THE hog HATH LOST HIS pearl.  
A Comedy.  
DIVERS TIMES Publicly acted, by certain LONDON Prentices.  
By ROBERT TAILOR.  
LONDON, Printed for Richard Redmer, and are to be sold at the West-door of Paul's at the sign of the Star. 1614.   

THE prologue.  
OUR long time rumoured Hog, so often crossed  
By unexpected accidents, and tossed  
From one house to another, still deceiving  
Many men's expectations, and bequeathing  
To some lost labour, is at length got loose,  
Leaving his servile yoke-stick to the goose,  
Hath a knight's licence, and may ravage at pleasure,  
Spite of all those that envy our Hogs treasure:  
And thus much let me tell you, that our Swine  
Is not as divers critics did define,  
Grunting at State affairs, or invecting  
Much, at our City vices; no, nor detecting  
The pride, or fraud, in it, but were it now  
He had his first birth, wit should teach him how  
To tax these times abuses, and tell some  
How ill they did in running oft from home,  
For to prevent (O men more hard than flint)  
A matter that shall laugh at them in print:  
Once to proceed in this play we were mindless,  
Thinking we lived 'mongst Jews that loved no Swine's flesh:  
But now that troubles past, if it deserve a hiss,  
(As questionless it will through our amiss,)  
Let it be favoured by your gentle sufferance,  
wisemen are still endued with patience,  
we are not half so skilled as strolling Players,  
Who could not please here as at Country fairs,  
We may be pelted off for aught we know,  
With apples, eggs, or stones from thence below;  
In which we'll crave your friendship if we may,  
And you shall have a dance worth all the play,  
And if it prove so happy as to please,  
we'll say 'tis fortunate like Pericles.   

THE ACTORS NAMES.  

Old lord Wealthy.  
Young lord his son.  
Maria his daughter.  
Carracus and Albert,  
two Gentlemen, near friends.  
Lightfoot a country Gentleman.  
Haddit a youthful Gallant.  
Hog a Usurer.  
Rebecka his daughter.  
Peter Servitude his man.   

The Actors names.  
Atlas a Porter.  
A Priest.  
A Player.  
A Servingman.  
A Nurse.    

THE hog HATH lost his Pearl.  

Actus primi Scena prima.  Enter Lightfoot a country gentleman passing over the stage and knocks at the other door. Lightfoot. 
HOe, whose's within here?  Enter Atlas a Porter At. 
ha' ye any money to pay you knock with such authority sir?  Li. 
What if I have not, may not a man knock without money sir?  At. 
Seldom, women and Servants they will not put it up so sir.  Li. 
How say you by that sir, but I prithee is not this one Atlas his house a Porter?  At. 
I am the rent payer thereof.  Li. 
In good time sir.  At. 
Not in good time, neither sir, for I am behind with my Landlord a year and three quarters at least.  Li. 
Now if a man would give but observance to this fellows prating, 'a would weary his ears sooner than a Barber, d'ee hear sir, lies there not one Haddit a gentleman at this house?  At. 
Here lies such a gentleman sir whose clothes (were they not greasy) would bespeak him so.  Li. 
Then I pray sir when your leisure shall permit, that you would vouchsafe to help me to the speech of him.  At. 
We must first crave your oath, sir that you come not with intent to molest, perturb, or endanger him, for he is a gent. whom it hath pleased fortune to make her tennis ball of, and therefore subject to be struck by every fool into hazard.  Li. 
In that I commend thy care of him, for which friendship here's a slight reward, tell him a Country man of his, one Lightfoot is here, and will not any way despair of his safety.  At. 
With all respect Sir, pray command my house.  Exit Atlas. Li. 
So, now I shall have a sight of my cozen gallant, he that hath consumed 800. pound a year, in as few years, as he hath cares on his head: He that was wont never to be found without 3, or 4, pair of red breeches, running before his horse, or coach. He that at a meal, hath had more several kinds, than I think the Ark contained: He that was admired by nitres, for his robes of gallantry, and was indeed all that an elder brother might be, prodigal, yet he, whose unthriftiness kept many a house, is now glad to keep house in a house, that keeps him the poor tent of a porter, and see his appearance, I'll seem strange to him.  Enter Haddit in poor Array. Had. 
cozen Lightfoot how dost, welcome to the City,  Li. 
Who calls me cozen, where's my cozen Haddit, he's surely putting on some rich apparel, for me to see him in. I ha' been thinking all the way I came up, how much his company will Credit me.  Had. 
My name is Haddit Sir, and your kinsman, if parents may be trusted, and therefore you may please to know me better, when you see me next.  Li. 
I prithee fellow stay, is it possible thou shouldst be he, why he was the generous spark of men's admiration.  Had. 
I am that spark Sir, though now raked up in ashes,  
Yet when it pleaseth fortune's chops to blow  
Some gentler gale upon me, I may then,  
From forth of embers rise and shine again,  Li. 
O by your versifying I know you now sir, how dost, I knew thee not at first, thart very much altered.  Had. 
Faith and so I am, exceeding much since you saw me last, about eight hundred pound a year; but let it pass, for passage carried away the most part of it, a plague of fortune  Li. 
thou'st more need to pray to fortune then curse her, she may be kind to thee when thou art penitent, but that I fear will be never.  Had. 
O no, if she be a woman, she'll ever love those that hate her, but cozen thou art thy father's first-born, help me but to some means, and I'll redeem my mortgaged lands with a wench to boot.  Li. 
As how I pray thee?  Ha. 
Marry thus, Hog the Usurer hath one only daughter.  Li. 
Is his name Hog, it fits him exceeding well, for as a hog in his life time is always devouring, and never commodious in aught till his death, even so is he whose goods at that time may be put to many good uses.  Had. 
And so I hope they shall before his death, this daughter of his, did, and I think doth love me, but I then thinking myself worthy of an Empress, gave but slight respect unto her favour, for that her parentage seemed not to equal my high thoughts, puffed up,  Li. 
With Tobacco surely,  Had 
No but with as bade a weed, vain glory.  Li. 
And you could now be content, to put your lofty spirits into the lowest pit of her favour: Why what means will serve man, 'sfoot if all I have will repair thy fortunes, it shall fly at thy command,  Ha. 
Thanks good coz, the means shall not be great, only that I may first be clad in a generous outside, for that is the chief attraction, that draws female affection; good parts without any habiliments of gallantry, are no more set by in these times, than a good leg in a woollen stocking: No, 'tis a glistering presence and audacity brings women into fools felicity.  Li. 
Yave a good confidence coz, but what deendien your brave outside shall effect.  Had. 
That being had we'll to the Usurer where you shall offer some slight piece of land to mortgage, and if you do it to bring ourselves into cash, it shall be near the farther from you, for here's a project will not be frustrate of this purpose.  Li. 
That shall be shortly tried, He instantly go seek for a habit for thee and that of the richest too, that which shall not be subject to the scoff of any gallant, though to the accomplishing thereof all my means goes: Alas what's a man unless he wear good clothes.  Exit Lightfoot Had. 
Good speed attend my suit, here's a never seen Nephew kind in distress, this gives me more cause of admiration than the loss of xxxv. settings together at Passage. I when 'tis performed, but words and deeds are now more different then Puritans and Players.  Enter Altas At. 
Here's the Player would speak with you.  Had. 
About the jig, I promised him, my pen and ink, I prithee let him in, there may be some Cash rhymed out of him.  Enter Player. Pla. 
The Muses assist you sir, what at your study so early.  Ha 
O chiefly now sir for) aurora musis amicat)  Pla. 
Indeed I understand not latin sir.  Ha. 
You must then pardon me, good M. Change-coat, for I protest vntee it is so much my often converse, that if there be none but women in my company, yet cannot I forbear it.  Pla. 
That shows your more learning sir, but I pray you is that small matter done I entreated for.  Ha. 
A small matter, you'll find it worth Meg of Westminster, although it be but a bare jig.  Pla. 
O lord sir, I would it had but half the taste of garlic.  Ha. 
Garlic stinks to this, prove that you have not more whores to see this, then ere Garlic had. say I am a boaster of mine own works, disgrace me on the open stage, and bob me off with near a penny.  Pla. 
O lord sir, far be it from us, to debar any worthy writer of his merit; but I pray you sir, what is the title you bestow upon it?  Ha. 
Marry that which is full as forcible as Garlic, the name of it is who buys my four ropes of hard Onions, by which four ropes is meant four several kind of livers, by the onions hangers on, as at some convenient time I will more particularly inform you in so rare a hidden and obscure a mystery.  Pla. 
I pray let me see the beginning of it, I hope you have made no dark sentence in't, for I'll assure our audience commonly very simple idle-headed people, and if they should hear what they understand not, they would quite forsake our house.  Ha. 
O near fear it, for what I have writ is both witty to the wise, and pleasing to the ignorant; for you shall have these laugh at it far more heartily that understand it not, than those that do.  Pla. 
methink the end of this staff is a foot too long.  Ha. 
O no, sing it but in tune, and I dare warrant you.  Pla. 
Why hear ye,  He sings 
And you that delight in trulls and minions,  
Come buy my four ropes of hard S. Thomas onions: Look you there S. Thomas might very well have been left out, beside, hard should have come next the onions,  Ha. 
Fie no, the dismembering of a rhyme to bring in reason shows the more efficacy in the writer.  Pla. 
Well as you please, I pray you sir what will the gratuity be, I would content you as near hand as I could.  Ha. 
So I believe,  aside; 
Why M. Change-coat, I do not suppose we shall differ many pounds, pray make your offer, if you give me too much, I will most Doctor of physic like restore.  Pla. 
You say well, look you sir, there's a brace of angels, besides much drink of free cost if it be liked.  Ha. 
How M. Change-coat a brace of angels besides much drink of free cost if it be liked, I fear you have learned it by heart, if you have powdered up my plot in your sconce, you may home sir and instruct your Poet over a pot of ale, the whole method on't, but if you do so juggle, look to't Shrovetuesday is at hand, and I have some acquaintance with Bricklayers and plasterers.  Pla. 
Nay, I pray sir be not angry, for as I am a true stagetrotter, I mean honestly and look ye, more for your love then otherwise, I give you a brace more.  Had. 
Well, good words do much, I cannot now be angry with you, but see henceforward, you do like him that would please a new married wife, show your most at first, lest some other come between you and your desires, for I protest had you not suddenly shown your good nature, another should have had it though t'had been for nothing.  Pla. 
Troth I am sorry I gave you such cause of impatiency, but you shall see hereafter if your invention take, I will not stand off for a brace more or less, desiring I may see your works before another.  Ha. 
Nay before all others, and shortly expect a notable piece of matter such a jig whose tune with the natural whistle of a carman, shall be more ravishing to the ears of shopkeepers than a whole consort of barbers at midnight.  Pla. 
I am your man for't, I pray you command all the kindness belongs to my function, as a box for your friend at a new play although I procure the hare of all my company.  Had. 
No I'll pay for it rather, that may breed a mutiny in your whole house.  Pla. 
I care not, I ha' played a king's part any time these ten years, if I cannot command such a matter 'twere poor i'faith.  Ha. 
Well Master change coat you shall now leave me, for I'll to my study, the morning hours are precious and my muse meditates most upon an empty stomach.  Pla. 
I pray sir when this new invention is produced let not me be forgotten.  Ha. 
I'll sooner forget to be a jig maker.  Exit player. 
So here's four angels I little dreamt of Nay and there be money to be gotten by foolery, I hope fortune will not see me want.  Atlas, Atlas. (Enter Atlas. 
What was my country cose here since.  At. 
Why did he promise to come again seeing how the case stood weigh.  Ha. 
Ye and to advance my down fallen fortunes Atlas.  At. 
But ye are not sure a meant it ye when he spoke it.  Ha. 
No nor is it in man to conjecture rightly the thought by the tongue.  At. 
Why then i'll believe it when I see it, if you had been in prosperity when 'a had promised you this kindness,  Ha. 
I had not needed it.  At. 
But being now you do, I fear you must go without it.  Ha. 
If I do Atlas be it so, I'll e'en go write this rhyme over my bed's head.  
Undone by folly, fortune lend me more,  
Canst thou, and wilt not, pox on such a where,  
And so i'll set up my rest, but see Atlas here's a little of that that dambs Lawyers, take it in part of a further recompense.  Atlas 
No pray keep it, I am conceited of your better fortunes, and therefore will stay out that expectation.  Ha. 
Why if you will you may, but the surmounting of my fortunes is as much to be doubted, as he whose estate lies in the lottery, desperate.  At. 
But near despair 'sfoot why should not you live aswell as a thousand others, that were change of taffeta, whose means were never anything.  Ha. 
Yes cheating, theft, and pandarising, or may be flattery, I have maintained some of them myself, but come haste aught to breakfast.  At. 
Yes there's the fag end of a leg of mutton,  Ha. 
There cannot be a sweeter dish, it has Cost money the dressing.  At. 
At the barber's you mean.  Exeunt. Enter Albert solus. At. 
This is the green, and this the chamber-window, and see appointed light stands in the casement, the ladder of ropes set orderly, yet he that should ascend, slow in his haste, is not at yet come hither.  
Were't any friend that lives but Carracus  
I'd try the bliss which this fine time presents.  
Appoint to carry hence so rare an heir,  
And be so slack 'sfoot 'a doth move my patience,  
Would any man that is not void of sense  
Not have watched night by night for such a prize,  
Her beauty's so attractive, that by heaven,  
My heart half grants to do my friend a wrong,  
forego these thoughts for Albert be not slave  
To thy effection do not falsify  
Thy faith to him, whose only friendships worth  
A world of women, he is such a one,  
Thou canst not live without his good.  
'a is and was ever, as thine own heart's blood,  
'sfoot see she beckons me for Carracus,  Maria beckons him in the window. 
Shall my base purity, cause me neglect,  
This present happiness, I will obtain it,  
Spite of my timorous Conscience, I am in person,  
Habit and all so like to Carracus,  
It may be acted, and near called in question.  Ma. calls 
Hist Carracus ascend.  
All is as clear as in our hearts we wished.  Alb. 
Nay, if I go not now, I might be gelded i'faith.  
Albert ascends, and being on the top of the ladder, puts out the candle.  Ma. 
O love why do so.  Alb. 
I heard the steps of some coming this way,  
Did you not hear Albert pass by as yet.  Ma. 
Nor any Creature pass this way this hour.  Alb. 
Then he intends just at the break of day,  
To lend his trusty help to our departure:  
'tis yet two hours time thither, till when let's rest,  
For that our speedy flight will not yield any.  Ma. 
But I fear we possessing of each other's presence, shall overslip the time, will your friend call.  Alb. 
just at the instant, fear not of his Care:  Ma. 
Come then dear Carracus, thou now shalt rest,  
Upon that bed, where fancy oft hath thought thee;  
Which kindness until now, I near did grant thee,  
Nor would I now, but that thy loyal faith  
I have so often tried, even now,  
Seeing thee come to that most honoured end,  
Through all the dangers, which black night presents,  
For to convey me hence and marry me.  Alb. 
If I do not do so, then hate me ever,  Ma. 
I do believe thee, and will hate thee never.  Exeunt. Enter Carracus. 
How pleasing are the steps we lovers make,  
When in the paths of our content we pace,  
To meet our longings: what happiness it is  
Man to love. But oh, what greater bliss  
To love, and be beloved: O what one virtue,  
Ere reigned in me, that I should be enriched,  
With all Earth's good at once, I have a friend,  
Selected by the heavens, as a gift,  
To make me happy, whilst I live one earth,  
A man so rare of goodness, firm of faith,  
That Earth's Content must vanish in his death.  
Then for my love, and mistress of my soul,  
A maid of rich endowments, beautified  
With all the virtues nature could bestow  
Upon mortality, who this happy night  
Will make me gainer of her heavenly self,  
And see how suddenly I have attained,  
To the abode of my desired wishes;  
This is the green, how dark the night appears.  
I cannot hear the tread of my true friend,  
Albert, hist Albert, he's not come as yet,  
Nor is th'appointed light set in the window.  
What if I call? Maria, it may be  
She feared to set a light, and only hearkeneth  
To hear my steps, and yet I dare not call,  
lest I betray myself, and that my voice,  
Thinking to enter in the ears of her,  
Be of some other heard: no I will stay  
Until the coming of my dear friend Albert.  
But now think Carracus, what the end will be  
Of this thou dost determine, thou art come  
Hither to Rob a father of that wealth,  
That solely lengthens his now drooping years,  
His virtuous daughter, and all of that sex left,  
To make him happy in his aged days,  
The loss of her, may cause him to despair,  
Transport his near decaying sense to frenzy,  
Or to some such abhorred inconvenience,  
Whereto frail age is subject, I do too ill in this,  
And must not think but that a father's plaint,  
Will move the Heavens, to power forth misery.  
Upon the head of disobediency.  
Yet reason tells us, parents are o'erseen,  
When with two strict a rain they do hold in,  
Their child's affections, and control that love,  
Which the high powers divine inspires them with,  
When in their shallowest judgements they may know  
Affection crossed, brings misery and woe:  
But whilst I run contemplating on this,  
I softly pace to my desired bliss,  
I'll go into the next field, where my friend,  
Told me the horses were in readiness.  Exit. Albert descending from Maria, Ma. 
But do not stay, what if you find not Albert,  Alb. 
I'll then return alone to fetch you hence,  Ma. 
If you should now deceive me, having gained, what you men seek for.  Alb. 
Sooner i'll deceive my soul, and so I fear I have.  Ma. 
At your first call I will descend.  Alb. 
Till when, this touch of lips be the true pledge, of Carracus constant true devoted love,  Ma. 
Be sure you stay not long, farewell,  
I cannot lend an ear to hear you part,  Exit Ma. Alb. 
But you did lend a hand unto my entrance.  He descends 
How have I wronged my friend, my faith full friend,  
Robbed him of what's more precious than his blood,  
His earthly heaven th'unspotted honour,  
Of his soul-joying Mistress, the fruition of whose bed,  
I yet am warm of, whilst dear Carracus,  
Wanders this cold night, through th'unsheltering field,  
Seeking me treacherous man, yet no man neither,  
Though in an outward show of such appearance,  
But am a Devil indeed, for so this deed.  
Of wronged love and friendship rightly makes me,  
I may compare my friend, to one that's sick,  
Who lying on his deathbed, calls to him,  
His dearest thought friend and bids him go,  
To some rare gifted man that can restore,  
His former health, this his friend sadly hears,  
And vows with protestations to fulfil,  
His wished desires, with his best performance,  
But then no sooner seeing that the death,  
Of his sick friend, would add to him some gain.  
Goes not to seek a remedy to save,  
But like a wretch hides him to dig his grave,  
As I have done for virtuous Carracus,  
Yet Albert be not reasonless, to endanger,  
What thou mayst yet secure, who can detect,  
The crime of thy licentious appetite,  
There ones pace 'tis surely Carracus.  Enter Carracus. Ca. 
Not find my friend, sure some malignant planet,  
Rules o'er this night, and envying the content,  
Which I in thought possess, debars me thus,  
From what is more than happy, the loved presence of a dear friend and love,  Alb. 
'tis wronged Carracus by Albert's baseness,  
I have no power now to reveal myself,  Car. 
The horses stand at the appointed place,  
And nights dark coverture, makes firm our safety,  
My friend is surely fallen into a slumber,  
On some bank hereabouts, I will call him,  
Friend, Albert, Albert.  Alb 
whate'er you are that call, you know my name.  Ca. 
ay, and thy heart dear friend:  Alb. 
O Carracus, you are a slow paced lover.  
Your credit had been touched, had I not been:  Ca. 
As how I prithee Albert:  Alb. 
Why I excused you to the fair Maria;  
Who would have thought you else, a slack performer.  
For coming first under her chamber window,  
She heard me tread, and called upon your name,  
To which I answered with a tongue like yours:  
And told her, I would go to seek for Albert,  
And straight return.  Ca. 
Whom I have found, thanks to thy faith, and heaven.  
But had not she a light, when you came first?  Alb. 
Yes but hearing of some Company,  
She at my warning, was forced to put it out:  
And had I been so too, you and I too had still been happy.  aside Ca. 
See we are now come to the chamber window.  Al. 
Then you must call, for so I said I would,  Ca. 
Maria.  Ma. 
My Carracus, are you so soon returned?  
I see, you'll keep your promise.  Ca. 
Who would not do so, having passed it thee,  
Cannot be framed of aught but treachery:  
Fairest descend, that by our hence departing,  
We may make firm the bliss of our content.  Ma. 
Is your friend Albert with you?  Alb. 
Yes, and your servant honoured Lady.  Ma. 
Hold me from falling Carracus.  she descends. Ca. 
I will do now so; but not at other times.  Ma. 
You are merry sir:  
But what d''ee intend with this your scaling ladder,  
To leave it thus, or put it forth of sight?  Ca. 
Faith 'tis no great matter which:  
Yet we will take it hence, that it may breed  
Many confused opinions in the house  
Of your escape here: Albert you shall bear it:  
It may be you may chance to practise that way;  
Which when you do, may your attempts so prove  
As mine have done, most fortunate in love.  Alb 
May you continue ever so:  
But its time now to make some haste to horse:  
Night soon will vanish: O that it had power  
For ever to exclude day from our eyes,  
For my looks then will show my villainy:  aside Car. 
Come fair Maria the troubles of this night,  
Are as forerunners to ensuing pleasures,  
And noble friend although now Carracus  
Seems in the gaining of this beauteous prize,  
To keep from you so much of his loved treasure,  
Which ought not be mixed, yet his heart  
Shall so far strive in your wish't happiness,  
That if the loss and ruin of itself can but avail your good  Alb. 
O friend, no more, come, you are slow in haste,  
Friendship ought never be distrust in words,  
Till all her deeds be finished, who looking in a book,  
And reads but some part only, cannot judge  
What pray so the whole deserves, because his knowledge  
Is grounded but on part, as thine friend is  aside. 
Ignorant of that black mischief I have done thee.  Ma. 
Carracus I am weary, are the horses far?  Ca. 
No fairest, we are now even at them:  
Come, do you follow Albert?  Alb. 
Yes I do follow, would I had done so ever,  
And near had gone before.  Exeunt.  

Actus Secundus.  Enter hog the Usurer, with Peter servitude trussing his points. Ho. 
What hath not my young lord Wealthy been here this morning?  Pe. 
No in very deed sir, is a towardly young gentleman, shall 'a have my young Mistress, your daughter, I pray you sir?  Ho. 
I that a shall Peter, she cannot be matched to greater honour and riches in all this Country; yet the peevish girl makes coy of it, she had rather affect a Prodigal, as there was Haddit, one that by this time cannot be otherwise than hanged, or in some worse estate, yet she would have had him, but I praise my stars she went without him though, I did not without 's lands 'twas a rare mortgage Peter?  Pe. 
As ere came in parchment, but see, here comes my young lord.  Enter young L. Wealthy. We. 
Morrow father Hog, I come to tell you strange news, my sister is stolen away tonight, 'tis thought by necromancy, what necromancy is, I leave to the readers of the seven champions of Christendom.  Ho. 
But is it possible your sister should be stolen, sure some of the household servants were confederates in't.  Wel. 
Faith, I think they would have confessed then, for I am sure my lord and father hath put them all to the bastinado twice this morning already, not a waiting-woman but has been stowed i'faith.  Pe. 
Trust me 'a says well for the most part.  Ho. 
Then my lord your father is far impatient.  We. 
Impatient, I ha' seen the picture of Hector in a haberdasher's shop, not look half so furious, he appears more terrible than wild fire at a play. But father Hog, when is the time your daughter and I shall to this wedlock druggery.  Ho. 
Troth my lord when you please, she's at your disposure, and I rest much thankful that your Lordship will so highly honour me, she shall have a good portion my lord, though nothing in respect of your large revenues; call her in Peter, tell her my most respected lord Welthies here, to whose presence I will now commit her, and I pray you my Lord, prosecute the gain of her affectation with the best affecting words you may, and so I bid good morrow to your lordship  Exit Ho. We. 
Moreover, father Hog, to prosecute the gain of her affectation with the best affecting words, as I am a Lord, a most rare phrase: well I perceive age is not altogether ignorant, though many an old justice is so.  Enter Peter. 
How now Peter is thy young mistress up yet?  Pe. 
Yes indeed she's an early stirrer, and I doubt not hereafter, but that your lordship may say she's abroad before you can rise.  We. 
Faith and so she may, for 'tis long ere I can get up when I go soxt to bed; but Peter has she no other suitors besides myself.  Pe. 
No and it like your lordship, nor is fit she should.  We. 
Not fit she should, I tell thee Peter, I would give away as much as some Knights are worth, and that's not much, only to wipe the noses of some dozen or two of Gallants, and to see how pitifully those parcels of man's flesh would look when I had caught the bird, which they had beaten the bush for.  Pe. 
Indeed your lordship's conquest would have seemed the greater.  We. 
Foot, as I am a Lo. it angers me to the guts, that nobody hath been about her.  Pe. 
For any thing I know, your lordship may go without her.  We. 
An I could have enjoined her to some pale faced lovers distraction, or been envied for my happiness, it had been somewhat.  Enter Rebeeka hog's daughter. 
But see where she comes, I knew she had not power enough to stay another sending, for o lords! what are we? our very names enforce beauty to fly, being sent for aside.  
Morrow pretty Beck: how dost?  Re. 
I rather should inquire your lordship's health, seeing you up at such an early hour: was it the toothache, or else fleas disturbed you?  We. 
D'ee ye think I am subject to such common infirmities? nay, were I diseased I'd scorn but to be diseased like a lord i'faith: but I can tell you news, your fellow virgin-hole player, my sister is stolen away tonight.  Re. 
Intruth I am glad on't she's now free from the jealous eye of a father; do not ye suspect, my lord, who it should be that hath carried her away?  We. 
No, nor care nor, as she brews, so let her bake, so said the ancient proverb, but lady mine that shallbe, your father hath wished me to appoint the day with you.  Re. 
What day my lord?  We. 
Why of marriage, as the learned Historiographer writes hymen's holidays, or nuptial Ceremonious rites.  Re. 
Why, when would you appoint that my lord?  We. 
Why let me see, I think the tailor may dispatch all our vestures in a week: therefore, it shall be directly this day sennight.  Pe. 
God give you joy.  Re. 
Of what I pray you impudence, this fellow will go near to take his oath that he hath seen us plighted faiths together, my father keeps him for no other cause, than to outswear the truth My lord not to hold you any longer in a fools paradise, nor to blind you with the hopes I never intend to accomplish, know I neither do, can, or will love you.  We. 
How, not love a lord; o indiscreet young woman! Indeed your father told me how unripe I should find you: but als, one unripe fruit will ask more shaking before they fall, than those that are, and my conquest will see me the greater still.  Pe. 
Afore god is a most unanswerable lord, and holds her to't i'faith.  We. 
Nay ye could not a pleased me better, then seeing you so invincible, and such a difficult attaining to, I would not give a pin for the society of a female that should seem willing, but give me a wench that hath disdainful looks:  
For 'tis denial whets on appetite,  
When proffered service doth allay delight.  Re. 
The fools well read in vice, my lord, I hope you hereafter will no further insinuate in the course of your affections, and for the better withdrawing from them, you may please to know, I have irrevocably decreed never to marry.  We. 
Never to marry, Peter I pray bear witness of her words that when I have attained her, it may add to my fame and conquest.  Pe. 
Yes indeed an't like your lordship.  We. 
Nay, ye must think Beck I know how to woe, ye shall find no bashful university man of me.  Re. 
Indeed I think you'd near that bringing up, did you ever study my lord?  We. 
Yes faith that I have, and the last week too, three days and a night together.  Re. 
About what I pray?  We. 
Only to find out, why a woman going on the right side of her husband the day time, should lie on his left side at night; and as I am a lord, I never knew the meaning on't till yesterday, malapert my father's Butler being a witty Jackanapes told me why it was.  Re. 
by’r lady, my lord, 'twas a shrewd study, and I fear hath altered the property of your good parts, for i'll assure you I loved you a fortnight ago far better.  We. 
Nay, 'tis all one whether you do or no, 'tis but a little more trouble to bring ye about again, & no question but a man may do't; I am he, 'tis true as your father said, the black Ox hath not trodden upon that foot of yours.  Re. 
No, but the white Calf hath, and so I leave your lordship.  Exit Re. We. 
Well go thy ways, thouart as witty a marmalade eater, as ever I conversed with; now, as I am a lord, I love her better and better, i'll home and poetize upon her good parts presently, Peter here's a preparative to my further applications, and Peter be circumspect in giving me diligent notice, what suitors seem to be peeping.  Pe. 
I'll warrant you my lord, she's your own, for i'll give out to all that comes near her, that she's betrothed to you, and if the worst come to the worst, I'll swear it.  We. 
Why god-a-mercy, and if ever I do gain my request, Thou shalt in braver clothes be shortly dressed.  Exeunt. Enter old L. Wealthy solus. 
Have the fates then conspired, and quite bereft  
My drooping years, of all the blessed content  
That age partakes of, by the sweet aspect  
Of their well nurtured issue; whose obedience,  
Discreet and duteous haviour, only lengthens  
The thread of age; when on the contrary,  
By rude demeanour and their headstrong wills,  
That thread's soon ravelled out: O why Maria  
Couldst thou abandon me now at this time,  
When my grey head's declining to the grave!  
Could any Masculine flatterer on earth  
So far bewitch thee, to forget thyself,  
As now to leave me? Did Nature solely give thee me,  
As my chief inestimable treasure,  
Whereby my age might pass in quiet to rest:  
And art thou proved to be the only curse,  
Which heaven could throw upon mortality:  
Yet i'll not curse thee, though I fear the fates  
Will on thy head inflict some punishment,  
Which I will daily pray they may withhold;  
Although thy disobediency deserves  
Extremest rigor, yet I wish to thee  
Content in love full of tranquillity.  Enter young wealthy. 
But see where stands my shame, whose indiscretion  
Doth seem to bury all the living honours,  
Of all our ancestors but 'tis the fate's decree,  
That men might know their weak mortality.  We. 
Sir, I cannot find my sister,  Fa. 
I know thou canst not, 'twere too rare to see  
Wisdom found out by ignorance.  We. 
How father, is it not possible that wisdom should be found out by ignorance; I pray then how do many Magnificoes come by it?  Fa 
Not buy it son, as you had need to do,  
Yet wealth without that, may live more content,  
Than wits enjoyers, can debarred of wealth,  
All pray for wealth, but I near heard yet,  
Of any but one, that ere prayed for wit,  
he's counted wife enough in these vain times,  
That hath but means enough to we are gay clothes,  
And be an outside of humanity, what matters it a pin,  
How indiscreet soe'er a nature all be,  
So that his wealth be great, that's it doth cause  
Wisdom in these days; so give fools applause,  
And when gay folly speaks, how vain soe'er,  
Wisdom must silent sit, and speech forbear.  We. 
Then wisdom will sit as mure as learning among many Courtiers, but father I partly suspect that Carracus hath got my sister.  Fa. 
With Child, I fear ere this.  We. 
by’r lady and that may be true, but whether a has or no, it's all one, if you please, I'll take her from under his nose in spite on's teeth, and ask him no leave.  Fa. 
That were too headstrong, son, we'll rather leave them to the will of heaven.  
To fall or prosper, and though young Carracus  
Be but a gentleman of small revenues;  
Yet lie deserves my daughter for his virtues,  
And had I though she could not be withdrawn  
From th'affecting of him, I had ere this  
Made them both happy by my free consent  
Which now I wish I had granted, and still pray  
If any have her, it may be Carracus.  We. 
Troth and I wish so too, for in my mind he's a gent. of a good house, and speaks true latin,  Fa. 
Tomorrow son, you shall ride to his house  
And there inquire of your sisters being,  
But as you tender me, and your own good  
Use no rough language savouring of distaste,  
Or any uncivil terms.  We. 
Why do ye take me for a midwife,  Fa. 
But tell young Carracus these words from me,  
That if he hath with safeguard of her honour,  
Espoused my daughter, that I then forgive  
His rash offence, and will accept of him,  
In all the fatherly love, I owe a child.  We. 
I am sure my sister willbe glad to hear it, and I cannot blame her, for she'll then enjoy that with quietness, which many a wench in these days does scratch for,  Fa. 
Come son, i'll wright to Carracus, that my own hand may witness, how much I stand affected to his worth.  Exeunt. Enter Haddid in his gay apparel, making him ready, and with him Lightfoot. Had. 
By this light coz, this suit does rarely: the tailor that made it, may hap to be saved, an't be but for his good works, I think I shall be proud of 'em, and so I was never yet of any clothes.  Li. 
How not of your Clothes, why then you were never proud of any thing, for therein chiefly consisteth pride: for you never saw pride pictured, but in gay attire.  Ha. 
True, but in my opinion, pride might as well be portrayed in any other shape, as to seem to be an affector of gallantry, being the causes thereof are so several and divers, as some are proud of their strength, although that pride cost them the loss of a limb or two, by overdaring, likewise some are proud of their humour, although in that humour, they be often knocked for being so, some are proud of their drink, although that liquid operation, cause them to wear a nightcap 3. weeks after, some are proud of their good parts, although they never put them to better uses, than the enjoying of a common strumpet's company, and are only made proud by the favour of a waiting woman, others are proud—  Li. 
Nay, I prithee coz, enough of pride, but when do you intend to go yonder to Covetousness the Usurer, that we may see how near your plot will take, for the releasing of your mortgaged lands.  Ha. 
Why now presently, and if I do not accomplish my projects to a wished end, I wish my fortunes may be like some scraping tradesman, that never embraceth true pleasure, till he be threescore and ten.  Li. 
But say hog's daughter, on whom all your hopes depend by this be betrothed to some other.  Ha. 
Why say she were, nay more, married to another, I would be near the further of them effecting of my intents, no coz, I partly know her inward disposition, and did I but only know her to be woman kind, I think it were sufficient.  Li. 
Sufficient, for what.  Had. 
Why to obtain a grant of the best thing she had, Chastity, Man 'tis not here, as 'tis with you in the Country, not to be had without father's and mother's good will, no, the City is a place of more traffic, where each one learns by example of their elders, to make the most of their own, either for profit or pleasure.  Li. 
'tis but your misbelieving thoughts, makes you surmise so, if women were so kind, how haps you had not by their factors kept yourself out of the claws of poverty.  Had. 
O but coz, Can a ship sail without water, had I had but such a suit as this, to set myself a float, I would not have feared sinking but come, no more of need, now to the Usurer, and though all hopes do fail, a man can want no living, So long as sweet desire reigns in women.  Li. 
But then yourself must able be in giving.  Exeunt. Enter Albert solus. 
Conscience thou horror unto wicked men,  
When wilt thou cease thy all afflicted wrath,  
And set my soul free from the labyrinth  
Of thy tormenting terror; O but it fits not,  
Should I desire redress or wish for comfort,  
That have committed an act so inhuman,  
Able to fill shames spacious Chronicle.  
Who but a damned one, could have done like me,  
Robbed my dear friend, in a short moment's time  
Of his loves high prized gem of Chastity:  
That which so many years himself hath stayed for;  
How often hath he as he lay in bed,  
Sweetly discoursed to me of his Maria?  
And with what pleasing passions 'a did suffer  
loves gentle war-siege, than he would relate  
How he first came unto her fair eyes view;  
How long it was ere she could brook affection,  
And then how constant she did still abide:  
I then at this would joy, as if my breast  
Had sympathized in equal happiness;  
With my true friend: but now when joy should be,  
Who but a damned one would have done like me:  
He hath been married now at least a month:  
In all which time I have not once behold him; This is his house:  
I'll call to know his health, but will not see him,  
My looks would then betray me for should he ask  
My cause of seeming sadness, or the like;  
I could not but reveal, and so poured on  
Worse unto it, which breeds confusion.  He knocks, Enter Servingman. Ser. 
To what intent d'ee knock sir.  Al. 
Because I would be heard sir, is the Mr. of this house within?  Ser. 
Yes marry is a sir, would you speak with him?  Alb. 
My business is not so troublesome:  
Is a in health with his late espoused wife  Ser. 
Both are exceeding well sir.  Alb. 
I me truly glad on't, farewell good friend.  Ser. 
I pray you let's crave your name sir, I may else have anger.  Alb. 
You may say, one Albert riding by this way, only enquired their health.  Ser. 
I will acquaint so much.  Exit Ser. Alb. 
How like a poisonous Doctor have I come,  
To inquire their welfare, knowing that myself  
Have given the portion of their near recovery;  
For which I will afflict myself with torture ever:  
And since the earth yields not a remedy,  
Able to salve the sores my lust hath made,  
I'll now take farewell of society,  
And th'abode of men to entertain a life  
Fitting my fellowship, in desert woods;  
Where beasts like me consort, there may I live,  
Far off from wronging virtuous Carracus;  
There's no Maria that shall satisfy  
My hateful lust, the trees shall shelter  
This wretched trunk of mine, upon whose back.  
I will engrave the story of my sin,  
And there this short breath of mortality,  
I'll finish up in that repentant state;  
Where not th'allurements of earth's vanities  
Can ere o'ertake me, there's no baits for lust,  
No friend to ruin, I shall then be free  
From practising the art of treachery;  
Thither than steps where such content abides,  
Where penitency not disturbed may grieve,  
Where on each tree and springing plant, I'll carve  
This heavy motto of my misery.  
Who but a damned one could have done like me?  
carracus' farewell, if ere thou seest me more,  
Shalt find me curing of a soul-sick sore.  Exit.  

Actus Tertius.  Enter Carracus driving his man before him. Ca. 
Why thou base villain, was my dearest friend here, and couldst not make him stay?  Ser. 
'sfoot sir, I could not force him against his will, an a had been a woman.  Ca. 
Hence thou untutored slave.  Exit Ser. 
But couldst thou Albert come so near my door, and not vouchsafe the comfort of thy presence?  
Hath my good fortune caused thee to repine?  
And seeing my state so full replete with good,  
Canst thou withdraw thy love to lessen it?  
What could so move thee, was 't because I married?  
Didst thou imagine I infringed my faith,  
For that a woman did participate  
In equal share with thee? Cannot my friendship  
Be firm to thee, because 'tis dear to her;  
Yet no more dear to her then firm to thee:  
Believe me Albert; thou dost little think,  
How much thy absence gives cause of discontent,  
But i'll impute it only to neglect,  
It is neglect indeed when friends neglect  
The sight of friends, and say 'tis troublesome;  
Only ask how they do, and so fare well:  
Showing an outward kind of seeming duty,  
Which in the rules of manhood is observed  
And think full well they have performed their task,  
When of their friend's health they do only ask,  
Not caring how they are, or how distressed,  
It is enough they have their loves expressed,  
In bare inquiry, and in these times too  
Friendships so cold that few so much will do:  
And am not I beholding then to Albert,  
He after knowledge of our being well,  
Said he was truly glad on't: o rare friend!  
If he be unkind how many more may mend;  
But whether am I carried by unkindness?  
Why should not I as well set light by friendship,  
Since I have seen a man whom I late thought,  
Had been composed of nothing but of faith,  
Prove so regardless of his friends content.  Enter Maria Ma. 
Come Carracus I have sought you all about,  
Your servant told me you were much disquieted  
Prithee love be not so, come walk in,  
I'll charm thee with my lute from forth disturbance.  Ca. 
I am not angry sweet, though if I were,  
Thy bright aspect would soon allay my rage;  
But my Maria, it doth something move me,  
That our friend Albert so forgets himself.  Ma. 
It may be 'tis nothing else, & there's no doubt  
He'll soon remember his accustomed friendship  
He thinks, as yet, peradventure that his presence  
Will but offend, for that our marriage rites  
Are but so newly passed.  Ca. 
I will surmise so too, and only think,  
Some serious business hinders Albert's presence:  
But what ring's that Maria on your finger?  Ma. 
'tis one you lost love, when I did bestow  
A jewel of far greater worth on you.  Ca. 
At what time fairest?  Ma. 
As if you knew not, why d'ee make't so strange.  Ca. 
youare disposed to riddle, pray let's see't,  
I partly know it, where was't you sound it?  Ma. 
Why in my chamber that most gladsome night  
When you enriched your love by my escape.  Ca. 
How, in your Chamber?  Ma. 
Sure Carracus I will be angry with you  
If you seem so forgetful, I took it up  
Then when you left my lodge and went away,  
Glad of your conquest for to seek your friend:  
Why stand you so amazed, sir I hope that kindness  
Which then you reaped, doth not prevail  
So in your thoughts, as that you think me light.  Ca. 
O think thyself Maria what thou art:  
This is the ring of Albert treacherous man,  
He that enjoyed thy virgin chastity:  
I never did ascend into thy chamber;  
But all that cold night through the frozen field,  
Went seeking of that wretch, who near sought me;  
But found what his lust sought, for dearest thee.  Ma, 
I have heard enough my Carracus to bereave me of this little breath, she sounds.  Ca. 
All breath be first extinguish, within there ho?  Enter Nurse and Servants. 
O Nurse see here, Maria says she'll die.  Nu. 
Marry, God forbid, oh Mris. Ms. Ms. she has breath yet, she's but in a trance, good sir take comfort she'll recover by and by.  Ca. 
No, no, she'll die Nurse, for she said she would, an she had not said so, 'thas been another matter, but you know Nurse she near told a lie, I will believe her, for she speaks all truth.  Nur. 
His memory begins to fail him, come let's bear  
This heavy spectacle from forth his presence,  
The heavens will lend a hand, I hope, of comfort, Exeunt Ca. manet.  Ca. 
See how they steal away my fair Maria,  
But I will follow after her as far,  
As Orpheus did to gain his soul's delight,  
And Pluto's self shall know, although I am not  
Skilful in music, yet I can be mad,  
And force my loves enjoyment in despite  
Of hell's black fury; but stay, stay Carracus,  
Where is thy knowledge, and that rational sense,  
Which heaven; great Architect endued thee with?  
All sunk beneath the weight of lumpish nature?  
Are our diviner parts no noblier free,  
Then to be tortured by the weak assailments  
Of earth-sprung griefs? why is man then accounted  
The head commander of this universe,  
Next the Creator, when a little storm  
Of nature's fury straight o'erwhelms his judgement,  
But mines no little storm, 'tis a tempest  
So full of raging self-consuming woe,  
That nought but ruin follows expectation:  
Oh my Maria, what unheard of sin  
Have any of thine Ancestors enacted,  
That all their shame should be poured thus on thee;  
Or what incestuous spirit, cruel Albert  
Left hell's vast womb for to enter thee,  
And do a mischief of such treachery.  Enter Nurse weeping. 
Oh Nurse, how be't with Maria?  
If ere thy tongue did utter pleasing words,  
Let it now do so, or hereafter ere be dumb in sorrow.  Nur. 
Good sir take comfort, I am forced to speak  
What will not please, your chaste wife sir is dead.  Ca. 
'tis dead indeed, how did you know 'twas so Nurse?  Nur. 
What sir?  Ca. 
That my heart was dead, sure thou hast served  
Dame natures self, and knowest the inward secrets  
Of all our hidden powers, i'll love thee for't;  
And if thou wilt teach me that unknown skill,  
Shalt see what wonder Carracus will do;  
I'll dive into the breast of hateful Albert,  
And see how his black soul is round encompassed  
By fearful fiends, oh I would do strange things,  
And know to whose cause Lawyers will incline,  
When they had fees on both sides, view the thoughts  
Of forlorn widows when their Knights have left them;  
Search through the guts of greatness, and behold  
What several sin best pleased them, thence I'd descend  
Into the bowels of some pocky sit:  
And tell to lechers all the pains he felt,  
That they thereby might warned be from lust,  
Troth 'twill be rare, i'll study it presently.  Nur. 
Alas! he's distracted, what a sin  
Am I partaker of by telling him,  
So cursed an untruth? But 'twas my Mistress will  
Who is recovered, though her griefs never  
Can be recovered, she hath vowed with tears  
Her own perpetual banishment, therefore to him  
Death was not more displeasing, then if I  
Had told her lasting absence.  Ca. 
I find my brains too shallow far for study,  
What need I care for being a Arithmetician,  
Let citizens sons stand and they will for Ciphers;  
Why should I teach them and go beat my brains,  
To instruct unapt, and unconceiving dolts,  
And when all's done, my art that should be famed,  
Will by gross imitation be but shamed,  
Your judgement Madam?  Nur. 
Good sir walk in, we'll fend for learned men that may allay your frenzy.  Ca. 
But can Maria so forget herself,  
As to debar us thus of her attendance?  Nur. 
she is within sir, pray you will you walk to her.  Ca. 
Oh is she so, come then let's softly steal  
Into her chamber, if she be asleep  
I'll laugh shalt see enough, and thou shalt weep,  
Softly good long coat, softly.  Exeunt. Enter Maria in page's apparel. Ma. 
Cease now thy steps Maria, and look back  
Upon that place, where distressed Carracus  
Hath his sad being, from whose virtuous bosom,  
Shame hath constrained me fly near to return:  
I will go seek some unfrequented path,  
Either in desert woods or wilderness,  
There to bewail my innocent mishaps,  
Which heaven hath justly powered down on me.  
In punishing my disobediency.  Enter young Lo. Wealthy. 
Oh see my brother  Exit Maria. Wel. 
Ho you, three foot and a half, why Page I say, 'sfoot is vanished as suddenly as a dumb show, if a lord had lost his way now so 'a had been served, but let me see; as I take it, this is the house of Carracus, a very fair building, but it looks as if 'twere dead, I can see no breath come out of the chimneys; but I shall know the state on't by and by, by the looks of some serving-man: What no within here?  Enter Ser. Ser. 
Good sir, you have your arms at liberty, wilt please you to withdraw your action of battery.  Wel. 
Yes indeed, now you have made your appearance, is the living-giver within sir?  Ser. 
You mean my Master sir?  Wel. 
You have hit it sir, praised be your understanding, I am to have conference with him, would you admit my presence.  Ser. 
Indeed sir he is at this time not in health, and may not be disturbed.  We. 
Sir, an 'a were in the pangs of childbed, I'd speak with him.  Enter Carracus. Ca. 
Upon what cause gay-man?  We. 
'sfoot I think a be disturbed indeed, 'a speaks more commanding than a Constable at midnight.  
Sir, my lord and father, by me a lord, hath sent these lines enclosed, which show his whole intent.  Ca. 
Let me peruse them, if they do portend  
To the States good, your answer shall be sudden,  
Your entertainment friendly; but if otherwise,  
Our meanest subject shall divide thy greatness,  
You'd best look to't Ambassador.  We. 
Is your Mr. a Statesman friend?  Ser. 
Alas no sir, 'a understands not what 'a speaks.  We. 
ay but when my father dies, I am to be called in for one myself, and I hope to bear the place as gravely as my successors have done before me.  Ca. 
Ambassador, I find your Masters will  
Treats to the good of somewhat, what it is  
You have your answer, and may now depart.  We. 
I will relate as much sir, fare ye well.  Ca. 
But stay, I have forgotten quite our chiefest affairs,  
Your Master further writes some three lines lower,  
Of one Maria that is wife to me,  
That she and I should travel now with you  
Unto his presence.  We. 
Why now I understand you sir, that Maria is my sister, by whose conjunction you are created brother, to me a lord.  Ca. 
But brother lord we cannot go this journey.  We. 
Alas no sir, we mean to ride it, my sister shall ride upon my nag.  Ca. 
Come then we'll in, and strive to woe your sister,  
I ha' not seen her sir, at least these three days,  
They keep her in a Chamber, and tell me  
she's fast asleep still, you and i'll go see,  We. 
Content sir.  Ser. 
Madmen and fools agree.  Exeunt. Enter Haddit and Rebecka. Re. 
When you have got this prize, you mean to lose me.  Ha. 
Nay pree do not think so, if I do not marry thee this instant night, may I never enjoy breath a minute after; by heaven I respect not his pelf, thus much, but only that I may have wherewith to maintain thee.  Re. 
O but to rob my father, though 'a be bad, the world will think ill of me.  Ha. 
Think ill of thee, can the world pity him, that near pitied any, beside since their is no end of his goods, nor beginning of his goodness; had not we as good share his dross in his life time, as let Controversy and Lawyers devour it at's death?  Re. 
You have prevailed, at what hour be't you intend to have entrance into his chamber?  Ha. 
Why just at midnight, for then our apparition will will seem most fearful, you'll make away that we may ascend up like spirits?  Re. 
I will, but how many have you made instruments herein?  Ha. 
Faith none, but my cozen Lightfoot and a player.  Re. 
But may you trust the player?  Ha. 
Oh exceeding well, we'll give him a speech 'a understands not, but now I think out, what's to be done with your Father's man Peter?  Re. 
Why the least quantity of drink, will lay him dead asleep; But hark, I hear my father coming, soon in the evening i'll convey you in.  Ha. 
Till when, let this outward ceremony, be the true pledge of our inward affections.  Exit Reb. 
So, this goes better forward than the Plantation in Virginia: but see here comes half the west Indies, whose rich mines this night I mean to be ransacking  Enter Hog, Lightfoot, & Peter. Hog. 
Then you'll seal for this small Lordship you say, Tomorrow your money shall be rightly told up for you to a penny.  Li. 
I pray let it, and that your man may set contents upon every bag.  Ha. 
Indeed by that we may know what we steal without labour, for the telling on't over; how now gent. are ye agreed upon the price of this earth and clay.  Hog, 
Yes faith Mr. Haddit the gent, your friend here makes me pay sweetly for't but let it go, I hope to inherit heaven an't be but for doing gentlemen pleasure.  Hog. 
Peter.  Pe. 
Anon sir.  Hog 
I wonder how Haddit came by that gay suit of clothes, all his means was consumed long since.  Pe. 
Why sir being undone himself; 'a lives by the undoing or by’r lady, it may be by the doing of others, or peradventure both a decayed gallant may live by any thing, if 'a keep one thing safe.  Hog. 
Gentlemen, I'll to the Scriveners to cause these writings to be drawn.  Li. 
Pray do sir, we'll now leave you till the morning.  Hog. 
Nay, you shall stay dinner, i'll return presently; Peter some bear here for these worshipful gentlemen.  Exit Hag, Come Peter. Ha. 
We shall be bold no doubt, and that old penny-father you'll confess by tomorrow morning.  Li. 
Then his daughter is certainly thine, and condescends to all thy wishes.  Had 
And yet you would not once believe it, as if a females favour could not be obtained by any, but he that wears the Cap of maintenance.  
When 'tis nothing but acquaintance and a bold spirit,  
That may the chiefest prize 'mongst all of them inherit,  Li. 
Well thou hast got one deserves the bringing home with trumpets, and falls to thee as miraculously as the 1000. pound did to the Tailor, thank your good fortune, but must Hogs man be made drunk,  Had. 
By all means: and thus it shall be effected, when 'a comes in with beer, do you upon some slight occasion fall out with him, and if you do give him a cuff or two, it will give him cause to know you're the more angry, then will I slip in and take up the matter, and striving to make you two friends, we'll make him drunk.  Li. 
It's done in conceit already, see where 'a comes.  Enter Peter. Pe. 
willt please you to taste a cup of September bear gentiem.  Li. 
Pray begin, we'll pledge you sir.  Pet. 
It's out sir. Li. then my hand in sir.  (Li. cuffs him. Li. 
Why goodman hobby horse, if we out of our gentility offered you to begin, must you out of your rascality needs take it.  Had. 
Why how now sirs, what's the matter.  Pe. 
The gentleman here falls out with me, upon nothing in the world but mere courtesy,  Had. 
By this light but a shall not, why cousin Lightfoot.  Pe. 
Is his name Lighfoote, a plague on him, 'a has a heavy hand.  Enter young Lord wealthy. We. 
Peace be here: for I came late enough from a madman.  Had. 
My young Lord, God save you.  We. 
And you also: I could speak it in latin, but the phrase is common.  Had. 
True my Lords, and what's common, ought not much to be dealt with all: but I must desire your help my Lord to end a Controversy here, between this gentleman my friend, and honest Peter, who I dare be sworn is as ignorant as your Lordship.  We. 
That I will, but my masters thus much i'll say vntee, if so be this quarrel may be taken up peaceably, without the endangering of my own person, well, and good, otherwise I will not meddle therewith, for I have been vexed late enough already.  Had. 
Why then my Lord if it please you, let me, being your inferior, decree the cause between them.  We, 
I do give leave, or permit.  Had. 
Then thus I will propound a reasonable motion; how many cuffs Peter did this gent. out of his fury make thee partaker of?  Pe. 
Three at the least sir.  Ha. 
All which were bestowed upon you for beginning first Peter.  Pe. 
Yes indeed sir.  Ha. 
Why then here the sentence of your suffering, you shall both down into Master hog's seller Peter, and whereas you began first to him, so shall he there to you, and as he gave you three cuffs, so shall you retort of in defiance of him, three black jacks, which if he deny to pledge; then the glory is thine, and he accounted by the wise discretion of my Lord here a flincher.  Omnes 
A very reasonable motion.  We. 
Why so, this is better than being among madmen yet.  Ha. 
Were you so lately with any my Lord?  We. 
Yes faith, I'll tell you all in the Seller, how I was taken for an Ambassador, and being no sooner in the house, but the mad man carries me up into the garret for a spy, and very roundly bade me untruss, and had not a courteous serving man conveyed me away whilst he went to fetch whips I think in my conscience: not respecting my honour a would ha' breeched me.  Had. 
By Lady, and 'twas to be feared; but come my Lord we'll hear the rest in the seller.  
And honest Peter thou that hast been grieved,  
My Lord and I, will see thee well relieved.  Exeunt.  

Actus Quartus.  Enter Albert in the woods. 
How full of sweet content had this life been,  
If it had been embraced but before  
My burdenous conscience was so fraught with sin;  
But now my griefs o'ersway that happiness:  
O that some lecher or accursed betrayer:  
Of sacred friendship, might but here arrive,  
And read the lines repentant on each tree,  
That I have carved t'express my misery:  
My admonitions now, would sure convert,  
The sinfulst creature; I could tell them now,  
How idly vain those humans spend their lives,  
That daily grieve not for offences past,  
But to enjoy some wantons company;  
Which when obtained, what is it, but a blot,  
Which their whole lives repentance scarce can clear:  
I could now tell to friend betraying man,  
How black sin is hateful treachery,  
How heavy on their wretched souls 'twill fit,  
When fearful death doth plant his siege but near them,  
How heavy and affrightful will their end  
Seem to appeach them, as if then they knew,  
The full beginning of their endless woe  
Were then appointed; which astonishment  
O blessed repentance keep me Albert from!  
And suffer not despair to overwhelm,  
And make a shipwreck of my heavy soul.  Enter Maria like a page. 
whose's here, a Page: what black disastrous fate  
Can be so cruel to his pleasing youth?  Ma. 
So now Maria, here thou must forego  
What nature lent thee to repay to death;  
Famine I thank thee, I have found thee kindest,  
Thou settest a period to my misery.  Al. 
It is Maria that fair innocent,  
Whom my abhorred lust hath brought to this;  
I'll go for sustenance: and O you powers!  
If ever true repentance wan acceptance,  
O show it Albert now, and let him save  
His wronged beauty from untimely grave.  Exit Albert. Ma. 
Sure some thing spoke, or else my feebled sense  
Hath lost the use of its due property;  
Which is more likely, then that in this place,  
The voice of human creature should be heard;  
This is far distant from the paths of men,  
Nothing breathes here but wild and ravening beasts,  
With airy monsters, whose shadowing wings do seem  
To taste a vale of death in wicked livers;  
Which I live dreadless of, and every hour  
Strive to meet death, who still unkind avoids me:  
But that now gentle famine doth begin  
For to give end to my calamities.  
See, here is carved upon this trees smooth bark,  
Lines knit in verse, a chance far unexpected;  
Assist me breathe a little to unfold, what they include.  
I that have writ these lines, am one, whose sin  The Writing 
Is more than grievous; for know, that I have been  
A breaker of my faith, with one whose breast  
Was all composed of truth: but I digressed.  
And fled, them brats of his dear friendship's love,  
Clasping to falsehood did a villain prove,  
As thus shall be expressed: my worthy friend  
Loved a fair beauty, who did condescend  
In dearest affection to his virtuous will  
He then a night appointed to fulfil  
Hymen's blest-rites, and to convey away  
His loves fair person, to which peerless pray  
I was acquainted made, and when the hour  
Of her escape drew on, than lust did power  
Enraged appetite through all my veins.  
And base desires in me let loose the reins  
To my licentious will, and that black night  
When my friend should have had his chaste delight,  
I feigned his presence, and by her, thought him  
robbed that fair virgin of her honours gem:  
For which most heinous, crime upon each tree  
I write this story that men's eyes may see,  
None but a damned one would have done like me.  
Is Albert then become so penitent,  
As in these deserts to deplore his facts,  
Which his unfeigned repentance seems to clear:  
How good man is, when he laments his ill?  
Who would not pardon now that man's misdeeds,  
Whose griefs bewail them thus, could I now live,  
I'd remit thy fault with Carracus:  
But death no longer will afford reprieve  
Of my abundant woes: wronged carracus' farewell,  
Live, and forgive thy wrongs, for the repentance  
Of him that caused them, so deserves from thee;  
And since my eyes do witness Albert's grief,  
I pardon Albert in my wrongs the chief.  Enter Albert like a Hermit. Alb. 
How pardon me, O sound Angelical,  
But see! she faints, O heavens now show your power,  
That these distilled waters made in grief,  
May add some comfort to affliction:  
Look up fair youth, and see a remedy.  Ma. 
O who disturbs me, I was hand in hand,  
Walking with death unto the house of rest.  Al. 
Let death walk by himself, if a want company,  
There's many thousands boy, whose aged years  
Have ta'en a surfeit of earth's vanities,  
They will go with him, when he please to call,  
To drink my boy thy pleasing tender youth  
Cannot deserve to die, no, it is for us,  
Whose years are laden by our often sins,  
Singing the last part of our blessed repentance,  
Are fit for death, and none but such as we,  
Death ought to claim; for when 'a snatcheth youth,  
It shows him but a tyrant; but when age,  
Then is a just, and not composed of rage.  
How fares my lad?  Ma. 
Like one embracing death with all his parts,  
Reaching at life but with one little finger;  
His mind so firmly knit unto the first,  
That unto him the latter seems to be  
What may be pointed at, but not possessed.  Al. 
O but thou shalt possess it.  
If thou didst fear thy death but as I do,  
Thou wouldst take pity, though not of thyself,  
Yet of my aged years; trust me my boy,  
thou'st struck such deep compassion in my breast,  
That all the moisture which prolongs my life,  
Will from my eyes gush forth, if now thou leav'st me.  Ma. 
But can we live here in this desert wood,  
If not, i'll die, for other places seem,  
Like tortures to my griefs, may I live here?  Alb. 
ay, thou shalt live with me, and I will I tell thee  
Such strange occurrents of my forepast life,  
That all thy young sprung griefs shall seem but sparks  
To the great fire of my calamities;  
Then i'll live only with you for to hear,  
If any human woes can be like mine;  
Yet since my being in this darksome desert,  
I have read on trees most lamentable stories.  Alb. 
'tis true indeed, there's one within these woods  
Whose name is Albert, a man so full of sorrow,  
That one each tree he passeth by he earues,  
Such doleful lines for his rash follies past,  
That who so reads them, and not drowned in tears;  
Must have a heart framed forth of adamant.  Ma. 
And can you help to the sight of him?  Alb. 
I when thou wilt, bele often come to me,  
And at my Cave sit a whole winter's night,  
Recounting of his stories, I tell thee boy  
Had he offended more than did that man,  
Who stole the fire from heaven, his contrition  
Would appease all the gods, and quite revert  
Their wrath to mercy; but come my pretty boy  
Wele to my Cave, and after some repose,  
Relate the sequel of each others woes.  Exeunt. Enter Carracus. Ca. 
What a way have I come, yet I know not whither,  
The airs so cold this winter season,  
I'm sure a fool, would any but an ass  
Leave a warm matted chamber and a bed,  
To run thus in the cold, and which is more,  
To seek a woman, a slight thing called woman,  
Creatures, with curious nature framed as I suppose,  
For rent receivers to her treasury;  
And why I think so now, I'll give you instance;  
Most men do know that nature's self hath made them,  
Most profitable members, then if so.  
By often trading in the common wealth  
They needs must be enriched, why very good,  
To whom ought beauty then repay this gain  
Which she by nature's gift hath profited;  
But unto nature? why all this I grant,  
Why then they shall no more be called woman,  
For I will style them thus, scorning their leave,  
Those that for nature do much rent receive.  
This is a wood sure, and as I have read,  
In woods are echoes which will answer men,  
To every question which they do propound:  Echo, Echo, Echo. Ca. 
O are you there, have at ye then i'faith,  
Echo canst tell me whether men or women  
Are for the most part damned?  Echo most part damned. Ca. 
Of both indeed, how true this Echo speaks,  
Echo, now tell me if 'mongst 1000. women,  
There be one chaste, or none?  Echo, none. Ca. 
Why so I think, better and better still:  
Now further Echo, in a world of men,  
Is there one faithful to his friend, or no?  Echo no. Ca. 
Thou speak'st most true, for I have found it so;  
Who said thou wast a woman Echo lies,  
Thou couldst not then answer so much of truth,  
Once more good Echo,  
Was my Maria false by her own desire,  
Or waste against her will?  Echo against her will. 
Troth'll may be so, but canst thou tell,  
Whether she be dead or not?  Echo not. Ca. 
Not dead.  Echo not dead. 
Then without question she doth surely live: But I do trouble thee too much, therefore good speak truth, farewell.  Ec. farewell. Ca. 
How quick it answers, o that Councillors  
Would thus resolve men's doubts without a fee.  
How many country Clients then might rest  
Free from undoing, no plodding pleader then  
Would purchase great possessions with his tongue;  
Were I some demi-god, or had that power,  
I'd straight make this Echo here a judge;  
he'd spend his judgement in the open court,  
As now to me, without being once solicited  
In's private chamber, 'tis not bribes could win  
Him to o'ersway men's right, nor could he be  
Led to damnation for a little pelf;  
He would not harbour malice in his heart,  
Or envious hatred, base despite or grudge,  
But be an upright, just, and equal judge;  
But now imagine that I should confront  
Treacherous Albert, who hath raised my front.  
But I fear this idle prate hath  
Made me quite forget my cinque pace. he danceth.  Enter Albert. Alb. 
I heard the Echo answer unto one,  
That by his speech cannot be far remote  
From of this ground, and see I have descried him:  
Oh heavens! it's Carracus, whose reasons seat  
Is now usurped by madness, and distraction;  
Which I the author of confusion  
Have planted here, by my accursed deeds.  Ca. 
O are you come sir, I was sending the Tavern-boy for ye, I have been practising here, and can do none of my lofty tricks.  Alb. 
Good sir, if any spark do yet remain  
Of your consumed reason, let me strive.  Ca. 
To blow it out, troth I most kindly thank you,  
Here's friendship to the life; but father whey-beard,  
Why should you think me void of reason's fire,  
My youthful days being in the height of knowledge?  
I must confess your old years gains experience;  
But that's so much o'erruled by dotage,  
That what you think experience shall effect,  
Short memory destroys, what say you now sir?  
Am I mad now, that can answer thus  
To all intergatories?  Alb. 
But though your words do savour sir of judgement,  
Yet when they derogate from the due observance  
Of fitting times, they ought not be respected,  
No more, than if a man should tell a tale  
Of feigned mirth in midst of extreme sorrows.  Ca. 
How did you know my sorrows sir?  
What though I have lost a wife,  
Must I be therefore grieved; am I not happy  
To be so freed of a continual trouble?  
Had many a man such fortune as I,  
In what a heaven would they think themselves?  
Being released of all those threatening clouds,  
Which in the angry skies, called women's brows,  
Sit ever menacing tempestuous storms:  
But yet I needs must tell you, old December,  
My wife was clear of this; within her brow,  
she'd not a wrinkle nor a storming frown;  
But like a smooth well polished Ivory.  
It seemed so pleasant to the looker on,  
She was so kind, of nature so gentle,  
That if she'd done a fault she'd straight go die for't:  
Was not she then a rare one?  
What weep'st thou aged Nestor?  
Take comfort man, Troy was ordained by fate  
To yield to us, which we will ruinate.  Alb. 
Good sir walk with me, but where you see  
The shadowing Elms, within whose circling round  
There is a holy spring about encompassed,  
By dandling sycamores and violets,  
Whose waters cure all human maladies:  
Few drops thereof being sprinkled on your temples,  
Revives your fading memory, and restores  
Your senses lost unto their perfect being.  Ca. 
Is it clear water sir, and very fresh?  
For I am thirsty; gives it a better relish  
Than a cup of dead wine with sties in't?  Alb. 
Most pleasant to the taste, pray will you go.  Ca. 
Faster than you I believe sir.  Exeunt. Enter Maria. Ma. 
I am walked forth from my preservers cave,  
To search about these woods, only to see  
The penitent Albert, whose repentant mind  
Each tree expresseth: o that some power divine  
Would hither send my virtuous Carracus;  
Not for my own content, but that be might  
See how his distressed friend repents the wrong,  
Which his rash folly, most unfortunate  
Acted against him and me, which I forgive  
A hundred times a day, for that more often  
My eyes are witness to his said complaints,  
How the good Hermit seems to share his moans,  
Which in the day time he deplores 'mongst trees,  
And in the night his Cave is filled with sighs;  
No other bed doth his weak limbs support  
Then the cold earth, no other harmony  
To rock his cares asleep, but blustering winds,  
Or some swift Current, headlong rushing down  
From a high mountains top, pouring his force  
Into the Ocean's gulf, where being swallowed,  
Seems to be wail his fall with hideous words:  
No other sustentation to suffice  
What Nature claims, but raw unsavory roots,  
With troubled waters, where untamed beasts,  
Do bathe themselves:  Enter Satyrs, dance & Exeunt. 
Ay me! what things are these?  
What pretty harmless things they seem to be?  
As if delight had nowhere made abode,  
But in their nimble sport.  Enter Albert. 
Yonder's the courteous Hermit, and with him  
Albert it seems, o see 'tis Carracus,  
joy do not now confound me.  Ca. 
Thanks unto heavens & thee thou holy man,  
I have attained what doth adorn man's being,  
That precious gem of reason, by which solely,  
We are discerned from rude and brutish beasts,  
No other difference being twixt us and them.  
How to repay this more than earthly kindness,  
Lies not within my power, but in his  
That hath endued thee with celestial gifts,  
To whom I'll pray, he may bestow on thee  
What thou deserv'st, blessed immortality.  Alb. 
Which unto you befall, thereof most worthy:  
But virtuous sir, what I will now request  
From your true generous nature, is, that you would  
Be pleased to pardon that repentant Wight  
Whose sinful stories upon you trees bark,  
yourself did read, for that you say, to you  
Those wrongs were done.  Ca. 
Indeed they were, and to, a dear wife lost;  
Yet I forgive him, as I wish the heavens  
May pardon me.  Ma. 
So doth Maria to.  she discovers herself. Ca. 
Lives my Maria then? what gracious planet  
Gave thee safe conduct to these desert woods?  Ma. 
My late mishap (repented now by all,  
And therefore pardoned) compelled me to fly,  
Where I had perished for want of food,  
Had not this courteous man awaked my sense,  
In which, death's self had partly interest.  Ca. 
Alas Maria! I am so far indebted  
To him already, for the late recovery of  
My own weakness, that 'tis impossible  
For us to attribute sufficient thanks,  
For such abundant good.  Alb. 
I rather ought to thank the heavens Creator,  
That he vouchsafed me such especial grace,  
In doing so small a good, which could I hourly  
Bestow on all, yet could I not assuage  
The swelling rancour of my forepast crimes.  Ca. 
O sir, despair not for your course of life  
(were your sins far more odious than they be)  
Doth move compassion and pure clemency  
In the all-ruling judge, whose powerful mercy  
o'ersways his justice, and extends itself  
To all repentant minds, he's happier far  
That sins, and can repent him of his sin;  
Then the self justifier, who doth surmise  
By his own works to gain salvation,  
Seeming to reach at heaven and clasp damnation:  
You then are happy, and our penitent friend,  
To whose wished presence please you now to bring us,  
That in our gladsome arms we enfold  
His much esteemed person, and forgive  
The injuries of his rash follies past.  Alb. 
Then see false Albert prostrate at your feet,  he discovers himself. 
Desiring justice for his heinous ill.  Ca. 
Is it you Albert's self that hath preserved us?  
O blessed bewailer of thy misery!  Ma. 
And woeful'st liver in calamity.  Ca. 
From which, right worthy friend, it's now high time  
You be released, come then you shall with us,  
Our first and chiefest welcome my Maria,  
We shall receive at your good father's house;  
Who, as I do remember, in my frenzy  
Sent a kind letter which desired our presence.  Alb. 
So please you, virtuous pair, Albert will stay,  
And spend the remnant of this weary some life  
In these dark woods.  Ca. 
Then you neglect the comforts heaven doth send,  
To your abode on earth, if you stay here  
Your life may end in torture, by the cruelty  
Of some wild ravenous beasts, but if 'mongst men  
When you depart, the faithful prayers of many  
Will much avail, to crown your soul with bliss.  Alb. 
Loved Carracus, I have found in thy converse  
Comfort so blessed, that nothing now but death,  
Shall cause a separation in our being.  Ma. 
Which heaven confirm.  Ca. 
Thus by the breach of faith, our friendships knit  
In stronger bonds of love.  Alb. 
Heaven so continue it.  Exeunt.  

Actus Quintus.  Enter hog in his chamber with Rebecka laying down his bed, and seeming to put the keys under his bolster conveyeth them into her pocket. Ho 
So, have you laid the keys of the outward doors under my bolster?  Re. 
Yes forsooth.  Ho. 
Go your way to bed then.  Exit Re. 
I wonder who did at the first invent  
These beds, the breeders of disease and sloth,  
'a was no soldier sure, nor no scholar,  
And yet 'a might be very well a Courtier;  
For no good husband would have been so idle,  
No Usurer neither; yet here the bed affords  discovers his gold. 
Store of sweet golden slumbers unto him;  
Here sleeps command in war, Caesar by this  
Obtained his triumphs, this will fight man's cause,  
When fathers, brethren, and the nearest of friends  
Leaves to assist him, all content to this  
Is merely vain, the lovers whose affections  
Do sympathize together in full pleasure,  
Debarred of this their summer sudden ends,  
And care the winter to their former joys,  
breaths such a cold blast on their Turtles bills;  
Having not this, to shroud him forth his storms,  
They straight are forced to make a separation,  
And so live under those that rule o'er this.  
The Gallant, whose illustrious outside draws  
The eyes of wantons to behold with wonder  
Her rare shaped parts, for so he thinks they be,  
Decked in the robes of glistering gallantry:  
Having not this, attendant on his person,  
Walks with a cloudy brow, and seems to all  
A great contemner of society;  
Not for the hate he bears to company,  
But for the want of this ability:  
O silver! thou that art the basest captive  
Kept in this prison: how many pale offenders  
For thee have suffered ruin; but o my gold  
Thy sight's more pleasing, than the seemly locks  
Of yellow haired Apollo, and thy touch  
More smooth and dainty, than the down-soft white  
Of Ladies tempting breast, thy bright aspect  
dims the great'st luster of heavens wagoner.  
But why go I about to extol thy worth,  
Knowing that Poets cannot compass it;  
But now give place my gold for here's a power  
Of greater glory and supremacy  
Obscures thy being, here sits enthronised  
The sparkling diamond, whose bright reflection  
Casts such a splendour on these other gems,  
'mongst which he so majestical appears,  A flash of fire and Lightfoot ascends like a spirit. 
As if— now my good angels guard me.  Li. 
Melior vigilantia somno.  
Stand not amazed good man, for what appears  
shall add to thy content, be void of fears,  
I am the shadow of rich Kingly Croesus,  
Sent by his greatness from the lower world  
To make thee mighty, and to sway on earth  
By thy abundant store, as he himself doth  
In Elysium; how he reigneth there,  
His shadow will unfold, give thou then ear.  
In Under-air where fair Elizum stands  
Beyond the river styled Acheron,  
He hath a Castle built of Adamant;  
Not framed by vain enchantment, but there fixed,  
By the all burning hands of warlike spirits,  
Whose windows are composed of purest crystal,  
And decked within with oriental pearls:  
There the great spirit of Croesus' royal self,  
Keeps his abode in joyous happiness;  
He is not tortured there as Poets feign  
With molten gold and sulphury flames of fire,  
Or any such molesting perturbation;  
But there reputed as a demi-god,  
Feasting with Pluto and his Proserpine,  
Night after night with all delicious cates,  
With greater glory than seven kingdoms states.  
Now further know the cause of my appearance,  
The kingly Croesus having by fame's trump,  
Heard that thy loved desires stand affected  
To the obtaining of abundant wealth,  
Sends me his shade, thus much to signify,  
That if thou wilt become famous on earth,  
he'll give to thee even more than infinite;  
And after death with him thou shalt partake  
The rare delights beyond the Stygian lake.  Hog. 
Great Croesus' shadow may dispose of me to what he pleaseth.  Li. 
So speaks obediency.  
For which i'll raise thy lowly thoughts as high,  
As Croesus were in his mortality;  
Stand then undaunted whilst I raise those spirits,  
By whose laborious task and industry,  
Thy treasure shall abound and multiply.  Ascend Ascarion thou that art a powerful spirit and dost convert silver to gold, I say ascend and one me Cresus' shade attend to work the pleasure of his will. the Player appears. Pla. 
What would then Croesus list to fill  
Some mortal's coffers up with gold,  
Changing the silver it doth hold:  
By that pure mettle if't be so,  
By the infernal gates I swear,  
Where Radamanth doth domineer:  
By Cresus' name and by his castle,  
Where winter nights he keepeth wassail;  
By Demogorgon and the fates,  
And by all these low country states;  
That after knowledge of thy mind,  
Ascarion like the swift paced wind,  
Will fly to finish thy command.  Li. 
Take then this silver out of hand,  
And bear it to the River Tagus,  
Beyond th'abode of Archi Magus;  
Whose golden sands upon it cast,  
Transform it into gold at last:  
Which being effected straight return,  
And sudden too, or I will spurn  
This trunk of thine into the pit,  
Where all the hellish furies sit,  
Scratching their eyes out quick begone.  Pla. 
Swifter in course then doth the Sun.  Exit player. Li. 
How fairest thou mortal be? not terrified  
At these infernal motions, know that shortly  
Great Croesus' ghost shall in the love he bears thee,  
Give thee sufficient power by thy own worth,  
To raise such spirits.  Hog. 
Croesus is much too liberal in his favour,  
To one so far desertless as poor Hog.  Li 
Poor Hog, O speak not that word poor again,  
lest the whole apsetree of Croesus' bounty,  
Cracked into shivers overthrow thy fortunes,  
For he abhors the name of poverty,  
And will grow sick to hear it spoke by those.  
Whom he intends to raise; but see the twilight  
Posteth before the Chariot of the Sun,  
Brings word of his approach:  
We must be sudden, and with speed raise up  
The spirit Bazan: that can straight transform  
Gold into pearl; be still and circumspect.  Bazon ascend up from the treasure of Pluto, where thou didst at pleasure metamorphize all his gold into pearl, which 'bove a thousand fold exceeds the value, quickly rise to Cresus' shade, who hath a prize to be performed by thy strength. Bazon ascends. Bazon 
I am no Fencer, yet at length  
From Pluto's presence and the Hall,  
Where Proserpine keeps festival,  
I'm hither come and now I see,  
To what intent''m raised by thee;  
It is to make that mortal rich,  
That at his fame men's ears may itch;  
When they do hear but of his store.  
He hath one daughter and no more;  
Which all the lower powers decree,  
She to one Wealthy wedded be;  
By which conjunction there shall spring,  
Young heirs to Hog whereon to fling:  
His mass of treasure when a dies,  
Thus Bazon truly prophesy:  
But come my task I long to rear,  
His fame above the Hemisphere.  Li. 
Take then the gold which here doth lie.  
And quick return it by and by;  
All in choice pearl whither to go,  
I need not tell you, for you know.  Ho. 
Indeed I do, and Hog shall find it so.  Exit Had. Li. 
Now mortal there is nothing doth remain,  
Twixt thee and thine abundance, only this  
Turn thy eyes westward, for from thence appeareth  
Ascarion with thy gold, which having brought  
And at thy foot surrendered, make obeisance;  
Then turn about and fix thy tapers westward,  
From whence great Bazon brings thy orient pearl;  
who'll'll lay it at thy feet much like the former.  Hog. 
Then I must make to him obeisance thus.  Li. 
Why so, in mean time Croesus' shade will rest  
Upon thy bed, but above all take heed,  
You suffer not your eyes to stray aside,  
From the direct point I have set thee at:  
For though the spirit do delay the time,  
And not return your treasure speedily.  Hog. 
Let the loss light on me, if I neglect  
I overslip what Croesus' suit command.  Lo. 
So now practise standing, though it be nothing agreeable to your hog's age, let me see among these writings is my nephew haddit's mortgage; but in taking that it may breed suspect on us, wherefore this box of jewels will stand far better and let that alone, it is now break of day, and near by this the marriage is confirmed betwixt my cozen & great Croesus' friends daughter here, whom I would now leave to his most weighty cogitation  
So gentle sir adieu, time not permits  
To hear those passions and those frantic fits;  
Your subject to when you shall find how true,  
Great Croesus' shade hath made an ass of you.  Hog. 
Let me now ruminate to myself why Croesus should be so great a favourer to me, & yet to what end should I desire to know I think it is sufficient, it is so, and I would a had been so sooner, for he and his spirits would have saved me much labour in the purchasing of wealth; but then indeed it would have been the confusion of 2. or 3. Scriveners, which by my means have been properly raised: but now imagine this only a trick whereby I may be gulled; but how can that be? are not my doors locked, have I not seen with my own eyes the ascending of the spirits? have I not heard with my own ears the invocations wherewith they were raised? could any but spirits appear through so firm a floor as this is? 'tis impossible: But hark, I hear the spirit Ascarion coming with my gold, O bountiful Croesus; I'll build a temple to thy mightiness.  Enter young Lo. wealthy and Peter. We. 
O Peter, how long have we slept upon the hogshead?  Pe. 
I think a dozen hours my Lord, and 'tis nothing, I'll undertake to sleep sixteen, upon the receipt of two cups of muscadine.  We. 
I marvel what's become of Haddit and Lighfoote?  Pe. 
Hang'em flinchers they slunk away as soon as they had drunk as much as they were able to carry, which no generous spirit would ha' done in deed.  We. 
Yet I believe Had. had his part, for to my thinking the seller went round with him when 'a left us, but are we come to a bed yet? I must needs sleep.  Pe. 
Come softly by any means, for we are now upon the threshold of my master's chamber, through which i'll bring you to Mistress Rebecka's lodging, give me your hand and come very nicely.  Peter falls into the hole. We. 
Where art Peter.  — Pe.— O oh o. We. 
Where's this noise Peter canst tell?  Hog, 
I hear the voice of my adopted son in law.  We. 
Why Peter wilt not answer me?  Pe. 
O my Lord above, stand still, I am fallen down at least 30. fathom deep, if you stand not still till I recover and have lighten a candle, you're but a dead man.  Hog. 
I am robbed, I am undone, I am deluded, whose's in my chamber?  We. 
'tis I, the Lord your son that shall be, upon my honour I came not to rob you.  Hog. 
I shall run mad, I shall run mad.  Wel. 
Why then 'tis my fortune to be terrified with madmen.  Enter Peter with a candle. Pe. 
Where are you my Lord?  Hog. 
Here my Lady? where are you rogue when thieves break into my house?  Pe. 
Breaking my neck in your service a plague on't.  We. 
But are you robbed indeed father Hog, of how much I pray?  Hog. 
Of all, of all; see here, they have left me nothing but 2. or 3. rolls of parchment, here they came up like spirits, & took my silver, gold, and jewels; where's my daughter?  Pe. 
she's not in the house sir? the street doors are wide open.  We. 
Nay 'tis no matter where she is now? she'll scarce be worth a 1000. pound and that's but a tailors prize.  Ho. 
Then you'll not have her sir?  We. 
No as I hope to live in peace.  Hog. 
Why be't so, be't so, confusion cannot come in a more fitter time on all of us: O bountiful Croesus, how fine thy shadow hath devoured my substance.  Pe. 
Good my Lord promise him to marry his daughter, or 'a will be mad presently, though you never intend to have her.  We. 
Well father Hog, though you are undone, your daughter shall not be, so long as a lord's can stand her in any stead: come you shall with me to my Lord and father, whose warrants we will have for the apprehending of all suspicious lives, and though the labour be infinite, you must consider your loss is so.  Hog. 
Come, i'll do any thing to gain my gold.  Pe. 
Till which be had, my fare will be but cold.  Exeunt. Enter Haddit, Rob. Lightfoot, and Priest. Had. 
Now Mr. Parson we will no further trouble you, and for the tying of our true love knot, here's a small amends.  Prie. 
'tis more than due sir, yet i'll take it all,  
Should kindness be despised, good will would fall.  
Unto a lower ebb, should we detest  
The grateful givers gift,  Verissimo est. Had. 
It's true indeed, good morrow honest Parson.  Pe. 
Yet if you please, sir john will back surrender  
The overplus of what you now did tender.  Ha. 
O by no means, I pray thee friend, good-morrow.  Li 
Why if you please Sir john to me restore,  
The overplus i'll give it to the poor.  Pe. 
O pardon sir, for by our worships leave,  
We ought to give from whence we do receive.  Had. 
Why then to me sir john.  Pri. 
To all a kind good morrow.  Exit Priest. Ha. 
A most fine Vicar, there was no other means to be rid of him: but why are you so sad Rebecka?  Re. 
To think in what estate my father is?  
When he beholds that he is merely gulled.  Had. 
Nay be not grieved, for that which should rather give you cause of content, for 'twill be a means to make him abandon his avarice, and save a soul almost incurable: but now to our own affairs, this marriage of ours must not yet be known lest it breed suspicion, we will bring you Rebeck a unto Atlas his house, whilst we two go unto the old Lord Welthies, having some acquaintance with his son in law Carracus, who I understand is there, where no question but we shall find your father proclaiming his loss, thither you shall come some what after us, as it were to seek him, where I doubt not but so to order the matter, that I will receive you as my wife, from his own hands.  Re. 
May it so happy prove.  Li. 
Amen say I, for should our last trick be known, great Croesus' shade would have a conjured time on't.  Had. 
'tis true, his Castle of adamant would scarce hold him: but come this will be good cause for laughter hereafter.  
Then we'll relate how this great bird was pulled,  
Of his rich feathers, and most finely gulled.  Exeunt. Enter old Lo. wealthy with Car. Ma. and Albert. Lo. 
More welcome Carrucus, then friendly truce  
To a besieged City all distressed;  
How early this glad morning are you come  
To make me happy, for pardon of your offence  
I've given a blessing, which may heaven confirm,  
In treble manner on your virtuous lives.  
And may our lives and duty daily strive,  
To be found worthy of that loving favour,  
Which from your reverent age we now receive,  
Without desert, or merit.  Enter young Wel. hog & Peter. We. 
Room for a desirer of justice, what my sister Maria;  
Who thought to have met you here?  Ma. 
You may see brother, unlooked for guest's proof often troublesome.  We. 
Well, but is your husband there any quieter than 'a was?  Ca. 
Sir, I must desire you to forget all injuries, if, in not being myself, I offered you any.  Alb. 
I'll see that peace concluded.  We. 
Which I agree to, for patience is a virtue father Hog.  Ho. 
Was it you son that cried so loud for justice?  We. 
Yes marry was it, and this the party to whom it appertains.  Ho. 
O my most honoured lord I am undone, robbed this black night of all the wealth and treasure, which these many years I have hourly laboured for.  Lo. 
And who are those have done this outrage to you?  Ho. 
Oh knew I that, I then my lord were happy.  Lo. 
Come you for justice then, not knowing 'gainst whom the course of justice should extend itself?  
Nor yet suspect you none?  Ho. 
None but the devil.  We. 
I thought 'a was a Cheater, ere since I heard two or three Templars swear at dice the last Christmas, that the devil had got all.  Enter Haddit and Lightfoot. Ha. 
My kind acquaintance. joy to thy good success.  Ca. 
Noble, and freeborn Haddit, welcome.  Li. 
Mr. Hog good-day.  Ho. 
For I have had a bad night on't  Li. 
Sickness is incident to age, what be the writings ready to be sealed, we entreated last day.  Ho. 
Yes I think they are, would the Scrivener were paid for the making them.  Li. 
'a shallbe so, though I do't myself, is the money put up as I appointed?  Ho. 
Yes 'tis put up, confusion cease the receivers.  Li. 
Heaven bless us all, what mean you sir?  Ho. 
O sir, I was robbed this night of all I had,  
My daughter to is lost, and I undone.  Li. 
Marry, God forbid, after what manner I pray.  Ho. 
O to recount sir will breed more ruth,  
Then did the tale of that high Trojan Duke,  
To the sad fated Carthaginian Queen.  Ha. 
What exclamations that?  Li. 
What you will grieve at coz,  
Your worshipful friend M. Hog is robbed.  Ha. 
robbed, by whom or how?  Li. 
O there's the grief, 'a knows not whom to suspect.  Ha. 
The fear of hell o'ertake them whatsoe'er they be: but where's your daughter, I hope she is safe.  Enter Re. Ho. 
Thanks heaven, I see she's now so, where hast thou been my girl?  Re. 
Alas sir, carried by amazement, I know not where, pursued by the robbers forced to fly as mad affright, through all the City streets to seek redress, but that lay fast asleep in all men's houses, nor would lend an ear to the distressed.  Ha. 
O heavy accident, but see you grieve too much,  
Being your daughter's found, for th'other loss;  
Since 'tis the will of heaven to give and take,  
Value it as nothing, you have yet sufficient  
To live in blessed content, had you no more  
But my small mortgage for your daughter here;  
Whom I have ever loved in dearest affection,  
If so you please so much to favour me,  
I will accept her spite of poverty,  
And make her jointure of some store of land,  
Which by the loss of a good aged friend  
Late fell to me, what be't a match or no.  Ho. 
It is.  
Then I'll have witness on't, my lord and gent.  
Please you draw near, to be here witnesses  
To a wished contract, twixt this maid and I.  Omnes 
We all are willing.  Ho. 
Then in the presence of you all, I give my daughter freely to this gent. as wife, and to show how much I stand affected to him for dowry with her, I do back restore his mortgaged lands, and for their loves I vow, ever hereafter to detest, renounce, loath and abhor all slavish avarice:  
Which doth ascend from hell, sent by the devil,  
To be 'mongst men the actor of all evil.  Om. 
A blessed conversion.  Lo. 
A good far unexpected, and now gentlemen,  
I do invite you all to feast with me  
This happy day, that we may altogether  
Applaud his good success, and let this day be spent,  
In sports and shows with gladsome merriment:  
Come blessed converted man we'll lead the way,  
As unto heaven I hope we shall.  Ho. 
Heaven grant we may.  Ca. 
Come my Maria and repentent friend,  
we three have tasted worst of misery,  
Which now add joy to our felicity.  Ha. 
We three are happy we have gained much wealth,  
And though we have done it by a trick of stealth,  
Yet all I trust are pleased, and will our ill acquit,  
Since it hath saved a soul was hells by right.  We. 
To follow after then, our lot doth fall,  
Now rhyme it Peter.  Pe. 
A good night to all.  Exeunt omnes.  
FINIS.   

epilogue.  
NOW expectation hath at full received  
What we late promised, if in ought we have pleased,  
'tis all we sought to accomplish, and much more  
Than our weak merit dares to attribute  
Unto itself, till you vouchsafe to deign  
In your kind censure, so to gratify  
Our trivial labours:—  
If it hath pleased the judicial ear,  
we have our Authors wish, and void of fear  
Dare ignorant men, to show their worst of hate.  
It not detracts, but adds unto that state  
Where desert flourisheth.  
we'll rest applauded in their derogation,  
Though with an hiss they crown that confirmation:  
For this our Author saith, if't prove distasteful,  
He only grieves you spent two hours so wasteful:  
But if it like, and you affect his pen,  
You may command it when you please again.