A CONTENTION FOR HONOUR AND RICHES. By J. S. — ubi quid datur oti, illudo chartis.— LONDON, Printed by E. A. for William Cooke, and are to be sold at his shop near Furnival's Inn gate in Holborn. 1633. TO THE RIGHT Worshipful and his honoured friend, EDWARD GOLDING of Colston in nottinghamshire Esquire. WHere there is a will to be grateful, the acknowledgement supplies the defect of action, reddit enim beneficium qui libenter debet. Although this hold no force in the common and municipal laws, where men do no benefit, before they account to receive; it is allowed a Canon in morality, where many good deeds are to be lost, that we may place one well. No man can die in debt, that hath an honest remembrance of his obligation, since death is to be reckoned from the first day of our ingratitude. In this confidence I appear, and being neither guilty of desert, or power to reward, I must present the memory of your own act and virtue to pay yourself. That which waiteth upon my thanks, is this handful of paper imaginations, though below your study, not beneath your virtue to accept, and smile upon; they were meant for innocent mirth, and can be no prejudice, if they only serve to set off your Nobler Contemplations. Read when you will dispense with half an hour, and continue your favour to him, whose ambition is to write himself Your Servant, James Shirley. The Speakers. Ingenuity a Scholar. Courtier. Soldier. Clod a Countryman. Gettings a Citizen. Women. Honour. Riches. Mutes. Honesty. No-pay. Long-vacation. foul-weather-in-harvest. A CONTENTION FOR HONOUR AND RICHES. Enter Riches, and Ingenuity a Scholar. Ing. MY Lady desires to speak with you. Ric. Your Lady? who's your Lady? Ing. The Lady Honour. Rich. Let Honour come to Riches, it will not Disparage her, my friend. Ing. She is not well. Ri. Honour is seldom sound, what ails her Ladyship? Ing. She had a fall lately. Ric. A fall? Ing. And sprained Her foot. Ric. Teach her to climb; she's so ambitious. In. Please you to do her the favour, she will wait Upon your Ladyship another time. Ric. I cannot come Ing. Good Madam. Ric. I ha' the gout Ing. You may command a Coach. Ric. Riches I know May command any thing but I do not use To come to every one desires my company Beside, my servants are abroad, and it Becomes me not to go so unattended. Ing. I shall be fortunate, if you accept My service. Ric. Is that state enough for me? Although it be in fashion with your Lord, To amble with his foot man and Page, I use to have more followers. Ing. Great Ladies Have no such train, many are held superfluous, The Gentleman Usher nowadays is thought Sufficient for a Countess, nay, for two Take him by turns, & yet he may be courteous To the waiting Gentlewoman. Ric. You assume, methinks, Much liberty in talking, what's your name? In. They which know me, call me Ingenuity. Ric. Ingenuity? Out upon! thee I suspect, You are a Scholar. Ing. I have studied Arts. Ri. Defend me from his witchcraft had thy Mistress: None but a Scholar to employ upon Her compliments to me, one whose profession I hate, whose memory is my disease, And conversation death? how rank he smells Of Aristotle, and the musty Tribe Of worm-eaten Philosophers? get from me, I will endure the Bears, and their provision, Lie in an Hospital, or French-footmen, feed With prisoners, or be racked at Westminster, Nay, die, & make poor orphans my Executors, Ere be confined to hear thy learned nonsense. Ing. Why should you be such enemy to Scholars? They waste Minerva's precious dew, their sweat, To gain your favour, and would think themselves Blessed, when your golden beams but shine upon'em. Ric. 'tis not your flattery can win upon me. Go, and declaim against me, good Diogenes, Admire a virtuous poverty, and nakedness, Call Fortune whore, and write whole volumes in The praise of hunger and your lousy wardrobe, Yes, teach the world, Riches is grown a monster, And that she dotes on ignorance: these are Your vulgar doctrines, and I pray pursue'em, My most immortal beggar, and get fame With some twice sodden pamphlet, till you make Submission to my fool, in hope of the Reversion of his Grooms bare livery: Your Theses, and your Syllogisms, will No doubt convert the Beadle, and the dog-whip. Ing. Be pleased to hear me speak— Ric. What impudence Does this appear, you should desire that favour? Have I not given testimony to the world Sufficiently, I do not love a Scholar? Ing. Endure me for my Mistress Lady Honour. Ric. I wonder what she meant to entertain thee! Away, dispute no further, if you move me To more impatience, Riches will find ways To curb your insolence 'tis not your pretence To honour's service, can protect you from My anger, I have kindred, and acquaintance Shall with their breath blow thee beyond the Sea; Or if I should be merciful, and let thee Enjoy thy Country, never hope to arrive at Above a pension, that will find you woollen A Pedant, or a Vicarage preferment, Gelded sufficiently by the improper Parson, Is all your wit must hope for; and take heed That you be modest then, no coat, nor Cassock Can charm you: if I offer to complain, I shall put your Divinity to silence. Ing. I despise Thy womanish threats, and shall account myself Happy without thy favour. O Philosophy, Assist thy poor admirer, and infuse A noble fortitude to scorn her malice: I have no thought, but has a triumph o'er Thy base conspiracy. Welcome my dear Books, And contemplation, that shall feed my soul To immortality: let Puppets dote Upon thy gifts, and sell their privilege, For gaudy clothes and Epicurean, Lust, and a Catalogue of Rich men's sins, That shall like plummets hang upon their heart: When wings are most required, keep thy resolve, And be an enemy to Learning still, That when we find a Scholar, by thee favoured, We may suspect him counterfeit and a dunce Honour will be my Mistress, whose lest smile I value above all thy pride, or treasures, And she will scorn thee too. Farewell, gay Madam, A painted tomb! though glorious to the eye. Corruption dwells within thee. Exit. Ric. Foul mouth Satire, But 'tis some punishment to let him waste His spirits with his railing, let him fret, It may consume him without more diseases, Let him die any way, men of his quality Are living but unprofitable burdens To the earth, as they were borne to consume fruits, And talk of needless Sciences. Who are these? My ancient suitors, Clod the Countryman, And Gettings the rich Citizen? Enter Clod and Gettings. Get. She's here. Good morrow to the star of my delight, Whose beams more glorious do eclipse the Sun, And cast a richer warmth about the world. Ric. How? turned Poet? Get. Fear me not, Lady, I am none of those were borne to't, I had rather Be a jew then christened in Parnassus' Pomp, I have nothing but the knuckles and the rumps Of Poetry. Ric. Take heed in time, lest you become infected With wit, I do not love poetic fancies, Nor any thing that trenches on the Muses, They were baggages, and Phoebus their protector, Deserved the whipping post. Get. I have read, he was A common Piper, and those Nine were Gipsies, That lived by cheating Palmistry. Ric. I like it, When you do rail at Learning, I allow you To read a Ballad, and ridiculous Pamphlets, Writ on the strength of Beer, or some dull liquour: But if you smell profane Sack in a Poem, Come not within a league of understanding, As you respect my favour. Get. I am instructed. Ric. But why does Clod stand all this while so mute? Clo. Either I am John a Noakes, or I am not John a Noakes. Ric. he's dreaming of his horses. Clod. Gee, sweet Lady, I am all to be mired in your beauty, the horses of my imagination are foundered in the highway of your perfections, for I am deep in love with your Ladyship, though I do not wear such fine clothes as Master Gettings here, and so much out of fashion: for if I commend my doublet, I must speak fustian, yet my heart is cut and flashed, and I defy any man that has a better stomach to you in the way of Matrimony. Get. No comparison, Master Clod. Clod. Let him be odious, that names comparison, for my part, I scorn 'em all and the degrees. Get. Y'are very positive. Clod. Dost thou positive me? And my Mistress were not here, thou shouldest find Clod is made of another guess mould, than to endure thy affronts. Ric. And you quarrel, I am gone. Ge. Nay, nay, sweet Lady we shall be friends again. Ric. I hope it won't stretch to a duel. Exit. Get. Duell? You won't provoke me, Clod, Will you? if you do, Clod. Clod. I will provoke any man living in the way of love. Get. How? Clod. He that shall go a-wooing to my Mistress, I will provoke him, and he were my father. Get. Y'are a dirty fellow, Clod, and if I had met thee that year I was Scavenger, I would have had thee carted. Clod. Me carted, Cart thy Bawds, there be enough within the walls, dost tell me of a Scavenger? a fart for thy office, I am a better man in the country than the Constable himself, and do tell thee to thy face, though I am plain Clod, I care not a beanstalk for the best What lack you on you all, no not the next day after Simon and Jude; when you go a feasting to Westminster with you Gallyfoist and your potguns, to the very terror of the Papet-whales, when you land in shoals, and make the understanders in Cheapside, wonder to see ships swim upon men's shoulders, when the fencer's flourish, and make the king's liege people fall down and Worship the Devil and Saint Dunstan, when your whifflers are hanged in chains, and Hercules' Club spits fire about the Pageants, though the poor children catch cold, that show like painted cloth, and are only kept alive with sugar plums, with whom, when the word is given, you march to Guildhall, with every man his spoon in his pocket, where you look upon the Giants, and feed like Sarazens, till you have no stomach to Paul's in the afternoon: I have seen your Processions, and heard your Lions and Camels make speeches, in stead of Grace before and after dinner: I have heard songs too, or something like 'em: but the Porters have had the burden, who were kept sober at the City charge, two days before, to keep time and tune with their feet, for brag what you will of your charge, all your pomp lies upon their back. Get. So, so. Clo. Must this day's pride so blow you up, that a countryman's tale may not be heard? Get. That day's pride? Clo. Or what is't make you Gambol so? Get. Why, anger has made you witty Countryman. Clo. Thou liest, and I am none of thy Countryman, I was borne out of the sound of your Pancakebell, I cannot abide to see a proud fellow: and it were not for us in the Country, you would have but a lean City, we maintain your Charter, and your Chamber too, you would ha' but ill markets, and we should forswear to furnish 'em, where were your hides, horns and plenty of other provision? your, wives could not do as they do, with your short yard and your false light, and the Country should not come in upon them. Come, you cannot live without us, you may be called a body Politic, but the Country is the soul, and therefore subscribe and give way to me. Get. The highway, but not the wall in London, do you know where you are, and what you have talked all this while? an Informer would squeeze your trunk hose for this, and teach you to know your Terms and your Attorneys. Clo. I'll have as good Law for my money, as the best on you, I know what belongs to't, I have almost broke the Parson of the Parish already, about his tithe-eggs. Get. Why, thou lump of ignorance, leather and husbandry ill compounded, thou that hast been so long a dunghill, till the weeds have overgrown thee, and afar off hast cozened a horse, thou that dost whistle out thy prayers, and won't change thy dirty soil, for so many acres in Paradise, nor leave thy share o'the plough, for Saint Peter's patrimony, thou that were begot upon a hay-mow, bred in thy father's stable, and out-dunged his Cattle, thou, that at one and twenty, wert only able to write a sheep's mark in Tar, and read thy own capital letter, like a gallous upon a cow's buttock; you that allow no Scripture Canonical, but an Almanac, which makes you weather-wise, and puts you in hope of a dear year: let the Country starve, and the poor grind provender, so the market rise: let your soul fall to the Devil among the Corn-cutters, I am ashamed to hold discourse any longer with thee; only one word, I would advise you to let your action of love fall, and be content to marry with Malkin, in the Country, she can churn well, and humble herself behind a hedge, for this Lady is no lettuce for your lips, go go, meddle with your jades, and exercise a whip, among your bread and cheese eaters. Clo. Sirrah Cit, I do challenge thee. Get. What weapon? Clo. The next deedlefeedle shall furnish us both if thou hast any moral, let us try before we part who is the better man. Get, If thou hast any ambition to be beaten to dust, Clod, thank yourself. Clo. I will flash thy skin like a Summer doublet, come thy ways. Enter a Courtier and a Soldier court Honour Ingenuity. Cour. Look this way, Lady, and in me behold Your truest servant. Sol. 'tis but airy Courtship That he professes, look upon the Lady That can be active in your service. Ing. 'tis The Courtier and the Soldier pleading their Affection to my mistress Lady donor, I won't interrupt them yet, I cannot Find by her countenance that she inclines to either Col. Bless me but with one smile if you did know With what devotion my soul looks on you, How next to my religion I have placed, If not above it, your bright excellence, How long since I first vowed myself your captive, That eye would dain some influence. Sol. I have No stock of soft and melting words to charm you, Such silken language we are strangers to, We are used to other Dialect, and imitate the Drum, Bold Artillery: can you love me? When I have marched upon the dreadful Cannon, My heart was fixed on Honour nor could death In all her shapes of horror tempt one thought To base retire, when no voice could be heard, But thunder, and no object seen but lightning, Which seemed to have been struck from the first Chaos, So great a darkness had eclipsed the Sun, Yet then I thought on Honour, and looked Their lives that sunk about me, everybody I trod upon, (for now the dead had buried The earth) gave me addition to Where, in my imagination I saw Thee charioted, and dropping down a Garland. Ho. No more there are but complainers of wars, Perhaps some studied speech I love your quality, But am not taught with these Hyperboles honour's not won with words, true valour needs No paint of ostentation, the wound That has the greatest orifice includes not The greatest danger. Ing. She has quashed his culverin, And now he's swearing out some prayers. Cour. she's mine. Thus looked the moon, when with her virgin fires She went in progress to the mountain Latmos, To visit her Endymion, yet I injure Your beauty, to compare it to her orb Of silver light, the Sun from which, she borrows That makes her up the nightly Lamp of heaven, Has in his stock of beams not half your luster, every the earth still with your sacred presence, Upon each object throw a glorious star, Created by your sight, that when the learned Astronomer comes forth to examine heaven, He may find two, and be himself divided, Which he should first contemplate. Ho. You both love me. Cour. But I the best. Sol. How sir, the best? Cou. Ere since I knew the Court, I had no other study but to advance myself to Honour, all my suits have been Directed to this one, that Honour would Fix me among those other Constellations That shine about the King, 'tis in thy love To plant a Coronet here: and then I dare justle the proudest Hero and be inscribed A demi god, frown dead the humble mortal, And with my breath call back their souls again. What cannot Honour do? Ho. Not that you boast. True Honour makes not proud, not takes delight I'th' ruin of poor virtue. So. Sir, you said you loved her best. Co. And will maintain it. So. You cannot, dare not. Co. Dare not? Ho. So peremptory, Honour may in time Find ways to tame the insolent Lady Riches, But leave her to her pride. Ing. The Courtier, and The Soldier look as they would quarrel. Ho. Let 'em. You see how they pursue me still, but Honour Is not so easily obtained. Ing. They are Gay creatures, and conspicuous in the world. Ho. But no such miracles: Gentlemen, you promise Some spirit in you, there's no way to make Me confident of your worth but by your action: In brief, if you be ambitious of Honour, You must fight for me, and as fame shall give me Your character, I shall distinguish you, And cherish worth: mean time I take my leave. Come, Ingenuity, you and I must have Some private conference, I dare trust your bosom With some thing of more weight. Ing. I am then happy, When you command me service. Ho. And I keep A Register of all, and though delayed, Forget not the reward. Exeunt Honour, Ing. So. Hark, Master Cringe, How d''ee like her sentence? If you mean To have Honour you must fight for't not oiled speeches, Nor crinkling in the hams will carry her, You have worn a sword thus long, to show the hilt, Now let the blade appear. Co. Good Captain Voice, It shall, and reach you manners, I have yet No Ague, I can look upon your buff, And punto beard, and call for no strong waters, I am no Tavern gull, that wants protection, Whom you with oaths do use to mortify, And swear into the payments of all reckonings, Upon whose credit you wear belt and feather, Top and top gallant, and can make him seal At midnight to your tailor, go invite Young Gentlemen to dinner, and then pawn 'em, Or valiantly with some of your own file, Conspire a Sconce, or to a bawdy house March with your Regiment, and kick the Leverets, Make cullis o'the Bawds, yet be made friends, Before the Constable be sent for, and Run tothe ticket for the pox, these services, I do presume, you are acquainted with. So. Musk-Cat. Co. Or wert thou what thou seem'st, a Soldier, For so much good I wish thee for my honour, When I have killed thee. So. Sirrah Civet-box. Co. Let me ask your Soldier ship but one cold question, If Lady Honour, whom you have presumed Without good manners to affect, should possibly Descend to marry thee, prithee what jointure Couldst thou make her? So. jointure? Co. I'll admit for arguments sake, Thou art a Soldier, perhaps You will give her a Catalogue of Towns, Or Leaguers, the names of bridges broken down, Your nose in time may make another, you will tell her Of onslaughts, Bulwarks, Barricado, Forts, Of Cannon, Culvering, Sacres, and a rabble Of your Artillery, which you have con by heart, A role of captain's names, perhaps you have In ready wounds, some twenty idle, admit it, And in diseases can assure her forty, This won't do, she cannot eat a Snapsack, Nor carry baggage, lie in your foul Hut, And roast your pullen, for whose precious theft, You and the Gibbet fear to be acquainted, If you return into your wholesome Country, Upon your honourable wooden legs. The houses of correction are no Palaces, And Passes must be had, or else the Beadles Will not be satisfied, the treasurer's name And twelvepence for your service i'th' Low countries, And spending of your blood for doughty Dutchmen, That would have hang'd you there, but in their charity You were reserved for beggary at home, Is no inheritance I take it sir. So. Have you done yet? Co. I have not much more to say. So. It does appear by all this prattle then, You do not know me, and have ta'en too much On trust to talk of Soldier, a name thou'st not deserved to mention, because Some fellows here, have bragged, and perhaps beaten You, and some other of your satin Tribe, Into belief that they have seen the wars, That perhaps mustered at Mile-end, Or Finsbury. Must the true sons of courage, Be thus dishonoured, and their character Defaced by such prodigious breath? must we, We that for Honour and your safeties suffer, What in the repetition would fright Your pale souls from you, when perhaps you foot A jig at home, and revel with your Lady, Be thus rewarded! Happy they that died Their Country sacrifice, to prevent the shame Of living with such popular drones, but I Should wrong our glorious profession By any Arguments, to make thee sensible Of what we are: it shall suffice to publish What is not now in ignorant supposition. But truth, of your gay quality and virtues, You are a Courtier. Co. Very good. So. Not so. If such there be, I talk not to them now, But to thee Phantasm, of whom men do doubt Whether thou hast a soul, thou that dost think it The better and more grateful part of thy Religion, to we are good clothes, and suffer More pains at buttoning of thy gaudy doublet, Than thou durst take for heaven, thou hast divided Thy flattery into several articles, And hast so often called your great men goods, That 'tis become thy Creed, and thou dost now Believe no other, thou wilt take a bribe, To undo a Nation, and sell thy Countrymen To as many persecutions as the Devil: thou art beholding to thy pride, it has Made thee thy own self-love, for without it, None else affecting thee I do now see, What else could keep thee from despair & drowning? Thy wantonness has made thy body poor, But not in show, for though thy back have paid for't, It wears rich trappings; Art may help your legs, But cannot cure your dancing: that and pepper, Avoid with like discretion, one betrays you At dinner, and the other between meals. Go purchase lands and a fair house, which must When thou livest in it be an Hospital, And owe no other body for diseases. Co. Pray come, and take a chamber. So. Thou hast ignorance And impudence enough for twenty Alchemists. Co. I'll hear no more. So. A little, I'll entreat you, You shall be beaten afterward, ne'er fear it. Co. Dar'st thou blaspheme the Court? So. I honour it, And all the Noble ornaments of State, That like Pomegranates in old Aaron's coat, Adorn the Prince that wears 'em, but such Courtiers That cozen us like Glowworms in the night, Or rotten wood, I hate, and in their number For this time be content I list your worship. Co. How do you know what I am, or what title Perhaps I wear? So. I know thee by the wrong To Soldiers. Co. I speak of such as thou wert, and I dare Maintain, and write as much in thy own blood. Enter Honesty. Co. Dost thou not see, Honesty? So. Honesty? what hast thou to do with Honesty? Co. I never could endure her, she appears More terrible than a ghost, I ha' no stomach To fight, my blood is frozen in my veins, She is a thousand punishments at once: Now would I give my Office to be at peace With mine own conscience, ha, she does pursue me? So. These are idle imaginations, collect yourself, good Courtier, and remember what we are to do, or I shall, ha. Enter No-pay. Co. What's the matter, more terror? So. I am cold too. Co. Another apparition. So. You may know him by a jaw-fallen, 'tis No-pay. And what a comfort No-pay's to a Soldier, I appeal to a Council of war, the Devil is not So full of horror, No-pay? I'll not fight A stroke, though I were sure to clear the Empire. Exeunt. Enter Citizen and Countryman armed. Get. Our weapon's length are even, but you'll find There is such odds betwixt us, nought but death Can reconcile our difference. Clod. Deny your major. I think I heard a Scholar use that word against Bellarmine. ay, I'll stand to't: for if nought but death, can reconcile our difference, we must be both killed: no, prepare thyself, I hope to send thee to heaven, and be far enough off ere Sunset: if thou hast made thy Will, let them prove it when thou art dead, and bury thee accordingly, thy wife will have cause to thank me, it will be a good hearing to the poor of the Parish: happy man by his dole, beside, the blue-coats can but comfort thy kindred with singing and rejoicing at thy Funeral. Come on thy ways. Get. Y'are very round, Clod, I do not think you have practised Fencing of late, this is a weapon you are not used to, a Pitchfork were more convenient for you to manage. Clo. A Pitchfork? Thou shalt know thy destiny by this, though it have but one point I know where thy heart lies, I desire no more, and less would satisfy me, unless thou wilt eat thy words, and confess thou hast wronged me, out it shall, I have a stomach to cut thee up, and my sword has a pretty edge of itself, and my greatest grief is, that I owe thee nothing, to discharge all together, but 'tis no matter, I can but kill thee. Get. You cannot, sure: for ought I see in your countenance, you are not long-lived yourself, you have but a tallow complexion, do you know what ground you stand upon, Clod? Col. Ground? Get. You may tread upon your grave now, for all this blustering. Clod. Thou liest, there's more to provoke thee: no, I came not hither to die, and I won't be buried at any man's discretion, my father was buried i'the Country, and my grandfather, and his father before him, and if I live I'll be buried there myself: but what do we lose time? look to thy head, for I will make an even reckoning with thy shoulders presently. Enter Foul-Weather-in-Harvest .Ha, hold, alas, I won't fight, I ha' no heart to lift up a weapon. Ge. You were fire and tow but 'e'en now. Clo. But here's water Dost not see? I shall be undone. Get. Who is this? Clo. Why, 'tis foul-weather-in-harvest, all spoiled, I won't have thy heart now, and thou wouldst gi't me. Get. 'tis well, something will cool you, after so much thunder, but it won't quench the fire of my anger. I do not use to put up these things, when I am drawn to't, your Foul weather is nothing to the business in hand, therefore submit thy neck to my execution, or— Clo. Kill me: I'll forgive thee, I shall have no Harvest to year. Enter Long-Vacation. Get. And thou hadst as many heads as Hydra— Ha, I'll not hurt a Hare, I am frighted this is my heart, you had not so wet, but we are like to have as dry a time on't, I stood upon terms before, this is Long-Vacation. Clo. Long-Vacation? Get. I dreamed of a dry Summer, he will consume me, it will be a thousand years till Michaelmas. Prithee let's be friends, for my part I have no hope of Riches. Clo. And I but little, and this weather hold. Enter Riches .Here she comes. Ric. Where be these friends of mine? Alas, what Mean you? I am faint with seeking you to stay your fury: For I was told your bloody resolutions. You should be a man of government, are these The ensigns of the City? will you give Without the Herald in your Arms, a Sword To the old City Dagger? you wear a Gown Emblem of peace, will you defile your gravity With Basket-hilt and bilbo? And you bold Yeoman, That like a Rick of hay, hath stood the shock Of Winter, and grew white with snow of age, Is this an instrument for you? But I am confident that you will say, 'tis love Of me hath brought you to the field, and therefore To prevent future mischief, I determine Here to declare myself: but first conjoin Your loving hands, and vow a constant friendship, Than one of you I'll choose my husband. Get. By our seven gates that do let in Every day no little sin, By the sword which we advance, And the Cap of Maintenance: By the shrieve's post, and the hall yclept Guild, and London wall, By our Royal Change which yields Gentile ware, and by morefield's, By our thrice burned famous Steeple, That doth overlook the people, Cheapside Cross, and loud Bow-bell, And by all that wish it well: I am friends with him till he dies, And love him like my liberties: So help me Riches, what I speak: The Citizen will never break. Ric. What say you? Clo. By my Cart, and by my Plough, My dun Mare, and best red Cow, By my barn, and fattest wether, My grounds, and all my state together, In thy love I overtake thee, Else my whistling quite forsake me, And let me ever lie, which worse is, At rack and manger with the horses. Ric. Then Master Clod.— Clo. Ha, ha, with all my heart, am I the man? Ric. The man. I must entreat to have some patience. I do imagine you affect me dearly, And would make much of Riches. Clo. There's no Lady That shall outshine my Darling: 'tis no matter, though I be in Russet all the week, Riches shall live like a Lady, have perfumed linen, costly Gowns, and Petticoats worth taking up, and as the fashion is; I will put thee into a bag. Ric. This won't, sir, agree with your condition, To keep me brave: the Country Cut must be Observed. Clo. Hang Country Cuts! Do but marry me.— Ric. But this is not my exception; there is more That interdicts our marriage: for though you Are willing to conceal it, Master Clod, Yet you and I are kindred, at least cousins. Clo. Why, is not your name Riches? Ric. Though my name Be Riches, yet my mother was a Clod, She married rich earth of America, Where I was borne, a dirty family, But many matches have refined us now, And we are called Riches. Clo. If you were borne in America, we are but kindred afar off. Ric. Let us not confound our Genealogies. Clo. I would be loath to marry an Infidel borne, and yet I like your complexion so well, that— Ric. No, I am reserved for thee, And here I plant my best affection. Get. Welcome to my heart. How I do love thee, Riches! O my soul, We'll marry straight. Ric. And thus much for your comfort. Nay, droop not, Clod, though I be wife to him, Yet if I bury Gettings, I'll be thine, And carry London with us into th' Country. Clo. After this rate you are my wife in Law. Well: give you joy. Get. methinks I fumble my gold chain already. But who are these? Enter Courtier and Soldier. Co. No Honour to be found. So. Let us inquire Of these. Did any see the Lady Honour? Get. What care we for Honour, so we have Riches? Co. Ha? I have been acquainted with this Lady. Ric. I was at Court the last week, sir. Cour. I remember. Sol. I ha' seen her somewhere too. Ric. I ha' been a Traveller. So. Were you never taken by the Hollander? Ric. I was in the Plate-fleet. So. Baser los manos Signiora. Ric. I have almost forgot my Spanish, but after a little practice I may recover it. Clo. I know not Honour if I see her, I have heard of such a Lady: ten to one, but Riches can direct you to her. Ric. I apprehend your desires, sir, & will direct you. Co. I am your servant, Lady. Ri. But first, Mr. Gettings, know these Gentlemen. Ge. They are in my books already, pray Gentlemen, Know my Commodities, when I ha' married Riches, I shall be better able to furnish you Co. We wish you joy. So. And shall remain your debtors. Get. I make no doubt. Co. But here's the Lady whom we inquire for. So. She has music to attend her. Music. Enter Honour and Ingenuity. Ha! the Scholar? The case is altered. Is not that Ingenuity? Co. How familiar they are! I hope they're not married. Cl. Is this Madam Honour? Co. So, Lady. Ho. Gentlemen, I come to reconcile your difference, I did foresee you desperate in love, And prompted, I confess your swelling valours To fight for me, but upon second thoughts. I cancelled that opinion, and devised A way to settle all things without danger This Gentleman late my servant, Ingenuity, Hath removed all occasion of your further Courtship, and now won me for his Bride. Co. Married the Scholar? despised. So. Affronted. Ho. You are passionate. You could not both possess me, yet in him Your excellencies meet, and I enjoy 'em. He can be Courtier and a Soldier When the occasion presents itself. He that hath learned to obey well, can command. Nay, be not sad, if you loved me, express it In your Congratulations. Here I fix myself, and vow my best affection. If in the number of my friends, I may Write you, be confident you sha'not lose By your respect to Honour. Lady Riches, I hope there is no Antipathy in your nature, But you may smile upon a Scholar now Married to Honour. Rich. Since you have so advanced him, He shall not want my favour. Ing. Now I am confident. Co. We must obey our destiny. Since Fate Meant me not so much happiness, to be The husband, let me still be humble servant To Honour. So. My desires have the same ambition. Co. and So. joys crown your marriage Ing. Now you both denied me. But in this Empire I can brook no Rival. Be all my honoured guests, and with one feast And revels celebrate our double marriage. Co. And here our love unites. Pardon what language My passion threw upon thee: acknowledge A Soldiers worth above the reach of malice. So. My heart shall spread to embrace the noble Courtier. Clod. Here's nothing but compliment. you should bring up a fashion to kiss one another. Get. 'tis such a dry Clod! Ing. Correct your passions, sir, I am informed You have been guilty this day of abuse, Against the noble Citizens, and traduced Their yearly Triumph. Get. 'Twas his ignorance, But we are friends again. Ing. Then I ha' done. Now Gentlemen and Ladies, In the assurance all are pleased, let us join in dance. Such mirth becomes a wedding. Strike up some nimble air. They dance. Ing. Thus all have seen how Providence imparts Wealth to the City, Honour to the Arts. Exeunt. FINIS.