THE ANTIPODES: A comedy. Acted in the year 1638. by the queen's majesty's Servants, at Salisbury Court in Fleetstreet.  
The Author Richard Brome.  
Hic totus volo rideat Libellus.  Mart. 
LONDON: Printed by I. Okes, for Francis Constable, and are to be sold at his shops in Kings-street at the sign of the Goat, and in Westminster-hall. 1640.   

TO THE RIGHT Honourable WILLIAM Earl of Hertford, &c.  
My Lord:  
THe long experience, I have had of your honour's favourable intentions towards me, hath compelled me to this Presumption. But I hope your Goodness will be pleased to pardon what your Benignity was the cause of, viz. the error of my Dedication. Had your Candour not encouraged me, in this I had been innocent: Yet (I beseech you) think not, I intend it any other, than your Recreation at your retirement from your weighty Employments; and to be the Declaration of your gracious encouragements towards me, and the testimony of my Gratitude. If the public view of the world entertain it with no less welcome, then that private one of the Stage already has given it, I shall be glad the World owes you the Thanks: If it meet with too severe Construction, I hope your Protection. What hazards soever it shall justle with, my desires are it may pleasure your Lordship in the perusal, which is the only ambition he is conscious of, who is  
My Lord, Your Honour's humbly devoted: Richard Brome.   

To censuring Critics, on the approved Comedy, The Antipodes.  
jonson's alive! the World admiring stands,  
And to declare his welcome there, shake hands;  
Apollo's Pensioners may wipe their eyes,  
And stifle their abortive Elegies:  
Taylor his Goose-quill may abjure again,  
And to make Paper dear, scribbling refrain;  
For sure there's cause of neither. jonson's ghost  
Is not a Tenant i' the Elysian Coast:  
But vexed with too much scorn, at your dispraise,  
Silently stole unto a grove of bays;  
Therefore bewail your errors, and entreat  
He will return, unto the former seat,  
Whence he was often pleased, to feed your ear  
With the choice dainties of his Theatre;  
But I much fear, he'll not be easily won  
To leave his Bower, where grief, and he alone  
Do spend their time, to see how vainly we  
Accept old toys, for a new Comedy.  
Therefore repair to him, and praise each line  
Of his Volpone, Sejanus, Catiline.  
But stay, and let me tell you, where he is,  
He sojourns in his Brome's Antipodes.  
C. G.   

The Prologue.  

OPinion, which our Author cannot court,  
(For the dear daintiness of it) has, of late,  
From the old way of Plays possessed a Sort  
Only to run to those, that carry state  
In Scene magnificent and language high;  
And Clothes worth all the rest, except the Action.  
And such are only good those Leaders cry;  
And into that belief draw on a Faction,  
That must despise all sportive, merry Wit,  
Because some such great Play had none in it.   

But it is known (peace to their Memories)  
The Poets late sublimed from our Age,  
Who best could understand, and best device  
Works, that must ever live upon the Stage,  
Did well approve, and lead this humble way,  
Which we are bound to travail in tonight;  
And, though it be not traced so well, as They  
Discovered it by true Phoebean light,  
Pardon our just Ambition, yet that strive  
To keep the weakest Branch o'th' Stage alive.   

I mean the weakest in their great esteem,  
That count all slight, that's under us, or nigh;  
And only those for worthy Subjects deem,  
Fetched, or reached at (at least) from far, or high:  
When low and homebred Subjects have their use,  
As well, as those, fetched from on high, or far;  
And 'tis as hard a labour for the Muse  
To move the Earth, as to dislodge a Star.  
See, yet, those glorious Plays; and let their sight  
Your Admiration move; these your Delight.    

To the Author on his Comedy, The Antipodes.  
STeered, by the hand of Fate, o'er swelling Seas,  
methought I landed on th' Antipodes;  
Where I was straight a Stranger: For 'tis thus,  
Their feet do tread against the tread of us.  
My Scull mistook: thy Book, being in my hand,  
Hurried my Soul to th' Antipodian strand,  
Where I did feast my Fancy, and mine Eyes  
With such variety of Rarities,  
That I perceive thy Muse frequents some shade,  
Might be a Grove for a Pierian Maid.  
Let Idiots prate; it boots not what they say.  
Th' Antipodes to Wit and Learning may  
Have ample Privilege: For among that crew,  
I know there's not a man can judge of You.  
Rob. Chamberlain.   

The Persons in the Play.  

Blaze, an Herald Painter.  
Joyless, an old Country Gentleman.  
Hughball, a Doctor of Physic.  
Barbara, Wife to Blaze.  
Martha, Wife to Peregrine.  
Letoy, a Fantastic Lord.  
Quaylpipe, his Curate.  
Peregrine, son to Joyless.  
Diana, wife to Joyless.  
Byplay, a conceited servant to Letoy.  
Trulocke, a close friend to Letoy.  
Followers of the Lord Letoyes, who are Actors in the Byplay.    

The Antipodes.  
Act. 1.  

Scene 1.  Blaze, Joyless. 
TO me, and to the City, Sir, you are welcome,  
And so are all about you: we have long  
Suffered in want of such fair Company.  
But now that Times calamity has given way  
(Thanks to high Providence) to your kinder visits,  
We are (like half pined wretches, that have lain  
Long on the planks of sorrow, strictly tied  
To a forced abstinence, from the sight of friends)  
The sweetlier filled with joy.  Ioy. 
Alas, I bring  
Sorrow too much with me to fill one house,  
In the sad number of my family.  Bla. 
Be comforted good Sir, my house, which now  
You may be pleased to call your own, is large  
Enough to hold you all; and for your sorrows,  
You came to lose 'em: And I hope the means  
Is readily at hand: The Doctor's coming,  
Who, as by Letters, I advertised you,  
Is the most promising man to cure your Son,  
The Kingdom yields; it will astonish you  
To hear the marvels he hath done in cures  
Of such distracted ones, as is your son,  
And not so much by bodily Physic (no!  
He sends few Recipes to th' Apothecaries)  
As medicine of the mind, which he infuses  
So skilfully, yet by familiar ways,  
That it begets both wonder and delight  
In his observers, while the stupid patient  
Finds health at unawares.  Ioy. 
You speak well of him:  
Yet I may fear, my sons long grown disease  
Is such he hath not met with.  Bla. 
Then I'll tell you Sir,  
He cured a Country gentleman, that fell mad  
For spending of his land before he sold it:  
That is, 'twas sold to pay his debts: All went  
That way, for a dead horse, as one would say,  
He had not money left to buy his dinner,  
Upon that wholesale day. This was a cause,  
Might make a gentleman mad you'll say; and him  
It did, as mad as land less Squire could be.  
This Doctor by his art removed his madness,  
And mingled so much wit among his brains,  
That, by the overflowing of it merely,  
He gets and spends five hundred pound a year now,  
As merrily as any Gentleman  
In derbyshire; I name no man. But this  
Was pretty well you'll say.  Ioy. 
My son's disease  
Grows not that way.  Bla. 
There was a Lady mad,  
I name no Lady: but stark mad she was,  
As any in the Country, City, or almost  
In Court could be.  Ioy. 
How fell she mad?  Bla. 
With study;  
Tedious and painful study: And for what  
Now can you think?  Ioy. 
For painting, or new fashions.  
I cannot think for the philosopher's stone.  Bla. 
No, 'twas to find a way to love her husband,  
Because she did not, and her friends rebuked her.  Ioy 
Was that so hard to find, if she desired it.  Bla. 
She was seven years in search of it, & could not,  
Though she consumed his whole estate by it.  Ioy. 
'twas he was mad then.  Bla. 
No; he was not borne  
With wit enough to lose, but mad was she  
Until this Doctor took her into cure,  
And now she lies as lovingly on a flockbed  
With her own Knight, as she had done on down,  
With many others, but I name no parties,  
Yet this was well you'll say.  Ioy. 
Would all were well.  Bla. 
Then sir, of Officers, and men of place,  
Whose senses were so numbed, they understood not  
Bribes from due fees, and fell on premunires,  
He has cured divers, that can now distinguish,  
And know both when, and how to take, of both;  
And grow most safely rich by't, t'other day  
He set the brains of an Attorney right,  
That were quite topsy-turvy overturned  
In a pitch o'er the Bar; so that (poor man)  
For many Moons, he knew not whether he  
Went on his heels or's head, till he was brought  
To this rare Doctor, now he walks again,  
As upright in his calling, as the boldest  
Amongst 'em. This was well you'll say.  Ioy. 
'tis much.  Bla. 
And then for horn mad Citizens my neighbours,  
He cures them by the dozens, and we live  
As gently with our wives, as Rams with Ewes.  Ioy. 
We do you say, were you one of his Patients.  Bla. 
'Slid he has almost catched me; No Sir no,  
I name no parties I, But wish you merry;  
I strain to make you so, and could tell forty  
Notable cures of his to pass the time  
Until he comes.  Ioy. 
But pray, has he the art  
To cure a husband's jealousy?  Bla. 
Mine sir he did: 'Sfoot I am catched again.  Ioy. 
But still you name no Party, pray how long,  
Good master Blaze, has this so famous doctor  
Whom you so well set out, been a professor?  Bla. 
Never in public: Nor endures the name  
Of Doctor, though I call him so, but lives  
With an odd Lord in town, that looks like no Lord,  
My Doctor goes more like a Lord than he. Ex. Doctor.  
O welcome sir, I sent mine own wife for you:  
ha' you brought her home again?   

Act 1. Scen. 2.  Blaze, Doctor, Joyless. Doct. 
She's in your house,  
With Gentlewomen, who seem to lodge here.  Bla. 
Yes sir, this Gentleman's wife, and his son's wife:  
They all ail something, but his son ('tis thought)  
Is falling into madness, and is brought  
Up by his careful father to the town here  
To be your patient, speak with him about it.  Doct. 
How do you find him Sir? does his disease  
Take him by fits; or is it constantly,  
And at all times the same?  Ioy. 
For the most part  
It is only inclining still to worse,  
As he grows more in days; by all the best  
Conjectures we have met with in the country,  
'tis found a most deep melancholy.  Doct. 
Of what years is he?  Ioy. 
Of five and twenty Sir.  Doct. 
Was it borne with him? is it natural,  
Or accidental? have you or his mother  
Been so at any time affected?  Ioy. 
Never,  
Not she unto her grave; nor I, till then,  
Knew what a sadness meant; though since, I have  
In my son's sad condition, and some crosses  
In my late marriage, which at further time  
I may acquaint you with.  Bla. 
the old man's jealous  
Of his young wife; I find him by the question  
He put me to ere while.  Doct. 
Is your son married?  Ioy. 
divers years since; for we had hope a wife  
Might have restrained his travelling thoughts, and so  
Have been a means to cure him; but it failed us.  Doct. 
What has he in his younger years been most  
Addicted to? what study? or what practice?  Ioy. 
You have now, Sir, found the question, which I think  
Will lead you to the ground of his distemper.  Doct. 
That's the next way to the cure. Come quickly, quickly.  Ioy. 
In tender years he always loved to read  
Reports of travails, and of voyages;  
And when young boys, like him, would tire themselves  
With sports, and pastimes, and restore their spirits  
Again by meat and sleep; he would whole days  
And nights (sometimes by stealth) be on such books  
As might convey his fancy round the world.  Doct. 
Very good, on.  Ioy. 
When he grew up towards twenty,  
His mind was all on fire to be abroad;  
Nothing but travail still was all his aim;  
There was no voyage or foreign expedition  
Be said to be in hand, but he made suit  
To be made one in it His mother and  
myself opposed him still in all, and strongly  
Against his will, still held him in; and won  
Him into marriage; hoping that would call  
In his extravagant thoughts, but all prevailed not,  
Nor stayed him (though at home) from travailing  
So far beyond himself, that now too late,  
I wish he had gone abroad to meet his fate.  Doct. 
Well sir, upon good terms I'll undertake  
Your son: let's see him.  Ioy. 
Yet there's more: his wife Sir.  Doct. 
I'll undertake her too. Is she mad too?  Bla. 
They'll ha' mad children then.  Doct. 
Hold you your peace.  Ioy. 
Alas the danger is they will have none,  
He takes no joy in her; and she no comfort  
In him: for though they have been three years wed,  
They are yet ignorant of the marriage bed,  Doct. 
I shall find her the madder of the two then.  Ioy. 
Indeed she's full of passion, which she utters  
By the effects, as diversely, as several  
Objects reflect upon her wandering fancy,  
Sometimes in extreme weepings, and anon  
In vehement laughter; now in sullen silence,  
And presently in loudest exclamations.  Doct. 
Come let me see 'em Sir, I'll undertake  
Her too: ha' you any more? how does your wife?  Ioy. 
Some other time for her.  Doct. 
I'll undertake  
Her too: and you yourself Sir (by your favour,  
And some few yellow spots, which I perceive  
About your Temples) may require some Council.   

Act 1. Scene 3.  Enter Barbara. Bla. 
So, he has found him.  Ioy. 
But my son, my son sir?  Bla. 
Now Bab, what news?  Bar. 
There's news too much within,  
For any homebred Christian understanding.  Ioy. 
How does my son?  Bar, 
He is in travail Sir.  Ioy. 
His fits upon him?  Bar. 
Yes, pray Doctor Hughball  
Play the Man-midwife, and deliver him  
Of his huge Timpany of news; of Monsters,  
Pigmies, and Giants, Apes, and Elephants,  
Griffons, and crocodiles; men upon women,  
And women upon men; the strangest doings  
As far beyond all Christendom, as 'tis to't.  Doct. 
How, how?  Bar. 
Beyond the Moon and Stars I think,  
Or mount in Cornwall either.  Bla. 
How prettily like a fool she talks?  
And she were not mine own wife, I could be  
So taken with her.  Doct. 
'Tis most wondrous strange.  Bar. 
He talks much of the Kingdom of Cathaya,  
Of one great Khan, and goodman Prester john,  
( whate'er they be) and says that Caan's a Clown  
Unto the john he speaks of. And that john  
Dwells up almost at Paradise: But sure his mind  
Is in a wilderness: For there he says  
Are Geese that have two heads a piece, and Hens  
That bear more wool upon their backs than sheep.  Doct. 
O Mandevile, let's to him Lead the way sir.  Bar. 
And men with heads like hounds.  Doct. 
Enough, enough.  Bar. 
You'll find enough within I warrant ye. Ex. 3.  
And here comes the poor mad gentleman's wife, Ent. Mar.  
Almost as mad as he: she haunts me all  
About the house to impart something to me:  
Poor heart I guess her grief, and pity her.  
To keep a Maidenhead three years after Marriage,  
Under wedlock and key, insufferable! monstrous,  
It turns into a wolf within the flesh,  
Not to be fed with Chickens, and tame Pigeons.  
I could wish maids be warned by't, not to marry  
Before they have wit to lose their Maidenheads,  
For fear they match with men whose wits are past it.  
What a sad look, and what a sigh was there?  
Sweet Mistress Joyless, how is't with you now?  Mar. 
When I shall know I'll tell, pray tell me first,  
How long have you been married?  Bar. 
Now she is on it. Three years forsooth.  Mar. 
And truly so have I, we shall agree I see.  Bar. 
If you'll be merry.  Mar. 
No woman merrier, now I have met with one  
Of my condition. Three years married say you, ha, ha, ha,  Bar. 
What ails she trow?  Mar. 
Three years married, Ha, ha, ha.  Bar. 
Is that a laughing matter?  Mar. 
'tis just my story. And you have had no child,  
That's still my story, Ha, ha, ha.  Bar. 
Nay I have had two children.  Mar. 
Are you sure on't,  
Or does your husband only tell you so,  
Take heed o''at, for husbands are deceitful.  Bar. 
But I am o'the surer side, I am sure  
I groaned for mine and bore 'em. when at best,  
He but believes he got 'em.  Mar. 
Yet both he  
And you may be deceived, for now I'll tell you,  
My husband told me, faced me down and stood on't,  
We had three sons, and all great travellers,  
That one had shaken the great Turk by the beard,  
I never saw 'em, nor am I such a fool  
To think that children can be got and borne,  
Trained up to men, and then sent out to travel,  
And the poor mother never know nor feel  
Any such matter; there's a dream indeed.  Bar. 
Now you speak reason, and 'tis nothing but  
Your husband's madness that would put that dream  
Into you.  Mar. 
He may put dreams into me, but  
He ne'er put child nor any thing towards it yet  
To me to making: something sure belongs weep.  
To such a work for I am past a child  
myself to think they are found in parsley beds,  
Strawberry banks or Rosemary bushes, though  
I must confess I have sought and searched such places,  
Because I would fain have had one.  Bar. 
Lass poor fool.  Mar. 
Pray tell me, for I think nobody hears us,  
How came you by your babes? I cannot think  
Your husband got them you.  Bar. 
Fool did I say?  
She is a witch I think: why not my husband,  
Pray can you charge me with another man?  Mar. 
Nor with him neither, be not angry pray now.  
For were I now to die, I cannot guess  
What a man does in child-getting, I remember  
A wanton maid once lay with me, and kissed  
And clipped, and clapped me strangely, and then wished  
That I had been a man to have got her with child:  
What must I then ha' done, or (good now tell me)  
What has your husband done to you?  Bar. 
Was ever  
Such a poor piece of innocence, three years married?  
Does not your husband use to lie with you?  Mar. 
Yes he does use to lie with me, but he does not  
Lie with me to use me as she should I fear,  
Nor do I know to teach him, will you tell me,  
I'll lie with you and practise if you please.  
Pray take me for a night or two: or take  
My husband and instruct him, But one night,  
Our country folks will say, you London wives  
Do not lie every night with your own husbands.  Bar. 
Your country folks should have done well to ha' sent  
Some news by you, but I trust none told you there,  
We use to leave our fools to lie with madmen.  Mar. 
Nay now again you're angry.  Bar. 
No not I  
But rather pity your simplicity.  
Come I'll take charge and care of you.  Mar. 
I thank you.  Bar. 
And wage my skill, against my doctor's art,  
Sooner to ease you of these dangerous fits,  
Than he shall rectify your husband's wits. Ex.  Mar. 
Indeed, indeed, I thank you.   

Act. 1. Scene. 5.  Letoy, Blaze. Let. 
Why brought'st thou not mine Arms, and Pedigree  
Home with thee Blaze, mine honest Heralds, Painter?  Bla. 
I have not yet my Lord, but all's in readiness,  
According to the Herald's full directions.  Let. 
But has he gone to the root, has he derived me,  
Ex origine, ab antiquo? has he fetched me  
Far enough Blaze?  Bla. 
Full four descents beyond  
The conquest my good Lord, and finds that one  
Of your French ancestry came in with the conqueror.  Let. 
jefrey Letoy, 'twas he, from whom the English  
Letoy's have our descent; and here have took  
Such footing, that we'll never out while France  
Is France, and England England,  
And the Sea passable to transport a fashion.  
My ancestors and I have been beginners  
Of all new fashions in the Court of England  
From before Primo Ricardi Secundi  
Until this day.  Bla. 
I cannot think my Lord  
They'll follow you in this though.  Let. 
Mark the end,  
I am without a precedent for my humour.  
But is it spread, and talked of in the town?  Bla. 
It is my Lord, and laughed at by a many.  
I am more beholding to them, than all the rest:  
Their laughter makes me merry; others mirth,  
And not mine own it is, that feeds me that  
Battens me as poor men's cost does Usurers.  
But tell me Blaze, what say they of me, ha?  Bla. 
They say my Lord you look more like a pedlar,  
Then like a Lord, and live more like an Emperor.  Let 
Why there they ha' me right, let others shine  
Abroad in cloth o' bodkin, my broad cloth,  
Pleases mine eye as well, my body better,  
Besides I'm sure 'tis paid for (to their envy)  
I buy with ready money: and at home here  
With as good meat, as much magnificence,  
As costly pleasures, and as rare delights,  
Can satisfy my appetite and senses,  
As they with all their public shows, and braveries.  
They run at ring, and tilt 'gainst one another,  
I and my men can play a match at football,  
Wrestle a handsome fall, and pitch the bar,  
And crack the cudgels, and a pate sometimes,  
'twould do you good to see't.  Bla. 
More than to feel't.  Let. 
They hunt the deer, the Hare, the Fox, the Otter,  
Polecats, or Harlots, what they please, whilst I  
And my mad Grigs, my men can run at base,  
And breathe ourselves at barleybreak, and dancing.  Bla. 
Yes my Lord i'th' country when you are there.  Let. 
And now I am here i'th' city, Sir, I hope  
I please myself with more choice home delights,  
Than most men of my rank.  Bla. 
I know my Lord  
Your house in substance is an Amphitheatre  
Of exercise and pleasure.  Let. 
Sir, I have  
For exercises, Fencing, Dancing, Vaulting,  
And for delight, Music of all best kinds:  
Stageplays, and Masques, are nightly my pastimes.  
And all within myself. My own men are  
My Music, and my Actors. I keep not  
A man or boy but is of quality:  
The worst can sing or play his part o'th' Viols,  
And act his part too in a Comedy,  
For which I lay my bravery on their backs;  
And where another Lord undoes his followers,  
I maintain mine like Lords. And there's my bravery.  oboes. A service as for dinner, pass over the Stage, borne by many Servitors richly apparelled, doing honour to Letoy as they pass. Ex. 
Now tell me Blaze, look these like Pedlars men?  Bla. 
Rather an Emperors my Lord.  Let. 
I tell thee,  
These lads can act the Emperor's lives all over,  
And Shakespeare's Chronicled histories, to boot,  
And were that Caesar, or that English Earl,  
That loved a Play and Player so well now living,  
I would not be outvied in my delights.  Bla. 
My Lord 'tis well.  Let. 
I love the quality of Playing I, I love a Play with all  
My heart, a good one; and a Player that is  
A good one too, with all my heart: As for the Poets,  
No men love them, I think, and therefore  
I write all my plays myself, and make no doubt  
Some of the Court will follow  
Me in that too. Let my fine Lords  
Talk o' their Horse-tricks, and their jockeys, that  
Can out-talk them. Let the Gallants boast  
Their May-games, Play-games, and their Mistresses,  
I love a Play in my plain clothes, ay,  
And laugh upon the Actors in their brave ones. Ent. Quailp.  Re. 
My Lord, your dinner stays prepared.  Let. 
Well, well,  
Be you as ready with your grace as I Ex. Quail.  
Am for my meat, and all is well. Blaze we have rambled  
From the main point this while, it seems by his letter,  
My Doctor's busy at thy house. I know who's there,  
Beside, give him this Ring, Tell him it wants  
A finger: farewell good Blaze.  Bla. 
Tell him it wants a finger! My small wit,  
Already finds what finger it must fit.   

Act. 1. Scene 6.  Enter Doctor, Peregrine, a Book in his hand, Joyless, Diana Doct. 
Sir I applaud your noble disposition,  
And even adore the spirit of Travail in you,  
And purpose to wait on it through the world,  
In which I shall but tread again the steps  
I heretofore have gone.  Per. 
All the world o'er ha' you been already?  Doct. 
Over and under too.  Per. 
In the Antipodes?  Doct. 
Yes, through, and through:  
No Isle nor Angle in that Nether world,  
But I have made discovery of: Pray sir sit;  
And sir be you attentive, I will warrant  
His speedy cure without the help of Galen,  
Hippocrates, Avicen, or Dioscorides,  Dia. 
A rare man: Husband, truly I like his person  
As well as his rare skill.  Ioy. 
Into your chamber.  
I do not like your liking of men's persons.  Doct. 
Nay Lady you may stay: Hear and admire,  
If you so please: But make no interruptions.  Ioy. 
And let no looser words, or wandering look  
Bewray an intimation of the slight  
Regard you bear your husband, lest I send you  
Upon a further pilgrimage, than he  
Feigns to convey my son.  Dia. 
O jealousy!  Doct. 
Do you think sir, to th' Antipodes such a journey?  Per. 
I think there's none beyond it; and that Mandevile  
Whose excellent work this is, was th' only man  
That e'er came near it.  Doct. 
Mandevile went far.  Per. 
Beyond all English legs that I can read of.  Doct. 
What think you sir of Drake, our famous Countryman?  Per. 
Drake was a Didapper to Mandevile,  
Candish, and Hawkins, Furbisher, all our voyagers  
Went short of Mandevile: But had he reached  
To this place here— yes here— this wilderness,  
And seen the trees of the Sun and Moon, that speak,  
And told King Alexander of his death, he then  
Had left a passage open for Travellers:  
That now is kept and guarded by wild beasts,  
Dragons, and Serpents, Elephants white and blue  
Unicorns, and lions of many colours,  
And monsters more, as numberless, as nameless.  Doct. 
Stay there,  Per. 
Read here else: can you read?  
Is it not true?  Doct. 
No truer than I ha' seen't.  Dia. 
Ha' you been there Sir, ha' you seen those trees?  Doct. 
And talked with 'em, and tasted of their fruit.  Per. 
Read here again then: it is written here,  
That you may live four or five hundred year.  Dia. 
Brought you none of that fruit home with you sir?  Ioy. 
You would have some of't would you, to have hope  
T'outlive your husband by't.  Dia. 
Y'd ha''t for you,  
In hope you might outlive your jealousy.  Doctor 
Your patience both I pray; I know the grief  
You both do labour with, and how to cure it.  Ioy. 
Would I had given you half my land 'twere done.  Dia. 
Would I had given him half my love, to settle  
The t'other half free from encumbrances  
Upon my husband.  Doct. 
Do not think it strange sir:  
I'll make your eyes witnesses of more  
Than I relate, if you'll but travail with me.  
You hear me not deny that all is true  
That Mandevile delivers of his Travails,  
Yet I myself may be as well believed.  Per. 
Since you speak reverently of him, say on.  Doct. 
Of Europe I'll not speak, 'tis too near home:  
Who's not familiar with the Spanish garb,  
Th'Italian shrug, French cringe, and German hug?  
Nor will I trouble you with my observations  
Fetched from Arabia, Paphlagonia,  
Mesopotamia, Mauritania,  
Syria, Thessalia, Persia, India,  
All still is too near home: though I have touched  
The Clouds upon the Pyrenaean mountains,  
And been on Paphos isle, where I have kissed  
The image of bright Venus: All is still  
Too near home to be boasted.  Dia. 
That I like well in him too, he will not boast of kissing  
A woman too near home.  Doct. 
These things in me are poor: they found  
In a far travellers care,  
Like the reports of those, that beggingly  
Have put out, on returns from Edinburgh,  
Paris, or Venice, or perhaps Madrid,  
Whither a milliner may with half a nose  
Smell out his way: And is not ne'er so difficult,  
As for some man in debt, and unprotected  
To walk from Charing-Cross to th'old Exchange.  
No, I will pitch no nearer than th' Antipodes;  
That which is farthest distant, foot to foot  
Against our Region.  Dia. 
What with their heels upwards?  
Bless us! how scape they breaking o' their necks?  Doct. 
they walk upon firm earth, as we do here,  
And have the Firmament over their heads,  
As we have here  Dia. 
And yet just under us!  
Where is hell then? if they whose feet are towards us,  
At the lower part of the world have heaven too  
Beyond their heads, where's hell?  Ioy. 
You may find that  
Without inquiry: Cease your idle questions.  Dia. 
Sure Hell's above ground then in jealous husbands.  Per. 
What people sir (I pray proceed) what people  
Are they of the Antipodes? are they not such  
As Mandevile writes of, without heads or necks,  
Having their eyes placed on their shoulders, and  
Their mouths amidst their breasts?  Dia. 
I so indeed,  
Though heels go upwards, and their feet should slip,  
They have no necks to break.  Doct. 
Silence sweet Lady.  
Pray give the gentleman leave to understand me.  
The people through the whole world of Antipodes,  
In outward feature, language, and religion,  
Resemble those to whom they are supposite:  
They under Spain appear like Spaniards,  
Under France Frenchmen, under England English  
To the exterior show: but in their manners,  
Their carriage, and condition of life  
Extremely contrary. To come close to you,  
What part o' th' world's Antipodes shall I now  
Decipher to you, or would you travail to?  Per. 
The furthest off.  Doct. 
That is th' Antipodes of England.  
The people there are contrary to us.  
As thus; here (heaven be praised) the Magistrates  
Govern the people: there the people rule  
The Magistrates.  Dia. 
There's precious bribing then.  Ioy. 
You'll hold your peace,  Doct. 
Nay Lady 'tis by Nature,  
Here generally men govern the women.  Ioy. 
I would they could else.  Dia. 
You will hold your peace.  Doct. 
But there the women overrule the men,  
If some men fail here in their power, some women  
Slip their holds there. As parents here, and masters,  
Command, there they obey the child and servant.  Dia. 
But pray Sir, is't by nature or by art,  
That wives o'ersway their husbands there?  Doct. 
By nature.  Dia. 
Then art's above nature, as they are under us.  Doct. 
In brief Sir, all  
Degrees of people both in sex, and quality,  
Deport themselves in life and conversation,  
Quite contrary to us.  Dia. 
Why then the women  
Do get the men with child: and put the poor fools  
To grievous pain I warrant you in bearing.  Ioy. 
Into your Chamber, get you in I charge you.  Doct. 
By no means, as you tender your son's good.  
No Lady no; that were to make men women,  
And women men. But there the maids do woe  
The Bachelors, and 'tis most probable,  
The wives lie uppermost.  Dia. 
That is a trim  
Upside-down Antipodian trick indeed.  Doct. 
And then at christenings and gossips feasts,  
A woman is not seen, the men do all  
The tittle-tattle duties, while the women  
Hunt, Hawk, and take their pleasure.  Per. 
Ha' they good game I pray Sir?  Doct. 
Excellent,  
But by the contraries to ours, for where  
We Hawk at Pheasant, Partridge, Mallard, Heron,  
With Goshawk, Tarsell, Falcon, Laneret;  
Our Hawks, become their game, our game their Hawks,  
And so the like in hunting. There the deer  
Pursue the Hounds, and (which you may think strange)  
I ha' seen one Sheep worry a dozen Foxes,  
By Moonshine; in a morning before day,  
They hunt, trayne-sents with Oxen, and blow with Dogs.  Per. 
Hugh, hugh, hugh.  Dia. 
Are not their Swans all black, and Ravens white?  Doct. 
Yes indeed are they; and their Parrots teach  
Their Mistresses to talk.  Dia. 
That's very strange.  Doct. 
They keep their Cats in cages,  
From Mice that would devour them else; and birds  
Teach 'em to whistle, and cry beware the rat's puss.  
But these are frivolous nothings. I have known  
Great Ladies ride great horses run at tilt;  
At Ring, Races, and hunting matches, while  
Their Lords at home have painted, pawned their Plate  
And Jewels to feast their honourable servants.  
And there the Merchants wives do deal abroad  
Beyond seas, while their husbands cuckold them  
At home.  Dia. 
Then there are cuckolds too it seems,  
As well as here.  Ioy, 
Then you conclude here are.  Dia. 
By hearsay Sir. I am not wise enough  
To speak it on my knowledge yet.  Ioy. 
Not yet!  Doct. 
Patience good Sir,  Per. 
Hugh, hugh, hugh.  Doct. 
What do you laugh, that there is cuckold-making  
In the Antipodes, I tell you Sir,  
It is not so abhorred here as 'tis held  
In reputation there: all your old men  
Do marry girls, and old women boys,  
As generation were to be maintained  
Only by cuckold making.  Ioy. 
Monstrous.  Doct. 
Pray your Patience.  
There's no such honest men there in their world,  
As are their Lawyers: they give away  
Their practice; and t'enable 'em to do so,  
Being all handy-crafts, or Labouring men,  
They work (poor hearts full hard) in the vacations,  
To give their law for nothing in the term times.  
No fees are taken: Which makes their divines,  
Being generally covetous, the greatest wranglers  
In Law suits of a kingdom, you have not there  
A gentleman in debt, though citizens  
Haunt them with cap in hand to take their wares.  
On credit.  Dia. 
What fine sport would that be here now!  Doct. 
All wit and mirth and good society  
Is there among the hirelings, clowns, and tradesmen,  
And all their Poets are Puritans.  Dia. 
Ha' they Poets.  Doct. 
And players too. But they are all the sobrest  
Precisest people picked out of a nation.  Dia. 
I never saw a play.  Doct. 
Lady you shall.  Ioy. 
She shall not.  Doct. 
She must if you can hope for any cure,  
Be governed Sir: your jealousy will grow  
A worse disease than your son's madness else,  
You are content I take the course I told you of  
To cure the gentleman.  Ioy. 
I must be Sir.  Doct. 
Say Master Peregrine, will you travail now  
With me to the Antipodes, or has not  
The journey wearied you in the description.  Per. 
No I could hear you a whole fortnight, but A Bowl on the table.  
Let's lose no time, pray talk on as we pass.  Doct. 
First, Sir a health to auspicate our travails,  
And we'll away.  Per. 
Gi' me't. What's he? One sent   

Act. 1. Scene. 7.  Ent. Bla. 
I fear from my dead mother, to make stop  
Of our intended voyage.  Doct. 
No Sir: drink.  Bla. 
My Lord, Sir understands the course you're in,  
By your letters he tells me; and bade me gi' you  
This Ring, which wants a finger here he says  Per. 
we'll not be stayed.  Doct. 
No Sir, he brings me word  
The Mariner calls away; the wind and tide  
Are fair, and they are ready to weigh anchor,  
Hoist sails, and only stay for us, pray drink Sir.  Per. 
A health then to the willing winds and seas,  
And all that steer towards th' Antipodes.  Ioy. 
He has not drunk so deep a draught this twelvemonth.  Doct. 
'tis a deep draught indeed, and now 'tis down,  
And carries him down to the Antipodes?  
I mean but in a dream.  Ioy. 
Alas I fear.  
See he begins to sink.  Doct. 
Trust to my skill,  
Pray take an arm, and see him in his cabin.  
Good Lady save my Ring that's fallen there.  Dia. 
In sooth a marvelous neat and costly one  Bla. 
So, so, the Ring has found a finger.  Doct. 
Come sir, aboard, aboard, aboard, aboard.  Bla. 
To bed, to bed, to bed: I know your voyage,  
And my dear Lords dear plot, I understand,  
Whose Ring hath passed here by your flight of hand.    


Act 2. Scene 1.  Letoy, Doctor. 
tonight sayest thou my Hughball?  Doct. 
By all means,  
And if your Play takes to my expectation,  
As I not doubt my potion works to yours,  
Your fancy and my cure shall be cried up  
Miraculous. O you're the Lord of fancy.  Let. 
I'm not ambitious of that title Sir,  
No, the Letoy's are of Antiquity,  
Ages before the fancies were begot,  
And shall beget still new to the world's end.  
But are you confident o' your potion doctor?  
Sleeps the young man?  Doct. 
Yes, and has slept these twelve hours,  
After a thousand mile an hour outright,  
By sea and land; and shall awake anon  
In the Antipodes.  Let. 
Well Sir my Actors  
Are all in readiness; and I think all perfect,  
But one, that never will be perfect in a thing  
He studies; yet he makes such shifts extempore,  
(Knowing the purpose what he is to speak to)  
That he moves mirth in me 'bove all the rest.  
For I am none of those Poetic furies,  
That threats the actor's life, in a whole play,  
That adds a syllable, or takes away.  
If he can fribble through, and move delight  
In others, I am pleased.  Doct. 
It is that mimic fellow which your Lordship  
But lately entertained.  Let. 
The same.  Doct. 
He will be wondrous apt in my affair:  
For I must take occasion to interchange,  
Discourse with him sometimes amidst their Scenes,  
T'inform my patient, my mad young traveller  
In divers matters.  Let. 
Do, put him to't: I use't myself sometimes.  Doct. 
I know it is your way.  Let. 
Well to the business.  
Hast wrought the jealous Gentleman, old joyless,  
To suffer his wife to see our Comedy.  Doct. 
She brings your Ring, my Lord, upon her finger,  
And he brings her in's hand. I have instructed her  
To spur his jealousy of o'the legs.  Let. 
And I will help her in't.  Doct. 
the young distracted  
Gentlewoman too, that's sick of her virginity,  
Yet knows not what it is; and Blaze and's wife  
Shall all be your guests tonight, and not alone  
Spectators, but (as we will carry it) Actor  
To fill your Comic Scenes with double mirth.  Let. 
Go fetch 'em then, while I prepare my Actors. Ex. Doc.  
Within there ho?  Within. 
1 This is my beard and hair.  
2 My Lord appointed it for my part.  
3 No, this is for you; and this is yours, this grey one.  
4 Where be the foils, and Targets for the women?  
1 Here, can't you see?  Let. 
What a rude coil is there? But yet it pleases me.  Within. 
1 You must not wear that Cloak and Hat.  
2 Who told you so? I must.  
In my first Scene, and you must wear that robe.  Let. 
What a noise make those knaves? come in one of you:  
Are you the first that answers to that name?   

Act 2. Scene 2.  Enter Quail-pipe, 3 Actors, and Byplay. Qua. 
My Lord.  Let. 
Why are not you ready yet?  Qua. 
I am not to put on my shape, before  
I have spoke the Prologue. And for that my Lord  
I yet want something.  Let. 
What I pray with your grave formality?  Qua. 
I want my Beaver-shoes, and Leather-Cap,  
To speak the Prologue in; which were appointed  
By your Lordship's own direction.  Let. 
Well sir, well:  
There they be for you; I must look to all.  Qua. 
Certes my Lord, it is a most apt conceit:  
The Comedy being the world turned upside-down,  
That the presenter wear the Capital Beaver  
Upon his feet, and on his head shoe-leather.  Let. 
Trouble not you your head with my conceit,  
But mind your part Let me not see you act now,  
In your Scholastic way, you brought to town wi' ye,  
With see saw sack a down, like a Sawyer;  
Nor in a Comic Scene, play Hercules furens,  
Tearing your throat to split the Audients ears.  
And you Sir, you had got a trick of late,  
Of holding out your bum in a set speech;  
Your fingers fibulating on your breast,  
As if your Buttons, or your Bandstrings were  
Helps to your memory. Let me see you in't  
No more I charge you. No, nor you sir, in  
That over-action of the legs I told you of,  
Your singles, and your doubles, Look you— thus—  
Like one o'th' dancing Masters o'the Bear-garden;  
And when you have spoke, at end of every speech,  
Not minding the reply, you turn you round  
As Tumblers do; when betwixt every feat.  
They gather wind, by firking up their breeches.  
I'll none of these, absurdities in my house.  
But words and action married so together,  
That shall strike harmony in the ears and eyes  
Of the severest, if judicious Critics.  Qua. 
My Lord we are corrected.  Let. 
Go, be ready:  
But you Sir are incorrigible, and  
Take licence to yourself, to add unto  
Your parts, your own free fancy; and sometimes  
To alter, or diminish what the writer  
With care and skill composed: and when you are  
To speak to your coactors in the Scene,  
You hold interlocutions with the Audients.  Bip. 
That is a way my Lord has been allowed  
On elder stages to move mirth and laughter.  Let. 
Yes in the days of Tarlton and Kempe,  
Before the stage was purged from barbarism,  
And brought to the perfection it now shines with.  
Then fools and jesters spent their wits, because  
The Poets were wise enough to save their own  
For profitabler uses. Let that pass.  
Tonight, I'll give thee leave to try thy wit,  
In answering my Doctor, and his Patient  
He brings along with him to our Antipodes.  By. 
I heard of him my Lord: Blaze gave me light  
Of the mad Patient; and that he never saw  
A Play in's life: it will be possible  
For him to think he is in the Antipodes  
Indeed, when he is on the Stage among us.  
When't has been thought by some that have their wits,  
That all the Players i' th' Town were sunk past rising.  Let. 
Leave that sir to th'event. See all be ready:  
Your Music properties, and—  By. 
All my Lord,  
Only we want a person for a Mute.  Let. 
Blaze when he comes shall serve. Go in. Ex. Byp.  
My Guests I hear are coming.   

Act 2. Scene 3.  Enter Blaze, Joyless, Diana, Martha Barb. Bla. 
My Lord, I am become your honour's usher,  
To these your guests. The worthy Mr. joyless,  
With his fair wife, and daughter in law.  Let. 
They're welcome,  
And you in the first place sweet Mistress joyless.  
You wear my ring I see; you grace me in it.  Ioy. 
His Ring! what Ring? how came she by't?  Blaz. 
'twill work.  Let. 
I sent it as a pledge of my affection to you:  
For I before have seen you, and do languish,  
Until I shall enjoy your love.  Ioy. 
He courts her.  Let. 
Next Lady— you— I have a toy for you too.  Mar. 
My Child shall thank you for it, when I have one.  
I take no joy in toys since I was married.  Let. 
Prettily answered! I make you no stranger  
Kind Mistress Blaze.  Bar. 
Time was your honour used  
Me strangely too, as you'll do these I doubt not.  Let. 
Honest Blaze,  
Prithee go in, there is an Actor wanting.  Bla. 
Is there a part for me? how shall I study't?  Let. 
Thou shalt say nothing.  Bla. 
Then if I do not act  
Nothing as well as the best of 'em, let me be hissed. Exit.  Ioy. 
I say restore the Ring, and back with me.  Dia. 
To whom shall I restore it?  Ioy. 
To the Lord that sent it.  Dia. 
Is he a Lord? I always thought and heard  
Ith' Country, Lords were gallant Creatures. He  
Looks like a thing not worth it: 'tis not his,  
The Doctor gave it me, and I will keep it.  Let 
I use small verbal courtesy Mr. joyless  
(You see) but what I can in deed I'll do.  
You know the purpose of your coming, and  
I can but give you welcome. If your son  
Shall receive ease in't, be the comfort yours,  
The credit of't my Doctors. You are sad.  Ioy. 
My Lord I would entreat we may return;  
I fear my wife's not well.  Let. 
Return I pray slight not so my courtesy.  Dia. 
Besides sir I am well; and have a mind  
(A thankful one) to taste my Lords free bounty.  
I never saw a play, and would be loath  
To lose my longing now.  Ioy. 
The air of London  
Hath tainted her obedience already:  
And should the Play but touch the vices of it,  
She'd learn and practise 'em. Let me beseech  
Your Lord ships reacceptance of the un-  
Merited favour that she wears here, and  
Your leave for our departure.  Let. 
I will not  
Be so dishonoured; nor become so ill  
A master of my house, to let a Lady  
Leave it against her will; and from her longing;  
I will be plain wi'ye therefore: If your haste  
Must needs post you away, you may depart,  
She shall not not till the morning for mine honour.  Ioy. 
Indeed 'tis a high point of honour in  
A Lord to keep a private Gentleman's wife  
From him.  Dia. 
I love this plain Lord better than  
All the brave gallant ones, that ere I dreamt on.  Let. 
'tis time we take our seats. So if you'll stay.  
Come sit with us, if not, you know your way.  Ioy. 
Here are we fallen through the doctor's fingers.  
Into the Lords hands. Fate deliver us. Ex. omnes.   

Act. 2. Seen 4.  Enter in sea-gownes and Caps, Doctor, and Perigrine brought in a chair by 2 Sailors: Cloaks and Hats brought in. Doct. 
Now the last minute of his sleeping fit  
Determines. Raise him on his feet. So, so:  
Rest him upon mine Arm. Remove that Chair,  
Welcome ashore Sir in th' Antipodes.  Per. 
Are we arrived so far?  Doct. 
And on firm land.  
Sailors you may return now to your ship. Ex. Sail.  Per. 
What worlds of lands and Seas have I passed over,  
Neglecting to set down my observations,  
A thousand thousand things remarkable  
Have slipped my memory, as if all had been  
Mere shadowy phantasms, or Fantastic dreams.  Doct. 
We'll write as we return Sir: and 'tis true,  
You slept most part o' th' journey hitherward,  
The air was so somniferous: And 'twas well  
You scaped the Calenture by't.  Per. 
But how long do you think I slept?  Doct. 
Eight months, and some odd days,  
Which was but as so many hours and minutes  
Of one's own natural Country sleep.  Per. 
Eight Months—  Doct. 
'twas nothing for so young a Brain.  
How think you one of the seven Christian Champions,  
David by name, slept seven years in a Leek-bed.  Per. 
I think I have read it in their famous History.  Doct. 
But what chief thing of note now in our Travels  
Can you call presently to mind? Speak like a Traveller.  Per. 
I do remember, as we passed the Verge  
O'th' upper world, coming down, downhill,  
The setting Sun then bidding them good night,  
Came gliding easily down by us; and struck  
New day before us, lighting us our way;  
But with such heat, that till he was got far  
Before us, we even melted.  Doct. 
Well wrought potion. Very well observed sir.  
But now we are come into a temperate clime  
Of equal composition of elements  
With that of London; and as well agreeable  
Unto our nature, as you have found that air.  Per. 
I never was at London.  Doct. 
Cry you mercy.  
This Sir is Anti London. That's the Antipodes  
To the grand City of our Nation,  
Just the same people, language, and Religion,  
But contrary in Manners, as I ha' told you.  Per. 
I do remember that relation,  
As if you had but given it me this morning.  Doct. 
Now cast your Sea weeds off, and don fresh garments.  
Hark sir their Music.   

Act 2. Scene 5.  Shift. oboes. Enter Letoy, Joyless, Diana, Martha, Barara, in Masques, they sit at the other end of the stage. Let. 
Here we may sit, and he not see us.  Doct. 
Now see one of the Natives of this Country,  
Note his attire, his language, and behaviour.  Enter quail-pipe, Prologue. Qua. 
Our far fetched Title over lands and seas,  
Offers unto your view th'Antipodes.  
But what Antipodes now shall you see?  
Even those that foot to foot 'gainst London be,  
Because no Traveller that knows that state,  
Shall say we personate or imitate  
Them in our actions: For nothing can  
Almost be spoke, but some or other man,  
Takes it unto himself; and says the stuff,  
If it be vicious, or absurd enough.  
Was woven upon his back. Far, far be all  
That bring such prejudice mixed with their gall.  
This play shall no satiric Timist be  
To tax or touch at either him or thee,  
That art notorious. 'tis so far below  
Things in our orb, that do among us flow,  
That no degree, from kaiser to the Clown,  
Shall say this vice or folly was mine own.  Let. 
This had been well now, if you had not dreamt  
Too long upon your syllables. Ex. Prol.  Dia. 
The Prologue call you this my Lord?  Bar. 
'tis my Lord's Reader, and as good a lad  
Out of his function, as I would desire  
To mix withal in civil conversation.  Let. 
Yes Lady, this was Prologue to the Play,  
As this is to our sweet ensuing pleasures. Kiss.  Ioy. 
Kissing indeed is Prologue to a Play,  
Composed by th'devil, and acted by the Children  
Of his black Revels, may hell take ye for't.  Mar. 
Indeed I am weary, and would fain go home.  Bar. 
Indeed but you must stay; and see the play.  Mar. 
The Play: what play? It is no Children's play,  
Nor no Child-getting play, pray is it?  Bar. 
You'll see anon. O now the Actors enter. Flourish.   

Act 2. Scene 6.  Enter two Sergeants, with swords drawn, running before a Gentleman. Gent. 
Why do you not your office courteous friends?  
Let me entreat you stay, and take me with you;  
Lay but your hands on me: I shall not rest  
until I be arrested. A sore shoulder-ache  
Pains and torments me, till your virtuous hands  
Do clap or stroke it.  1 Ser. 
You shall pardon us.  2 Ser. 
And I beseech you pardon our intent,  
Which was indeed to have arrested you:  
But sooner shall the Charter of the City  
Be forfeited, than varlets (like ourselves)  
Shall wrong a Gentleman's peace. So fare you well sir. Ex.  Gent. 
O you're unkind.  Per. 
Pray what are those?  Doct. 
Two Catchpoles  
Run from a Gentleman (it seems) that would  
Have been arrested.   

Act 2. Scene 7.  Enter old Lady and By play, like a Servingman. La. 
Yonder's your Master,  
Go take him you in hand, while I fetch breath,  Bip. 
O are you here? my Lady, and myself  
Have sought you sweetly.  Let. 
You, and your Lady, you  
Should ha' said Puppy.  Byp. 
For we heard you were  
To be arrested. Pray sir, who has bailed you?  
I wonder who of all your bold acquaintance  
That knows my Lady durst bail off her husband.  Gent. 
Indeed I was not touched.  Byp. 
Have you not made  
An end by composition, and disbursed  
Some of my Lady's money for a peace  
That shall beget an open war upon you?  
Confess it if you have: for 'twill come out.  
She'll ha' you up you know. I speak it for your good.  Gent. 
I know't, and I'll entreat my Lady wife  
To mend thy wages t'other forty shillings  
A year, for thy true care of me.  La. 
'tis well Sir,  
But now (if thou hast impudence so much,  
As face to face, to speak unto a Lady  
That is thy wife, and supreme head) tell me  
At whose suit was it? or upon what action?  
Debts I presume you have none: For who dares trust  
A Lady's husband, who is but a Squire,  
And under covert barn? it is some trespass—  
Answer me not till I find out the truth.  Gent. 
The truth is—  La. 
Peace,  
How dar'st thou speak the truth  
Before thy wife? I'll find it out myself.  Dia. 
In truth she handles him handsomely.  Ioy. 
Do you like it?  Dia. 
Yes, and such wives are worthy to be liked,  
For giving good example.  Let. 
Good! hold up  
That humour by all means.  La. 
I think I ha' found it.  
There was a certain Mercer sent you silks,  
And cloth of gold to get his wife with child;  
You slighted her, and answered not his hopes;  
And now he lays to arrest you; is't not so?  Gent. 
Indeed my Lady wife 'tis so.  La 
For shame  
Be not ingrateful to that honest man,  
To take his wares, and scorn to lie with his wife.  
Do't I command you; what did I marry you for?  
The portion that you brought me was not so  
Abundant, though it were five thousand pounds  
(Considering too the Jointure that I made you)  
That you should disobey me.  Dia. 
It seems the husbands  
In the Antipodes bring portions, and  
The wives make Jointures.  Ioy. 
Very well observed.  Dia. 
And wives, when they are old, and past childbearing,  
Allow their youthful husbands other women.  Let. 
Right. And old men give their young wives like licence.  Dia. 
That I like well. Why should not our old men,  
Love their young wives as well?  Ioy. 
Would you have it so?  Let. 
Peace master joyless, you are too loud. Good still,  Byp. 
Do as my Lady bids, you got her woman  
With child at half these words.  Gent. 
O, but another's  
Wife is another thing. Far be it from  
A Gentleman's thought to do so, having a wife  
And handmaid of his own that he likes better.  Byp. 
There said you well; but take heed I advise you  
How you love your own wench, or your own wife  
Better than other men's.  Dia. 
Good Antipodian counsel.  La. 
Go to that woman, if she prove with child,  
I'll take it as mine own.  Gent. 
her husband would  
Do so. But from my house I may not stray.  Mar. 
If it be me your wife commends you to,  
You shall not need to stray from your own house.  
I'll go home with you.  Bar. 
Precious! what do you mean?  
Pray keep your seat: you'll put the players out.  Ioy. 
Here's goodly stuff! she's in the Antipodes too.  Per. 
And what are those?  Doct. 
All Antipodeans.  
Attend good Sir.  La 
You know your charge, obey it.   

Act. 2. Scene. 8.  Enter waiting woman great bellied. Wom. 
What is his charge? or whom must he obey?  
Good madam with your wild authority;  
You are his wife, 'tis true, and therein may  
According to our law, rule, and control him.  
But you must know withal, I am your servant,  
And bound by the same law to govern you,  
And be a stay to you in declining age,  
To curb and qualify your headstrong will,  
Which otherwise would ruin you. Moreover,  
Though you're his wife, I am a breeding mother,  
Of a dear child of his; and therein claim  
More honour from him than you ought to challenge.  La. 
Insooth she speaks but reason.  Gent. 
Pray let's home then.  Wom. 
You have something there to look to, one would think,  
If you had any care. How well you saw  
Your father at School today, and knowing how apt  
He is to play the truant.  Gent. 
But is he not  
Yet gone to school?  Wom. 
Stand by, and you shall see.   

Act. 2. Scene. 9.  Enter three old men with satchels, &c. All 3. 
Domine, domine duster. Three knaves in a cluster, &c.  Gent. 
O this is gallant pastime Nay come on,  
Is this your school? was that your lesson, ha?  1 Old. 
Pray now good son, indeed, indeed.  Gent. 
Indeed  
You shall to school, away with him; and take  
Their wagships with him; the whole cluster of 'em.  2 Old. 
You shan't send us now, so you shan't.  3 Old. 
We be none of your father, so we beant.  Gent. 
Away with 'em I say; and tell their Schoolmistress,  
What truants they are, and bid her pay 'em soundly.  All 3. 
O, O, O.  Byp. 
Come, come, ye Gallows-clappers.  Dia. 
Alas, will nobody beg pardon for  
The poor old boys?  Doct. 
Sir, gentle Sir, a word with you.  Byp. 
To stranger's Sir I can be gentle.  Let. 
Good,  
Now mark that fellow, he speaks Extempore.  Dia. 
Extempore call you him? he's a dogged fellow  
To the three poor old things there, fie upon him.  Per. 
Do men of such fair years here go to school?  Byp. 
They would die dunces else.  Per. 
Have you no young men scholars, sir I pray;  
When we have beard less doctors?  Doct. 
He has wiped my lips, you question very wisely Sir.  Byp. 
So sir have we; and many reverend teachers,  
Grave counsellors at law; perfect statesmen.  
That never knew use of Razor, which may live  
For want of wit to lose their offices.  
These were great scholars in their youth. But when  
Age grows upon men here, their learning wastes,  
And so decays; that if they live until  
Threescore, their sons send them to school again.  
They'd die as speechless else as new born children.  Per. 
'tis a wise nation; and the piety  
Of the young men most rare and commendable,  
Yet give me as a stranger leave to beg  
Their liberty this day; and what they lose by't,  
My father when he goes to school, shall answer.  Ioy. 
I am abused on that side too.  Bypt. 
'tis granted.  
Hold up your heads and thank the gentleman  
Like scholars, with your heels now.  All 3. 
Gratias, Gratias, Gratias.— Exit.  Dia. 
Well done son Peregrine, he's in's wits I hope.  Ioy. 
If you lose yours the while, where's my advantage?  Dia. 
And trust me, 'twas well done too of Extempore  
To let the poor old children lose. And now  
I look well on him he's a proper man.  Ioy. 
She'll fall in love with the Actor, and undo me.  Dia. 
does not his Lady love him, sweet my Lord?  Let. 
Love; yes, and lie with him, as her husband does  
With's maid. It is their law in the Antipodes.  Dia. 
But we have no such laws with us.  Ioy. 
Do you approve of such a law?  Dia. 
No; not so much  
In this case, where the man and wife do lie  
With their inferior servants; But in the other,  
Where the old Citizen would arrest the gallant  
That took his wares and would not lie with's wife,  
There it seems reasonable, very reasonable.  Ioy. 
does it?  Dia 
make't your own case, you are an old man,  
I love a gentleman, you give him rich presents,  
To get me a child (because you cannot) must not  
We look to have our bargain?  Ioy. 
Give me leave  
Now to be gone my Lord, though I leave her  
Behind me; she is mad, and not my wife,  
And I may leave her.  Let. 
Come; you are moved I see,  
I'll settle all; But first, prevail with you  
To taste my wine and sweet meats. The Comedians  
Shall pause the while. This you must not deny me. Exit.  Ioy. 
I must not live here always, that's my comfort. Exit.  Per. 
I thank you Sir, for the poor men's release,  
It was the first request that I have made  
Since I came in these confines.  Byp. 
'tis our custom  
To deny strangers nothing: yea, to offer  
Of any thing we have, that may be useful,  
In courtesy to strangers. Will you therefore  
Be pleased to enter Sir this habitation,  
And take such viands, beverage, and repose  
As may refresh you after tedious travails?  Doct. 
Thou tak'st him right: for I am sure he's hungry.  Per. 
All I have seen since my arrival, are  
Wonders. But your humanity excels.  Byp. 
Virtue in the Antipodes only dwells.    


Act 3. Scene 1.  Letoy, Joyless, Diana, Martha, Barbara. Let. 
YEt, Mr. joyless, are you pleased? you see  
Here's nothing but fair play, and all above board.  Ioy. 
But it is late, and these long intermissions  
By banqueting and Courtship twixt the Acts  
Will keep back the Catastrophe of your play,  
Until the morning light.  Let. 
All shall be short.  Ioy. 
And then in midst of Scenes  
You interrupt your Actors; and tie them  
To lengthen time in silence, while you hold  
Discourse, by th'by.  Let. 
Pox o'thy jealousy.  
Because I give thy wife a look, or word  
Sometimes! What if I kiss (thus) I'll not eat her.  Ioy. 
So, so, his banquet works with him.  Let. 
And for my Actors, they shall speak, or not speak  
As much, or more, or less, and when I please,  
It is my way of pleasure, and I'll use it.  
So sit: They enter. Flourish.   

Act 3. Scene 2.  Enter Lawyer, and Poet. Law. 
Your case is clear, I understand it fully,  
And need no more instructions, this shall serve,  
To firk your Adversary from Court to Court,  
If he stand out upon rebellious Legs,  
But till Octabis Michaelis next.  
I'll bring him on submissive knees.  Dia. 
What's he?  Let. 
A Lawyer, and his Client there, a Poet.  Dia. 
Goes Law so torn, and Poetry so brave?  Ioy. 
Will you but give the Actors leave to speak,  
They may have done the sooner?  Lawyer 
Let me see,  
This is your bill of Parcels.  Poet. 
Yes, of all  
My several wares, according to the rates  
Delivered unto my debtor,  Dia. 
Wares does he say?  Let. 
Yes, Poetry is good ware  
In the Antipodes, though there be some ill payers,  
As well as here; but Law there rights the Poets.  Law. 
Delivered too, and for the use of the right worshipful  
Mr. Alderman humble-bee, as followeth— Imprimis— Reads.  
Umh, I cannot read your hand; your Character  
Is bad, and your Orthography much worse.  
Read it yourself pray.  Dia 
Do Aldermen  
Love Poetry in Antipodea London.  Let. 
Better than ours do Custards; but the worst  
paymasters living there; worse than our gallants,  
Partly for want of money, partly wit.  Dia. 
Can Aldermen want wit and money too?  
That's wonderful.  Poet. 
Imprimis sir here is  
For three religious Madrigals to be sung  
By th' holy Vestals in Bridewell, for the  
Conversion of our City wives and daughters,  
Ten groats a piece, it was his own agreement.  Law. 
'tis very reasonable.  Poet. 
Item, twelve Hymns,  
For the twelve Sessions, during his Shrievalty,  
Sung by the Choir of Newgate, in the praise  
Of City Clemency (for in that year  
No guiltless person suffered by their judgement)  
Ten groats a piece also.  Law. 
So, now it rises.  Dia. 
Why speaks your Poet so demurely?  Let. 
Oh—  
'tis a precise tone he has got among  
The sober sisterhood.  Dia. 
Oh I remember,  
The Doctor said Poets were all Puritans  
In the Antipodes: But where's the Doctor?  
And where's your son my joyless?  Let. 
Do not mind him.  Poet. 
Item,  
A Distich graven in his thumb-ring,  
Of all the wise speeches and sayings of all  
His Alder Predecessors, and his brethren  
In two Kings reigns.  Law. 
There was a curious Piece.  Poet. 
Two pieces he promised to me for it.  
Item, inscriptions in his Hall and Parlour,  
His Gallery, and garden, round the walls,  
Of his own public acts, between the time  
He was a Common Council man and sheriff,  
One thousand lines put into wholesome verse.  Law. 
Here's a sum towards indeed! a thousand verses?  Poet. 
They come too, at the known rate of the City.  
(That is to say at forty pence the score)  
Eight pounds six shillings, eight pence.  Law. 
Well sir, on.  Poet. 
Item, an Elegy for Mistress Alderwoman  
Upon the death of one of her Coach-mares,  
She prized above her daughter, being crooked—  Dia. 
The more beast she.  Mar. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Bar. 
Enough, enough sweetheart.  Mar. 
'tis true, for I should weep for that poor daughter,  
'tis like she'll have no children, pray now look,  
Am not I crooked too?  Bar. 
No, no, sit down.  Poet. 
Item, a love Epistle for the Aldermanikin his son,  
And a Book of the godly life and death  
Of Mistress Katherine Stubs, which I have turned  
Into sweet metre, for the virtuous youth,  
To woe an ancient Lady widow with.  Law. 
Here's a large sum in all, for which I'll try,  
His strength in law, till he peccavi cry,  
When I shall sing, for all his present bigness,  
jamque opus exegi quod nec Iovis Ira, nec ignis.  Dia. 
The Lawyer speaks the poet's part.  Let. 
He thinks  
The more; the Poets in th' Antipodes,  
Are slow of tongue, but nimble with the pen.  Poet. 
The counsel and the comfort you have given  
Me, requires a double fee. Offers money.  Law. 
Will you abuse me therefore?  
I take no fees double nor single I.  
Retain your money, you retain not me else.  
Away, away, you'll hinder other Clients.  Poet. 
Pray give me leave to send then to your wife.  Law. 
Not so much as a Poesy for her thimble,  
For fear I spoil your cause,  Poet. 
Y'ave warned me sir. Exit.  Dia. 
What a poor honest Lawyer's this?  Let. 
They are all so  
In th' Antipodes.   

Act 3. Scene 3.  Enter a spruce young Captain. Law. 
You're welcome Captain.  
In your two causes I have done my best.  Cap. 
And what's the issue pray sir?  Law. 
Truly sir,  
Our best course is not to proceed to trial.  Cap. 
Your reason? I shall then recover nothing.  Law. 
Yes, more by composition, than the Court  
Can lawfully adjudge you, as I have laboured.  
And sir, my course is, where I can compound  
A difference, I'll not toss nor bandy it  
Into the hazard of a judgement.  Dia. 
Still  
An honest Lawyer, and tho poor, no marvel.  Let. 
A kiss for thy conceit.  Ioy. 
A sweet occasion!  Cap. 
How have you done sir?  Law. 
First you understand  
Your several actions, and your adversaries,  
The first a Battery against a Coachman,  
That beat you sorely.  Dia. 
What hard hearted fellow  
Could beat so spruce a gentleman, and a captain.  Cap. 
By this fair hilt, he did sir, and so bruised  
My arms, so crushed my ribs, and stitched my sides,  
That I have had no heart to draw my sword since;  
And shall I put it up, and not his purse  
Be made to pay for't?  Law. 
It is up already, sir,  
If you can be advised, observe I pray,  
Your other actions 'gainst your feathermaker,  
And that of trespass for th'incessant trouble  
He puts you to by importunate requests,  
To pay him no money, but take longer day.  Cap. 
Against all humane reason, for although  
I have bought feathers of him these four years,  
And never paid him a penny; yet he dun me  
So desperately to keep my money still,  
As if I ought him nothing; he haunts and breaks my sleeps.  
I swear sir, by the motion of this I wear now, Shakes it.  
I have had twenty better feathers of him, and as ill paid for,  
Yet still he dun me to forbear my payment,  
And to take longer day.  
I ha' not said my prayers in  
Mine own lodging sir this twelvemonths day,  
For sight or thought of him; and how can you  
Compound this action, or the other of  
That Russian Coachman that durst lift a hand  
'Gainst a Commander.  Law. 
Very easily thus,  
The Coachman's poor, and scarce his twelvemonth's wages  
though't be five marks a year will satisfy.  Cap. 
Pray name no sum in marks, I have had too many  
Of's marks already.  Law. 
So you owe the other  
A debt of twenty pound, the Coachman now  
Shall for your satisfaction, beat you out  
Of debt.  Cap. 
Beat me again?  Law. 
No sir he shall beat  
For you your feather man till he take his money.  Cap. 
So I'll be satisfied, and help him to  
More customers of my rank.  Law. 
Leave it to me then,  
It shall be by posterity repeaten  
That soldiers ought not to be dund or beaten,  
Away and keep your money.  Capt. 
Thank you sir.  Dia. 
An honest lawyer, still how he considers  
The weak estate of a young Gentleman  
At arms— But who comes here? a woman.   

Act. 3. Sce. 4.  Enter Buffe Woman. Let. 
Yes; that has taken up the newest fashion  
Of the town-militasters.  Dia. 
Is it Buff,  
Or Calf skin trow? she looks as she could beat  
Out a whole Tavern garrison before her  
Of mill tasters call you 'em? if her husband  
Be an old jealous man now, and can please her Lawyer reads on papers.  
No better than most ancient husbands can,  
I warrant she makes herself good upon him.  Ioy. 
'tis very good, the play begins to please me.  Buff. 
I wait to speak wi'ye sir, but must I stand  
Your construing and piercing of your scribblings.  Law. 
Cry mercy Lady.  Dia. 
Lady does he call her?  Law. 
Thus far I have proceeded in your cause  
Ith' Marshals court.  Buff. 
But shall I have the combat?  Law. 
Pray observe  
The passages of my proceedings; and  
The pro's and contras in the windings, workings  
And carriage of the cause.  Buff. 
Fah on your passages,  
Your windy workings, and your fizzlings at  
The bar. Come me toth' point, is it decreed,  
A combat?  Law. 
Well, it is; and here's your order.  Buff. 
Now thou hast spoken like a lawyer,  
And here's thy fee.  Law. 
By no means gentle Lady.  Buff. 
Take it, or I will beat thy carcase thinner  
Than thou hast worn thy gown here.  Law. 
Pardon me.  Buff. 
Must I then take you in hand?  Law. 
Hold, hold, I take it.  Dia. 
Alas poor man, he will take money yet,  
Rather than blows, and so far he agrees  
With our rich lawyers, that sometimes give blows  
And shrewd ones for their money.  Buff. 
Now victory  
Afford me fate, or bravely let me die. Exit.  Let. 
Very well acted that.  Dia. 
Goes she to fight now?  Let. 
You shall see that anon—   

Act. 3. Scene. 5.  Enter a Beggar, and a Gallant. Dia. 
What's here, what's here?  
A Courtier, or some gallant practising  
The beggar's trade, who teaches him I think.  Let. 
You're something near the subject.  Beg. 
Sir excuse me, I have  
From time to time supplied you without hope,  
Or purpose to receive least retribution  
From you, no not so much as thanks or bare  
Acknowledgement of the free benefits,  
I have conferred upon you.  Gal. 
Yet good uncle.  Beg. 
Yet do you now when that my present store  
Responds not my occasions, seek to oppress me  
With vain petitionary breath, for what I may not  
Give without fear of dangerous detriment?  Dia. 
In what a phrase the ragged Orator  
Displays himself.  Let. 
The Beggars are the  
Most absolute Courtiers in th' Antipodes.  Gal. 
If not a piece, yet spare me half a piece  
For goodness sake good sir, did you but know  
My instant want, and to what virtuous use,  
I would distribute it, I know you would not  
Hold back your charity.  Dia. 
And how feelingly  
He begs; then as the beggars are the best  
Courtiers, it seems the Courtiers are best beggars  
In the Antipodes; how contrary in all  
Are they to us?  Beg. 
Pray to what virtuous uses  
Would you put money to now, if you had it?  Gal. 
I would bestow a crown in Ballads,  
Love-pamphlets, and such poetical Rarities,  
To send down to my Lady Grandmother.  
She's very old you know, and given much  
To contemplation; I know she'll send me for 'em,  
In Puddings, Bacon, souse and Pot-Butter  
Enough to keep my chamber all this winter.  
So shall I save my father's whole allowance  
To lay upon my back, and not be forced  
To shift out from my study for my victuals.  Dia 
Belike he is some student.  Beg. 
There's a crown.  Gal. 
I would bestow another crown in  
Hobby-horses, and Rattles for my Grandfather,  
Whose legs and hearing fail him very much,  
Then to preserve his sight a Jack-a-lent,  
In a green sarsenet suit, he'll make my father  
To send me one of Scarlet, or he'll cry  
His eyes out for't.  Dia. 
Oh politic young student.  Beg. 
I have but just a fee left for my Lawyer;  
If he exact not that, I'll give it thee.  Dia. 
He'll take no fee (that's sure enough young man)  
Of beggars, I know that.  Let. 
You are deceived.  Dia. 
I'll speak to him myself else to remit it.  Ioy. 
You will not sure, will you turn Actor too?  
Pray do, be put in for a share amongst 'em?  Dia. 
How must I be put in?  Ioy. 
The Players will quickly  
Show you, if you perform your part; perhaps  
They may want one to act the whore amongst 'em.  Let. 
Fie Master joyless, you're too foul.  Ioy. 
My Lord,  
She is too fair it seems in your opinion,  
For me, therefore if you can find it lawful,  
Keep her; I will be gone.  Let. 
Now I protest  
Sit and sit civilly, till the play be done,  
I'll lock thee up else, as I am true Letoy.  Ioy. 
Nay I ha' done— Whistles Fortune my foe.  Law. 
Give me my fee, I cannot hear you else.  Beg. 
Sir I am poor, and all I get, is at  
The hands of charitable givers; pray sir.  Law. 
You understand me sir, your cause is to be  
Pleaded today, or you are quite o'erthrown in't.  
The Judge by this time is about to sit.  
Keep fast your money, and forgo your wit. Exit.  Beg. 
Then I must follow, and entreat him to it,  
Poor men in law must not disdain to do it. Exit.  Gal. 
Do it then, I'll follow you and hear the cause. Exit.  Dia. 
True Antipodians still, for as with us,  
The Gallants follow Lawyers, and the beggars them;  
The Lawyer here is followed by the beggar,  
While the gentleman follows him.  Let. 
The moral is, the Lawyers here prove beggars,  
And beggars only thrive by going to law.  Dia. 
How takes the Lawyers then the beggar's money?  
And none else by their wills?  Let. 
They send it all  
Up to our lawyers, to stop their mouths,  
That curse poor Clients that are put upon 'em.  
In forma Pauperis.  Dia. 
In truth most charitable,  
But sure that money's lost byth' way sometimes.  
Yet sweet my Lord, whom do these beggars beg of,  
That they can get aforehand so for law?  
Who are their benefactors?  Let. 
Usurers, Usurers.  Dia. 
Then they have Usurers in th' Antipodes too?  Let. 
Yes Usury goes round the world, and will do,  
Till the general conversion of the jews.  Dia. 
But ours are not so charitable I fear.  
Who be their Usurers?  Let. 
soldiers, and Courtiers chiefly;  
And some that pass for grave and pious Churchmen.  Dia. 
How finely contrary theyare still to ours.   

Act. 3. Scene. 5.  Enter Byplay. Let. 
Why do you not enter, what are you asleep?—  Byp. 
My Lord the mad young Gentleman.—  Ioy. 
What of him?  Byp. 
He has got into our Tiring-house amongst us,  
And ta'en a strict survey of all our properties,  
Our statues and our images of Gods; our Planets and our constellations  
Our Giants, Monsters, Furies, Beasts, and bugbears,  
Our Helmets Shields, and Vizors, Hairs, and Beards,  
Our Pasteboard marchpanes, and our Wooden Pies.  Let. 
Sirrah be brief, be not you now as long in  
Telling what he saw, as he surveying.  Byp. 
Whether he thought 'twas some enchanted Castle,  
Or Temple, hung and piled with Monuments  
Of uncouth, and of various aspects,  
I dive not to his thoughts, wonder he did  
A while it seemed, but yet undaunted stood:  
When on the sudden, with thrice knightly force,  
And thrice, thrice, puissant arm he snatcheth down  
The sword and shield that I played Bevis with,  
Rusheth amongst the foresaid properties,  
Kills Monster, after Monster; takes the Puppets  
Prisoners, knocks down the Cyclops, tumbles all  
Our jigambobs and trinkets to the wall.  
Spying at last the Crown and royal Robes  
Ith' upper wardrobe, next to which by chance,  
The devil's vizors hung, and their flame painted  
Skin coats; those he removed with greater fury,  
And (having cut the infernal ugly faces,  
All into mammocks) with a reverend hand,  
He takes the imperial diadem and crown  
Himself King of the Antipodes, and believes  
He has justly gained the Kingdom by his conquest.  Let. 
Let him enjoy his fancy.  Byp. 
Doctor Hughball  
Hath soothed him in't, so that nothing can  
Be said against it, he begins to govern  
With purpose to reduce the manners  
Of this country to his own, h'has constituted  
The Doctor his chief officer; whose Secretary  
I am to be, you'll see a Court well ordered.  Let. 
I see th'event already, by the aim Letoy whispers With Barbara.  
The Doctor takes, proceed you with your play,  
And let him see it in what state he pleases.  Byp. 
I go my Lord. Exit.  Dia. 
Trust me, this same Extempore,  
(I know not's t'other name) pleases me better  
For absolute action then all the rest.  Ioy. 
You were best beg him of his Lord.  Dia. 
Say you so?  
He's busy, or I'd move him,  Let. 
Prithee do so,  
Good Mistress Blaze; go with her gentle Lady. to Marth.  
Do as she bids you, you shall get a child by't.  Mar. 
I'll do as anybody bids me for a child.  Ioy. 
Diana yet be wise, bear not the name  
Of sober chastity to play the beast in.  Dia. 
Think not yourself, nor make yourself a beast,  
Before you are one, and when you appear so,  
Then thank yourself; your jealousy durst not trust me,  
Behind you in the country, and since I'm here,  
I'll see and know, and follow th'fashion; if  
It be to cuckold you, I cannot help it.  Ioy. 
I now could wish my son had been as far  
In the Antipodes as he thinks himself,  
Ere I had run this hazard.  Let. 
You're instructed.  Bar. 
And I'll perform't I warrant you my Lord. Ex. Ba. Mar.  Dia. 
Why should you wish so? had you rather lose  
Your son then please your wife? you show your love both ways.  Let. 
Now what's the matter?  Ioy. 
Nothing, nothing.—  Let. 
Sit, the Actors enter. Flourish.   

Act. 3. Scene 6.  Enter Byplay the Governor, Mace-bearer, swordbearer, Officer, the Mace and Sword laid on the Table, the Governor sits. Dia. 
What's he a King?  Let. 
No 'tis the City Governor,  
And the chief Judge within their Corporation.  Ioy. 
Here's a City Enter Peregine and Doctor.  
Like to be well governed then.—  Let. 
Yonder's a king, do you know him?  Dia. 
'tis your son,  
My joyless, now you're pleased.  Ioy. 
Would you were pleased,  
To cease your housewifry in spinning out  
The Play at length thus.  Doct. 
Here sir, you shall see  
A point of Justice handled.  Byp. 
Officer.  Off. 
My Lord.  Byp. 
Call the defendant, and the Plaintiff in.  Sword. 
Their counsel and their witnesses.  Byp: 
How now!  
How long ha' you been free oath Pointmakers,  
Good master hilt and scabbard carrier;  
(Which is in my hands now) do you give order  
For counsel and for witnesses in a cause  
Fit for my hearing, or for me to judge, haw?  
I must be ruled and circumscribed by Lawyers must I,  
And witnesses haw? no you shall know  
I can give judgement, be it right or wrong,  
Without their needless proving and defending:  
So bid the Lawyers go and shake their ears,  
If they have any, and the witnesses,  
Preserve their breath to prophesy of dry summers.  
Bring me the plaintiff, and defendant only:  
But the defendant first, I will not hear  
Any complaint before I understand  
What the defendant can say for himself.  Per. 
I have not known such down right equity,  
If he proceeds as he begins, I'll grace him.—   

Act. 3. Sce. 7  Enter Gentleman, and Officer. By. 
Now sir, are you the plaintiff or defendant, haw?  Gent. 
Both as the case requires my Lord.  Byp. 
I cannot  
Hear two at once, speak first as you're defendant.  Gent. 
Mine adversary doth complain.  Byp. 
I will hear no  
Complaint, I say speak your defence.  Gent. 
For silks and  
Stuffs received by me.  Byp. 
A Mercer is he, haw?  Gent. 
Yes my good Lord, he doth not now complain.  Byp. 
That I like well.  Gent. 
For money nor for wares  
Again: but he complains.  By. 
Complains again? do you double with me, haw?  Gent. 
In his wife's cause.  Byp. 
Of his wife, does he, haw? That I must confess  
Is many a good man's case; you may proceed.  Gent. 
In money I tender him double satisfaction,  
With his own wares again unblemished, undishonoured.  Byp. 
That is unworn, unpawned.  Dia 
What an odd  
Jeering Judge is this?  Gent. 
But unto me,  
They were delivered upon this condition,  
That I should satisfy his wife.  Byp. 
he'll have  
Your body for her then, unless I empt  
My breast of mercy to appease her for you,  
Call in the plaintiff; sir, stand you aside. Exit Officer.  Dia. 
Oh 'tis the flinching Gentleman that broke  
With the kind citizen's wife. I hope the Judge  
Will make him an example.   

Act. 3. Scene. 8.  Enter Citizen, and Officer. Byp. 
Come you forwards,  
Yet nearer man, I know my face is terrible,  
And that a Citizen had rather lose  
His debt, then that a Judge should truly know  
His dealings with a gentleman, yet speak,  
Repeat without thy shop book now; and without  
Fear, it may rise in judgement here against thee.  
What is thy full demand? what satisfaction  
Requirest thou of this gentleman?  Cit. 
And please you sir—  Sword. 
Sir! you forget yourself.  By. 
'twas well said Sword-bearer,  
Thou know'st thy place, which is to show correction.  Cit. 
My Lord an't please you, if it like your honour.  By. 
La! an intelligent Citizen, and may grow  
In time himself to sit in place of worship.  Cit. 
I ask no satisfaction of the gentleman,  
But to content my wife; what her demand is,  
'tis best known to herself; please her, please me,  
An't please you sir— My Lord an't like your honour.  
But before he has given her satisfaction,  
I may not fall my suit, nor draw my action.  By. 
You may not.  Cit. 
No alack a day I may not,  
Nor find content, nor peace at home, an't please you  
(My Lord, an't like your honour I would say)  
An't please you, what's a tradesman, that  
Has a fair wife, without his wife, an't please you?  
And she without content is no wife, considering  
We tradesmen live by gentlemen, an't please you,  
And our wives drive a half trade with us, if the gentlemen  
Break with our wives, our wives are no wives to us,  
And we but broken Tradesmen, an't please you.  
an't like your honour, my good Lord, an't please you.  By. 
You argue honestly.  Cit. 
Yet gentlemen,  
A lack a day, and please you, and like your honour,  
Will not consider our necessities,  
And our desire in general through the City,  
To have our sons all gentlemen like them.  By. 
Nor though a gentleman consume  
His whole estate among ye, yet his son  
May live t'inherit it?  Cit. 
Right, right, an't please you:  
Your honour my good Lord an't please you.  By. 
Well,  
This has so little to be said against it,  
That you say nothing. Gentlemen it seems  
You're obstinate, and will stand out—  Gent. 
My Lord,  
Rather than not to stand out with all men's wives,  
Except mine own, I'll yield me into prison.  Cit. 
Alack a day.  Dia. 
If our young gentlemen,  
Were like those of th'Antipodes, what decay  
Of trade would here be, and how full the prisons?  Gent. 
I offer him any other satisfaction;  
His wares again, or money twice the value.  By. 
That's from the point.  Cit. 
ay, ay, alack a day,  
Nor do I sue to have him up in prison,  
Alack a day, what good (good gentleman)  
Can I get by his body?  By. 
Peace, I should  
Now give my sentence, and for your contempt,  
(which is a great one, such as if let pass  
Unpunished, may spread forth a dangerous  
Example, to the breach of City custom,  
By gentlemen's neglect of tradesmen's wives)  
I should say for this contempt commit you  
Prisoner from sight of any other woman,  
Until you give this man's wife satisfaction,  
And she release you; justice so would have it:  
But as I am a Citizen by nature,  
(For education made it so) I'll use  
Urbanity in your behalf towards you;  
And as I am a gentleman by calling,  
(For so my place must have it) I'll perform  
For you the office of a gentleman  
Towards his wife, I therefore order thus;  
That you bring me the wares here into Court,  
(I have a chest shall hold 'em, as mine own)  
And you send me your wife, I'll satisfy her  
myself. I'll do't, and set all straight and right:  
Justice is blind, but Judges have their sight.  Dia. 
And feeling too in the Antipodes.  
Han't they my Lord?  Ioy. 
What's that to you my Lady?  
Within .Dismiss the Court.  Let. 
Dismiss the Court, cannot you hear the prompter?  
Ha' you lost your ears, Judge?  By. 
No: dismiss the Court,  
Embrace you friends, and to shun further strife,  
See you send me your stuff, and you your wife.  Per. 
Most admirable Justice.  Dia. 
Protest Extempore played the Judge; and I  
Knew him not all this while.  Ioy. 
What oversight  
Was there?  Dia. 
He is a properer man methinks  
Now, than he was before: sure I shall love him.  Ioy. 
Sure, sure, you shall not, shall you?  Dia. 
And I warrant,  
By his Judgement speech e'en now, he loves a woman well:  
For he said, if you noted him, that he  
Would satisfy the citizen's wife himself.  
Methinks a gentlewoman might please him better.  Ioy. 
How dare you talk so? Byplay kneels, and kisses Peregrine's hand.  Dia. 
What's he a doing now trow?  Per. 
Kneel down  
Again. Give me a sword somebody.  Let 
The King's about to Knight him.  By. 
Let me pray  
Your Majesty be pleased, yet to withhold  
That undeserved honour, till you first  
Vouchsafe to grace the City with your presence,  
Accept one of our Hall-feasts, and a freedom,  
And freely use our purse for what great sums  
Your Majesty will please.  Dia 
What subjects there are  
In the Antipodes.  Let. 
None in the world so loving.  Per. 
Give me a sword, I say, must I call thrice?  Let. 
No, no, take mine my Liege.  Per. 
Yours! what are you?  Doct. 
A loyal Lord, one of your subjects too.  Per. 
He may be loyal; he's a wondrous plain one,  Joy. 
prithee Diana, yet let's slip away  
Now while he's busy.  Dia. 
But where's your daughter in Law?  Joy. 
Gone home I warrant you with Mistress Blaze.  
Let them be our example.  Dia. 
You are cozened.  Joy. 
You're an impudent whore,  Dia. 
I know not what I may be  
Made by your jealousy.  Per. 
I'll none o' this,  
Give me that Princely weapon.  Let. 
Give it him.  Sword. 
It is a property you know my Lord,  
No blade, but a rich Scabbard with a Lath in't.  Let 
So is the sword of Justice for aught he knows.  Per. 
It is enchanted.  By. 
Yet on me let it fall,  
Since 'tis your highness' will, Scabbard and all.  Per. 
Rise up our trusty well beloved Knight.  By. 
Let me find favour in your gracious sight  
To taste a banquet now, which is prepared,  
And shall be by your followers quickly shared.  Per. 
My followers, where are they?  Let. 
Come Sirs quickly. Ent. 5. or 6. Courtiers.  Per. 
'tis well, lead on the way.  Dia. 
And must not we  
Go to the Banquet too?  Let. 
He must not see  
You yet; I have provided otherwise  
For both you in my Chamber, and from thence  
we'll at a window see the rest o'th' Play,  
Or if you needs sir will stay here, you may.  Joy. 
Was ever man betrayed thus into torment? Ex.    


Act 4. Scene. 1.  Enter Doctor, and Peregrine. Doct. 
NOw sir be pleased to cloud your Princely raiment  
With this disguise. Great Kings have done the like,  
To make discovery of passages Puts on a Cloak and Hat.  
Among the people: thus you shall perceive  
What to approve, and what correct among 'em.  Per. 
And so I'll cherish, or severely punish.  Enter an old woman reading: to her, a young Maid. Doct. 
Stand close sir, and observe.  Old. 
Royal pastime, in a great match between the Tanners and the Butchers, six dogs of aside, to play single at the game Bear, for fifty pound, and a ten pound supper, for their dogs and themselves. Also you shall see two ten dog-courses at the Great Bear.  Maid. 
Fie Granny fie, can no persuasions,  
Threatenings, nor blows prevail, but you'll persist  
In these profane and Diabolical courses,  
To follow Bear baitings, when you can scarce  
Spell out their Bills with spectacles?  Old. 
What though  
My sight be gone beyond the reach of Spectacles,  
In any print but this, and though I cannot,  
(No, no, I cannot read your meditations) strikes down her book.  
Yet I can see the Royal game played over and over,  
And tell which dog does best, without my Spectacles.  
And though I could not, yet I love the noise;  
The noise revives me, and the Bear-garden scent  
Refresheth much my smelling.  Maid. 
Let me entreat you  
Forbear such beastly pastimes, theyare Satanical.  Old. 
Take heed Child what you say, 'tis the king's game.  Per. 
What is my game?  Doct. 
Bear-baiting sir she means.  Old. 
A bear's a Princely beast, and one side Venison  
(Writ a good Author once) you yet want years,  
And are with baubles pleased, I'll see the Bears. Exit.  Maid. 
And I must bear with it. she's full of wine,  
And for the present wilful; but in due  
Season I'll humble her: but we are all  
Too subject to infirmity.   

Act 4. Scene 2.  Enter a young Gentleman, and an old Servingman. Gent. 
Boy— Boy.  Ser. 
Sir.  Gent. 
Here take my Cloak.  Per. 
Boy did he say?  Doct. 
Yes sir, old servants are  
But Boys to Masters, be they ne'er so young.  Gent. 
'tis heavy, and I sweat.  Ser. 
Take mine, and keep you warm then,  
I'll wear yours.  Gent. 
Out you Varlet,  
Dost thou obscure it, as thou meantst to pawn it?  
Is this a Cloak unworthy of the light?  
Publish it sirrah:— oh presumptuous slave,  
Display it on one arm— oh ignorance!  Ser. 
Pray load your Ass yourself, as you would have it.  Gent. 
Nay prithee be not angry: Thus, and now  
Be sure you bear't at no such distance; but  
As't may be known appendix to this book.  Per. 
This custom I have seen with us.  Doct. 
Yes, but  
It was derived from the Antipodes.  Maid. 
It is a dainty creature, and my blood  
Rebels against the spirit: I must speak to him.  Ser. 
Sir here's a Gentlewoman makes towards you.  Gent. 
Me? she's deceived, I am not for her mowing.  Maid. 
Fair sir, may you vouchsafe my company?  Gent. 
No truly, I am none of those you look for.  
The way is broad enough, unhand me pray you.  Maid. 
Pray sir be kinder to a lass that loves you.  Gent. 
Some such there are, but I am none of those.  Maid. 
Come, this is but a Copy of your Countenance.  
I ha' known you better than you think I do.  Gent. 
What ha' you known me for?  Maid. 
I knew you once  
For half a piece I take it.  Gent. 
You are deceived  
The whole breadth of your nose, I scorn it.  Maid. 
Come be not coy, but send away your servant,  
And let me gi' you a pint of wine.  Gent. 
Pray keep  
Your courtesy, I can bestow the wine  
Upon myself, if I were so disposed,  
To drink in Taverns; fah.  Maid. 
Let me bestow't  
Upon you at your lodging then; and there  
Be civilly merry.  Gent. 
Which if you do,  
My wife shall thank you for it; but your better  
Course is to seek one fitter for your turn,  
You'll lose your aim in me; and I befriend you  
To tell you so.  Maid. 
Gip gaffer Shotten, fagh,  
Take that for your coy Counsel. Kicks.  Gent. 
Help, oh help.  Ser. 
What mean you gentlewoman?  Maid. 
That to you sir. Kicks.  Gent. 
O murder, murder.  Ser. 
Peace good Master,  
And come away. Some Cowardly Jade I warrant,  
That durst not strike a woman.   

Act 4. Scene 3.  Enter Constable, and Watch. Con. 
What's the matter?  Ser. 
But and we were your match.—  Watch. 
What would you do?  
Come, come afore the Constable: now if  
You were her match, what would you do sir?  Maid. 
Do?  
They have done too much already sir: a Virgin weeps.  
Shall not pass shortly for these street-walkers,  
If some judicious order be not taken.  Gent. 
Hear me the truth.  Con. 
Sir, speak to your companions,  
I have a wife and daughters, and am bound,  
By hourly precepts, to hear women first,  
Be't truth, or no truth, therefore virgin speak,  
And fear no bug bears, I will do thee justice.  Maid. 
Sir, they assailed me, and with violent hands,  
When words could not prevail, they would have drawn me  
Aside unto their lust till I cried murder.  Gent. 
Protest Sir, as I am a gentleman,  
And as my man's a man she beat us both,  
Till I cried murder.  Ser. 
That's the woeful truth on't.  Con. 
You are a party, and no witness sir,  
Besides you're two, and one is easier  
To be believed: moreover as you have the odds  
In number, what were justice, if it should not support  
The weaker side? Away with them to the Counter.  Per. 
Call you this justice?  Doct. 
In th' Antipodes.  Per. 
Here's much to be reformed, young man thy virtue  
Hath won my favour, go, thou art at large.  Doct. 
Be gone.  Gent. 
He puts me out, my part is now  
To bribe the Constable.  Doct. 
No matter go— Exit. Gent. and Servant.  Per. 
And you sir, take that sober seeming wanton,  
And clap her up, till I hear better of her,  
I'll strip you of your office and your ears else.  Doct. 
At first show mercy.  Per. 
They are an ignorant nation,  
And have my pity mingled with correction:  
And therefore, damsel (for you are the first  
Offender I have noted here, and this  
Your first offence (for aught I know)  Maid. 
Yes truly.  Doct. 
That was well said.  Per. 
Go and transgress no more,  
And as you find my mercy sweet, see that  
You be not cruel to your grandmother,  
When she returns from bear-baiting.  Doct. 
So all be gone. Ex.  Enter Buffe woman, her head and face bleeding, and many women, as from a Prize. Per. 
And what are these?  Doct. 
A woman Fencer, that has played a Prize,  
It seems, with Loss of blood.  Per. 
It doth amaze me. They pass over.  
What can her husband be, when she's a Fencer?  Doct. 
He keeps a School, and teacheth needlework,  
Or some such Arts which we call womanish.  Per. 
'tis most miraculous and wonderful.  
Man scold within .Rogues, Varlets, Harlots, ha' you done  
Your worst, or would you drown me? would you take my life?  
Women within .Duck him again, duck him again.  Per. 
What noise is this?  Doct. 
Some man it seems, that's ducked for scolding.  Per. 
A man for scolding?  Doct. 
You shall see.   

Act. 4. Scene 4.  Enter women and man-scold. Wom. 
So, so,  
Enough, enough, he will be quiet now.  Mansc. 
How know you that, you devil ridden witch you?  
How, quiet; why quiet? has not the law past on me,  
Over, and over me, and must I be quiet?  1 Wom. 
Will you incur the law the second time?  Mansc. 
The laws the river, is't? yes 'tis a river,  
Through which great men, and cunning, wade, or swim;  
But mean and ignorant must drown in't; no  
You hags and hellhounds, witches, bitches, all,  
That were the law, the Judge, and Executioners,  
To my vexation, I hope to see  
More flames about your ears, than all the water  
You cast me in can quench.  3 Wom. 
In with him again, he calls us names.  2 Wom. 
No, no: I charge ye no.  Mansc. 
Was ever harmless creature so abused?  
To be drenched under water, to learn dumbness  
Amongst the fishes, as I were forbidden  
To use the natural members I was borne with,  
And of them all, the chief that man takes pleasure in;  
The tongue; Oh me accursed wretch. weeps.  Per. 
Is this a man?  
I ask not by his beard, but by his tears.  1 Wom. 
This shower will spend the fury of his tongue,  
And so the tempest's over.  2 Wom. 
I am sorry for't,  
I would have had him ducked once more;  
But somebody will shortly raise the storm  
In him again I hope for us, to make  
More holiday-sport of him. Exit.  Per. 
Sure these are dreams,  
Nothing but dreams.  Doct. 
No, doubtless we are awake sir.  Per. 
Can men and women be so contrary  
In all that we hold proper to each sex?  Doct. 
I'm glad he takes a taste of sense in that yet.  Per. 
'Twill ask long time and study to reduce  
Their manners to our government.  Doct. 
these are  
Low things and easy to be qualified—  
But see sir, here come Courtiers, note their manners.   

Act. 4. Scene 5.  Enter a Courtier. 1 Cour. 
This was three shillings yesterday, how now!  
All gone but this? six pence, for leather soles  
To my new green silk stockings, and a groat  
My ordinary in Pompions baked with Onions.  Per. 
Do such eat Pompions?  Doct. 
Yes: and Clowns muskmelons.  1 Cour. 
Three pence I lost at nine-pins; but I got  
Six tokens towards that at Pigeon holes—  
'S nails where's the rest; is my poke bottom broke?  2 Cour. 
What Jack! A pox o'ertake thee not; how dost? kick.  1 Cour. 
What with a vengeance ail'st? dost think my breech  
Is made of Bell mettle? take that. Box o'th' ear.  2 Cour. 
In earnest?  1 Cour. 
Yes till more comes.  2 Cour. 
Pox rot your hold, let go my lock, do think  
You're currying of your Father's horse again?  1 Cour. 
I'll teach you to abuse a man behind, They buffet.  
Was troubled too much afore.   

Act 4. Sc. 6.  Ent. 3. Cours. 3 Cour. 
Hay, there boys, there.  
Good boys are good boys still. There Will, there jack.  
Not a blow, now he's down.  2 Cour. 
'Twere base, I scorn't.  1 Cour. 
There's as proud fall, as stand in Court or City.  3 Cour. 
That's well said Will, troth I commend you both.  
How fell you out? I hope in no great anger.  2 Cour. 
For mine own part I vow I was in jest.  1 Cour. 
But I have told you twice and once, Will, jest not  
With me behind I never could endure  
(Not of a Boy) to put up things behind:  
And that my Tutor knew; I had been a Scholar else.  
Besides you know my sword was nocked i'th' fashion,  
Just here behind, for my back-guard and all;  
And yet you would do't.  
I had a lief you would take a knife—  3 Cour. 
Come, come,  
You're friends. Shake hands I'll give you half a dozen  
At the next Alehouse, to set all right and straight.  
And a new song; a dainty one; here 'tis. a Ballad.  1 Cour. 
O thou art happy that canst read—  
I would buy Ballads too, had I thy learning.  3 Cour. 
Come, we burn daylight, and the Ale may sour. Ex.  Per. 
Call you these Courtiers? They are rude silken Clowns;  
As course within, as watermen or Carmen.   

Act 4. Scen 7.  Doct. 
Then look on these: Here are of those conditions En. carman, & waterman.  Wat. 
Sir, I am your servant.  Car. 
I am much obliged  
Sir, by the plenteous favours your humanity  
And noble virtue have conferred upon me,  
To answer with my service your deservings.  Wat. 
You speak what I should say. Be therefore pleased  
T'unload, and lay the wait of your commands  
Upon my care to serve you.  Car. 
Still your Courtesies,  
Like waves of a Springtide, o'erflow the Banks  
Of your abundant store; and from your Channel,  
Or stream of fair affections, you cast forth  
Those sweet refreshings on me (that were else  
But sterile earth) which cause a gratitude  
To grow upon me, humble, yet ambitious  
In my Devoir, to do you best of service.  Wat. 
I shall no more extend my utmost labour,  
With Oar and Sail to gain the livelihood  
Of wife and children, than to set ashore  
You, and your faithful honourers at the haven  
Of your best wishes.  Car. 
Sir, I am no less  
Ambitious, to be made the happy means.  
With whip and whistle, to draw up or drive  
All your detractors to the Gallows.   

Act 4. Scene 8.  Enter Sedan-man. Wat. 
See,  
Our noble friend.  Sed. 
Right happily encountered—  
I am the just admirer of your virtues.  2. 
We are, in all, your servants.  Sed. 
I was in quest,  
Of such elect society, to spend  
A dinnertime withal.  2. 
Sir we are for you.  Sed. 
Three are the golden Number in a Tavern;  
And at the next of best, with the best meat,  
And wine the house affords (if you so please)  
We will be competently merry. I  
Have received, lately, Letters from beyond Seas,  
Importing much of the occurrences,  
And passages of foreign States. The knowledge  
Of all I shall impart to you.  Wat. 
And I  
Have all the new advertisements from both  
Our Universities, of what has passed  
The most remarkably of late.  Car. 
And from  
The Court I have the news at full,  
Of all that was observable this Progress.  Per. 
From Court?  Doct. 
Yes sir: They know not there, they have  
A new King here at home.  Sed. 
'tis excellent!  
We want but now, the news-collecting Gallant  
To fetch his Dinner, and Materials  
For his this weeks dispatches.  Wat. 
I dare think  
The meat and news being hot upon the Table,  
He'll smell his way to't.  Sed. 
Please you to know yours, sir?  Car. 
Sir, after you.  Sed. 
Excuse me.  Wat. 
By no means sir.  Car. 
Sweet Sir lead on.  Sed. 
It shall be as your servant  
Then, to prepare your dinner.  Wat: 
Pardon me.  Car. 
Insooth I'll follow you.  Wat. 
Yet 'tis my obedience Ex.  Per: 
Are these but labouring men, and t'other Courtiers?  Doctor 
'tis common here sir, for your watermen  
To write most learnedly, when your Courtier  
Has scarce ability to read.  Per. 
Before I reign  
A Month among them, they shall change their notes,  
Or I'll ordain a course to change their Coats.  
I shall have much to do in reformation.  Doctor 
Patience and Counsel will go through it sir.  Per: 
What if I craved? a Counsel from New England?  
The old will spare me none.  Doctor 
Is this man mad?  
My cure goes fairly on. Do you marvel that  
Poor men outshine the Courtiers? Look you sir,  
A sick-man giving counsel to a Physician:  
And there's a Puritan Tradesman, teaching a  
Great Traveller to lie: That Ballad-woman  
Gives light to the most learned Antiquary  
In all the Kingdom.  Bal: 
Buy new Ballads, come.  Doct. 
A natural fool, there, giving grave instructions Those persons pass over the Stage in Couples, according as he describes them.  
T'a Lord Ambassador. That's a Schismatic,  
Teaching a Scrivener to keep his cares:  
A parish Clerk, there, gives the Rudiments  
Of Military Discipline to a General:  
And there's a Basket maker confuting Bellarmine.   

Act 4. Se. 9.  Ent. Byplay like a Statesman. 3. or 4. Projectors with bundles of papers. Per: 
Will you make me mad?  Doct. 
We are sailed, I hope,  
Beyond the line of madness. Now sir, see  
A Statesman studious for the Commonwealth,  
Solicited by Projectors of the Country.  Byp. 
Your Projects are all good I like them well.  
Especially these two; This for th' increase of wool:  
And this for the destroying of Mice: They're good,  
And grounded on great reason. As for yours,  
For putting down the infinite use of jacks,  
(Whereby the education of young children,  
In turning spits, is greatly hindered)  
It may be looked into: And yours against  
The multiplicity of pocket-watches,  
(Whereby much neighbourly familiarity,  
By asking, what d'ye guess it is o'clock?  
Is lost) when every puny Clerk can carry  
The time o'th' day in's Breeches; This, and these  
Hereafter may be look into: For present;  
This for the increase of Wool; that is to say,  
By flaying of live horses, and new covering them  
With Sheepskins, I do like exceedingly.  
And this for keeping of tame Owls in Cities,  
To kill up Rats and Mice, whereby all Cats  
May be destroyed, as an especial means  
To prevent witchcraft and contagion.  Per. 
Here's a wise business!  Pro. 
Will you honour now,  
Be pleased to take into consideration  
The poor men's suits for Briefs, to get relief  
By common charity throughout the Kingdom,  
Towards recovery of their lost estates.  Byp: 
What are they? let me hear.  Pro: 
First, here's a Gamester, that sold house and land,  
To the known value of five thousand pounds,  
And by misfortune of the Dice lost all,  
To his extreme undoing; having neither  
A wife or child to succour him.  Byp: 
A Bachelor!  Pro: 
Yes, my good Lord.  Byp: 
And young, and healthful?  Pro: 
Yes.  Byp. 
Alas 'tis lamentable: he deserves much pity.  Per: 
How's this?  Doct. 
Observe him further, pray sir.  Pro: 
Then, here's a Bawd, of sixty odd years standing.  Byp: 
How old was she when she set up?  Pro: 
But four  
And twenty, my good Lord. She was both ware  
And Merchant; Flesh and Butcher, (as they say)  
For the first twelve years of her housekeeping:  
She's now upon fourscore, and has made markets  
Of twice four thousand choice virginities;  
And twice their number of indifferent gear.  
(No riff-raff was she ever known to cope for)  
Her life is certified here by the Justices,  
Adjacent to her dwelling—  Byp. 
She is decayed.  Pro. 
Quite trade-fallen, my good Lord, now in her dotage;  
And desperately undone by riot.  Byp. 
'las good woman,  Pro. 
She has consumed in prodigal feasts and Fiddlers,  
And lavish lendings to debauched Comrades,  
That sucked her purse, in Jewels, Plate, and money,  
To the full value of six thousand pounds.  Byp. 
She shall have a Collection, and deserves it.  Per. 
'tis monstrous, this.  Pro. 
Then here are divers more,  
Of Panders, Cheaters, house and highway Robbers,  
That have got great estates in youth and strength,  
And wasted all as fast in wine and Harlots.  
Till age o'ertook 'em, and disabled them,  
For getting more  Byp. 
For such the Law provides  
Relief within those Counties, where they practised.  Per. 
Ha! what for thieves?  Doct. 
Yes, their Law punisheth  
The robbed, and not the thief, for surer warning,  
And the more safe prevention. I have seen  
Folks whipped for losing of their goods and money,  
And the pick-pockets cherished.  Byp. 
The weal public,  
As it severely punisheth their neglect,  
Undone by fire ruins, shipwreck, and the like,  
With whips, with brands, and loss of careless ears,  
Imprisonment, banishment, and sometimes death;  
And carefully maintaineth houses of Correction  
For decayed Scholars, and maimed Soldiers;  
So doth it find relief. and almshouses,  
For such as lived by Rapine and by Cozenage.  Per. 
Still worse and worse! abominable! horrid!  Pro. 
Yet here is one, my Lord, 'bove all the rest,  
Whose services have generally been known,  
Though now he be a spectacle of pity:  Byp. 
Who's that?  Pro. 
The captain of the Cutpurses, my Lord;  
That was the best at's art that ever was,  
Is fallen to great decay, by the dead palsy  
In both his hands, and craves a large collection.  Byp. 
I'll get it him.  Per. 
You shall not get it him.  
Do you provide whips, brands; and ordain death,  
For men that suffer under fire, or shipwreck,  
The loss of all their honest gotten wealth:  
And find relief for Cheaters, Bawds, and Thieves?  
I'll hang ye all.  Byp. 
Mercy great King.  Omnes. 
O mercy.  Byp. 
Let not our ignorance suffer in your wrath,  
Before we understand your highness' Laws,  
We went by custom, and the warrant, which  
We had in your late Predecessors reign;  
But let us know your pleasure, you shall find  
The State and Commonwealth in all obedient,  
To alter Custom, Law, Religion, all,  
To be conformable to your commands.  Per. 
'tis a fair protestation: And my mercy  
Meets your submission. See you merit it  
In your conformity.  Byp. 
Great Sir we shall.  
In sign whereof we lacerate these papers. Letoy, Diana, Joyless, appear above.  
And lay our necks beneath your Kingly feet.  Per. 
Stand up you have our favour.  Dia. 
And mine too?  
Never was such an actor as Extempore!  Ioy. 
You were best to fly out of the window to him.  Dia. 
methinks I am even light enough to do it.  Ioy. 
I could find in my heart to Quoit thee at him.  Dia. 
So he would catch me in his arms I cared not.  Let. 
Peace both of you, or you'll spoil all.  Byp. 
your Grace  
Abounds— abounds— your Grace— I say abounds.  Let. 
Pox o'your mumbling chops; is your brain dry?  
Do you pump?  Dia. 
He has done much my Lord, and may  
Hold out a little.  Let. 
Would you could hold your peace  
So long.  Dia. 
Do you sneap me too my Lord.  Ioy. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Let. 
blockhead.  Ioy. 
I hope his hotter zeal to's actors  
Will drive out my wife's love-heat.  Dia. 
I had  
No need to come hither to be sneap.  Let. 
Heyday! The rest will all be lost, we now give over  
The play, and do all by Extempore,  
For your son's good, to soothe him into's wits.  
If you'll mar all, you may. Come nearer coxcomb,  
ha' you forgotten (puppy) my instructions  
Touching his subjects, and his marriage?  Byp. 
I have all now my Lord.  Per. 
What voice was that?  Byp. 
A voice out of the clouds, that doth applaud  
Your highness welcome to your subjects' loves.  Let. 
So, now he's in. Sit still, I must go down  
And set out things in order. Ex.  Byp. 
A voice that doth inform me of the tidings  
Spread through your kingdom, of your great arrival;  
And of the general joy your people bring  
To celebrate the welcome of their king. Shouts within.  
Hark how the country shouts with joyful votes,  
Rending the air with music of their throats. drum & trumpets  
Hark how the soldier, with his martial noise,  
Threatens your foes, to fill your Crown with joys.  
Hark how the City, with loud harmony, hautboys.  
Chants a free welcome to your majesty.  
Hark how the Court prepares your grace to meet Soft music.  
With solemn music, state and beauty sweet.   

Act 4 Sce. 10.  The soft music playing. Ent. by two and two, divers Courtiers, Martha after them, like a Queen between two boys in robes. Her train borne up by Barbara, all the Lords kneel, and kiss perigrine's hand, Martha approaching, be starts back, but is drawn on by Byplay and the Doctor. Letoy enters and mingles with the rest, and seems to instruct them all. Dia. 
O here's a stately show! look master joyless:  
Your daughter in law presented like a queen  
Unto your son, I warrant now he'll love her.  Ioy. 
A queen?  Dia. 
Yes, yes, and mistress Blaze is made  
The mother of her maids, if she have any:  
Perhaps the Antipodian Court has none.  
See, see, with what a Majesty he receives 'em.  

SONG.  
HEalth, wealth, and joy our wishes bring,  
All in a welcome to our king:  
May no delight be found,  
Wherewith he be not crowned,  
Apollo with the Muses,  
Who Arts divine infuses,  
With their choice girlands deck his head;  
Love and the graces make his bed:  
And to crown all, let Hymen to his side,  
Plant a delicious, chaste, and fruitful Bride.   Byp. 
Now Sir be happy in a marriage choice,  
That shall secure your title of a king.  
See sir, your state presents to you the daughter,  
The only child and heir apparent of  
Our late deposed and deceased Sovereign,  
Who with his dying breath bequeathed her to you.  Per. 
A Crown secures not an unlawful marriage.  
I have a wife already.  Doct. 
No: you had sir,  
But she's deceased.  Per. 
How know you that?  Doct. 
By sure advertisement; and that her fleeting spirit  
Is flown into, and animates this Princess.  Per. 
Indeed she's wondrous like her.  Doct. 
Be not slack  
T'embrace and kiss her Sir. He kisses her and retires.  Mar. 
He kisses sweetly;  
And that is more than ere my husband did.  
But more belongs then kissing to child-getting;  
And he's so like my husband, if you note him,  
That I shall but lose time and wishes by him,  
No, no, I'll none of him.  Bar. 
I'll warrant you he shall fulfil your wishes.  Mar. 
O but try him you first: and then tell me.  Bar. 
There's a new way indeed to chose a husband!  
Yet 'twere a good one to bar fool getting.  Doct. 
Why do you stand aloof Sir?  Per. 
Mandivell writes  
Of people near the Antipodes, called Gadlibriens:  
Where on the wedding-night the husband hires  
Another man to couple with his bride,  
To clear the dangerous passage of a Maidenhead.  Doct. 
'Slid he falls back again to Mandevile madness.  Per. 
She may be of that Serpentine generation,  
That stings oft times to death (as Mandevile writes)  Doct. 
She's no Gadlibrien, Sir, upon my knowledge.  
You may as safely lodge with her, as with  
A maid of our own nation. Besides,  
You shall have ample counsel: for the present,  
Receive her, and entreat her to your Chapel.  Byp. 
For safety of your Kingdom, you must do it. Haughtboies Exit in state as Letoy directs. Manet Letoy.  Let. 
So, so, so, so, this yet may prove a cure.  Dia. 
See my Lord now is acting by himself.  Let. 
And Letoy's wit cried up triumphant hoe.  
Come master joyless and your wife, come down  
Quickly, your parts are next, I had almost  
Forgot to send my chaplain after them.  
You Domine where are you?   

Act. 4. Sce. 11.  Enter quail-pipe in a fantastical shape. Qua. 
Here my Lord.  Let. 
What in that shape?  Chap. 
'tis for my part my Lord,  
Which is not all performed.  Let. 
It is sir, and the Play for this time. We  
Have other work in hand.  Quai. 
Then have you lost  
Action (I dare be bold to speak it) that  
Most of my coat could hardly imitate.  Let. 
Go shift your coat sir, or for expedition,  
Cover it with your own, due to your function.  
follies, as well as vices, may be hid so:  
Your virtue is the same; dispatch, and do  
As Doctor Hughball shall direct you, go.  
Now Master joyless, do you note the progress  
And the fair issue likely to ensue  
In your sons cure? observe the doctor's art.  
First, he has shifted your sons known disease  
Of madness into folly; and has wrought him  
As far short of a competent reason, as  
He was of late beyond it, as a man  
Infected by some foul disease is drawn  
By physic into an Anatomy,  
Before flesh fit for health can grow to rear him,  
So is a madman made a fool, before  
Art can take hold of him to wind him up  
Into his proper Centre, or the Medium  
From which he flew beyond himself. The Doctor  
Assures me now, by what he has collected  
As well from learned authors as his practice,  
That his much troubled and confused brain  
Will by the real knowledge of a woman,  
Now opportunely ta'en, be by degrees  
Settled and rectified, with the helps beside  
Of rest and diet, which he'll administer.   

Act. 4. Sce. 12.  Exit. Qua. Enter Joyless, Diana. Dia. 
But 'tis the real knowledge of the woman  
(Carnal I think you mean) that carries it.  Let. 
Right, right.  Dia. 
Nay right or wrong, I could even wish  
If he were not my husband's son, the Doctor  
Had made myself his Recipe, to be the means  
Of such a Cure.  Ioy. 
How, how?  Dia. 
Perhaps that course might cure your madness too,  
Of jealousy, and set all right on all sides.  
Sure, if I could but make him such a fool,  
He would forgo his madness, and be brought  
To christian Sense again.  Ioy. 
Heaven grant me patience,  
And send us to my Country home again.  Dia. 
Besides, the young man's wife's as mad as he,  
What wise work will they make!  Let. 
The better, fear't not,  
Bab Blaze shall give her Counsel; and the youth  
Will give her royal satisfaction,  
Now, in this Kingly humour, I have a way  
To cure your husband's jealousy myself.  Dia. 
Then I am friends again: Even now I was not  
When you sneaped me my Lord.  Let. 
That you must pardon:  
Come Mr. joyless. The new married pair  
Are towards bed by this time; we'll not trouble them  
But keep a house-side to ourselves. Your lodging  
Is decently appointed.  Ioy. 
Sure your Lordship  
Means not to make your house our prison.  Let. 
By  
My Lordship but I will for this one night.  
See sir, the Keys are in my hand. You're up,  
As I am true Letoy. Consider, Sir,  
The strict necessity that ties you to't,  
As you expect a cure upon your son—  
Come Lady, see your Chamber.  Dia. 
I do wait  
Upon your Lordship.  Ioy. 
I both wait, and watch,  
Never was man so mastered by his match. Ex. omn.    


Act 5. Scene 1.  Joyless: with a light in his hand. Ioy. 
DIana! ho! where are you? she is lost.  
Here is no further passage. All's made fast.  
This was the Bawdy way, by which she scaped  
My narrow watching. Have you privy posterns  
Behind the hangings in your stranger's Chambers?  
She's lost from me, for ever. Why then seek I?  
O my dull eyes, to let her slip so from ye,  
To let her have her lustful will upon me!  
Is this the Hospitality of Lords?  
Why, rather, if he did intend my shame,  
And her dishonour, did he not betray me  
From her out of his house, to travail in  
The bare suspicion of their filthiness;  
But hold me a nose-witness to its rankness?  
No: This is sure the Lordlier way; and makes  
The act more glorious in my sufferings. O—  
May my hot curses on their melting pleasures,  
Cement them so together in their lust,  
That they may never part, but grow one monster.   

Act 5. Scene 2.  Enter Barbara. Bar. 
Good gentleman! he is at his prayers now,  
For his mad sons good nightwork with his bride.  
Well fare your heart Sir; you have prayed to purpose;  
But not all night I hope. Yet sure he has,  
He looks so wild for lack of sleep. You're happy sir.  
Your prayers are heard, no doubt, for I'm persuaded  
You have a child got you tonight.  Ioy. 
Is't gone  
So far do you think?  Bar. 
I cannot say how far.  
Not fathom deep I think. But to the scantling  
Of a Child-getting, I dare well imagine.  
For which, as you have prayed, forget not sir  
To thank the Lord o'th' house.  Ioy. 
For getting me  
A child? why I am none of his great Lordship's tenants,  
Nor of his followers, to keep his Bastards.  
Pray stay a little.  Bar. 
I should go tell my Lord  
The news: he longs to know how things do pass.  Ioy. 
Tell him I take it well; and thank him.  
I did before despair of Children I.  
But I'll go wi'ye, and thank him.  Bar. 
Sure his joy  
Has madded him: Here's more work for the Doctor.  Ioy. 
But tell me first: were you their Bawd that speak this?  Bar. 
What mean you with that Dagger?  Ioy. 
Nothing I,  
But play with't. Did you see the passages  
Of things? I ask, were you their Bawd?  Bar. 
Their Bawd?  
I trust she is no Bawd, that sees, and helps  
(If need require) an ignorant lawful pair  
To do their best.  Ioy. 
Lord's actions all are lawful.  
And how? and how?  Bar. 
These old folks love to hear.  
I'll tell you sir— and yet I will not neither.  Ioy. 
Nay, pray thee out with't.  Bar. 
Sir, they went to bed.  Ioy. 
To bed! well on.  Bar. 
On? they were off sir yet;  
And yet a good while after. They were both  
So simple, that they knew not what, not how.  
For she's sir, a pure maid.  Ioy. 
Who dost thou speak of?  Bar. 
I'll speak no more, less you can look more tamely.  Ioy. 
Go bring me to 'em then. Bawd will you go?  Bar. 
Ah—   

Act 5. Scene 3.  Enter Byplay and holds Joyless. Byp. 
What ail you sir: why Bawd? whose Bawd is she?  Ioy. 
Your Lords Bawd, and my wives.  Byp. 
You are jealous mad.  
Suppose your wife be missing at your Chamber,  
And my Lord too at his, they may be honest:  
If not, what's that to her, or you I pray,  
Here in my Lords own house?  Ioy. 
Brave, brave, and monstrous!  Byp. 
She has not seen them. I heard all your talk.  
The Child she intimated, is your grandchild  
In posse sir, and of your son's begetting.  Bar. 
ay, I'll be sworn I meant, and said so too?  Ioy. 
Where is my wife?  Byp. 
I can give no account,  
If she be with my Lord I dare not trouble 'em.  
Nor must you offer at it: no nor stab yourself. Byp. takes away his dagger.  
But come with me: we counsel, or, at least,  
Govern you better: She may be, perhaps,  
About the Bride-chamber, to hear some sport;  
For you can make her none; 'las good old man.  Ioy. 
I'm most insufferably abused.  Byp. 
Unless  
The killing of yourself may do't; and that  
I would forbear, because perhaps 'twould please her.  Ioy. 
if fire, or water, poison, cord, or steel,  
Or any means be found to do it: I'll do it;  
Not to please her, but rid me of my torment. Ex. Joy, and Byp.  Byp. 
I have more care and charge of you than so.  Bar. 
What an old desperate man is this, to make  
Away yourself for fear of being a Cuckold!  
If every man that is, or that but knows  
Himself to be o'th' order, should do so,  
How many desolate widows would here be,  
They are not all of that mind. Here's my husband.   

Act 5. Scene 4.  Ent. Blaze with a habit in his hand. Bla. 
Bab! art thou here?  Bar. 
Look well. How thinkst thou Tony?  
Hast not thou neither slept tonight?  Bla. 
Yes, yes.  
I lay with the Butler. Who was thy bedfellow?  Bar. 
You know I was appointed to sit up.  Bla. 
Yes, with the Doctor in the Bride-chamber.  
But had you two no waggery? Ha!  Bar. 
Why how now Tony?  Bla. 
Nay facks I am not jealous:  
Thou know'st I was cured long since, and how.  
I jealous! I an ass. A man sha' n't ask  
His wife shortly, how such a gentleman does?  
Or how such a gentleman did? or which did best?  
But she must think him jealous.  Bar. 
You need not: for  
If I were now to die on't, nor the Doctor,  
Nor I came in a bed tonight: I mean  
Within a bed.  Bla. 
Within, or without, or over, or under,  
I have no time to think o' such poor things.  Bar. 
What's that thou carriest Tony?  Bla. 
O ho Bab.  
This is a shape.  Bar. 
A shape? what shape I prithee Tony?  Bla. 
Thou'lt see me in't anon; but shalt not know me  
From the stark'st fool i'th' Town. And I must dance  
Naked in't Bab.  Bar. 
Will here be Dancing Tony?  Bla. 
Yes Bab. My Lord gave order for't last night.  
It should ha' been i'th' Play: But because that  
Was broke off, he will ha''t today.  Bar. 
O Tony.  
I did not see thee act i'th' Play.  Bla. 
O, but  
I did though Bab, two Mutes.  Bar. 
What in those Breeches?  Bla. 
Fie fool, thou understandest not what a Mute is.  
A Mute is a dumb Speaker in the Play.  Bar. 
Dumb Speaker! that's a Bull. Thou wert the Bull  
Then, in the Play. Would I had seen thee roar.  Bla. 
That's a Bull too, as wise as you are Bab.  
A Mute is one that acteth speakingly,  
And yet says nothing. I did two of them.  
The Sage Man-midwife, and the Basketmaker.  Bar. 
Well Tony, I will see thee in this thing.  
And 'tis a pretty thing.  Bla. 
Prithee good Bab,  
Come in, and help me on with't in our Tiring-house.  
And help the Gentlemen, my fellow dancers,  
And thou shalt then see all our things, and all  
Our properties and practice to the Music.  Bar. 
O Tony come, I long to be at that. Exeunt.   

Act. 5. Scene 2.  Letoy, and Diana. Dia. 
My Lord, your strength and violence prevail not.  
There is a Providence above my virtue,  
That guards me from the fury of your lust.  Let. 
Yet, yet, I prithee yield. Is it my person  
That thou despisest? See, here's wealthy treasure, a table set forth, covered with treasure.  
Jewels, that Cleopatra would have left  
Her Marcus for.  Dia. 
My Lord 'tis possible,  
That she who leaves a husband, may be bought  
Out of a second friendship.  Let. 
Had stout Tarquin  
Made such an offer, he had done no Rape,  
For Lucrece had consented, saved her own,  
And all those lives that followed in her cause.  Dia. 
Yet then she had been a loser.  Let. 
Wouldst have gold?  
Mammon, nor Pluto's self should overbid me,  
For I'd give all. First, let me rain a shower,  
To outvie that which overwhelmed Danae;  
And after that another; a full river  
Shall from my chests perpetually flow  
Into thy store.  Dia. 
I have not much loved wealth,  
But have not loathed the sight of it, till now,  
That you have soiled it with that foul opinion  
Of being the price of virtue. Though the Metal  
Be pure, and innocent in itself; such use  
Of it is odious, indeed damnable,  
Both to the seller, and the purchaser:  
Pity it should be so abused. It bears  
A stamp upon't, which but to clip is treason.  
'tis ill used there, where Law the life controls;  
Worse, where 'tis made a salary for souls.  Let. 
Deniest thou wealth? wilt thou have pleasure then  
Given, and ta'en freely, without all condition?  
I'll give thee such, as shall (if not exceed)  
Be at the least, comparative with those,  
Which jupiter got the Demigods with; and  
juno was mad she missed.  Dia. 
My Lord, you may  
Gloze o'er and gild the vice, which you call pleasure,  
With god like attributes; when it is, at best  
A sensuality, so far below  
Dishonourable, that it is mere beastly;  
Which reason ought to abhor; and I detest it,  
More than your former hated offers.  Let. 
Lastly.  
Wilt thou have honour! I'll come closer to thee;  
(For now the Flames of Love grow higher in me,  
And I must perish in them, or enjoy thee)  
Suppose I find by Power, or Law, or both,  
A means to make thee mine, by freeing  
Thee from thy present husband.  Dia. 
Hold, stay there.  
Now should I utter volumes of persuasions;  
Lay the whole world of Riches, pleasures, honours,  
Before me in full grant, that one, last word  
Husband, and from your own mouth spoke, confutes  
And vilifies even all. The very name  
Of husband, rightly weighed, and well remembered,  
Without more Law or discipline, is enough  
To govern womankind in due obedience;  
Master all loose affections, and remove  
Those Idols, which too much, too many love;  
And you have set before me, to beguile  
Me of the faith I owe him. But, remember  
You grant I have a husband; urge no more,  
I seek his love. 'tis fit he loves no whore.  Let. 
This is not yet the way. You have seen Lady,  
My ardent love, which you do seem too slight,  
Though to my death, pretending zeal to your husband.  
My person, nor my proffers are so despicable,  
But that they might (had I not vowed affection  
Entirely to yourself) have met with th'embraces  
Of greater persons, no less fair, that can  
Too, (if they please) put on Formality,  
And talk in as divine a strain, as you.  
This is not earnest, make my word but good,  
Now with a smile, I'll give thee a thousand pound.  
Look o' my face— Come— prithee look and laugh not—  
Yes, laugh, and dar'st— Dimple this cheek a little;  
I'll nip it else.  Dia. 
I pray forbear my Lord:  
I'm past a child, and will be made no wanton.  Let. 
How can this be? so young? so vigorous?  
And so devoted to an old man's bed!  Dia. 
That is already answered. He's my husband.  
You are old too my Lord.  Let. 
Yes, but of better metal:  
A jealous old man too, whose disposition  
Of injury to beauty, and young blood,  
Cannot but kindle fire of just revenge  
In you, if you be woman, to requite  
With your own pleasure his unnatural spite.  
You cannot be worse to him than he thinks you,  
Considering all the open scorns and jeers  
You cast upon him, to a flat defiance;  
Then the affronts I gave, to choke his anger:  
And lastly your stolen absence from his chamber:  
All which confirms (we have as good as told him)  
That he's a Cuckold, yet you trifle time,  
As 'twere not worth the doing.  Dia. 
Are you a Lord?  
Dare you boast honour, and be so ignoble?  
Did not you warrant me upon that pawn  
(Which can take up no money) your blank honour,  
That you would cure his jealousy, which affects him  
Like a sharp sore, if I to ripen it  
Would set that counterfeit face of scorn upon him,  
Only in show of disobedience, which  
You won me to, upon your protestation,  
To render me unstained to his opinion,  
And quit me of his jealousy for ever.  Let. 
No: not unstained by your leave, if you call  
Unchastity a stain. But for his yellows,  
Let me but lie with you, and let him know it,  
His jealousy is gone, all doubts are cleared,  
And for his love and good opinion,  
He shall not dare deny't. Come; be wise,  
And this is all: all is as good as done  
To him already: let't be so with us;  
And trust to me, my power, and your own,  
To make all good with him— If not: Now mark,  
To be revenged for my lost hopes (which yet  
I pray thee save) I'll put thee in his hands,  
Now in his heat of fury; and not spare  
To boast thou art my Prostitute; and thrust ye  
Out of my gates, to try't out by yourselves.  Dia. 
this you may do, and yet be still a Lord;  
This can I bear, and still be the same woman!  
I am not troubled now, your wooing oratory,  
Your violent hands (made stronger by your lust)  
Your tempting gifts, and larger promises  
Of honour and advancements were all frivolous;  
But this last way of threats, ridiculous,  
To a safe mind, that bears no guilty grudge:  
My peace dwells here, while yonder sits my judge.  
And in that faith I'll die.   

Act. 5. Sce.  Ent, Joyless and Byplay. Let. 
She is invincible!  
Come I'll relate you to your husband.  Ioy. 
No,  
I'll meet her with more joy than I received  
Upon our marriage-day. My better soul.  
Let me again embrace thee.  Byp. 
Take your dudgeon Sir,  
I ha' done you simple service.  Ioy. 
O my Lord,  
My Lord, you have cured my jealousy, I thank you;  
And more, your man for the discovery;  
But most the constant means, my virtuous wife,  
Your medicine my sweet Lord.  Let. 
she has ta'en all  
I mean to give her sir Now sirrah, speak.  Byp. 
I brought you to the stand from whence you saw  
How the game went.  Ioy. 
Oh my dear, dear Diana.  Byp. 
I seemed to do it against my will, by which I gained  
Your bribe of twenty pieces.  Ioy. 
Much good do thee.  Byp. 
But I assure you, my Lord give me order,  
To place you there, after it seems he had  
Well put her to't within.  Ioy. 
Stay, stay, stay, stay;  
Why may not this be then a counterfeit action,  
Or a false mist to blind me with more error?  
The ill I feared may have been done before,  
And all this but deceit to daub it o'er.  Dia. 
Do you fall back again?  Ioy. 
Shugh, give me leave.  Byp. 
I must take charge I see o'th' dagger again.  Let. 
Come joyless, I have pity on thee; Hear me.  
I swear upon mine honour she is chaste.  Ioy. 
Honour! in oath of glass!  Let. 
I prithee Hear me.  
I tried and tempted her for mine own ends,  
More than for thine.  Ioy. 
That's easily believed.  Let. 
And had she yielded, I not only had  
Rejected her (for it was ne'er my purpose,  
(Heaven I call thee to witness) to commit  
A sin with her) but laid a punishment  
Upon her, greater than thou couldst inflict.  Ioy. 
But how can this appear?  Let. 
Do you know your father Lady?  Dia. 
I hope I am so wise a child.  Let. 
Go call  
In my friend Truelocke,  Byp. 
Take your dagger Sir,  
Now I dare trust you.  Let. 
Sirrah, dare you fool.  
When I am serious? send in master Truelocke. Exit Byp.  Dia. 
That is my father's name.  Ioy, 
Can he be here?  Let. 
Sir, I am neither conjurer nor witch,  
But a great Fortune-teller, that you'll find,  
You are happy in a wife sir, happier— yes  
Happier by a hundred thousand pound,  
Than you were yesterday—  Ioy. 
So, so, now he's mad.  Let. 
I mean in possibilities: provided that  
You use her well, and never more be jealous.  Ioy. 
Must it come that way.  Let. 
Look you this way sir,  
When I speak to you, I'll cross your fortune else,  
As I am true Letoy.  Ioy. 
Mad, mad, he's mad,  
Would we were quickly out on's fingers yet.  Let. 
When saw you your wife's father? answer me?  Ioy. 
He came for London four days before us.   

Act. 5. Sc. 6.  Let. 
'tis possible he's here then, do you know him  Dia. 
O I am happy in his sight. Dear sir. Enter Truelocke. she kneels.  Let. 
'tis but so much knee-labour lost, stand up,  
Stand up, and mind me.  True. 
You are well met, son joyless.  Ioy. 
How have you been concealed, and this house?  
Here's mystery in this.  Tru. 
My good Lords pleasure.  Let. 
know sir, that I sent for him, and for you,  
instructing your friend Blaze my instrument,  
To draw you to my Doctor with your son,  
Your wife I knew must follow, what my end  
Was in't shall quickly be discovered to you,  
In a few words, of your supposed father.  Dia. 
Supposed father!  Let. 
Yes, come master Truelocke,  
My constant friend of thirty years' acquaintance,  
Freely declare with your best knowledge now,  
Whose child this is.  Tru. 
Your honour does as freely  
Release me of my vow, then in the secret  
I locked up in this breast these seventeen years  
Since she was three days old.  Let. 
True, master Truelocke,  
I do release you of your vow: Now speak.  Tru. 
Now she is yours my Lord; your only daughter,  
And know you master joyless, for some reason  
Known to my Lord; and large reward to me,  
She has been from the third day of her life  
Reputed mine; and that so covertly,  
That not her Lady mother, nor my wife  
Knew to their deaths, the change of my dead infant,  
Nor this sweet Lady. 'tis most true we had  
A trusty Nurse's help and secrecy,  
Well paid for, in the carriage of our plot.  Let. 
Now shall you know what moved me sir. I was  
A thing beyond a madman, like yourself,  
Jealous; and had that strong distrust, and fancied  
Such proofs unto myself against my wife,  
That I conceived the child was not mine own,  
And scorned to father it; yet I gave to breed her  
And marry her as the daughter of this gentleman  
(Two thousand pound I guess you had with her)  
But since your match, my wife upon her deathbed,  
So cleared herself of all my foul suspicions,  
(Blessed be her memory) that I then resolved  
By some quaint way (for I am still Letoy)  
To see and try her throughly; and so much  
To make her mine, as I should find her worthy.  
And now thou art my daughter, and mine heir.  
Provided still (for I am still Letoy)  
You honourably love her, and defy  
The Cuckold-making fiend foul jealousy.  Joy. 
My Lord, 'tis not her birth and fortune, which  
Do jointly claim a privilege to live  
Above my reach of jealousy, shall restrain  
That passion in me, but her well tried virtue:  
in the true faith of which I am confirmed,  
And throughly cured.  Let. 
As I am true Letoy  
Well said. I hope thy son is cured by this too.  
Now Mistress Blaze! here is a woman now!  
I cured her husband's jealousy, and twenty more  
i'th' Town, by means I and my Doctor wrought.   

Acts 5. Sce. 7.  Enter Barbara. Bar. 
Truly my Lord, my husband has ta'en bread  
And drunk upon't, that under heaven he thinks,  
You were the means to make me an honest woman,  
Or (at the least) him a contented man.  Let. 
Ha done, ha' done.  Bar. 
Yes, I believe you have done  
And if your husband, Lady, be cured, as he should be;  
And as all foolish jealous husbands ought to be,  
I know what was done first, if my Lord took  
That course with you as me—  Let. 
Prithee what cam'st thou for?  Bar. 
My Lord to tell you, (As the Doctor tells me)  
The Bride and Bridegroom, Both, are coming on,  
The sweetliest to their wits again.  Let. 
I told you.  Bar. 
Now you are a happy man sir; and I hope a quiet man.  Ioy. 
Full of content and joy.  Bar. 
Content! So was my husband, when he knew  
The worst he could by his wife. Now you'll live quiet Lady.  Let. 
Why fliest thou off, thus woman, from the subject  
Thou wert upon?  Bar. 
I beg your honour's pardon.  
And now I'll tell you. Be it by skill or chance,  
Or both, was never such a Cure, as is  
Upon that couple: now they strive which most  
Shall love the other.  Let. 
Are they up, and ready?  Bar. 
Up! up, and ready to lie down again:  
There is no ho with them;  
They have been in th' Antipodes to some purpose;  
And, now, are risen, and returned themselves:  
he's her dear Per, and she is his sweet Mat.  
His Kingship and her Queenship are forgotten.  
And all their melancholy and his Travails past,  
And but supposed their dreams.  Let. 
'tis excellent.  Bar. 
Now sir, the Doctor, (for he is become  
An utter stranger to your son; and so  
Are all about 'em) craves your presence,  
And such as he's acquainted with.  Let. 
Go sir.  
And go you daughter.  Bar. 
Daughter! that's the true trick of all old whoremasters, to call their wenches daughters.  Let. 
Has he known you friend Trulock too?  Tru. 
Yes from his childhood.  Let 
Go, then, and possess him (Now, he is sensible) how things have gone; what Art, what means, what friends have been employed in his rare cure; and win him, by degrees, to Sense of where he is; bring him to me; and I have yet an entertainment for him, Of better Settle-brain, than Drunkard's porridge, To set him right. As I am true Letoy, I have one Toy left. Go, and go you, why stay'st thou? Exe. Ioy.  Bar. 
If I had been a Gentlewoman borne,  
I should have been your daughter too my Lord.  Let. 
But never as she is.  
You'll know anon.  Bar. 
Neat city-wives flesh, yet may be as good,  
As your course country gentlewoman's blood. Exit Bar.  Let. 
Go with thy flesh to Turn-bull shambles? Hoe  
Within there.   

Act. 5. Sce. 8.  Ent. quail-pipe. Qua. 
Here my Lord.  Let. 
The music, songs,  
And dance I gave command for, are they ready?  Qua. 
All my good Lord: and (in good sooth) I cannot enough applaud your honours quaint conceit in the design; so apt, so regular, so pregnant, so acute, and so (withal) poetice legitimate, as I may say justly with Plautus—  Let. 
Prithee say no more, but see upon my signal given, they act as well as I designed.  Qua. 
Nay not so well my exact Lord, but as they may, they shall. Exit.  Let. 
I know no flatterer in my house but this,  
But for his custom I must bear with him.  
'Sprecious they come already. Now begin.   

Act 5. Sce. 9.  A solemn lesson upon the Recorders. Ent. Truelocke, Joyless and Diana, Peregrine and Martha, Doctor, and Barbara, Letoy meets them. Truelocke presents Peregrine and Martha to him, he salutes them. They seem to make some short discourse. Then Letoy appoints them to sit Peregrine seems something amazed. The Music ceases. Let. 
Again you are welcome sir and welcome all.  Per. 
I am what you are pleased to make me; but withal, so ignorant of mine own condition; whether I sleep, or wake, or talk, or dream; whether I be, or be not; or if I am, whether I do, or do not any thing: for I have had (if I now wake) such dreams, and been so far transported in a long and tedious voyage of sleep, that I may fear my manners can acquire no welcome, where men understand themselves.  Let. 
This is Music, Sir, you are welcome; and I give full power Unto your father, and my daughter here, your mother to make you welcome. Joyless whispers Peregrine.  Per. 
How! your daughter sir?  Doct. 
My Lord you'll put him back again, if you trouble his brain with new discoveries.  Let. 
Fetch him you on again then: pray are you Letoy or I?  Ioy. 
Indeed it is so son.  Doct. 
I fear your show will but perplex him too.  Let. 
I care not sir, I'll have it to delay your cure a while, that he recover soundly. Come sit again, again you are most welcome.   

Act 5. Sce. 10.  A most untunable flourish. Ent. Discord attended by Folly, jealousy, Melancholy and madness. 
There's an unwelcome guest; uncivil Discord that trains into my house her followers, Folly, and Jealousy, Melancholy, and madness.  Bar. 
My husband presents jealousy in the black and yellow jaundiced suit there, half like man, and t'other half like woman with one horn, and ass-ear upon his head.  Let. 
Peace woman, mark what they do: but but by the way, conceive me this, but show sir, and devise.  Per. 
I think so.  Let. 
How goes he back again, now doctor? sheugh.  

Discord. Song in untunable notes.  
COme forth my darlings, you that breed  
The common strifes that discord feed:  
Come in the first place, my dear folly;  
jealousy next, then Melancholy.  
And last come Madness, thou art he  
That Bear'st th' effects of all those three,  
Lend me your aids, so discord shake you crown,  
And make this place a kingdom of our own.    

Act 5. Scene 11.  They dance. After a while they are broke off by a flourish, and the approach of Harmony followed by Mercury, Cupid, Bacchus and Apollo. Discord and her faction fall down. Let. 
See Harmony approaches, leading on,  
'gainst Discords factions fear great deities;  
Mercury, Cupid, Bacchus, and Apollo.  
Wit against Folly, Love against Jealousy,  
Wine against Melancholy, and 'gainst Madness, Health.  
Observe the matter and the Method.  Per. 
Yes.  Let. 
And how upon the approach of Harmony,  
Discord and her disorders are confounded.  

Harmony. Song.  
COme Wit, come Love, come Wine, come Health,  
Maintainers of my Commonwealth,  
'tis you make Harmony complete,  
And from the Spheres (her proper seat)  
You give her power to reign on earth,  
Where Discord claims a right by birth.  
Then let us revel it while we are here,  
And keep possession of this Hemisphere.   After a strain or two, Discord cheers up her faction. They all rise, and mingle in the dance with Harmony and the rest. Dance. Let. 
Note there how Discord cheers up her disorders,  
To mingle in defiance with the Virtues:  
But soon they vanish; and the mansion quit Ex Discord.  
Unto the Gods of health, love, wine and wit,  
Who triumph in their habitation new,  
Which they have taken, and assign to you;  
In which they now salute you— Bids you be Salute Exe.  
Of cheer; and for it, lays the charge on me.  
And unto me you're welcome, welcome all.  
Meat, wine, and mirth shall flow, and what I see,  
Yet wanting in your cure, supplied shall be.  Per. 
Indeed I find me well.  Mar. 
And so shall I,  
After a few such nights more.  Bar. 
Are you there?  
Good Madam, pardon errors of my tongue.  Dia. 
I am too happy made to think of wrong.  Let. 
We will want nothing for you that may please,  
Though we dive for it toth' Antipodes.    

The Epilogue.  Doct. 
WHether my cure be perfect yet or no,  
It lies not in my doctorship to know.  
Your approbation may more raise the man,  
Than all the College of physicians can;  
And more health from your fair hands may be won,  
Then by the streakings of the seventh son.  Per. 
And from our Travails in th' Antipodes.  
We are not yet arrived from off the Seas:  
But on the waves of desperate fears we roam  
Until your gentler hands do waft us home.   

Courteous Reader,  
You shall find in this Book more than was presented upon the Stage, and left out of the Presentation, for superfluous length (as some of the Players pretended) I thought good all should be inserted according to the allowed Original; and as it was, at first, intended for the Cockpit Stage, in the right of my most deserving Friend Mr. William Beeston, unto whom it properly appertained; and so I leave it to thy perusal, as it was generally applauded, and well acted at Salisbury Court.  
Farewell, Ri. Brome.  
FINIS.