enforceth me.  
Pray sir, who bade you meet me at the Tower?  Bals. 
Who sir; your man sir, Mowche; here he is.  Anth. 
Who I sir, mean you me? you are a jesting man.  Pisa. 
Thou art a Villain, a dissembling Wretch,  
Worse than Anthony whom I kept last:  
Fetch me an Officer, I'll hamper you,  
And make you sing at Bridewell for this trick:  
For well he hath deserved it, that would swear  
He went not forth a doors at my appointment.  Anth. 
So swear I still, I went not forth today.  Bals. 
Why arrant liar, wert thou not with me?  Pisa. 
How say you master brown, went he not forth?  Brow. 
He, or his likeness did, I know not whether.  Pisa. 
What likeness can there be besides himself?  Laur. 
myself (forsooth) that took his shape upon me,  
I was that Mowche that you sent from home:  
And that same Mowche that deceived you,  
Effected to possess this Gentleman:  
Which to attain, I thus be guiled you all.  Frisc. 
This is excellent, this is as fine as a Fiddle: you M. Heigham got the Wench in mowche's apparel; now let Mowche put on her apparel, and be married to the Dutchman: How think you, is it not a good vice?  Moor. 
Master Pisaro, shake off melancholy,  
When things are helpless, patience must be used.  Pisa. 
Talk of Patience? I'll not bear these wrongs:  
Go call down Matt, and mistress Susan Moore,  
'tis well that of all three, we have one sure.  Moor. 
Mistress Susan Moore, who do you mean sir?  Pisa. 
Whom should I mean sir, but your Daughter?  Moor. 
You're very pleasant sir: but tell me this,  
When did you see her, that you speak of her?  Pisa. 
ay, late yesternight, when she came here to bed.  Moor. 
You are deceived, my Daughter lay not here,  
But watched with her sick mother all last night.  Pisa. 
I am glad you are so pleasant M moor,  
You're loath that Susan should be held a sluggard:  
What man, 'twas late before she went to bed,  
And therefore time enough to rise again.  Moor. 
Master Pisaro, do you flout your friends;  
I well perceive if I had troubled you,  
I should have had it in my dish ere now:  
Susan lie here? 'am sure when I came forth,  
I left her fast asleep in bed at home;  
'tis more than neighbourhood to use me thus.  Pisa. 
A bed at your house? tell me I am mad,  
Did not I let her in adores myself,  
Spoke to her, talked with her, and canvased with her;  
And yet she lay not here? What say you sirrah?  Antho. 
She did, she did; I brought her to her Chamber.  Moor. 
I say he lies (that sayth so) in his throat.  Antho. 
Mass now I remember me, I lie indeed.  Pisa. 
Oh how this frets me: Frisco, what say you?  Frisc. 
What say I? Marry I say, if she lay not here, there was a familiar in her likeness; for I am sure my Master and she were so familiar together, that he had almost shot the Gout out of his Toes ends, to make the Wench believe he had one trick of youth in him. Yet now I remember me she did not lie here; and the reason is, because she doth lie here, and is now a-bed with mistress Mathea; witness whereof, I have set to my Hand & Seal, and mean presently to fetch her.  Exit Frisco. Pisa. 
Do so Frisco. Gentlemen and Friends,  
Now shall you see how I am wronged by him.  
Lay she not here? I think the world's grown wise,  
Plain folks (as I) shall not know how to live.  Enter Frisco. Frisc. 
she comes, she comes: a Hall, a Hall.  Enter Mathea and Walgraue in Woman's attire. Walg. 
Nay blush not wench, fear not, look cheerfully.  
Good morrow Father; Good morrow Gentlemen:  
Nay stare not, look you here, no monster I,  
But even plain Ned: and here stands Matt my Wife.  
Know you her Frenchman? But she knows me better.  
Father, pray Father, let me have your blessing,  
For I have blessed you with a goodly Son;  
'tis breeding here i'fath, a jolly Boy.  Pisa. 
I am undone, a reprobate, a slave;  
A scorn, a laughter, and a jesting stock:  
Give me my Child, give me my Daughter from you.  Moor. 
Master Pisaro, 'tis in vain to fret,  
And fume, and storm, it little now avails:  
These Gentlemen have with your daughter's help,  
Outstripped you in your subtle enterprises:  
And therefore, seeing they are well descended,  
Turn hate to love, and let them have their Loves,  Pisa. 
Is it even so; why then I see that still,  
Do what we can, Women will have their Will.  
Gentlemen, you have outreached me now,  
Which near before you, any yet could do:  
You, that I thought should be my Sons indeed,  
Must be content, since there's no hope to speed:  
Others have got, what you did think to gain;  
And yet believe me, they have took some pain.  
Well, take them, there; and with them, God give joy.  
And Gentlemen, I do entreat tomorrow,  
That you will Feast with me, for all this sorrow:  
Though you are wedded, yet the Feast's not made:  
Come let us in, for all the storms are past,  
And heaps of joy will follow on as fast.  
FINIS.