THE Fair Maid of the Exchange: With The pleasant Humours of the Cripple of Fanchurch.  
Very delectable, and full of mirth.  
LONDON Printed for HENRY ROCKIT, and are to be sold at the shop in the Poultry under the Dial. 1607.   

eleven may easily act this Comedy.  

Berry an old man for one.  
Bobbington for one.  
Gardiner for one.  
Officers for one.  
Mall Berry for one.  
Flower an humorous old man for one.  
Bennet for one.  
Scarlet for one.  
Ralph for one.  
Cripple for one.  
Barnard for one.  
Flowers wife for one.  
Ursula for one.  
Boy for one.  
Anthony Golding gentleman for one.  
Ferdin. Gold. gent. and Wood. for one.  
Frank Golding gentleman. for one.  
Bowdler an humorous gallant. for one.  
Phillis the fair Maid for one.  
Fiddle the Clown. for one.    

Prologue.  

THe humble Sock that true Comedians were,  
Our Muse hath donned, and to your favouring eyes,  
In lowest Plainsong doth herself appear,  
Borrowing no colours from a quaint disguise:  
If your fair favours cause her spirit to rise,  
She to the highest pitch her wings shall rear,  
And proud cothurnic action shall devise,  
To win your sweet applause she deems so dear.   

meanwhile shore up our tender pamping twig,  
That yet on humble ground doth lowly lie:  
Your favours sunshine guilding once this sprig,  
It may yield Nectar for the gods on high:  
Though our Invention lame, imperfect be,  
Yet give the Cripple alms for charity.   Exit.  

¶ The fair Maid of the Exchange.  
Scene. I.  Enter Scarlet and Bobbington. 
e'en now the welcome twilight doth salute  
Th'approaching night clad in black sable weeds.  
Black as my thoughts, that harbour nought but death,  
Thefts, murders, rapes and such like damned acts,  
The infant babes to whom my soul is nurse:  
Come Bobbinton, this star-bespangled sky  
Bodeth some good, the wether's fair and dry.  Bob. 
My scarlet-hearted Scarlet, gallant blood,  
Whose bloody deeds are worthy memory  
Of after ages, let me embrace thee: so,  
So, now methinks I fold a richer gem,  
Than wealthy India can afford to Spain:  
There lies my treasure, and within thy arms  
Security that never breedeth harms.  Scar. 
Brave resolution, I am proud to see  
So sweet a graft upon a wormwood tree,  
Whose juice is gall, but yet the fruit most rare:  
Who wreaks the tree, if that the fruit be fair?  
Therefore resolve, if we a booty get,  
It boots not whence, from whom, when, where, or what.  Bob. 
Well (God forgive us) here let's take our stands,  
We must have gold although we have no lands.  Enter Phillis and Ursula. Phil. 
Stay Ursula, have you those suits of Ruffs,  
Those stomachers, and that fine piece of Lawn,  
Marked with the Letters C C. and S.  Ursula. 
I have.  Phil. 
If your forgetfulness cause any defect,  
You're like to pay for't, therefore look unto it.  Vrsu. 
I would our journey had as safe an end,  
As I am sure my ladies ruffs are here,  
And other wares which she bespoke of you.  Phil. 
'tis good; but stay, give me thy hand my girl,  
'tis somewhat dark, come, let us help each other:  
She passed her word one of her gentlemen  
Should meet us at the bridge, and that's not far,  
I muse they are not come, I do assure thee,  
Were I not much beholding to her Ladyship  
For many kindnesses: Mile-end, should stand  
This gloomy night unvisited for us.  
But come, methinks I may discern the bridge.  
And see a man or two, in very deed  
Her word, her love and all is honourable.  Bob. 
A prize young Scarlet, Oh, a gallant prize,  
And we are Pirates that will seize the same  
To our own uses.  Scar. 
But hold man, not too fast:  
As far as I can gather by their words,  
They take us for my ladies Gentlemen,  
Who as it seems should meet them on their way,  
Then if thou sayst the word we'll seem those men,  
And by those means withdraw them from their way.  
Where we may rifle them of what they carry,  
I mean, both goods, and their virginity.  Bob. 
'tis well advised, but Scarlet, give me leave  
To play the Gentleman and welcome them.  Scar. 
Enjoy thy wish.  Bob. 
Welcome you sacred stars,  
That add bright glory to the sable night.  Scarl. 
Excellent, by heaven.  Bob. 
I am sorry your beauty's so discomfited,  
Treading so many tedious weary steps,  
And we not present to associate you.  Scar. 
Oh, blessed Bobbington.  Phil. 
Sir, I do thank you for this taken pains,  
That as your worthy Lady promised me,  
We now enjoy your wished company.  Scar. 
she's thine own boy, I warrant thee.  Bob. 
And I am proud, too proud of this employment,  
Come M. Scarlet take you that pretty sweet,  
You see my ladies care; she promised one  
But hath sent two.  Phil. 
'tis honourably done.  Bob. 
This is your way.  Phil. 
That way, alas sir no.  Bob. 
Come, it is: nay than it shall be so.  Phil. 
What mean you Gentlemen?  Vrsu. 
O he will rob me.  Phil. 
Look to the box Ursula.  Phil. & Vrsu. 
Help, help, murder, murder.  Enter the Cripple. Crip. 
Now you supporters of decrepit youth,  
That mount this substance twixt fair heaven and earth,  
Be strong to bear that huge deformity,  
And be my hands as nimble to direct them,  
As your desires to waft me hence to London.  Phil. & Vrsu. 
Help, help, he'll ravish me.  Crip. 
My thinks I hear the sound of ravishment.  Phil. & Vrsu. 
Help, help.  Crip. 
Marry and will, knew I but where, and how.  
What do I see?  
thieves full of lust beset virginity!  
Now stir thee cripple, and of thy four legs  
Make use of one, to do a virgin good:  
Hence ravening curs: what, are you at a prey?  
Will nothing satisfy your greedy chaps  
But virgin's flesh? I'll teach you prey on carrion, Fight & beat them away.  
Pack damned ravishers, hence villains.  Phil. 
Thanks, honest friend, who from the gates of death  
Hath set our virgin souls at liberty.  Crip. 
Give God the glory that gave me the power.  Phil. 
I do, kind Sir, and think myself much bound  
To him above, to thee that treads this ground,  
And for this aid, I'll ever honour thee;  
My honour you have saved redeemed it home:  
Which were't not done, by this time had been gone.  Crip. 
Hereafter more of this; but tell me now  
The cause of these events, the effect, and how.  Phil. 
I'll tell you sir; but let us leave this place,  
And onward on our way.  Enter Scarlet and Bobbington. Bob. 
It shall be so, see where they walk along,  
I'll cross the other way and meet them full,  
Keep thou this way, and when thou hearst us chat,  
Come thou behind him snatch away his crutches,  
And than thou know'st he needs must fall to ground,  
And what shall follow leave the rest to me. Exit. Bobb.  Scar. 
About it then.  Crip. 
i'faith she is an honourable Lady,  
And I much wonder that her Ladyship  
Gives entertain to such bad men as these.  Enter Bobbington. Bob. 
Stand thou that hast more legs than nature gave thee.  Crip. 
Mongrel, i'll choose.  Scar. 
Then go to sir, you shall.  All, All. 
Murder murder.  Enter Frank Goulding. Frank. 
Stay there my horse:  
Whence comes this echo of extremity?  All. 
Help, help.  Frank. 
What do I hear, a virgin call for help?  
Hands off damned villains, or by heaven I swear,  
I'll send you all to hell. Fight and drive them away.  Crip. 
Hold, forbear.  
I came in rescue of Virginity.  Phil. 
He did, he did, and freed us once from thrall.  
But now the second time they wrought his fall.  Frank. 
Now you distressed objects, do you tell  
Upon what mount of woe your sorrows dwell.  Phil. 
First get we hence away, and as we go,  
Kind gentleman, our fortunes you shall know.  Crip. 
Thanks worthy sir, may but the Cripple be,  
Of power to gratify this courtesy,  
I then shall think the heavens favour me.  Phil. 
No more now for God's sake, let us hence.  Crip. 
If I do live, your love I'll recompense. Exeunt.  Enter Mall Berrie. Mall. 
NOw for my truelove's handkercher; these flowers  
Are pretty toys, are very pretty toys:  
O but methinks the Peascod would do better,  
The Peascod and the Blossom, wonderful!  
Now as I live, i'll surely have it so.  
Some maids will choose the Gillyflower, some the Rose,  
Because their sweet cents do delight the nose,  
But very fools they are in my opinion,  
The very worst being drawn by cunning art,  
Seems in the eye as pleasant to the heart.  
But here's the question, whether my love or no  
Will seem content? ay, there the game doth go:  
And yet i'll pawn my head he will applaud  
The Peascod and the flower, my pretty choice.  
For what is he loving a thing in heart,  
Loves not the counterfeit, though made by art?  
I cannot tell how others fancy stand,  
But I rejoice sometime to take in hand,  
The simile of that I love; and I protest,  
That pretty peascod likes my humour best.  
But i'll unto the Drawers, he'll counsel me,  
Here is his shop: alas, what shall I do?  
he's not within, now all my labour's lost,  
See, see, how forward love is ever crossed,  
But stay, what Gallant's this?  Enter M. Bowdler. Bow. 
A plague on this Drawer, he's never at home:  
Good morrow sweetheart, tell me, how thou dost?  Mall. 
Upon what acquaintance?  Bow. 
That's all one, once I love thee, give me thy hand and say, Amen.  Mall. 
Hands off, sir Knave, and wear it for a favour.  Bowd. 
What? dost thou mean thy love pretty fool?  Mall. 
No fool, the knave, O gross;  
A gentleman and of so shallow wit!  Bowd. 
I know thou camest to the drawer.  Mall. 
How then?  Bowd. 
Am not I the properer man?  Mall. 
Yes, to make an ass on.  Bowd. 
Will you get up and ride?  Mall. 
No, i'll lackey by his side, and whip the ass.  Bowd. 
Come, come, leave your jesting, I shall put you down.  Mall. 
With that face! away you want-wit.  Bowd. 
By this hand, I shall.  Mall. 
By the ass-head you shall not.  Bowd. 
Go to, you are a woman.  Mall. 
Come, come, ye are a man.  Bowd. 
I have seen as fair.  Mall. 
I have heard as wise.  Bowd. 
As fair as Mall Berry.  Mall. 
As wise as young Bowdler.  Bowd. 
As M. Bowdler.  Mall. 
Hoida; come up.  Bowd. 
Go thou down then.  Mall. 
No good ass, bate an ace of that.  Enter Barnard. Bar. 
What M. Bowdler, will it near be otherwise?  
Still, still a hunting, every day wenching?  Bowd. 
Faith sir, the modest behaviour of this Gentlewoman,  
Hath insinuated my company.  Mall. 
Lord, how eloquence flows in this Gentleman!  Bowd. 
Faith, I shall put you down in talk, you were best to yield.  Mall. 
No sir, I will hold out as long as I may,  
Though in the end you bear the fool away.  Bowd. 
Mean you by me? you gull me not?  Mall. 
No by this night, not I.  Bowd. 
For if you did, I would intoxicate my head.  Mall. 
Yea, I dare swore you'll go a fool to bed.  Bowd. 
Mean you by me? you gull me not?  Bar. 
No, I dare swear the Gentlewoman means well.  Mall. 
And so I do indeed, himself can tell:  
But this it is, speak Maidens what they will,  
Men are so captious they'll ever construe ill.  Barn. 
To her sir, to her, I dare swore she loves you.  Bowd. 
Well then fair Mall, you love me as you say.  Mall. 
I never made you promise, did I, I pray?  Bowd. 
All in good time you will do, else you lie,  
Will you not?  Mall. 
No forsooth not I.  Bowd. 
Barnard, she gulls me still.  Barn. 
'tis but your misconceit, try her again:  
You know by course all women must be coy;  
To her again, than she may happily yield.  
Not I, in faith.  Mall. 
Then mine shall be the field:  
Wisdom, adieu, once more faint heart farewell;  
Yet if thou seest the Drawer, I prithee tell him,  
Mall Berry hath more work for him to do;  
And for yourself, learn this when you do woe,  
Arm you with courage, and with good take heed,  
For he that spares to speak must spare to speed,  
And so farewell. Exit.  Bowd. 
Call her again, Barnard.  Barn. 
she's too swift for me:  
Why this is the right course of gullery,  
What did you mean having so fair an aim  
So fondly to let slip so fair a game?  
Bowdler become a man for maids will stand,  
And then strike home, art thou not young and lusty,  
The minion of delight, fair from thy birth,  
Adonis' playfere, and the pride of earth?  Bowd. 
I know it, but a kind of honest blood  
Tilts in my loins, with wanton appetites,  
She bade me do a message to the Drawer,  
And I will do it; there will come a day,  
When Humphrey Bowdler, will keep holiday,  
Than Mall look to yourself, see that you be sped,  
Or by this light I'll have your maidenhead.  Larn. 
Spoke like a gallant, spoke like a gentleman, spoke like yourself:  
Now do I see some sparks of manhood in you,  
Keep in that key, keep in the self same song,  
I'll gauge my head you'll have her love ere long. Exeunt.  Enter Ferdinand, and Frank. Frank 
Wilt thou not tell me (brother Ferdinand)  
Now by this light I'll haunt thee like a sprite,  
Until I know whence springs this melancholy.  Ferd. 
O brother!  
Thou art too young to reach the depth of grief,  
That is immured within my hearts deep closet,  
A thousand sighs keep daily sentinel,  
That beat like whirlwinds all my comfort back,  
As many sobs guard my distressed heart,  
That no relief comes near to aid my soul,  
Millions of woes like bands of armed men,  
Stop up the passage of my sweet relief:  
And art thou then persuaded that thy words,  
Can any comfort to my soul afford?  
No, no, good Frank, dear brother then forbear,  
Unless with grief in me you'll take a share.  Fran. 
Grief me no griefs, but tell me what it is  
Makes my (sweet Ferdinand) thus passionate:  
I'll conjure grief, if grief be such an evil,  
In spite of fortune, Fates, or any Devil.  Ferd. 
Wilt thou not leave me to myself alone?  Fran. 
Brother, you know my mind,  
If you will leave your dampish melancholy,  
And like myself banish that puling humour,  
Or satisfy my expectation,  
By telling whence your sorrow doth proceed  
I will not only cease to trouble you,  
But like a true skilful physician,  
Seek all good means for your recovery.  Fer. 
Well brother, you have much importuned me,  
And for the confidence I have in you,  
That you'll prove secret, I will now unfold,  
The load of care that presseth down my soul:  
Know then good Frank, love is the cause hereof.  Frank. 
How, love! why what's that love?  Ferd. 
A child, a little little boy that's blind.  Frank. 
And be o'ercome by him! plagued by him!  
Driven into dumps by him! put down by a boy!  
Mastered by love! O, I am mad for anger:  
By a Boy! is there no rosemary and bays in England  
To whip the Ape? by a boy!  Ferd. 
ay, such a boy as thou canst never see,  
And yet ere long mayst feel his tyranny:  
he's not visible, yet aims at the heart,  
Woe be to those that feel his wounding dart;  
And one of them I am: wounded so deep,  
That in my passions I no mean can keep:  
Unhappy time, woe to that dismal hour,  
When love did wound me with fair Phillis flower:  
O Phillis, Phillis; of flowers sweetest flower,  
That ever garnished any princely bower:  
Farewell, farewell, my woes will ne'er remove,  
Till I enjoy fair Phillis for my love. Exit.  Frank. 
What's here, Phillis and love, and love and Phillis:  
I have seen Phillis, and have heard of love;  
I will see Phillis, and will hear of love:  
But neither Phillis, nor the power of love,  
Shall make me bondslave to a woman's beck.  Enter anthony. 
Who's here, my second brother malcontent?  
I'll stand aside and note his passions.  Ant. 
O love, that I had never known thy power.  Frank. 
More lovers yet! what the devil is this love?  Anth. 
That these my wandering eyes had kept their stay;  
That I myself had still been like myself;  
That my poor heart had never felt the wound,  
Whose anguish keeps me in a deadly sound:  
Oh how deluding dreams this night o'erpast,  
Drenched my sad soul in pleasures floating sea!  
methought I clasped my love within my arms,  
And circling her, saved her from threatening harms;  
methought there came an hundred in an hour  
That sought to rob me of my sweetest flower:  
But like a champion I did keep her still  
Within this circle, free from every ill:  
But when I waked and missed my Phillis there,  
All my sweet joys converted into fear.  Frank. 
What brother Anthony, at prayers so hard?  
Tell me what saint it is thou invocates?  
Is it a male, or female? howsoever,  
God bless thee brother, thouart in a good mind,  
But now I remember me, thy saint is blind.  Anth. 
How, blind?  Frank. 
I brother, blind, I heard thee talk of love,  
And love is blind they say.  Anth. 
I would it were as blind as Ebon night,  
That love had never hit my heart so right;  
But what is love in your opinion?  Frank. 
A voluntary motion of delight,  
Touching the superficies of the soul;  
A substance less divine then is the soul,  
Yet more than any other power in man  
Is that which loves, yet neither is enforced,  
Nor doth enforce the heart of man to love:  
Which motion as it unbeseems a man,  
So by the soul and reason which adorn,  
The life of man it is extinguished,  
Even at his pleasure that it doth possess.  Anth. 
Thus may the freeman jest at manacles,  
The fur-clad citizen laugh at a storm,  
The swarthy moor diving to gather pearl,  
Challenge the scalding ardour of the sun;  
And aged Nestor sitting in his tent,  
May term wounds sport, & war but merriment.  Frank. 
'tis true, fore God it is, and now methinks,  
My heart begins to pity hearts in love:  
Say once more, Anthony, tell me thy griefs,  
Let me have feeling of my passion,  
Possess me deeply of thy melting state,  
And thou shalt see.  Anth. 
That thou wilt pity me,  Frank. 
No by my troth, if every tale of love,  
Or love itself, or fool-bewitching beauty,  
Make me cross-arm myself; study ay-mees;  
Defy my hatband; tread beneath my feet  
Shoestrings and garters; practise in my glass  
Distressed looks, and dry my liver up,  
With sighs enough to win an argosy.  
If ever I turn thus fantastical,  
Love plague me, never pity me at all.  Enter Phillis. Anth. 
Yonder she comes that holds me prisoner.  Frank. 
What? Phillis, the fair maid of the Exchange?  
Is she god Cupid's judge over men's hearts?  
Brother, i'll have one veny with her tongue,  
To breath my wit, and jest at passion:  
By your leave Mistress Flower.  Phil. 
Your rude behaviour scarce offers you welcome.  Frank. 
I prithee tell me Phillis, I hear say,  
Thou keep'st love captive in thy maiden thoughts.  Phil. 
That is a thought beyond your reach to know.  Frank. 
But shall I know it?  Phil. 
On what acquaintance? then might you deem me fond,  
If (as you say) love be at my command.  Frank. 
May not your friend command as great a matter?  Phil. 
I'll know him well first, for that friend may flatter.  Frank. 
Why, I hope you know me.  Phil. 
That's a question.  Frank 
Well, if you do not, you shall before I stir.  
Know you yonder lump of melancholy,  
Yonder bundle of sighs yonder wad of groans,  
The same and I were chickens of one brood,  
And if you know him, as I am sure you do,  
Being his brother, you needs must know me too.  Phil. 
I partly have a guess of yonder Gentleman,  
His name is Master Golding as I take it.  Ant. 
Golding I am, and thine sweet fair I am,  
And yet not thine, but a most wretched man,  
Thou know'st my cause of grief, my wound of woe:  
And knowing it, why wilt thou see it so?  
Put salves of comfort to my griefs unrest,  
So mayst thou heal my sore of heaviness.  Frank 
Hark you fair maid, are you a Surgeon?  
I prithee give my brother Anthony  
Somewhat to heal the love sore of his mind,  
And yet 'tis pity that he should have help:  
A man as free as air, or the suns rays,  
As boundless in his function as the heavens,  
The male and better part of flesh and blood,  
In whom was powered the quintessence of reason,  
To wrong the adoration of his Maker,  
By worshipping a wanton female skirt,  
And making Love his Idol: fie dotard, fie,  
I am ashamed of this apostasy,  
I'll talk with her to hinder his complaints.  
Phillis, a word in private ere you go,  
I love ye sweet.  Phil. 
Sour, it may be so.  Frank 
Sour, and sweet; faith that doth scarce agree.  Phil. 
Two contraries, and so be we.  Fra. 
A plague on this courting, come, we'll make an end.  Phil. 
I am sorry for it since you seem my friend.  Frank 
ay, but thou canst not weep.  Phil. 
Then had I a hard heart.  Frank 
How say you? come brother, now to your part.  Ant. 
At your direction: no, this merry glee,  
(Good brother) sorts not with my melancholy,  
Love covets private conference, so my sorrow,  
Craveth your absence which I fain would borrow.  Frank. 
No marvel than we say that love is blind,  
If it still revel in obscurity,  
I will depart I will not hinder love,  
I'll wash my hands fare well sweet turtle dove. Exit.  Phil. 
I'faith your brother is a proper man.  Frank. 
What's your will with me.  Phil. 
even what you please.  Frank. 
Did you not call me back?  Phil. 
Not, to my knowledge.  Frank. 
No, 'sblood somewhat did, farewell, farewell.  Phil. 
He is a very very proper man.  Frank. 
I am in haste pray urge me not to stay.  Phil. 
The man doth dote pray God he hits his way.  Frank. 
Fore God there's not a maid in all this town,  
Should sooner win me, but my business calls me,  
Give me thy hand, next time I meet with thee,  
Lesser entreaty shall woo my company.  Phil. 
I'faith i'faith.  Frank. 
I'faith, this was the hand, what means my blood,  
Do I not blush, nor look extremely pale?  
Is not my head afire, my eyes nor heart?  
Ha, art thou here? I feel thee love i'faith,  
By this light, well via farewell, farewell. Exit.  Antho. 
Now he is gone, and we in private talk,  
Say, wilt thou grant me love, wilt thou be mine?  
For all the interest in my love is thine.  Phil. 
Your brother Ferdinand hath vowed as much,  
nam more, he swears what man soe'er he be,  
Presumes to be corrival in his love,  
He will revenge it as an injury,  
And clothe the thief in basest obloquy.  Antho. 
ay, is my brother my competitor?  
I'll court my love and will solicit thee,  
Were Ferdinand himself in company.  
What sayst thou to my suit?  Phil 
Time may do much, what I intend to do  
I mean to pause upon.  Ant. 
Let it be so;  
If that my brother's hindrance be all,  
I'll have thy love though by my brother's fall. Exit  Phil. 
Two brothers drowned in love, I and the third  
For all his outward habit of neglect,  
If I judge rightly if I did not dream,  
Hath dipped his foot too in loves scalding stream.  
Well, let them plead and perish if they will;  
Cripple, my heart is thine, and shall be still. Exit.  Frank 
I am not well, and yet I am not ill,  
I am, what am I? not in love I hope?  
In love! let me examine myself, who should I love? who did I last converse with, with Phillis: why should I love Phillis? is she fair? faith so so: her forehead is pretty, somewhat resembling the forehead of the sign of the maiden head in, etc. What's her hair? faith to Bandora wiars, there's not the like simile: is it likely yet that I am in love? What's next? her cheeks, they have a reasonable scarlet, never a dyer's daughter in the town goes beyond her. Well, yet I am not in love. Nay, she hath a mole in her cheek too: Venus' mole was not more natural; but what of that, I am Adonis, and will not love. Good Venus pardon me. Let us descend: her chin, O Helen, Helen, where's your dimple Helen? it was your dimple that bewitched Paris, and without your dimple I will not love you Helen, No, yet I am safe. Her hand, lets handle that, I saw her hand, and it was lily white, I touched her palm, and it was soft and smooth: and then what then? her hand did then bewitch me, I shall be in love now out of hand. In love! shall I that ever yet have profaned love, now fall to worship him? Shall I that have jested at lovers sighs now raise whirl winds? shall I that have flouted ay-mees once a quarter, now practise ay-mees every minute? shall I defy hatbands, and tread garters and shoestrings under my feet? shall I fall to falling bands and be a ruffian no longer? I must; I am now liege man to Cupid, and have read all these informations in his book of statutes, the first chapter, page millesimo nono, therefore, hatband avaunt, ruff regard your self, garters adieu, shoestrings so and so; I am a poor enamorate, and enforced with the Poet to say, Love o'ercomes all, and I that love obey. Exit.  Enter M. Flower. Flow. 
Now afore God a very good conceit,  
But too much sleep hath over taken me,  
The night hath played the swift-foot runaway:  
A good conceit, a very good conceit,  
What Fiddle, arise Fiddle, Fiddle I say.  Enter Fiddle. Fid. 
here's a fiddling indeed, I think your tongue be made of nothing but fiddlestrings, I hope the fiddle must have some rest as well as the fiddlestick: well Crowd, what say you to Fiddle now?  Flow. 
Fiddle, it is a very good conceit.  Fid. 
It is indeed, Master.  Flow. 
What dost thou mean?  Fid. 
To go to bed again Sir.  Flow. 
No, Fiddle, that were no good conceit Fiddle,  Fid. 
What a fiddling do you keep, are you not ashamed to make such music; I hope sir, you will christian me anew shortly, for you have so worn this name, that ne'er a wench in all the town but will scorn to dance after my fiddle.  Flow. 
Well Fiddle, thou art an honest fellow.  Fid. 
That's more than you know, Master.  Flow. 
I'll swear for thee Fiddle.  Fid. 
You'll be damned then, Master.  Flow. 
I love thee Fiddle.  Fid. 
I had rather your daughter loved me,  Elow, 
'tis a rare conceit i'faith.  Fid. 
I hold with you Master, if my young mistress would like so well of my music, that she would dance after nobody's instrument but mine.  Flow. 
No Fiddle, that were no good conceit.  Fid. 
A shame on you, I thought you would not hear on that side  Flow. 
Fiddle, thou toldst me, M. Golding was in love with my daughter.  Fid. 
True, master; therein you say well.  Flow. 
And he entreats me to meet him at the star in cheap, to talk concerning the match.  Fiddle 
True still master.  Flo. 
And I have sent for my neighbour M. Berry to bear me company,  Fiddle 
True, all this is most natural truth.  Flo. 
And now Fiddle, I am going on my way.  Fiddle 
Nay that's a lie, that hath marred all, was your conceit so tired you could tell troth no longer?  Flo. 
Why Fiddle, are we not going?  Fiddle 
No indeed sir, we are not, we stand still, your conceit failed in that.  Flo. 
Fore God 'tis true, I am not ready yet: what's he?  Enter Bobbington. Bob. 
By your leave sir, I would crave a word in secret sir.  Flo. 
At your pleasure, here's none but my man Fiddle,  Fiddle 
ay sir, master Fiddle is my name, sir Laurence Syro was my father.  Bob. 
Sir, this is my business, my name is Racket, I have a ship of my own upon the river.  Flo. 
By your leave sir, captain Racket is your name.  Bob. 
Some call me so indeed sir.  Flo. 
It is a good conceit, I pray proceed.  Bob. 
Sir, I am now bound to sea, and wanting some money for the better furnishing of my wants.  Flo. 
O, you would borrow money of me.  Bob. 
That's my suit indeed.  Flo. 
That's no good conceit.  Bob. 
nam, hear me sir, if you will supply me with ten pound till my return from Barbary, I will leave in your hands a diamond of greater value than the money.  Flo. 
A Diamond, is it a Diamond, or but a counterfeit?  
Fiddle, my spectacles.  Bob. 
'tis right, I assure you sir.  Flo. 
Then 'tis a good conceit: my spectacles.  Fiddle 
Here sir.  Flo. 
Where sir?  Fiddle 
You cannot see master, but I can.  Flo. 
O 'tis good, it is a good conceit: well sir, ten pound,  
You are content if at three months' end,  
You bring me not ten pound in English coin,  
This diamond shall be my proper own.  Bob. 
I am sir, shall I receive the money now?  Flow. 
ay, here it is, and 'tis a good conceit.  
Will you go near sir? Fiddle, make him drink.  Fiddle 
Will you approach cavaliero, if I speak not in season, 'tis because I was never in the salt country, where you sea captains use to march.  Bob. 
You are very eloquent sir, i'll follow you.  Fiddle 
Let me alone then for leading my men.  Exeunt Bobbington and Fiddle. Flo. 
A diamond worth forty for ten pound,  
If he return not safe from barbary,  
'tis good, a very good conceit. Enter M. Berry.  Berry 
By your leave master Flower.  Flow. 
Welcome good master Berry, I was bold to entreat your company to speak with a friend of mine,  
It is some trouble, but the conceit is good.  Berry 
No trouble at all sir, shall we be going?  Flo. 
With all my heart sir, and as we go,  
I'll tell you my conceit, come master Berry. Exeunt.  Enter at one door Cripple, at the other Bowdler. Bow. 
Well met my dear bundle of rue, well met.  Crip. 
As much to thee my humorous blossom.  Bow. 
A plague on thee for a dog, have I found thee? I hate thee not, and yet by this hand I could find in my heart: but sirrah, Crutch, I was encountered.  Crip. 
Who became your bail?  Bow. 
Ye filthy dog, I was encountered by a wench I say.  Crip. 
In a wench's counter! I thought no less: what sirrah didst thou lie in the knight's ward, or on the masters side?  Bow. 
Neither, neither i'faith.  Crip. 
Where then, in the Hole?  Bow. 
By this hand Cripple i'll bombast thee!  Crip. 
My crutch you mean for wearing out my clothes.  Bow. 
Thy nose dog, thy nose, a plague on thee, I care not for thee, and yet I cannot choose but love thee. Sirrah, Mall Berry was here about work thou hast of hers, hadst thou been here to have heard how I spurred the wench with incantations, thou wouldst have given me the praise for a jester.  Cripple 
True master Bowdler, I yield it you, I hold you for the absolut'st jester; O mistake me not, I mean to jest upon, a juggling gull, a profound seeing man of shallow wit, that Europe, na the world I think affords.  Bow. 
Well, thou art a jew sirrah, I'll cut out that venomous tongue of thine one of these days.  Cripple 
Do it in time, or I'll crush the heart of thy wit till I have strained forth thy infectious humour to a drop i'faith.  Enter Mall Berry. Bow. 
Here comes my amorous vessel, i'll board her i'faith: Well encountered Mall, how dost thou wench, how dost thou?  Mall. 
What's that to you sir?  Bow. 
Why I ask thee in kindness.  Mal. 
Why then in kindness you are a fool for asking.  Bow. 
Is the fool your livery?  Mal. 
Not so, for then you wearing that livery, would term yourself my fool.  Bow. 
Meaning me? you gull me not, if you do:  Mal. 
What then?  Bow. 
O vile! I would take you down.  Mal. 
Alas it wants wit, his wit is too narrow.  Bowdler 
I'll stretch my wit but I will take you down.  Mal. 
How, upon the tenters? indeed if the whole piece were so stretched, and very well beaten with a yard of reformation, no doubt it would grow to a goodly breadth.  Bow. 
By this hand.  Mal. 
Away you ass, hinder not my business.  Crip. 
Finely put off wench i'faith.  Mal. 
By your leave master Drawer.  Cripple 
Welcome mistress Berry, I have been mindful of your work.  Mal. 
Is it done?  Crip. 
Yes, and here it is.  Mal. 
Here is your money.  
Cripple, ere long i'll visit thee again,  
I have some ruffs and stomachers to draw.  Crip. 
At your pleasure.  Bow. 
By thy leave Mall, a word.  Mal. 
Away you bundle of nothing, away. Exit Mal.  Crip. 
She hath a wit as sharp as her needle.  Bowdler 
Alas, myself have been her whetstone with my conference in th'Exchange any time these many years.  Crip. 
In th'Exchange! I have walked with thee there, before the visitation of my legs, and my expense in timber, at the least a hundred times, and never heard thee speak to a wench.  Bow. 
That's a lie, thou wert by when I bought these gloves of a wench.  Cripple. 
That's true, they cost thee an English shilling at a word, mary it follows in the text, that your shilling proved but a harper, and thou wert shamefully arraigned for it.  Bow. 
Good, but I excused myself.  Crip. 
True, that thou thoughtst it had been a shilling, mary thou hadst never another, nor so much as a shilling more to change it. Thou talk in th'Exchange!  Bowdler 
Indeed my best gift is in the morning when the Maids visit my chamber, with such necessaries as I usually buy of them.  Crip. 
O thou art one of those, that if an honest Maid be sent to thy chamber with her Mistress goods, and return as honest and chaste as the moon: Sirrah, you are one of those that will slander the poor wenches, by speaking liberally of their proneness to love; and withal, brag how cheap you have bought their ware metaphorically, when indeed they depart as honest as they came thither, and leave you all the day after to sigh at the sight of an ill bargain.  Bowd. 
When wilt thou spit out this serpent's tongue of thine?  Crip. 
When wilt thou cast off this antic garment of ostentation? do it, do it, or by the Lord I will impress thy vanities, and so anatomize the very bowels of thy absurdities, that all the world shall take notice of thee for a fool, and shun thee as the pox or the pestilence.  Enter Barnard. Barn. 
News, news, news.  Bowd. 
Sweet rogue, what's the matter?  Barn. 
By jesu the rarest dancing in Christendom.  Bowd. 
Sweet rascal, where, O do not kill my soul  
With such delays, tell me kind rogue, O tell me where it is.  Barn. 
At a wedding in Gracious street.  Bow. 
Come, come, away, I long to see the man  
In dancing Art that does more than I can.  Bar. 
Than you sir! he lives not.  Bow. 
Why I did understand thee so.  Bar. 
You only excepted, the world beside  
Cannot afford more exquisite dancers  
Than are now capering in that bridal house.  Bow. 
I will behold them, come crutch, thou shalt with us.  Crip. 
Not I.  Bow. 
Down dog, i'll have thy company.  Crip. 
I have business.  Bow. 
By this hand thou shalt go with us.  Crip. 
By this leg I will not.  Bow. 
A lame oath, never stand to that.  Crip. 
By this crutch but I will.  Bar. 
Come, you lose time, supper is done long since,  
And they are now a dancing.  Enter master Berry and Fiddle. Berry 
Stay Fiddle with thy torch, Gentlemen, good even.  Barn. 
Master Berry!  Bow. 
Master Berry, I wish you well sir: master Fiddle I am yours for a congee.  Fiddle 
After the French salutation I am yours for the like courtesy.  Berry 
Master Barnard, tomorrow is your day  
Of payment sir, I mean the hundred pound,  
For which I have your bond, I know 'tis sure,  
You will not break an hour; then if you please  
To come to dinner sir, you shall be welcome.  Barn. 
Sir, I did mean to visit you at home,  
Not to pay down the money, but entreat  
Too months forbearance.  Ber. 
How! forbear my money?  
Your reason, why I should forbear my own?  Barn. 
You know at first the debt was none of mine,  
I was a surety, not the principal:  
Besides, the money that was borrowed  
Miscarried in the venture; my friend died,  
And once already have you prisoned me,  
To my great charge, almost my overthrow,  
And somewhat raised the debt by that advantage:  
These things considered, you may well forbear  
For two months space, so small a sum as this.  Ber. 
How! I may forbear; Sir, I have need of money:  
I may indeed sit moneyless at home,  
And let you walk abroad spending my coin.  
This I may do, but sir you know my mind,  
If you do break your day, assure yourself,  
That I will take the forfeit of your bond.  Crip. 
The forfeit of his bond!  Ber. 
ay sir, the forfeit; 'tis no charity  
To favour you that live like Libertines:  
here's a Crew!  All. 
A crew; what Crew?  Ber. 
A crew of unthrifts, careless dissolutes,  
Licentious prodigals, wild tavern-tracers.  
Night watching money-wasters, what should I call ye?  
O I want words for to define you rightly;  
But this I know, London ne'er fostered such  
As Barnard, Bowdler, and this paltry crutch.  Crip. 
And you want words sirrah, i'll teach thee words;  
Thou shouldst have come to every one of us  
As thus: thou wretch, thou miser thou wild slave  
And drudge to money, bondman to thy wealth,  
Apprentice to a penny, thou that hoards up  
The fry of silver pence and halfpennies,  
With show of charity to give the poor,  
But putst them to increase, where in short time  
They grow a child's part, or a daughter's portion.  
Thou that invent'st new clauses for a bond  
To cousin simple plainness: O not a Dragon,  
No, nor the devils fangs are half so cruel  
As are thy claws; thus, thus thou shouldst have railed:  
The forfeit of his bond, O I could spit  
My heart into his face; thou bloodhound that dost hunt  
The dear, dear life of noble Gentry.  Berry. 
Cripple, 'tis known I am an honest man;  
But for thy words, Barnard shall fare the worse:  
As for thyself.  Fid. 
Who he sir, never regard him, I know the vildest thing by him, O 'tis abominable!  Ber. 
Dost thou so Fiddle, speak, hold, take thou that speak of his shame, speak freely, i'll protect thee.  Fid. 
I tell you sir, 'twill make your hair to stand on end as stiff as a Rubbing-brush, to hear his villainies.  
What's this you have given me?  Ber. 
A shilling Fiddle.  Fid. 
Have you any skill in Arithmetic?  Ber. 
Why dost thou ask?  Fid. 
Sir, I would have you to multiply; could you not make this one shilling two or three? I would not be known to beg, but if out of your cunning you can do this trick of multiplication, I shall speak the better.  Ber. 
O there's another shilling for thee, now let me hear what villainies thou canst charge the Cripple with.  Fid. 
So sir, this is multiplication, now sir, if you know the Rule of addition you are an excellent Scholar: can you not add?  Berry. 
What dost thou mean?  Fid. 
another shilling sir.  Ber. 
There is another shilling; now Fiddle speak.  Fid. 
Why then attend you Hills and Dales, and stones so quick of hearing, this Cripple is.  All. 
What is he villain?  Fid. 
An honest man, as any is in all the town.  Ber. 
An honest man!  Fid. 
I by this silver, and as good a fellow as ever went upon four legs, if you would multiply till midnight, I would never speak otherwise.  Ber. 
Fiddle, thou art a knave, and so is he:  
Come let us home; Barnard, look to thy bond,  
If thou do break thy day, I do protest,  
By yond chaste Moon.  Fid. 
The chaste Moon, why the Moon is not chaste.  Ber. 
How provest thou that?  Fid. 
Why sir, there's a man in the middle of her, how can she be chaste then?  Berr. 
Then by my life I swear, i'll clap him up  
Where he shall see neither the sun nor moon,  
Till I be satisfied the utmost penny,  
And so farewell. Exit.  Fid. 
Gallants good-night; if time and place were in prosperity, I were yours for an hours society, I must after yond mulberry with my torch: adieu dear hearts, adieu. Exit.  Bowd. 
Come Barnard, let's to the dancing, let's tickle it tonight, For tomorrow thy heels may be too heavy.  Barn. 
All's one; my heart shall be as light as fire.  
Come, shall we go?  Bowd. 
Cripple, will you along?  Crip. 
My business stays me here.  Bowd. 
Farewell than dog of Israel, farewell. Exeunt.  Crip. 
all's one, my heart shall be as light as fire:  
'sblood, were I indebted a hundred pound,  
My fortune failed, and fled as Barnard's are,  
Not worth a hundred pence as Barnard's is:  
I should be now devising sentences  
And Caveats, for posterity to carve  
Upon the inside of the counter wall:  
Therefore I'll now turn provident; I'll to my shop  
And fall to work.  Enter Phillis. Phil. 
Yonder's his shop, O now you gods above  
Pity poor Phillis heart, that melts in love;  
Instruct the Cripple to find out my love,  
Which I will shadow under the conceit  
Of my invention for this piece of work;  
O teach him how to yield me love again,  
A little little love, a dram of kind affection,  
His many virtues are my true direction:  
By your leave M. Drawer.  Crip. 
Welcome Mistress Flower, what's your pleasure?  Phil. 
My cause of coming is not unknown to you,  
Here is be spoken work which must be wrought  
With expedition, I pray have care of it;  
The residue I refer to your direction:  
Only this hankercher, a young Gentlewoman,  
Wished me acquaint you with her mind herein:  
In one corner of the same, place wanton love,  
Drawing his bow shooting an amorous dart,  
Opposite against him an arrow in a heart,  
In a third corner picture forth disdain,  
A cruel fate unto a loving vain:  
In the fourth draw a springing Laurel tree,  
Circled about with a ring of poesy: and thus it is: 
Love wounds the heart and conquers fell disdain,  
Love pities love, seeing true love in pain:  
Love seeing Love how faithful Love did breathe,  
At length impalà love with a Laurel wreath.   
Thus you have heard the Gentlewoman's mind,  
I pray be careful that it be well done:  
And so I leave you, more I fain would say,  
But shame forbids and calls me hence away. Exit.  Crip. 
Sweet fair, I pity, yet no relief  
Harbours within the closet of my soul:  
This Phillis bears me true affection,  
But I detest the humour of fond love:  
Yet am I hourly solicited  
As now you see, and fain she would make known  
The true perplexion of her wounded heart:  
But modesty checking her forwardness  
Bids her be still; yet she in similes  
And love-comparisons, like a good Scholar  
By figures makes a demonstration  
Of the true love enclosed in her heart.  
I know it well, yet will not tell her so,  
Fancy shall never marry me to woe;  
Take this of me, a young man's never marred,  
Till he by marriage from all joy be barred. Exit.  Enter Frank singing, Frank. 
you gods of Love that sits above, and pity lovers pain,  
Look from your thrones upon the moans, that I do now sustain.  
Was ever man thus tormented with love?  

Song.  
Ye little birds that sit and sing  
Amidst the shady valleys,  
And see how Phillis sweetly walks  
Within her Garden alleys;  
Go pretty birds about her bower,  
Sing pretty birds she may not lower,  
Ah me, methinks I see her frown  
Ye pretty wantons warble.  
Go tell her through your chirping bills,  
As you by me are bidden,  
To her is only known my love,  
Which from the world is hidden:  
Go pretty birds and tell her so,  
See that your notes strain not too low,  
For still methink I see her frown,  
Ye pretty wantons warble.  
Go tune your voices harmony,  
And sing I am her Lover;  
Strain loud and sweet, that every note,  
With sweet content may move her:  
And she that hath the sweetest voice,  
Tell her I will not change my choice,  
Yet still methinks I see her frown,  
Ye pretty wantons warble.  
O fly, make haste, see, see she falls  
Into a pretty slumber,  
Sing round about her rosy bed  
That waking she may wonder,  
Say to her, 'tis her lover true,  
That sendeth love to you to you:  
And when you hear her kind reply,  
Return with pleasant warblings.   
avaunt delusion, thoughts cannot win my love;  
Love, though divine, cannot divine my thoughts:  
Why to the air then do I idle here  
Such heedless words far off, and ne'er the near;  
Hie thee young Frank, to her that keeps thy heart,  
There let sweet words they sweeter thoughts impart.  
But stay; here comes my melancholy brothers both,  
I'll step aside, and hear their conference. Exit aside.  Antho. 
What? is my brother Ferdinand so near?  
He is my elder, I must needs give place;  
Anthony, stand by, and list what he doth say,  
Haste calls me hence, yet I will brook delay.  Ferd. 
Shall I exclaim 'gainst fortune and mishap.  
Or rail on Nature who first framed me?  
Is it hard chance that keeps me from my love?  
Or is this heap of loathed deformity,  
The cause that breeds a blemish in her eye?  
I know not what to think, or what to say,  
Only one comfort yet I have in store,  
Which I will practise though I ne'er try more.  Anth. 
Oh, for to hear that comfort I do long,  
I'll turn it to a strain to right my wrong.  Ferd. 
I have a brother rival in my love;  
I have a brother hates me for my love;  
I have a brother vows to win my love;  
That brother too, he hath incensed my love,  
To gain the beauty of my dearest love;  
What hope remains then to enjoy my love?  Anth. 
I am that brother rival in his love,  
I am that brother hates him for his love:  
Not his but mine, and I will have that love,  
Or never live to see him kiss my love;  
What thou erst said, I am that man alone,  
That will depose you brother from loves throne;  
I am that man, though you my elder be,  
That will aspire beyond you one degree.  Ferd. 
I have no means of private conference,  
So narrowly pursues my hinderer,  
No sooner am I entered the sweet court  
Of lovely rest, my loves rich mansion,  
But rival love to my affection  
Follows me, as a soon enforced straw,  
The drawing virtue of a sable jet:  
This therefore's my determination,  
Within the close womb of a sealed paper,  
Will I right down in bloody Characters,  
The burning zeal of my affection:  
And by some trusty messenger or other,  
Convey the same into my loves own hand;  
So shall I know her resolution,  
And how she fancies my affection.  Antho. 
Yet subtle Fox, I may perchance to cross you:  
Brother, well met; whither away so fast?  Ferd. 
About affairs that do require some haste.  Antho. 
'tis well done brother, you seek still for gain.  Ferd. 
But you would reap the harvest of my pain:  
Farewell good brother, I must needs be gone,  
I have serious business now to think upon:  
Yet for I fear my brother anthony,  
I'll step aside and stand a while unseen,  
I may perchance descry which way he goes;  
Thus policy must work twixt friends and foes. Aside.  Anth. 
So, he is gone, I scarcely trust him neither;  
For 'tis his custom, like a sneaking fool,  
To fetch a compass of a mile about,  
And creep where he would be; well, let him pass,  
I heard him say, that since by word of mouth  
He could not purchase his sweet mistress favour,  
He would endeavour what his wit might do  
By writing, and by tokens; O 'tis good  
Writing with ink; O no, but with his blood.  
Well, so much for that, now I know his mind  
I do intend not to be far behind:  
he'll send a letter, I will write another,  
Do what you can, i'll be before you brother;  
I'll intercept his letter by the way,  
And as time serves, the same I will bewray:  
Mine being made, a Porter I'll procure,  
That shall convey that heart-enticing lure;  
About it then, my letter shall be writ,  
Though not with blood, yet with a reaching wit. Exit.  Ferd. 
And shall it so, good brother anthony?  
Were you so near when we in secret talked?  
Wilt ne'er be otherwise? will you dog me still?  Enter Frank. 
Welcome sweet Frank; such news I have to tell,  
As cannot choose but like thee passing well:  
Thou knowest my love to Phillis?  Frank. 
Brother, say on.  Ferd. 
Thou likewise art acquainted with my rival,  
And I do build upon your secrecy.  Frank. 
'sblood, and I thought you did not, I'd retire:  
Brother you know, I love you as my life.  Ferd. 
I dare profess as much, and thereupon  
Make bold to crave thy furtherance, in a thing  
Concerns me much.  Frank. 
Out with it brother;  
If I shrink back, repose trust in some other.  Ferd. 
Then thus it is; my brother all in haste  
Is gone, to write a letter to my love,  
And thinks thereby to cross me in my suit,  
Sending it by a Porter to her hand;  
If ever therefore thou wilt aid thy brother,  
Help me in this, who seeks help from no other.  Frank. 
By the red lip of that dainty saint, I'll aid thee all I may.  Ferd. 
It is enough; then brother I'll provide  
A porter's habit, alike in every point,  
Will you but so much humble your estate,  
To put yourself in that so base attire,  
And like so mean a person wait his coming,  
About his door which will not be over long,  
Thou shalt for ever bind me to thy love.  Frank 
Brother, 'tis a base task, by this light,  
But to procure a further force of love,  
I'll do't, i'faith I will sweet Ferdinand,  
About it then, provide thee some disguise,  
But see you stay not long in any wise,  
Here shall you find me, go, dispatch.  Ferd. 
For this i'll love thee everlastingly.  Frank 
Mean time i'll cross your love and if I can.  
here's no villainy twixt us three brothers:  
My brother Ferdinand he would have the wench,  
And anthony he hopes to have her too:  
Then what may I? faith hope well, as they do.  
Neither of them know that I love the Maid;  
Yet by this hand I am half mad for love.  
I know not well what love is, but 'tis sure,  
I'll die if I have her not, therefore  
Good brothers mine beguile you one another,  
Till you be both gulled by your younger brother.  Enter Ferdinand. Ferd. 
Here is a porter's habit, on with it brother.  Frank 
Your hand then brother for to put it on,  
So now 'tis well, come brother, what's my task?  Ferd. 
This first, that thou make haste to Anthony's,  
Ask for a burden and thou shall be sure  
To have his letter to my dear love Phillis,  
Deliver it not, but keep it to thyself,  
Till thou hast given this paper to her hands,  
Whose lines do intimate thy chaste desires.  
This is the sum of all, good Frank, make haste,  
Love burns in me, and I in love do waste. Exit.  Frank 
Waste still, but let me in my love increase,  
Now would not all the world take me for a Porter?  
How strangely am I metamorphosed?  
And yet I need not be ashamed neither,  
jove when his love-scapes when he attempted ever  
Transformed himself, yet ever sped in love,  
Why may not I then in this strange disguise?  
This habit may prove mighty in loves power,  
As beast, or bird, bull, or swan, or golden shower.  Enter anthony. Antho. 
Within the centre of this paper square,  
Have I wrote down in bloody characters,  
A pretty poesy of a wounded heart,  
Such is loves force once burst into a flame,  
Do what we can we cannot quench the same,  
Unless the tears of pity move compassion,  
And so quench out the fire of affection,  
Whose burning force heats me in every vain,  
That I to Love for safety must complain:  
This is my Orator whose dulcet tongue  
Must plead my love to beauteous Phillis.  
Now for a trusty messenger to be  
Employed herein betwixt my love and me,  
And in good time I see a Porter nigh,  
Come hither fellow, dwellest thou here about?  Frank 
Sir, my abiding is not far from hence,  
And Trusty john men call me by my name.  Anth. 
Canst thou be trusty then, and secret too,  
Being employed in weighty business?  Frank 
Sir, I was never yet disproved in either.  Anth. 
Then mark me well, in Cornhill by th'Exchange,  
Dwells an old Merchant, Flower they call his name,  
He hath one only daughter, to whose hands,  
If thou conveniently canst give this letter,  
I'll pay thee well, make thee the happiest Porter  
That ever undertook such business.  Frank 
Sir, give me your letter, if I do it not,  
Then let your promised favour be forgot.  Anth. 
Anthony Golding is my name, my friend,  
About it then, thy message being done,  
Make haste to me again, till when, I leave thee. Exit.  Frank 
And so fare thee well loving brother,  
It had been better you had sent some other,  
Let me consider what is best be done,  
Shall I deliver his letter? No:  
Shall I convey it to my rival brother? Nor so:  
Shall I tear the same? No not for a million:  
What shall I then do? mary like a kind brother,  
Open the book, see what is written there,  
If nought but love, in love have thou a share.  
Brother, by your leave I hope you'll not deny,  
But that I love you: God bless my eyesight,  
A Sonnet 'tis in verse, now on my life  
He hath perused all the impressions  
Of Sonnets since the fall of Lucifer,  
And made some scurvy quaint collection  
Of fustian phrases, and uplandish words.  
A Letter.  
Fair glory of virtue, thy enamorate  
pleads loyally in pure affection,  
Whose passion Love do thou exonerate,  
And he shall live by thy protection:  
Nor from thy love shall he once derogate,  
For any soul under this horizon,  
Yield thou to love, and I will fail in neither,  
So love and truth shall always live together.  
Yours devoted, Anthony Golding.  
Before God, excellent good Poetry,  
'sblood what means he by this line?  
For any soul under this horizon?  
No matter for his meaning, mean what he will,  
I mean his meaning shall not be delivered,  
But for my other trust my other letter,  
That shall come short too of fair Phillis hands,  
There is a Cripple dwelling here at hand,  
That's very well acquainted with the Maid,  
And for I once did rescue them from thieves,  
Swore, if he lived, he would requite that kindness,  
To him I will for council, he shall be  
My tutor by his wit and policy. Exit.  Enter Boy in a Shop cutting of square parchments, to him enter Phillis. Phi. 
Why how now sirrah, can you find nought to do,  
But waste the parchment in this idle sort?  Boy 
I do but what my mistress gave in charge.  Phi. 
Your mistress! in good time: then sir it seems  
Your duty cannot stoop but to her lure:  
Sir, I will make you know, that in her absence  
You shall account to my demand, your mistress  
And your mistress will is thus, and thus you'll do:  
But answer to the motion I have made,  
Or you shall feel you have another mistress now:  
Speak, why when I say?  Boy 
Indeed I know your glory.  
Your pride's at full in this authority:  
But, were it not for modest bashfulness,  
And that I dread a base contentious name,  
I would not be a byword to th'Exchange,  
For every one to say (my self going by)  
Yond goes a vassal to authority.  Phil. 
You would not sir: had I the yard in hand,  
I'd measure your pate for this delusion,  
And by my maiden chastity I swear,  
Unless Reach for the yard, and the boy stay her hand.  Boy 
What unless! I know your wilfulness,  
These words are but to show the world your humour.  
I often use to square these parchment pieces  
Without occasion: I am sure you are not witting  
The Lawns you lately bought of master Brooks  
Are new come home, brought by the Merchant's servant:  
I know you are short membered, but not so short  
Of your remembrance, that this is news to you.  Phil. 
You're best to brave me in a taunting humour.  
willt please you open the door? where's Ursula?  
Oh here's good stuff, my back's no sooner turned  
But she must needs be gadding, and where I pray?  Boy. 
she's gone to M. Pawmer's on th'other side.  Phil. 
On great occasions, sir, I doubt it not.  Sit and work in the shop. Enter M. Richard Gardiner booted, and M. William Bennet, two gentlemen, at one end of the stage. Ben. 
Kind Dick, thou wilt not be unmindful of my duty  
To that same worthy Arts-master, Lyonell Barnes.  Gard. 
Thy love, sweet Will, hath chained it to my memory.  Ben. 
Then with this kind embrace I take my leave,  
Wishing thou wert as safe arrived at Cambridge,  
As thou art at this present near the Exchange.  Gard 
And well remembered, kind Will Bennet,  
others' affairs made me oblivious  
Of mine own; I pray thee go to the Exchange,  
I have certain bands, and other linen to buy,  
Prithee accompany me.  Ben. 
With all my heart.  Gard. 
Sure, this is a beauteous gallant walk.  
Were my continual residence in London,  
I should make much use of such a pleasure:  
methinks the glorious virgins of this square  
Gives life to dead struck youth; Oh heavens!  Ben. 
Why how now Dick?  Gard. 
By my sweet hopes of an hereafter bliss,  
I never saw a fairer face than this:  
O for acquaintance with so rich a beauty.  Ben. 
Take thy occasion, never hadst thou better.  Gard. 
Have at her then.  Phil. 
What lack you Gentlemen?  Gard. 
Faith nothing, had I thee.  
For in thine eye all my desires I see.  Phil. 
My shop you mean sir, there you may have choice  
Of Lawns, or cambrics, Ruffs well wrought, Shirts,  
Fine falling bands of the Italian cutwork,  
Ruffs for your hands, waistcoats wrought with silk,  
Nightcaps of gold, or such like wearing linen,  
Fit for the Chapman of whate'er degree.  Gard. 
Faith virgin in my days, I have worn & outworn much,  
Yea, many of these golden necessaries;  
But such a gallant beauty, or such a form  
I never saw, nor never wore the like:  
Faith be not then unkind, but let me wear  
This shape of thine, although I buy it dear.  Phil. 
What hath the Tailor played his part so well,  
That with my gown you are so far in love?  Gard. 
Mistake not sweet your garment is the cover,  
That veils the shape and pleasures of a lover.  Phil. 
That argues then, you do not see my shape,  
How comes it then you are in love with it?  Gard. 
A garment made by cunning artsmen's skill,  
Hides all defects that Nature's swerving hand  
Hath done amiss, and makes the shape seem pure;  
If then it grace such lame deformity,  
It adds a greater grace to purity.  Phil. 
Oh short lived praise! even now I was as fair  
As any thing; now fouler nothing.  
Dissembling men, what maid will credit them?  Gard. 
How misconstruction leads your thoughts awry.  Ben. 
I prithee Dick adone; think on thy journey.  Phil. 
You counsel well sir, I think the Gentleman  
Comes but to whet his wit, and 'tis but need;  
'tis blunt enough, he may ride far upon't.  Gard. 
Mary gip Minx.  Phil. 
A fine word in a Gentleman's mouth;  
'twere good your back were towards me,  
There can I read better content, then in the face of lust.  Gard. 
Now you display your virtues, as they are.  Phil. 
What am I, you, Cipher, parenthesis of words,  
Stall-troubler, prater, what sit I here for nought?  
Bestow your lustful courtships on your minions,  
This place holds none; you and your companion  
Get you down the stairs, or I protest  
I'll make this squared walk too hot for you.  
Had you been as you seemed in outward show,  
Honest Gentlemen, such terms of wild abuse  
Had not been proffered to virginity;  
But Swains will quickly show their base descent.  Gard. 
This is no place for brawls, but if it were,  
Your impositions are more than I would bear.  Ben. 
Come, she's a woman, I prithee leave her.  Exeunt Gard. and Ben. Phil. 
Nay sure a maid, unless her thoughts deceive her.  
God speed you well: sirrah boy.  Boy. 
anon.  
Got to the Starchers for the suit of ruffs,  
For M. Bowdler's bands, and M. Golding's shirts,  
Let's have a care to please our proved friends:  
As for our strangers, if they use us well,  
For love and money, love and ware we'll sell. Exeunt  Enter Frank. The Cripple at work. Frank. 
Now fortune be my guide, this is the shop;  
And in good time the Cripple is at work:  
God speed you sir.  Crip. 
Welcome honest friend; what's thy will with me?  Frank. 
I would entreat you read a letter for me.  Crip. 
With all my heart:  
I know the maid to whom it is directed.  Frank. 
I know you do Cripple, better than you think.  Crip. 
I pray you, what Gentleman writ the same?  Frank. 
Sir, a Gentleman of good learning, and my friend;  
To say the truth, 'twas written for myself,  
Being somewhat overtaken with fond love,  
As many men be sir.  Crip. 
Why art thou persuaded, or haste thou any hope,  
So beautiful a virgin as she is,  
Of such fair parentage; so virtuous,  
So gentle, kind, and wise as Phillis is,  
That she will take remorse of such base stuff,  
I think not so: but let me see, what's thy name?  Frank. 
Trusty john men call me sir.  Crip. 
How comes it then your blinded Secretary,  
Hath writ another name unto the letter?  
Yours devoted Anthony Golding.  
But sure this letter is no right of thine,  
Either thou foundst the same by happy chance,  
Or being employed as a Messenger,  
play'dst leger dumaine with him that sent the same:  
Wherefore the maid (well known unto myself)  
I will reserve the letter to her use,  
That she, if by the name herein set down,  
She know the Gentleman that doth wish her well,  
She may be grateful for his courtesy.  Frank. 
Nay then I see I must disclose myself:  
Sir, might I build upon your secrecy,  
I would disclose a secret of import.  Crip. 
Assure thyself I will not injure thee.  Frank 
Then Cripple know, I am not what I seem,  
But took this habit to deceive my friend:  
My friend indeed, but yet my cruel foe;  
Foe to my good, my friend in outward show:  
I am no Porter, as I seem to be,  
But younger brother to that Anthony;  
And to be brief, I am in love with Phillis,  
Which my two elder brothers do affect:  
The one of them seeks to defeat the other:  
Now if that I, being their younger brother  
Could gull them both, by getting of the wench,  
I would requite it with loves recompense.  
Cripple, thou once didst promise me thy love,  
When I did rescue thee on Mile-end Green,  
Now is the time, now let me have thy aid,  
To gull my brothers of that beauteous maid.  Crip. 
Sir, what I promised I will now perform;  
My love is yours, my life to do you good,  
Which to approve, follow me but in all,  
we'll gull your brothers in the wench, and all.  Frank. 
sayst thou me so friend, for that very word  
My life is thine, command my hand and sword.  Crip. 
Then let me see this letter; it should see me  
You undertook to carry from your brother  
To the maid.  Frank 
I did, and from my brother Ferdinand,  
This other letter to the same effect.  Crip. 
Well, list to me, and follow my advise,  
You shall deliver neither of them both;  
But frame two letters of your own invention,  
Letters of flat denial to their suits,  
Give them to both your brothers as from Phillis,  
And let each line in either Letter tend  
To the dispraise of both their features;  
And the conclusion I would have set down,  
A flat resolve bound with some zealous oath,  
Never to yield to either of their suits:  
And if this sort not well to your content,  
Condemn the Cripple.  Frank 
But this will ask much time,  
And they by this time look for my return.  Crip. 
Why then myself will fit you presently,  
I have the Copies in my custody,  
Of sundry Letters to the same effect.  Frank 
Of thy own writing?  Crip. 
My own I assure you, sir.  Frank 
Faith thou hast robbed some Sonnet book or other,  
And now wouldst make me think they are thine own.  Crip. 
Why, thinkst thou that I cannot write a letter,  
Ditty, or Sonnet with judicial phrase,  
As pretty, pleasing, and pathetical,  
As the best ovid-imitating dance  
In all the town.  Frank 
I think thou canst not.  Crip. 
Yea, i'll swear I cannot,  
Yet sirrah, I could coney-catch the world,  
Make myself famous for a sudden wit,  
And be admired for my dexterity,  
Were I disposed.  Frank 
I pray thee how.  Crip. 
Why thus there lived a Poet in this town,  
(If we may term our modern Writers Poets)  
Sharp-witted, bitter-tongued, his pen of steel,  
His ink was tempered with the biting juice,  
And extracts of the bitter'st weeds that grew,  
He never wrote but when the elements  
Of Fire and Water tilted in his brain:  
This fellow ready to give up his ghost  
To Lucia's bosom, did bequeath to me  
His Library, which was just nothing,  
But rolls, and scrolls, and bundles of cast wit,  
Such as durst never visit Paul's churchyard:  
Amongst them all, I happened on a choir  
Or two of paper filled with Songs and Ditties,  
And here and there a hungry Epigram,  
These I reserve to my own proper use,  
And Pater-noster-like have conned them all.  
I could now when I am in company,  
At ale house, tavern, or an ordinary,  
Upon a theme make an extemporal ditty,  
(Or one at least should seem extemporal)  
Out of th'abundance of this Legacy,  
That all would judge it, and report it too,  
To be the infant of a sudden wit,  
And then were I an admirable fellow.  Frank 
This were a piece of cunning.  Crip. 
I could do more, for I could make inquiry  
Where the best witted Gallants use to dine,  
Follow them to the tavern, and there sit  
In the next room with a calves head and brimstone,  
And over hear their talk, observe their humours,  
Collect their jests, put them into a play,  
And tire them too with payment to behold  
What I have filched from them. This I could do:  
But O for shame that men should so arraign  
Their own fee simple wits, for verbal theft!  
Yet men there be that have done this and that,  
And more by much more than the most of them.  Frank 
But to our purpose Cripple to these letters.  Cripple 
I have them ready for you, here they be,  
Give these to your two brothers, say that Phillis  
Delivered them with frowns, and though her name  
Be not subscribed (which may not well be done)  
It may perhaps give them occasion  
To think she scorned them so much grace and favour.  
This done, return to me, and let me know  
Th'occurrants of this practice as they grow,  
And so farewell, I can no longer stand  
To talk with you, I have some work in hand. Exit.  Frank 
Farewell mad Cripple, now Frank Golding sly,  
To put in practise this new policy:  
But soft, here comes the Maid, I will assay  Euter Phillis and Fiddle. 
To plead my own love by a stranger way,  
By your leave sir.  Fid. 
Porter, I am not for you, you see I am perambulating before a female.  Frank 
I would crave but a word with you.  Fid. 
Speak in time then Porter, for otherwise I do not love to answer you, and be as brief as you can, good Porter.  Fran. 
I pray you sir, what Gentlewoman is this?  Fiddle. 
Certes Porter, I serve a Gentleman, that Gentleman is father to this Gentlewoman, this Gentlewoman is a maid, this maid is fair, and this fair maid belongeth to the Exchange, and the Exchange hath not the like fair maid now Porter, put all this together, and tell me what it spells.  Frank 
I promise you sir, you have posed me.  Fid. 
Then you are an ass Porter, 'tis the fair Maid of the Exchange.  Fran. 
Her name I pray you sir.  Fiddle. 
Her name Porter requires much poeticality in the subscription, and no less judgement in the understanding; her name is Phillis, not Phillis that same dainty lass that was beloved of Amintas, nor Phillis she that doted on that comely youth Demophoon, but this is Phillis, that most strange Phillis, the flower of the Exchange.  Phil. 
What, would that Porter any thing with me?  Frank 
Yes Mistress, since by chance I meet you here,  
I'll tell you, though it not concerns myself,  
What I this morning saw; there is a Gentleman  
One master Golding the youngest of three brothers,  
They call him Frank; O this man lies very sick,  
I being at his house perchance inquired  
What his disease was of a servant there,  
Who said, the doctors cannot tell themselves,  
But in his fits he ever calls on Love,  
And prays to Love for pity, and then names you,  
And then names Love again, and then calls Phillis,  
And sometime starts, and would forsake his bed,  
And being asked whither, he says he would go to Phillis,  
My business called me hence, but I heard say  
His friends do mean to entreat you to take the pains  
To visit him, because they do suppose,  
The sick man loves you, and thence his sickness grows.  Phi. 
Porter, is this true?  
Or art thou hired to this, I prithee tell me.  Frank 
Mistress, not hired, my name is Trusty john.  
If I delude you, never trust me more.  Phi. 
I thank thee Porter, and thank Love withal,  
That thus hath wrought the tyrant Golding's fall,  
He once scorned Love, jested at wounded hearts,  
Challenged almighty beauty, railed at passion,  
And is he now caught by the eyes and heart?  
Now by Diana's milk white vail I swear,  
The goddess of my maiden chaste desires.  
I am as glad of it as glad may be,  
And I will see him, if but to laugh at him,  
And torture him with jests; Fiddle, along,  
When we return, if they do send for me,  
I'll arm myself with flouts and cruelty.  Fiddle 
Porter, we commit you, if you be a crafty knave, and lay in the wind for a vantage, you have your answer: mark her last words, i'll arm myself with flouts and cruelty. Exeunt.  Frank. 
I'll arm myself with flouts and cruelty.  
Will you so Phillis, what a state am I in?  
Why I of all am furthest from her love:  
'sblood, if I now should take conceit at this,  
Fall sick with love indeed, were not my state  
Most lamentable? I by this hand were it:  
Well heart, if thou wilt yield, look to thyself,  
Thou wilt be tortured, well what remedy.  Enter anthony. 
Here comes my brother anthony, I am for him.  Anth. 
Porter, what news? spoke you with Phillis?  Frank. 
I too late, to my grief,  
Spoke with her, sir, I'faith I think I have;  
here's a letter for you, and by that  
You shall be judge if I did speak with her;  
Now Cripple, shall we prove your learned wit?  Anth. 
Zounds am I mad, or is she mad that writ this?  
I'll read it o'er again:  
A Letter.  
SIr, I did never like you, I do not now think well of you, And I will never love you: I choose my husband with my eyes, and I have seen some especial fault in you; as the colour of your hair, the elevating of your head, to an affected proportion, as if you fainted for want of air, and stood in that manner to suck it into your nose, your neck is too long: and to be short, I like no part in or about you: and the short and the long boy, is, that I will never love you, and I will never marry but one I love.  
Not yours, but her own.  Antho. 
Blank, I am struck blank, and blind, and mad withal,  
Here is a flat denial to my suit,  
A resolution never to be won:  
What shall I do? assist me God of love,  
Instruct me in thy school-tricks; be my guide  
Out of this labyrinth of love and fear,  
Unto the palace of fair Phillis favour:  
I have it; I will intimate her mother  
In my behalf, with letters and with gifts,  
To her i'll write to be my advocate:  
Porter farewell, there's for thy pains,  
Thy profit by this toil passeth my gains. Exit.  Frank. 
You have your answer, and a kind one too;  
Cripple i'll make thee crutches of pure silver  
For this devise, thou hast a golden wit;  
Now if my brother Ferdinand were here  
To read his absolution, here he comes.  Enter Ferdinand. 
Brother.  Ferd. 
Frank.  
What hast thou given the letter to her hand,  
And stayed my brother Anthony's withal?  Frank 
I have done both, and more than that, behold  
Here is an answer to your letter brother.  Anth. 
Frank, I will love thee, whiles I live for this.  Frank. 
Scarce, when you read what there contained is.  
A Letter.  
GAllant, that write for love, if you had come yourself yond might perchance have sped; I do not counsel you neither, to come yourself, unless you leave your head at home, or wear a vizard, or come backwards, for I never look you in the face but I am sick: and so praying God to continue my health, by keeping you from me, I leave you.  Ferd. 
O unkind answer to a lovers letter;  
Let me survey the end once more: For I never look you in the face but I am sick: and so praying God to continue me in health, by keeping you from me.  
Is she so far from yielding? is this fort  
Of her chaste love yet so impregnable?  
What shall I do? this is the furthest way,  
A labour of impossibilities:  
This way to win her? I will once again,  
Challenge the promise that her father made me;  
To him i'll write, and he I know will plead  
My love to Phillis, and so win the maid. Exit.  Frank. 
Farewell poor tortured heart; was ever known  
Two loving brothers in such misery?  
Let me consider of my own estate:  
What profit do I reap by this delusion?  
Why none; I am as far from Phillis heart  
As when she first did wound me with her eyes:  
Cripple, to thee I come, 'tis thou must be  
My counsellor in this extremity. Exit.  Enter Cripple, Bowdler, and Barnard. Crip. 
Sirrah Bowdler, what makes thee in this merry vain?  Bowd. 
O Lord sir, it is your most elevated humour to be merry, to be concise, set up the collar, and look thus with a double chin, like Diogenes peering over his Tub, is too cynical, the sign of Melancholy, and indeed, the mere effect of a salt rheum.  Crip. 
Who would think this Gentleman yesterdays distemperature should breed such motions? I think it be restorative to activity, I never saw a gentleman caper so excellent, as he did last night.  Bow. 
Mean you me sir?  Crip. 
Your own self, by this hand.  Bowd. 
You gull me not.  Crip. 
How, gull you!  
methinks a man so well reputed of,  
So well commended for your qualities  
In Schools of nimble activeness,  
And places where divinest Choristers  
Warble enchanting harmony, to such  
As think there is no heaven on earth but theirs:  
And knowing yourself to be the Genius  
Of the spectators, and the audience hearts,  
You wrong your worthy self intolerably,  
To think our words savour of flattery.  Bowd. 
Sirrah dog, how didst thou like my last caper, and turn o' the toe?  Crip. 
Before God passing well.  Barn. 
I know his worship made it, 'tis so excellent,  Bowd. 
It was my yesterdays exercise.  Crip. 
After the working of your purgation, was it not?  Bowd. 
What purgation, you filthy cur?  Crip. 
After the purging of your brain Sir.  Bow. 
Be still dog, bark not, though by misfortune  
I was last night somewhat distempered:  
I will not be upbraided; 'twas no more  
But to refine my wit; but tell me truly,  
How dost thou like my caper?  Crip. 
Far better than I can commend it.  Bowd. 
Now as I am a Gentleman  
My Tutor was not witting of the same;  
And in my opinion 'twill do excellent:  
O this air! here's a most eloquious air for the memory,  
I could spend the third part of my Arms in silver,  
To be encountered by some good wit or other.  Crip. 
What say you to your sweet heart, Mall Berry?  Bowd. 
Peace Cripple, silence, name her not, I could not endure the career of her wit, for a million, she is the only she Mercury under the heavens; her wit is all spirit; that spirit fire, that fire flies from her tongue, able to burn the radix of the best invention; in this Element she is the abstract and brief of all the eloquence since the incarnation of Tully's I tell thee Cripple, I had rather encounter Hercules with blows, than Mall Berry with words: And yet by this light I am horribly in love with her.  Enter Mall Berry. Crip. 
See where she comes, O excellent!  Bowd. 
Now have I no more blood than a bulrush.  Barn. 
How now; what ail you sir?  Crip. 
What's the matter man?  Bowd. 
See, see, that glorious angel doth approach,  
What shall I do?  Crip. 
she is a saint indeed; Zounds to her, court her, win her, wear her, wed her, and bed her too.  Bowd. 
I would it were come to that, I win her! by heaven, I am not furnished of a courting phrase, to throw at a dog.  Crip. 
Why no, but at a woman you have; O sir, seem not so doltish now, can you make no fustian, ask her if she'll take a pipe of Tobacco.  Bow. 
It will offend her judgement, pardon me.  Cri. 
But hear you sir? reading so much as you have done,  
Do you not remember one pretty phrase,  
To scale the walls of a fair wench's love?  Bow. 
I never read any thing but Venus and Adonis.  Crip. 
Why that's the very quintessence of love,  
If you remember but a verse or two,  
I'll pawn my head, goods, lands and all 'twill do.  Bow. 
Why then have at her.  
Fondling I say, since I have hemmed thee here,  
Within the circle of this ivory pale,  
I'll be a park.  Mal. 
Hands off fond sir.  Bow. 
And thou shalt be my dear;  
Feed thou on me, and I will feed on thee,  
And Love shall feed us both.  Ma. 
Feed you on woodcocks, I can fast awhile.  Bow. 
Vouchsafe thou wonder to alight thy steed.  Crip. 
Take heed, she's not on horseback.  Bow. 
Why then she is alighted,  
Come sit thee down where never serpent hisses,  
And being set, i'll smother thee with kisses.  Ma. 
Why is your breath so hot? now God forbid  
I should buy kisses to be smothered.  Bow. 
Mean you me? you gull me not?  Ma. 
No, no, poor Bowdler, thou dost gull thyself:  
Thus must I do to shadow the hid fire,  
That in my heart doth burn with hot desire:  
O I do love him well whate'er I say,  
Yer will I not myself self love bewray,  
If he be wise he'll sue with good take heed:  
Bowdler, do so, and thou art sure to speed:  
I will fly hence to make his love the stronger,  
Though my affection must lie hid the longer.  
What master Bowdler, not a word to say?  Bow. 
No by my troth, if you stay here all day.  Ma. 
Why then i'll bear the bucklers hence away. Exit.  Crip. 
What master Bowdler, have you let her pass unconquered?  Bow. 
Why what could I do more? I looked upon her with judgement, the strings of my tongue were well in tune, my embraces were in good measure, my palm of a good constitution, only the phrase was not moving; as for example, Venus herself with all her skill could not win Adonis, with the same words: O heavens! was I so fond then to think that I could conquer Mall Berry? O the natural fluence of my own wit had been far better!  
God-den good fellow.  Enter Fiddle. Fid. 
God give you the time of the day, pardon me Gallants, I was so near the middle that I knew not which hand to take.  Bow. 
A very good conceit.  Fid. 
And yet because I will be sure to give you a true salutation, Cripple, quomodo vales? Good morrow Cripple, good-den good master Barnard, master Bowdler, Bonos noches, as they say, good night; and thus you have heard my manner of salutation.  Crip. 
You are very eloquent, sir; but Fiddle, what's the best news abroad?  Fid. 
The best news I know not sir, but the newest news is most excellent i'faith.  Barn. 
Prithee let's hear it.  Fid. 
Why this it is, the sergeant are watching to arrest you at master Berry's suit.  Barn. 
Wounds, where?  Fid. 
Nay, I know not where; alas sir, there is no such matter, I did but say so much, to make you warm the handle of your rapier: But M. Bawdler, I have good news for you.  Bow. 
Let me hear it, my sweet russetting.  Fid. 
How, russeting?  Bow. 
I my little apple john.  Fid. 
You are a  Bow. 
A what?  Fid. 
You are a, O that I could speak for indignation!  Bow. 
Nay, what am I?  Fid. 
Yond are a pippinmonger to call me Russeting or apple john.  Bow. 
Sirrah Russeting, i'll pare your head off.  Fid. 
You pippinmonger, I'll cut off your legs, and make you travel so near the mother earth, that every boy shall be high enough to steal apples out of thy basket, call me Russetting?  Crip. 
Nay, be friends, be friends.  Fid. 
As I am a gentleman cripple, I meant him no harm, but the name of Russeting to master Fiddle, that many times travels under the arm in velvet, but for the most part in leather trussed with calf-skin points, 'tis most tolerable, and not to be endured, flesh and blood cannot bear it.  Crip. 
Come, come, all shall be well.  Bow. 
Fiddle, give me thy hand, a plague on thee, thou knowest I love thee.  Fid. 
Say you so? why then anger avoid the room, melancholy march away, choler to the next chamber, and here's my hand I am yours to command from this time forth, your very mortal friend, and loving enemy, master Fiddle.  Bow. 
Now tell us, what is the news you had for me?  Fid. 
O, the sweet news, faith sir, this it is, that I was sent to the Cripple from my young Mistress. Master Cripple you know I have spent some time in idle words, therefore be you compendious, and tell me if my mistress handkercher be done or no.  Cri. 
Fiddle 'tis done, & peace it is, commend me to thy mistress.  Fidd. 
After the most humble manner I will; and so gentlemen I commit you all: you Cripple to your shop; you sir, to a turnup and dish of capers; and lastly, you M. Barnard, to the tuition of the Counter-keeper: there's an Item for you, and so farewell. Exit.  Crip. 
M. Bowdler, how do you like his humour?  Bowd. 
By this light, I had not thought the clod had had so nimble a spirit: but Cripple farewell, I'll to Mall Berry, come Barnard along with me.  Crip. 
Farewell sweet Signiors both, farewell, farewell. Exeunt.  Enter M. Flower at one door reading a letter from Ferdinand, at the other Mistress Flower, with a Letter from anthony. Master Flo. 
The conceit is good, Ferdinand entreats a marriage with my daughter; good, very good: for he is a Gentleman of good carriage, a wise man, a rich man, a careful man, and therefore worthy of my daughter's love: it shall be so.  Mistress Flo. 
Mary and shall, kind Gentleman, my furtherance sayst thou? Yes Anthony, assure thyself, for by the motherly care that I bear to my daughter, it hath been a desire that long hath lodged within my careful breast, to match her with thy well-deserving self; and to this end have I sent for my daughter, and charged my servants, that presently upon her repair hither from her mistresses, that she enter this private walk, where, and with whom, I will so work, that doubt it not, dear son, but she shall be thine.  Master Flo. 
And I will make her jointure of a hundred pounds by year: it is a very good conceit, and why? because the worthy portion betters my conceit, which being good in conceiving well of the Gentleman's good parts, the proffered jointure adds to my conceit, and betters it, very good.  Mistress Flo. 
A thousand crowns for you to make the match, pretty heart, how love can work! by God's blessed mother, I vow she shall be thine, if I have any interest in my daughter; Flower smiles reading the Letter, they snatch the Letter from each other .but stay, whom have I espied? my husband likewise reading of a Letter, and in so good an humour, i'll lay my life, good Gentleman he hath also wrought with him for his good will; and for I long to know the truth thereof, my sudden purpose shall experience it. What's here husband? She reads privately, and frowns .a Letter from master Ferdinand, to entreat a marriage with your daughter.  Master Flo. 
And here the like to you from Anthony to that effect, this is no good conceit, if she be mine, she shall be Ferdinand.  Mistress Flo. 
If she respect her mother's favour,  
'tis Anthony shall be her love.  Master Flo. 
How wife?  Mistress Flo. 
even so husband.  Master Flo. 
You will not cross my purpose, will you?  Mistress Flo. 
In this you shall not bridle me I swear.  Master Flo. 
Is she not my daughter?  Mistress Flo. 
You teach me husband, what your wife should say,  
I think her life is dearest unto me,  
Though you forget the long extremity  
And pain which I endured, when forth this womb  
With much ado she did enjoy the life she now doth breath,  
And shall I now suffer her destruction?  Master Flo. 
Yea but conceit me wife.  Mistress Flo. 
A fig for your conceits, in this I know there can be none that:  
Say he be his father's eldest son, and a merchant of good wealth, yet my dear Anthony's as rich as he:  
What though his portion was but small at first,  
His industry hath now increased his talon;  
And he that knoweth the getting of a penny,  
Will fear to spend, she shall have him, if any.  Master Flo. 
By the Mary God wife, you vex me.  Mistress Flo. 
'tis your own impatience, you may choose.  Master Flo. 
I will not wed my daughter to that Anthony.  Mistress Flo. 
By this.  Master Flo. 
Hold wife, hold, I advise thee swear not,  
For by him that made me, first I vow,  
She shall not touch the bed of Anthony.  Mistress Flo. 
And may I never live (so God me help)  
If ever she be wed to Ferdinand.  Master Flo. 
The devil's in this woman, how she thwarts me still!  Mistress Flo. 
Fret on, good husband, I will have my will.  Master Flo. 
But conceit me wife, suppose we should consent our daughter should wed either of them both, and she dislike the match, were that a good conceit?  Mistress Flo. 
All's one for that, I know my daughter's mind if I but say the word.  Master Flo. 
I would be loath to wed her against her will,  
Content thee wife, we'll hear her resolution,  
And as I find her, to her own content  
To either of them she shall have my consent.  Mistress Flo. 
Why now old Flower speaketh like himself.  Master Flo. 
Agreed, and faith wife 'tis a good conceit,  Enter Phillis. 
And see where my daughter comes: welcome girl,  
How doth your Mistress Phillis? God bless thee Phillis, rise.  Phi. 
God have the glory, in perfect health she is.  Master Flo. 
'tis good, I am glad she doth so well;  
But list my daughter, I have golden news  
To impart unto thee:  
A golden, Golding, wench, must be thy husband,  
Is't not a good conceit?  Phi. 
Father, I understand you not.  Master Flo. 
Then, my girl, thy conceit is very shallow,  
Master Ferdinand Golding is in love with thee.  Mistress Flo. 
No daughter, 'tis thine Anthony.  Master Flo. 
Ferdinand is rich, for he hath store of gold.  Mistress Flo. 
Anthony is rich, yet is not so old.  Master Flo. 
Ferdinand is virtuous, full of modesty.  Mistress Flo. 
Anthony's more gracious, if more may be.  Master Flo. 
Ferdinand is wise (being wise) who would not love him.  Mistress Flo. 
Anthony more wise, than Girl desire to prove him.  Master Flo. 
In Ferdinand is all the beauty that may be.  Mistress Flo. 
He is deceived, 'tis in thine Anthony.  Phi. 
Dear Parents, you confound me with your words,  
I pray what mean these hot persuasions?  Master Flo. 
Thy good my daughter.  Mistress Flo. 
If but ruled by me.  Master Flo. 
But for thy ill-fare.  Mistress Flo. 
If she tend to thee.  Master Flo. 
The truth is this, that each of us hath ta'en  
A solemn vow, that thou my loving daughter  
Shalt wed with one of those two gentlemen:  
But yet refer the choice unto thyself,  
One thou shalt love, love Ferdinand, if me.  Mistress Flo. 
If love thy mother, love thine anthony.  Phil. 
In these extremes what shall become of me?  
I pray you give me respite to consider  
How to digest these impositions,  
You have imposed a business of such weight,  
Pray God your daughter may discharge herself.  Master Flo. 
Think on't, my girl, we will withdraw awhile.  Phi. 
A little respite fits my resolution, They walk.  
Those Gentles sue too late, there is another,  
Of better worth, though not of half their wealth,  
What though deformed, his virtue mends that miss;  
What though not rich, his wit doth better gold,  
And my estate shall add unto his wants,  
I am resolved (good father, and dear mother,)  
Phillis doth choose a Cripple, and none other;  
But yet I must dissemble.  Master Flo. 
How now my soul's best hope! tell me, my girl,  
Shall Ferdinand be he?  Phi. 
I pray a word in private.  Master Flo. 
Mary with all my heart.  Phi. 
In all the duty that a child can show,  
The love that to a father it doth owe;  
I yield myself to be at your command,  
And vow to wed no man but Ferdinand.  
But if you please, at your departure hence,  
You may enforce dislike to cloud your brow,  
To avoid my mother's anger and suspicion.  M Flo. 
Before God a very good conceit,  
Hence baggage, out of my sight,  
Come not within my doors, thou hadst been better,  
Run millions of miles bare footed, then  
Thus by your coy disdain to have deluded me.  
Oh mine own flesh and blood, the mirror of wit!  
Now will I hence, and with all the speed I may  
Send for my son, i'll have it done this day. Exit old Flow.  Mistress Flow. 
What, is he gone? and in so hot a chafe?  
Well let him go, I need not question why,  
For well I wot his suit is cold, 'tmust die.  
Daughter, I gather by thy pleasant smiles,  
Thy mother hath more interest in thy love,  
Than discontented Flower thy aged father.  Phi. 
Mother, you have, for when I well consider  
A mother's care unto her dear bought child,  
How tenderly you nursed and brought me up,  
I could not be so much unnatural  
As to refuse the love you proffer me,  
Especially being for my chiefest good;  
Therefore when married I intend to be,  
My loyal husband shall be Anthony.  Mistress Fl. 
Live ever then my dear dear daughter Phillis,  
Let me embrace thee in a mother's arms;  
Thus, thus and thus i'll ever hug my daughter,  
Him hence thou send'st with frowns, me hence with laughter,  
Come Phillis, let us in.  Exit Mistress Flower. Phi. 
Forsooth i'll follow you.  
Am not I a good child think you,  
To play with both hands thus against my parents?  
Well, 'tis but a trick of youth: say what they will,  
I'll love the Cripple, and will hate them still. Exit.  Enter Cripple in his shop, and to him enters Frank. Frank 
Mirror of kindness, extremities best friend,  
While I breath, sweet blood, I am thine,  
Entreat me, nay command thy Frances heart,  
That wilt not suffer my ensuing smart.  Cripp. 
Sweet signor, my advise in the reservation of those Letters,  
Which I will have you hide from eye of day,  
Never to feel the warmth of Phoebus beams,  
Till myself's care, most careful of your weal,  
Summon those lines unto the bar of joy.  Francke 
I will not err, dear friend, in this command.  Cripple 
So much for that, now listen further Frank,  
Not yet two hours expiration,  
Have taken final end, since Beauty's pride,  
And Nature's better part of workmanship,  
Beauteous Phillis was with me consorted;  
Where she 'mongst other pleasing conference,  
Burst into terms of sweet affection,  
And said, ere long she would converse with me  
In private at my shop, whose wounded soul  
Struck with loves golden arrow lives in dread,  
Till she do hear the sentence of my love,  
Or be condemned by judgement of fell hate.  
Now since that gracious opportunity  
Thus smiles on me, I will resign the same  
To you my friend, knowing my unworthy self  
Too foul for such a beauty, and too base  
To match in brightness with that sacred comet.  
That shines like Phoebus in London's Element;  
From whence inferior stars derive their light:  
Wherefore I will immediately you take  
My crooked habit, and in that disguise  
Court her, yea win her, for she will be won,  
This will I do, to pleasure you my friend.  Frank. 
For which my love to thee shall never end.  Crip. 
About it then, assume this shape of mine,  
Take what I have. for all I have is thine?  
Supply my place, to gain thy hearts desire,  
So may you quench too hearts that burn like fire:  
she's kind to me, be she as kind to you,  
What admiration will there then ensue?  
Frank, I will leave thee, now be thou fortunate,  
That we with joy your loves may consummate,  
Farewell, farewell, when I return again,  
I hope to find three in a pleasing vain. Exit.  Fran. 
Farewell dear friend; was ever known a finer policy?  
Now brothers, have amongst you for a third part,  
Nay, for the whole, or by my soul, i'll lose all,  
What though my father did bequeath his lands  
To you my elder brethren, the movables I sue for  
Were none of his: and you shall run through fire,  
Before you touch one part of my desire:  
Am I not like myself in this disguise,  
Crooked in shape, and crooked in my thoughts  
Then am I a Cripple right, come wench, away,  
Thy absence breeds a terror to my stay.  Enter Phillis. 
Yonder she comes, now frame thy hands to draw,  
A worser workman never any saw.  Phil. 
Yea yonder sits the wonder of mine eye;  
I have not been the first whom destiny  
Hath thwarted thus; imperious Love,  
Either withdraw the shaft that wounds my heart,  
Or grant me patience to endure my smart:  
remorseless love, had any but thyself  
Been privy to my direful passion,  
How I consume and waste myself in love,  
They would have been, yea much more pitiful:  
But all avails not; demanding for my work  
Shall be a means to have some conference.  she speaks to Frank. 
Good morrow to you, is my handkercher done?  Frank. 
Yea Mistress Flower, it is finished.  Phil. 
How sweetly tunes the accent of his voice!  
Oh, do not blame me, dearest love alive,  
Though thus I dote in my affection;  
I toil, I labour, and I fain would thrive,  
And thrive I may if thou wouldst give direction:  
Thou art the star whereby my course is led,  
Be gracious then, bright sun, or I am dead.  Frank. 
Fair Mistress Phillis, such wanton toys as these,  
Are for young Novices that will soon be pleased,  
The careful thoughts that hammer in my brain,  
Bid me abandon wanton love; 'tis vain.  Phil. 
For me it is.  Frank. 
Is my ungarnished, dark, and obscure Cell,  
A mansion fit for all-commanding love?  
No, if thou wilt sport with love,  
And dally with that wanton amorous boy;  
Hie thee unto the odoriferous groves.  Phil. 
There is no groves more pleasant unto me,  
Than to be still in thy society.  Frank. 
There of the choicest fragrant flowers that grow  
Thou mayst devise sweet roseate Coronets,  
And with the nymphs that haunt the silver streams,  
Learn to entice the affable young wag;  
There shalt thou find him wand ring up and down,  
Till some fair saint empale him with a crown:  
Be gone I say, and do not trouble me,  
For to be short, I cannot fancy thee.  Phil. 
For to be short, you cannot fancy me:  
Oh cruel word, more hateful than pale death,  
Oh, would to God it would conclude my breath.  Frank. 
Forbear, forbear, admit that I should yield:  
Think you, your father would applaud your choice.  Phil. 
Doubt not thereof, or if he do not, all's one,  
So you but grant to my affection.  Crip. 
I am too base.  Phil. 
My wealth shall raise thee up.  Crip. 
I am deformed.  Phil. 
Tut, I will bear with that.  Crip. 
Your friend's dislike brings all this out of frame.  Phil. 
By humble suit I will redress the same.  Frank. 
Now to employ the virtue of my shape:  
Fair mistress,  
If heretofore I have remorseless been,  
And not esteemed your undeserved love,  
Whereby in the glass of your affection  
I see my great unkindness; forgive what's passed,  
And here I proffer all the humble service  
Your high prized love doth merit at my hands,  
Which I confess is more than I unable  
Can gratify: therefore command my toil,  
My travel, yea, my life to pleasure you.  Phil. 
I take thee at thy word, proud of thy service,  
But yet no servant shalt thou be of mine,  
I will serve thee, command, and i'll obey:  
This doth my soul more good, yea, ten times more  
Than did thy harsh denial harm before,  
Let us embrace like two united friends,  
Here love begins, and former hatred ends.  Enter Ferdinand and anthony walking together. Ferd. 
Brother Anthony, what news from Venice?  
Are your ships returned? I had rather aside.  
Hear news from Phillis: Oh, brother Frank,  
Thy absence makes me burn in passion.  Anth. 
Sir, I had letters from my factors there  
Some three days since; but the return of one, aside.  
Of one poor letter, yet not answered,  
Makes me stark mad: a plague upon that Porter,  
Damned may he be for thus deluding me.  Ferdinand spies Phillis and turns back. 
How now brother, why retire you so?  Ferd. 
Yonder's a friend of mine acquaintance,  
With whom I would gladly have some conference,  
I pray thee stay I will return immediately.  Go to Phillis and court her to themselves. Anth. 
Of your acquaintance; is she so good brother?  
Only with you acquainted, and no other?  
Faith i'll try that, take heed sir what you do.  
If you begin to court, I needs must woe, Go to her too.  
Brother have you done?  Ferd. 
But two words more at most:  
You have not then received any such letter?  
A vengeance take the lazy messenger;  
Brother if I live, i'll quittance thee for this,  Fran. 
Good words, dear brother, threatened men live long.  Anth. 
You have done.  Ferd. 
Yes.  Anth. 
Then by your leave brother,  
You had one word, I must have another. Talk in private.  Ferd. 
I know our business tends to one effect:  
O that villain Frank, it mads my soul  
I am so wronged, by such a foolish Boy.  Frank. 
That foolish boy may chance prove to be witty:  
What, and the elder brother's fools? Oh t's pity!  Anth. 
That villain Porter hath deluded me,  
Confusion guerdon his base villain.  Frank. 
What are you cursing too? than we catch no fish:  
Comes there any more, here's two Snights to a dish.  Ferd. 
Well, since I have such opportunity,  
I'll trust no longer to uncertainty.  He courts her again in private. Anth. 
At it so hard brother; well, woe apace,  
A while I am content to give you place.  Frank. 
Well, to her both, both do the best you can;  
I fear young Frank will prove the happier man.  Phil. 
You have your answer, trouble me no more.  Fer. 
Yet this is worse than my suspense before,  
For then I lived in hope, now hope is fled.  Anth. 
What, male content? is Ferdinand struck dead,  
Fortune be blithe, and aid the second brother.  Talk in private. Frank. 
Think you to have more favour than another?  
To her a God's name, live not in suspense,  
While you two strive, I needs must get the wench.  Phil. 
I am resolved, and, sir you know my mind.  Frank. 
What, you repulsed too? Phillis is too unkind.  Phil. 
Here sits my Love, within whose lovely breast  
Lives my content, and all my pleasure's rest,  
And for a further confirmation,  
Which to approve, even in sight of both you here present,  
I give my hand, and with my hand, my heart,  
myself, and all to him; and with this ring  
I'll wed myself.  Frank. 
I take thy offering,  
And for the gift you gave to me, take this,  
And let us seal affection with a kiss.  Ferd. 
Oh sight intolerable.  Anth. 
A spectacle worse than death.  Frank. 
Now gentlemen, please you draw near and listen to the Cripple.  Give them the letters and they stamp and storm. 
Know you that letter? sir, what say you to this?  Both. 
How came they to your hands?  Frank 
Sirs, a porter even of late left them with me,  
To be delivered to this Gentlewoman.  Anth. 
A plague upon that Porter; if ere I meet him,  
My rapiers point with a death's wound shall greet him. Exit.  Ferd. 
Frank thou art a villain, thou shalt know't ere long.  
For proffering me such undeserved wrong. Exit.  Frank. 
So, vomit forth the rheum of all your spite,  
These threats of yours procure me more delight.  Phil. 
Now gentle love, all that I have to say,  
Is to entreat you seek without delay,  
My father's kind consent, for thou hast mine,  
And though he storm yet will I still be thine;  
Make trial then, 'tis but thy labour lost,  
Though he deny thee, it requires no cost.  Frank. 
I will assail with expedition.  Phil. 
God, and good fortune go with thee, farewell. Exit.  Frank. 
Well, I will go, but not in this disguise;  
Arm thee with policy Frank, Frank must be wise:  
Now would the substance of this borrowed shape  
Were here in presence, and see where he comes,  Enter the Cripple. 
Poor in the well framed limbs of nature, but  
Rich in kindness beyond comparison.  
Welcome dear friend, the kindest soul alive,  
Here I resign thy habit back again,  
Whereby I prove the happiest man that breaths.  Crip. 
Hast thou then, sweet blood, been fortunate?  Frank. 
Hark, I will tell thee all: Whisper in private.  Enter Bowdler, Mall Berry, and Ralfe, Bowdler capers and sings. Ralf. 
Faith sir, methinks of late you are very light.  Bowd. 
As a feather, sweet Rogue, as a feather:  
Have I not good cause, sweet Mall, sweet Mall,  
Hath she not caused the same: well, if I live, sweet wench,  
Either by night or day I will requite your kindness.  Frank. 
Now I will take my leave, to put the same in practice. Exit Frank.  Crip. 
Good fortune wait on thee.  Bowd. 
Mall, thou art mine, by thine own consent;  
How sayst thou Mall?  Mall. 
Yes forsooth.  Ralfe. 
I am witness sir.  Bowd. 
But that is not sufficient Mall, if thou art content Mall, here's a Rogue hard by, a friend of mine, whom I will acquaint with our loves, and he shall be partaker of the match.  Ralf. 
Nay sir, if you mean to have partners in the match, I hope Ralfe can help to serve your wives turn as well as another, whate'er he be. How say you mistress?  Mall. 
All's one to me, whom he please.  Bowd. 
Come then sweet Mall, we'll to the Drawer,  
There to dispatch what I further intend.  Mall. 
And well remembered husband.  Ralfe. 
A forward maiden by this light; husband before the clerk hath said Amen.  Mall. 
He hath work of mine, I pray forget it not.  Bowd. 
I will not Mall. Now you lame Rogue, where is this maiden's work? my wives work you rascal, quick, give it her?  Crip. 
Sweet signior, the sweet nymphs work is almost finished, but sweet blood, you drive me into admiration with your latter words, your sweet wives work, I admire it!  Bowd. 
I ye halting Rascal, my wives work; she's my wife before God and Ralfe, how sayst thou Mall, art thou not?  Mal. 
Yes for sooth, and to confirm the same,  
Here in this presence, I plight my faith again;  
And speak again, what erst before was said,  
That none but you shall have my maidenhead.  Bowd. 
A good wench Mall, i'faith, now will I to thy father for his good will, Cripple, see you remember what is past, for I will call thee in question for a witness if need require, farewell cur, farewell dog. Exit. Bowdler and Ralfe.  Crip. 
A due fond humorist, Parenthesis of jests,  
Whose humour like a needless cipher fills a room:  
But now Mall Berry, a word or two with you:  
Hast thou forgotten Barnet? thy thoughts were bent on him.  Mall. 
On him Cripple! for what? was it for marriage?  Crip. 
It was for love, why not for marriage? O monstrous!  
Were I a maid and should be so bewitched,  
I'd pull my eyes out that did lend me light,  
Exclaim against my fortune, ban my stars,  
And tear my heart, so yielding her consent  
To Bowdler's love, that froth of complement.  Mall. 
Cripple, you lose your time, with your fair tears  
To cirumvent my heart: Bowdler I love thee,  
Barnard I hate, and thou shalt never move me.  Crip. 
I will; thou dost love Barnard, and I can prove it.  Mall. 
That I love Barnard! by heavens I abhor him.  Crip. 
Thou lov'st him, once again I say, thou lov'st him,  
For all thou hast borne Bowdler still in hand.  Mall. 
What wilt thou make me mad? I say, I hate him.  Crip. 
I say thou lov'st him: have not I been at home,  
And heard thee in thy chamber praise his person,  
And say he is a proper little man,  
And pray that he would be a suitor to thee?  
Have I not seen thee in the Bay-window  
To sit cross-armed, take counsel of thy glass,  
And prune thyself to please young Barnard's eye?  
Some times curling thy hair, then practising smiles,  
Sometimes rubbing thy filthy butter-teeth,  
Then pull the hairs from off thy beetle-brows.  
Painting the veins upon thy breasts with blue,  
An hundred other tricks I saw thee use,  
And all for Barnard.  Mall. 
For Barnard! 'twas for Bowdler.  Crip. 
I say, for Barnard.  
Nay more, thou know'st I lay one night at home,  
And in thy sleep I heard thee call on Barnard  
twenty times over.  Mall. 
Will you be sworn I did.  Crip. 
ay, I will swear it:  
And art thou not ashamed thus to be changed,  
To leave the love of a kind Gentleman  
To dote on Bowdler? Fie, fie, reclaim thyself:  
Embrace thy Barnard, take him for thy husband,  
And save his credit, who is else undone,  
By thy hard father's hateful cruelty.  Mall. 
Cripple, If thou canst prove that ever I  
Did fancy Barnard, I will love him still.  Crip. 
Why i'll be sworn thou didst.  Mal. 
And that I doted on him in my sleep.  Crip. 
I'll be sworn I could not sleep all night  
In the next room, thou didst so rave on him.  Mal. 
I cannot tell, I may well be deceived,  
I think I might affect him in my sleep,  
And yet not know it; let me look on him,  
I'faith he is a pretty handsome fellow,  
'tis pity he should waste himself in prison;  
heigh ho.  Crip. 
What's the matter wench?  Mal. 
Cripple, I will love him.  Crip. 
Wilt thou i'faith?  Mal. 
I'faith I will. Enter two sergeant  Crip. 
Give me thy hand, a bargain, 'tis enough.  Mal. 
But how shall he know I love him?  Crip. 
Why thus: I will entreat the sergeant  
To go with him along unto thy father,  
And by the way i'll send young Bowdler from us,  
And then acquaint my Barnard with thy love,  
He shall accept it and avouch the same  
Unto thy father, wench do thou the like,  
And then I hope his bonds are canceled.  Barn. 
Cripple, shall we have your company?  Crip. 
My friends, hold here, there's money for your pains  
Walk with your prisoner but to master Berry,  
And ye shall either find sufficient bail,  
Or else discharge the debt, or I assure you  
we'll be your aid to guard him safe to prison.  1. Sergeant 
Well, we are willing sir, we are content  
To show the Gentleman any kind of favour.  Crip. 
Along then; hark master Bowdler. Exeunt.  Enter Master Flower, Mistress Flower, Master Berry, and Fiddle. mayst Flo. 
Welcome good master Berry, is your stomach up sir? It is a good conceit i'faith.  Fiddle 
It is indeed sir.  Master Flo. 
What, Fiddle!  Fid. 
If his stomach be up to go to dinner.  Master Flo. 
Fiddle, bid master Berry welcome.  Fid. 
What else master? with the best belly in my heart, the sweetest strain in my music, and the worst entertainment that may be, Fiddle bids your worship adesdum.  Berry 
Thanks Fiddle, and master Flower, I am much beholding to your courtesy.  Mistress Flo. 
Fiddle, I wonder that he stays so long,  
Thou toldst me Anthony would follow thee.  Fid. 
ay, and he'll be here I warrant you.  Master Flo. 
I'll tell you sir, it is a rare conceit,  
My wife would have her marry Anthony,  
The younger brother, but against her mind,  
I will contract her unto Ferdinand,  
And I have sent for you and other friends,  
To witness it; and 'tis a good conceit.  Mistress Flo. 
Fiddle, are all things ordered well within?  Fid. 
All's well, all's well, but there wants some saffron,  
To colour the custards withal.  Mistress Flo. 
Here, take my keys, bid Susan take enough.  Master Flo. 
Fiddle, are all our guests come yet?  Fid. 
ay sir, and here comes one more than you looked for.  Exit. Enter Frank. Frank 
God save you Master Flower, as much to you Master Berry.  Master Flo. 
Welcome M. Golding, you're very welcome sir.  Frank 
My brother Ferdinand commends him to you,  
And here's a letter to you from himself.  Master Flo. 
A letter sir, it is a good conceit,  
I'll read it straight,  Gives the other Letter to mistress Flower. 
Master Flower, I am beholding to you for your kindness, and your furtherance in my love-suit, but my mind is changed, and I will not marry your daughter, and so farewell.  
This is no good conceit: what Ferdinand,  
Delude old Flower, make me deceive my friends,  
Make my wife laugh, and triumph in her will,  
What think you Fiddle?  Fid. 
Why sir I think it is no good conceit.  Master Flo. 
Thou sayst true Fiddle, 'tis a bad conceit,  
But hear you sir.  Mistress Flower reads her Letter. 
I understand by Fiddle your forwardness in my suit to your daughter: but nevertheless I am determined to draw back, and commit your daughter to her best fortunes, and yourself to God; Farewell.  
Why this is like my husband's bad conceit,  
Have you o'erreached me Flower, you crafty fox?  
This is your doing, but for all your sleight  
I'll cross you if my purpose hit aright.  Fra. 
Tut, tell not me sir, for my credit and reputation is as it is, and there's an end: if I shall have her, why so.  Maist. Flo. 
Sir, the conceit is doubtful, give me leave but to consider of it by myself.  Frank 
With all my heart.  Mistress Flo. 
Master Golding, a word I pray sir,  
You know my daughter Phillis, do you not?  Frank 
Mistress, I do.  Mistress Flo. 
She is a star I tell you.  Frank 
She is no less indeed.  Mistress Flo. 
I tell you sir upon the sudden now,  
There came an odd conceit into my head,  
Are you a bachelor?  Frank 
I am indeed.  Mistress Flo. 
And are you not promised?  Frank 
Not yet believe me.  Master Flo. 
Master Golding.  Mistress Flo. 
Well, do you hear sir? if you will be pleased  
To wed my daughter Phillis, you shall have her.  Frank 
To wed your daughter, why she loves me not.  Mistress Flo. 
All's one for that, she will be ruled by me:  
Disdain her not because I proffer her,  
I tell you sir, Merchants of great account  
Have sought her love, and Gentlemen of worth,  
Have humbly sued to me in that behalf:  
To say the truth, I promised her to one,  
But I am crossed and thwarted by my husband,  
Who means to marry her unto another:  
Now sir, to cry but quittance for his guile,  
I offer her to you; if you accept her,  
I'll make her dowry richer by a pair  
Of hundred pounds than else it should have been.  Frank 
Why this is excellent, past all compare,  
Sued to to have her, gentle mistress Flower,  
Let me consider of it.  Mistress Flo. 
Nay, nay, defer no time if you will have her,  
I'll search my coffers for another hundred.  Fran. 
Say I should yield, your husband will withstand it.  Mistress Fl. 
I'll have it closely done without his knowledge;  
Is it a match?  Frank 
Well, well, I am content.  Mast. Fl. 
Why then old Flower, i'll cross your close intent.  Master Flo. 
It shall be so; and 'tis a good conceit,  
It shall be so if but to cross my wife,  
Hark master Golding, the conceit doth like me.  
You love my daughter, so methought you said;  
You said moreover, that she loves you well,  
This love on both sides is a good conceit.  
But are you sure sir, that my daughter loves you?  Frank 
For proof thereof show her this ring.  Master Flo. 
A ring of hers! 'tis well.  Frank 
ay but conceit me,  
If I had wood her in my proper shape,  
I do believe she never would have liked me,  
Therefore since I shall have her, give me leave  
To come and court her in my borrowed shape.  Master Flo. 
With all my heart, and 'tis a good conceit,  
And here's my hand, son Golding, thou shalt have her.  Frank 
Then father Flower, I rest upon your promise,  
I'll leave you for a while, till I put on  
My counterfeited shape, and then return. Exit.  Master Flo. 
Welcome good son, 'tis well, by this conceit  
My wife will be prevented of her will:  
I would not for the half of all my wealth,  
My cross-word wife had compassed her intent:  
Now wife.  Mistress Flo. 
Now Husband.  Master Flo. 
You still maintain the suit for Anthony,  
You'll have your will, and I must break my word.  Mist. Flo. 
jest on old Flower, be cross, and do thy worst,  
Work the best means thou canst, yet whiles I live  
I swear she never shall wed Ferdinand.  Mast. Flo. 
What shall she not?  Mist. Flo. 
No that she shall not.  Master Flo. 
I say, she shall.  Mistress Flo. 
I'faith she shall not.  Master Flo. 
No!  Mistress Flo. 
No.  Master Flo. 
Well wife, I am vexed, and by God's precious.  Master Berry 
O sir, be patient gentle mistress Flower,  
Cross not your husband, let him have his will.  Mistress Flo. 
His will!  Master Flo. 
Hearst thou wife, be quiet, thou knowest my humour.  
Thus to be crossed, it is no good conceit.  Mistress Flo. 
A fig for your conceit; yet for because,  
I know I shall prevent him of the match,  
That he intends, henceforth I will dissemble.  
Well master Flower, because it shallbe said,  
And for kind master Berry may report  
The humble loyalty I bear to you,  
Such as a wife should do unto her husband.  
I am content to yield to your desires,  
Protesting, whiles I live, I never more  
Will speak that Anthony may marry her.  Master Flo. 
Wife, speakst thou with thy heart?  Mistress Flo. 
Husband, I do.  Master Flo. 
Dost thou indeed?  Mistress Flo. 
Indeed forsooth I do.  Master Flo. 
Then 'tis a good conceit: ha, ha;  
I see 'tis sometimes good to look aloft,  
Come hither wife, because thou art so humble,  
I'll tell thee all, I have received a letter  
From Ferdinand, wherein he sends me word,  
He will not marry with my daughter Phillis,  
And therefore I was full determined  
To cross thy purpose, that his brother Frank  
Should marry her, and so I still intend:  
What sayst thou wife, dost thou assent thereto?  Mist. Flo. 
That Frank should marry her, I have sworn he shall,  
And since this falls so right, i'll not disclose,  
That I did mean so much; but now I'll yield,  
That it may seem my true humility:  
Husband, because hereafter you may say,  
And think me loving, loyal, and submiss,  
I am content, Frank shall have my consent.  Master Flo. 
Why now thou showst thyself obedient,  
And thou dost please me with thy good conceit.  Enter Barnard, Mall, and two sergeant. Barn. 
By your leave master Flower,  
Berry I am arrested at your suit.  Berry 
And I am glad of it with all my heart;  
Hold friends, there's somewhat more for you to drink,  
Away with him to prison.  Barn. 
Stay master Berry, I have brought you bail.  Berry 
What bail? where is your bail? here's none I know  
Will be thy bail, away with him to prison.  Mall 
Yes, I forsooth father, i'll be his bail,  
Body for body; think you i'll stay at home,  
And see my husband carried to the jail?  Berry 
How, thy husband!  Mall 
My husband I assure you:  
Father, these sergeant both can witness it.  1. Ser. 
We saw them both contracted man and wife,  
And therefore thought it fit to give you knowledge,  
Before we carried him unto the prison.  Berry 
But i'll undo this contract on my blessing,  
Daughter, come from him, he's a reprobate.  Mall 
He is my husband.  Berry 
But thou shalt not have him.  Mall 
Faith but I will, Barnard, speak for thyself.  Barn. 
Why M. Berry, 'tis well known to you,  
I am a gentleman, though by misfortune,  
My ventures in the world have somewhat failed me:  
Say that my wealth disables my desert,  
The difference of our bload supplies that want?  
What though my lands be mortgaged, if you please,  
The dowry you intend to give your daughter,  
May well redeem them. You perhaps imagine  
I will be wild, but I intend it not.  
What shall I say, if you will give consent?  
As you redeem my lands, so I my time ill spent  
Mean to redeem; with frugal industry,  
I'll be your councils pupil, and submit  
My follies to your will, mine to your wit.  Berry 
What think you master Flower?  Master Flo. 
Faith master Berry,  
Barnara speaks well, and with a good conceit.  Mal 
Dost thou love him Mall?  Mall 
Yes sir, and here protest,  
Of all in London I love Barnard best.  Master Flo. 
Then master Berry, follow my conceit,  
Cancel his bond, and let him have your daughter.  Berry 
Well Barnard, since I see my daughter loves thee,  
And for I hope thou wilt be kind and loving,  
Regard thy state, and turn an honest man,  
Here, take my daughter, i'll give thee in thy bond,  
Redeem thy lands, and if thou please me well,  
Thou shalt not want all that I have is thine.  Barn. 
I am love-bound to her, to you in duty,  
You conquer me with kindness, she with beauty.  1. Ser. 
Then Master Berry I think we may depart.  Berry 
ay, when you please, you see the matter ended,  
The debt discharged, and I can ask no more.  1. Ser. 
Why then we take our leaves. Exeunt sergeant.  Ma. Flo. 
Now wife, if young Frank Golding were come back,  
To sum our wish, it were a good conceit: Enter Phi.  
Why how now Phillis, sad, come tell me wench,  
Art thou resolved yet for to have thy husband?  Phi. 
A golden Golding, 'tis a good conceit.  
That golden Golding is but loath some dross,  
Nor is it gold that I so much esteem;  
Dust is the richest treasure that we have,  
Nor is the beauty of the fairest one,  
Of higher price or value unto me,  
Than is a lump of poor deformity.  
Father, you know my mind, and what I said,  
Which if you grant not, I will rest a maid. Enter Fid.  Master Flo. 
To die a maid, that is no good conceit.  Fid. 
Master, where's my master? here's one would couple a brace of words with you.  Master Flo. 
With me sir.  Fid. 
No sir, with my young mistress.  Master Flo. 
What is he knave?  Fid. 
A crooked knave sir, 'tis the Cripple.  Mai. Flo. 
What would he have? he hath no good conceit,  
'tis he that hath bewitched my daughter's heart,  
He is a knave, go send him packing hence.  Phi. 
As you respect the welfare of your child,  
Dear father, let me speak with him.  Master Flo. 
Speak with him! no, it is no good conceit,  
I know he comes to run away with thee.  Fid. 
Run away with her? well may she carry him, but if he run away with her, i'll never trust crutch more.  Master Flo. 
Thou sayst true Fiddle, 'tis a good conceit:  
Go call him in, Frank Golding, it is he. Exit Fid.  
In the lame knaves disguise, a good conceit; Enter Frank  
Now sir, what's the news with you, you come to speak with my daughter?  Frank 
Yea sir, about a little work I have of hers.  Master Flo. 
What work, you knave? no, thou hast some conceit, to rob me of my daughter; but away:  
I like not that conceit out of my doors.  Phi. 
Unhappy Phillis, and unfortunate.  Fra. 
Sir, I am content, i'll not move your patience.  Phi. 
Life of my living body, if thou go,  
Though not alive take me hence dead with woe. she sounds  Berry. 
In troth sir, you are too blame.  Master Flow. 
What? is she dead? it is no good conceit.  
Speak to me Phillis, O unhappy time,  
Sweet Girl, dear daughter, O my only joy,  
Speak to thy father wench, in some conceit,  
What, not a word?  Berry. 
Now may you see, what fall impatience  
Begets upon such tender plants as these.  Mistress Flow. 
Now may we see the folly of old age,  
Governed by spleen, and overweening rage.  Master Flow. 
Speak to me, daughter.  
And thou shalt have, what not? covetst thou gold?  
Thou shalt not want for crowns, thou shalt have all.  
O was my fury author of thy trance?  
Did I deny thy loves access to thee?  
Speak but one word and thou shalt be his wife,  
By heaven thou shalt.  Phil. 
I take you at your word; it is no pain  
To die for love, and then revive again.  Berry. 
Now M. Flower how like you this conceit,  
Hath she not over reached you?  M. Flow. 
My word is past, and yet for all my rage,  
I rather choose to fail in my conceit,  
And wed thee Phillis to thy own content.  
Here, take my daughter, Cripple, love her well,  
Be kind to her, and i'll be kind to thee,  
Thou art but poor, well I will make thee rich,  
And so God bless you, with a good conceit.  Frank. 
I thank you, when I leave to love my wife,  
Heaven hasten death and take away my life.  M. Flow. 
'tis well done Frank, I applaud thy wit,  
And now I know I fail not in conceit.  Enter Cripple, Ferdinand, anthony, Bowdler. Crip. 
Gentlemen sweet bloods, or brethren of familiarity,  
I would speak with Phillis, shall I have audience?  Phil. 
Help me dear father, O help me Gentlemen,  
This is some spirit, drive him from my sight.  Frank. 
Were he the devil, thou shalt not budge a foot.  Bowd. 
Zounds two Cripples, two dogs two curs, 'tis wonderful!  Frank. 
Fear not dear heart.  Phil. 
Hence foul deformity.  
Nor thou nor he, shall my companion be,  
If Cripples dead, the living seem to haunt,  
I'll neither of either, therefore I say avaunt;  
Help, me father.  Frank. 
Dear heart, revoke these words,  
Here are no spirits nor deformities,  
I am a counterfeit Cripple now no more,  
But young Frank Golding. as I was before:  
Amaze not love, nor seem not discontent,  
Nor thee nor him shall ever this repent.  Ferd. 
M. Flower, I come to claim your promise.  Anth. 
I come for yours, your daughter I do mean.  M. Flow. 
My promise; why sir, you refused my promise,  
And sent me word so in your letter.  Mistress Flow. 
And so did you to me, and now 'tis past,  
Your brother Frank hath both our free consents.  Ferd. 
Sir, sir, I wrote no letter.  Anth. 
By heaven, nor I.  Frank. 
But I did for you both; I was your Scribe,  
The whilst you went to see your house afire:  
And you (as I remember) I did send,  
To see your sister drowned at London-Bridge.  Ferd. 
i'faith good brother have you o'erreached us so?  Anth, 
So cunningly, that none of us could know.  Ferd. 
For all this cunning, I will break the match.  Anth. 
And so will I.  Frank. 
Why brothers, she's mine by her father's gift.  Ferd. 
Brother you lie, you got her with a shift.  Frank. 
I was the first that loved her.  Ferd. 
That's not so, 'twas I.  Anth. 
Catch that catch can, than brothers both you lie.  M. Flow. 
Yea, but conceit me Gentlemen, what do you mean to spoil my daughter? you claim her, and I have given her your younger brother; this is no good conceit: why how now Phillis, still drooping, cheer thee my girl, see a company of Gentlemen are at strife for thy love; look up, and in this fair assembly make thine own choice; choose where thou wilt, and use thine own conceit.  Phil. 
But will my father then applaud my choice?  M. Flow. 
I will.  Phil. 
And will these worthy Gentlemen be pleased,  
however my dislike or liking prove?  All. 
We will.  Phil. 
I must confess you all have taken pains,  
And I can give but all for that pains taken,  
And all my all, is but a little love,  
And of a little who can make division,  
I would I knew what would content you all.  Ferd. 
Thy love.  Anoth. 
Thy life and love.  Frank. 
Thy life, thy love, thyself, and all for me,  
For if I want but one, I then want thee.  Phil. 
If then I give what either if you crave,  
Though not what you desire will it suffice.  Ferd. 
I wish but love.  Phil. 
And as a friend you have it.  Anth. 
I life and love.  Phil. 
And as your friend, I vow, to love you whilst I live, as do now.  Frank. 
I ask but all for I deserve no more.  Phil. 
And thou shalt have thy wish, take all my store,  
My love myself.  Frank. 
By heaven, I ask no more:  
Brothers, have done, and Dad to end all strife,  
Come take her hand and give her for my wife.  M Flow. 
With all my heart, and 'tis a good conceit.  Bowd. 
Gentlemen, patience is your fairest play.  Ferd. 
Impatience pulls me hence, for this disdain,  
I am resolved never to love again. Exit.  Anth. 
Stay brother Ferdinand, i'll follow thee,  
Farewell all love, 'tis full of treachery. Exit.  Bow. 
By heavens Frank I do commend thy wit,  
Come Mall, shall thou and I ask blessing too for company?  Mall. 
You and I sir, alas, we are not play-fellows, though we be turtles: I am provided.  Bowd. 
Provided! why am not I thy Menelaus?  Mall. 
ay sir, but this is my Paris, I am resolved,  
And what I do is by authority.  Bowd. 
Is it even so, is Helen stolen by Paris?  
Then thus in arms will Menelaus mourn,  
Till Troy be sacked, and Helena return. Exit  Enter M. Wood, and Officers. Wood. 
This is the man, officers attach him upon felony.  Office. 
M. Flower, I arrest you upon felony, and charge you to obey.  M. Flow. 
Arrest me upon felony! at whose suit?  Wood. 
Sir, at mine; where had you that Diamond on your finger? it was stole from me, and many other jewels to the value of a hundred pound.  M Flo. 
This is no good conceit; hath Captain Racket,  
Banded old Flower to such an exegent?  
I hope my credit somewhat will assist me;  
Well, whither must I go?  Wood. 
Straight to the bench, where now the judges are  
To give you speedy trial.  M. Flow. 
Words here are little worth, wife and friends all  
Go with me to my trial, you shall see  
A good conceit now brought to infamy. Exeunt.  
FINIS.