Jack Drums Entertainment: OR THE comedy Of Pasquill and Katherine. As it hath been sundry times played by the Children of Paul's.  
AT LONDON Printed for Richard Olive, dwelling in Long Lane. 1601.   
❧ JOHN drum's Entertainment, or the Comedy of Pasquill and Katherine.  

The Introduction.  Enter the Tyer-man. 
IN good faith Gentlemen, I think we shall be forced to give you right john Drums entertainment, for he that composed the Book, we should present, hath done us very vehement wrong, he hath snatched it from us, upon the very instance of entrance, and with violence keeps the boys from coming on the Stage. So God help me, if we wrong your delights, 'tis infinitely against our endeavours, unless we should make a tumult in the Tiring-house.  Exit Tyer-man. Enter one of the Children. 
You much mistake his Action tire-man,  
His violence proceeds not from a mind  
That grudgeth pleasure to this generous presence,  
But doth protest all due respect and love  
Unto this choice selected influence.  
He vows, if he could draw the music from the Spheres  
To entertain this presence with delight,  
Or could distill the quintessence of heaven  
In rare composed Scenes, and sprinkle them  
Among your ears, his industry should sweat  
To sweeten your delights: but he was loath,  
Wanting a Prologue, & ourselves not perfect,  
To rush upon your eyes without respect:  
Yet if you'll pardon his defects and ours,  
he'll give us passage, & you pleasing scenes,  
And vows not to torment your listening ears  
With mouldy fopperies of stale Poetry,  
Unpossible dry musty Fictions:  
And for our parts to gratify your favour,  
we'll study till our cheeks look wan with care,  
That you our pleasures, we your loves may share.  Exit.  

ACTVS PRIMVS.  Enter Jack Drum, and Timothy Twedle, with a Taber and a Pipe. Drum. 
Come Timothy Twedle, tickle thy Pipe on the green, as I have tippled the Pot in the Seller, and the hoy for the honour of Highgate, you old Trojan.  Twedle. 
And a heigh for the honour of Highgate, Hem, by my halidom, though I say it, that should not say it, I think I am as perfect in my Pipe, as Officers in poling, Courtiers in flattery, or wenches in falling: Why look you Jack Drum, 'tis even as natural to me, as bawdry to a sumner, knavery to a Promoter, or damnation to an Usurer. But is Holloway Morice prancing up the hill?  Drum. 
ay, I; and Sir Edward, and the yellow toothed, sunk-eyed, gouty shanked Usurer Maman, my young Mistresses and all are coming to the green, lay Cushions, lay the Cushions, ha the wenches!  Twed. 
The wenches, ha, when I was a young man and could tickle the Minikin, and made them cry thanks sweet Timothy, I had the best stroke, the sweetest touch, but now (I may sigh to say it) I am fallen from the Fiddle and betook me to thee.  He plays on his Pipe. Enter Sir Edward Fortune, M. Mamon, Camelia, Katherine, and Winifride, Camelia's maid. Sir Ed. 
Sit M. Mammon, ha here's a goodly day nigh.  Mam. 
I thank you Sir, and faith what news at court?  Sir Ed. 
What news at court? ha, ha, now jesu God,  
Fetch me some Bordeaux wine, what news at court?  
Reprobate fashion, when each ragged clout,  
Each cobblers spawn, and yeasty bousing bench,  
Reeks in the face of sacred majesty  
His stinking breath of censure, Out-upont,  He drinks. 
Why by this Bordeaux juice, 'tis now become  
The shewing-horn of bezzlers' discourse,  
The common food of prate: what news at court?  
But in these stiff necked times when every jade  
Huffs his upreared crest, the zealous bent  
Of Councillors solid cares is trampled on  
By every hackneys heels: Oh I could burst  
At the conjectures fears, preventions  
And restless tumbling of our tossed brains:  
Ye shall have me an empty cask that's furred  
With nought but barmy froth, that near traveled  
Beyond the confines of his Mistress lips,  
Discourse as confident of peace with Spain,  
As if the Genius of quick Machiavel  
ushered his speech.  Mam. 
Oh forbear, you are too sharp with me.  S. Ed. 
Nay M. Mammon, misinterpret not,  
I only burn the bavin heath of youth,  
That cannot court the presence of fair time  
With aught but with, what news at Court sweet sir?  
I had rather that Kemp's Morris were their chat,  
For of foolish actions, may be they'll talk wisely, but of  
Wise intendments, most part talk like fools.  
The sum is this, bear only this good thought,  
The Counsel-chamber is the Phoenix nest,  
Who wastes itself, to give us peace and rest.  The Taber and Pipe strike up a morris. A shout within. A Lord, a Lord, a Lord, who! Ed. 
Oh a Morris is come, observe our country sport,  
'tis Whitsuntide, and we must frolic it.  Enter the morris. 

The Song.  
Skip it, & trip it, nimbly, nimbly, tickle it, tickle it, lustily,  
Strike up the Taber, for the wench's favour, tickle it, tickle it, lustily:  
Let us be seen, on Highgate Green, to dance for the honour of Holloway.  
Since we are come hither, let's spare for no leather,  
To dance for the honour of Holloway.   Ed. 
Well said my boys, I must have my Lords livery, what be't, a Maypole? troth 'twere a good body for a courtier's imprezza, if it had but this life, Frustra florescit. Hold Cousin hold.  He gives the Fool money. Foole. 
Thanks Cousin, when the Lord my Father's Audit comes, we'll repay you again. Your benevolence too sir.  Mam. 
What a lord's son become a beggar?  Foole. 
Why not, when beggars are become Lords sons, come 'tis but a small trifle.  Mam. 
Oh sir, many a small make a great.  Foole. 
No sir, a few great make a many small, come my Lords, poor and need hath no law.  S. Ed. 
Nor necessity no right, Drum down with them into the Cellar, rest content, rest content, one bout more and then away.  Foole. 
Speak like a true heart, I kiss thy foot sweet knight.  The Morris sing and dance, and Exeunt. Ma. 
Sir Edward Fortune you keep too great a house,  
I am your friend, in hope your son in law,  
And from my love I speak, you keep too great a house,  
Go too you do, yond same dry throated husks  
Will suck you up, and you are ignorant  
What frosty fortunes may benumb your age,  
Poverty, the PRINCE's frown, a civil war, or.  S. Ed. 
Or what? tush, tush, your life hath lost his taste,  
Oh madness still to sweat in hot pursuit  
Of cold abhorred sluttish niggardize,  
To exile one's fortunes from their native use,  
To entertain a present poverty,  
A willing want, for Infidel mistrust  
Of gracious providence: Oh Lunacy,  
I have two thousand pound a year, and but two Girls,  
I owe nothing, live in all men's love,  
Why should I now go make myself a slave  
Unto the god of fools; put worst: then here's my rest.  
I had rather live rich to die poor, then live poor to die rich.  Mam. 
Oh but so great a mass of coin might mount from wholesome thrift, that after your decease your issue might swell out your name with pomp.  S. Ed. 
Ha, I was not borne to be my Cradle's drudge,  
To choke and stifle up my pleasure's breath,  
To poison with the venomed cares of thrift  
My private sweet of life: only to scrape  
A heap of muck, to fatten and manure  
The barren virtues of my progeny,  
And make them sprout, spite of their want of worth:  
No, I do love my Girls should wish me live,  
Which few do wish that have a greedy Sire:  
But still expect and gape with hungry lip,  
When he'll give up his gouty stewardship.  Mam. 
You touch the quick of sense, but then I wonder  
You not aspire unto the eminence  
And height of pleasing life: to Court, to Court,  
There burnish, there spread, there stick in pomp  
Like a bright Diamond in a Lady's brow,  
There plant your fortunes in the flowering spring,  
And get the sun before you of respect:  
There trench yourself within the people's love,  
And glitter in the eye of glorious grace,  
What's wealth without respect and mounted place?  S. Ed. 
Worse and worse, I am not yet distraught,  
I long not to be squeezed with mine own weight:  
Nor hoist up all my sails to catch the wind  
Of the drunk reeling Commons: I labour not  
To have an awful presence, nor be feared  
(Since who is feared, still fears to be so feared)  
I care not to be like the Horeb Calf,  
One day adored, and next pashed all in pieces:  
Nor do I envy Poliphemiam puffs,  
Swissers' slopped greatness: I adore the Sun,  
Yet love to live within a temperate zone,  
Let who will climb ambitious glibery rounds,  
And lean upon the vulgars' rotten love,  
I'll not corrival him: The Sun will give  
As great a shadow to my trunk as his:  
And after death like chessmen having stood  
In play for Bishops, some for Knights, and Pawns,  
We all together shall be tumbled up, into one bag,  
Let hushed calm quiet, rock my life asleep:  
And being dead, my own ground press my bones,  
Whilst some old Beldame hobbling o'er my grave,  
May mumble thus: Here lies a knight whose money  
Was his slave. Now jack what news?  Enter jack Drum. Drum. 
And please your Wor. the Morris have ta'en their liquour.  Sir Ed. 
Hath not the liquour ta'en them?  Drum. 
tripped up their heels or so? one of them hath undertaken to dance the Morris from Highgate to Holloway on his heels, with his hands upwards.  S. Ed. 
That's nothing hard.  Drum. 
Yes sir, 'tis easier for him to dance on his head than his heels, for indeed his heels are turned rank rebels, they will not obey, but they are tumbling down the hill apace.  Ma. 
And I must after then, farewell my soul's delight,  
Sweet Katherine adieu. Camelia good-night.  S. Ed. 
Nay not to London Sir tonight, i'faith at least stay supper.  Drum. 
Hark you sir, there's but two Lambs, a dozen Capons, half a score couple of rabbits, three Tarts, and four Tansies, for supper, and therefore I beseech you give him Jack Drums entertainment: Let the jebusite depart in peace.  Sir Ed. 
Why Jack, is not that sufficient?  Drum. 
I for any Christian, but for a yawning usurer 'tis but a bit, a morsel, if you table him, he'll devour your whole Lordship, he is a quicksand, a Goodwin, a Gulf, as hungry as the jaws of a jail, he will waste more substance than Ireland soldiers: A Die, a Drab, and a paunch-swollen Usurer, devour whole Monarchies: Let him pass sweet knight, let him pass.  Sir Ed. 
Peace knave peace.  
Daughter, lay your express commandment upon the stay of master Mammon, what 'tis women's year,  
Dian doth rule, and you must domineer.  Mam. 
No she'll not wish my stay, oh I am cursed  
With her inexorable swiftness, by her love  
Which dotes me more than new coined glowing gold,  
The utmost bent of my affection  
Shoots all my fortunes to obtain her love,  
And yet I cannot praise, but still am loathed.  
My presence hated, therefore Mammon down,  
Farewell sir Edward, farewell beauty's Crown.  Sir Ed. 
Faith as it please you for going, and her for wooing,  
I will enforce neither.  Kath. 
With your pardon sir, I shall sooner hate myself,  
Then love him.  Sir Ed. 
Nay be free my daughters in election,  
Oh, how my soul abhors enforced yokes,  
Chiefly in love, where the affections bent:  
Should wholly sway the Father's kind consent.  
fore-god when I was bachelor, had a friend,  
Nay had my Father wished me to a wife,  
That might have liked me, yet their very wish  
Made me mistrust my Love had not true course,  
But had some sway from duty which might hold  
For some slight space: but o when time shall search  
The strength of love, than virtue, and your eye,  
Must knit his sinews: I choosed myself a wife  
Poor, but of good dissent, and we did live  
Till death divorced us, as a man would wish:  
I made a woman, now wenches make a man:  
Choose one either of valour, wit, honesty, or wealth,  
So he be gentle, and you have my heart,  
i'faith you have: What, I have land for you both,  
You have love for yourselves. here's M. Mammon now.  Drum. 
A club-fisted Usurer.  Sir. Ed. 
A wealthy, careful, thriving Citizen.  Mam. 
Careful, ay, ay, let nothing without good black and white, I warrant you.  Drum. 
Yes sir.  Mam. 
No sir.  Drum. 
A little back wind, saving your wor. sir.  Mam. 
I am scoffed at, where's my man there ho?  Came. 
Sir you need not take the pepper in the nose,  
Your nose is fiery enough.  Mam. 
What Flawne, what Christopher, Heart where's the knave become? Hold sirrah carry my cloak.  Enter Flawne. Kathe. 
It seems he can scarce carry himself.  Drum. 
he's over the shoes, yet he'll hold out water, for I have liquored him soundly.  Mam. 
Why cannot you come where heady liquore is, but you must needs bouze?  
What a man may lead a horse to the water, but he'll choose to drink.  Flawn. 
True, but I am no horse, for I cannot choose but drink.  Mam. 
A pale weak stripling, yet contend with Ale.  Flawne. 
Why the weakest go to the Pot still.  Mam. 
That jest shall save him. Sir Edward now good day.  Exit. Sir Ed. 
Nay sir, we'll bring you a little of the way.  Drum. 
Rely on me Christopher, I will be thy staff,  
And thy Master's nose shallbe thy lantern & candlelight  Exeunt all. Manent Camelia and Winifride. Wini. 
Mistress Camelia, methinks your eye  
Sparkles not spirit as 'twas wont to do.  Came. 
My mind is dull, and yet my thoughts are fixed  
Upon a pleasing object, Brabant's love.  Wini. 
Indeed young Brabant is a proper man,  
And yet his legs are somewhat of the least:  
And faith a chitty well complexioned face,  
And yet it wants a beard: A good sweet youth,  
And yet some say he hath a valiant breath,  
Of a good hair, but oh, his eyes, his eyes.  Came. 
Last day thy praise extolled him to the skies.  Wi. 
Indeed he wears good clothes, & throws his cloak  
With good discretion under his left arm,  
He curls his boot with judgement, and takes a whiff  
With graceful fashion, swears a valorous oath,  
But o the devil, hath a hateful fault, he is a younger brother.  Came. 
A younger brother? o intolerable.  Wini. 
No Mistress, no: but there's M. john,  
M. john Ellis, there's a Lad i'faith,  
Ha for a virtuous honest good youth!  Came. 
Tut he is good, because he knows not how to be bad,  
Nor wherefore he is good.  Wini. 
I know not, methinks not to be bad, is good enough in these days.  Came. 
Nay he is a fool, a perfect Idiot.  Win. 
Why all the better. And I'll tell you this,  
The greatest Lady in the Land affects him,  
Nay dotes upon him, ay, and lies with him.  Ca. 
What Lady, good sweet Winifrid, what Lady say? Faith there be some good parts about the fool, which I perceive not, yet another may: what Lady, good sweet Winifrid? say quick good wench.  Winif. 
The Lady Fortune.  Camel. 
Why my name's Fortune too.  Winif. 
Then you must needs favour him,  
For Fortune favours fools.  Camel. 
Oh but to hug a fool is odious.  Winif. 
Foul water quencheth fire well enough,  
And with more lively pallor, you shall taste  
The juice of pleasure's fount at private times:  
Pish, by my maidenhead, were I to match,  
I would elect a wealthy fool fore all,  
Then may one hurry in her Chariot,  
Shine in rich purpled Tissue, have hundred loves,  
Rule all, pay all, take all, without check or snib.  
When being married to a wise man (O the Lord)  
You are made a fool, a Ward, curbed and controlled, and (O) out upon't.  Came. 
Believe me wench, thy words have fired me,  
I'll lay me down upon a bank of Pinks,  
And dream upon't; Sweet fool, I 'tis most clear,  
A foolish bed-mate, why he hath no peer.  Exit Camelia. Winif. 
Ha, ha, her love is as uncertain as an Almanac, as unconstant as the fashion, Just like a whiff of Tobacco, no sooner in at the mouth, but out at the nose: I think in my heart I could make her enamoured on Timothy Twedle: well he that fees me best, speeds best. For as it pleased my bribed lips to blow, So turns her feathery fancy to and fro.  Exit. Enter Brabant junior at one door, Ned Planet at the other. Bra. 
Good speed thee my good sweet Planet,  
How dost thou Chuck?  Pla. 
How now Brabant, where have you lived these three or four days?  Bra. 
Ho at the glittering Court my Pytheas.  Pla. 
Plague on ye Pytheas, what have you done there?  Bra. 
Why lane in my Lady's lap, eat, drink, & sleep.  Pla. 
So hath thy Lady's Dog done, what art in love  
With you Highgate Mammer still?  Bra. 
Still, I still, and still, I in eternity.  Plan. 
It shall be Chronicled next after the death of Banks his Horse, I wonder why thou lov'st her?  Bra. 
Love hath no reason.  Pla. 
Then is love a beast.  Bra. 
O my Camelia is love itself.  Pla. 
The devil she is: Heart her lips look like a dried Neats-tongue: her face as richly yellow, as the skin of a cold Custard, and her mind as settled as the feet of bald pated time.  Bra. 
Plague on your hateful humour, out upon't,  
Why should your stomach be so queasy now,  
As to bespawl the pleasures of the world?  
Why should you run an Idle counter-course  
Thwart to the path of fashion? Come your reason?  
O you are buried in Philosophy,  
And there entombed in supernaturals,  
You are dead to native pleasures life.  Pla. 
Let me buss thy cheek sweet Pug, Now I am perfect hate, I loved but three things in the world, Philosophy, Thrift, and myself. Thou hast made me hate Philosophy. A usurers greasy Codpiece made me loath Thrift: but if all the brewer's jades in the town can drug me from love of myself, they shall do more than e'er the seven wise men of Greece could: Come, come, now I'll be as sociable as Timon of Athens.  Bra. 
Along with me then, you droning sackbut,  
I'll bring thee to a Crew.  Pla. 
Of Fools wilt not?  Bra. 
Faith if you have any weight of judgement, you may easily sound what depth of wits they draw, there's first my elder brother.  Pla. 
Oh the Prince of Fools, unequalled Idiot,  
He that makes costly suppers to try wits:  
And will not stick to spend some 20. pound  
To grope a gull: that same perpetual grin  
That leads his Corky jests to make them sink  
Into the ears of his deriders with his own applause.  Bra. 
Indeed his jests are like Indian beef, they will not last, and yet he powders them soundly with his own laughter.  
Then there's the Gothish Frenchman, monsieur john fo de King, know'st thou him?  Pla. 
Oh, I to a hair, for I knew him when he had never a hair on his head.  Bra. 
He is a faithful pure Rogue.  Pla. 
ay, ay, as pure as the gold that hath been seven times tried in the fire.  Bra. 
Then there's john Ellis, and profound tongued Master Puff, he that hath a perpetuity of complement, he whose phrases are as neatly decked as my Lord majors Hensmen, he whose throat squeaks like a treble Organ, and speaks as small and shrill, as the irishmen cry Pip, fine Pip.  
And when his period comes not roundly off, takes toll of the tenth hair of his Bourbon lock: as thus. Sweet Sir, repute me as a (Puff) selected spirit borne to be the admirer, of your never enough admired (Puff).  Pla. 
Oh we shall be overwhelmed with an inundation of laughter. Come, where are they?  Bra. 
Here at this Tavern.  Pla. 
In, in, in, in, I long to burst my sides and tire my spleen with laughter.  Exeunt. Enter two Pages, the one laughing, the other crying. Page. 1. 
Why dost thou cry?  2. 
Why dost thou laugh?  1. 
I laugh to see thee cry.  2. 
And I cry to see thee laugh.  
Peace be to us. Here's our Masters.  Enter Brabant signor, Planet, Brabant junior, john Ellis, M. Puff, and monsieur john fo de King. Bra. Sig. 
You shall see his humour, I pray you be familiar with this Gentleman master Puff, he is a man of a well grown spirit, richly worth your. I assure you, ha, ha, ha.  Puff. 
Sir I enrol you in the Legend of my (Puff) intimates, I shall be infinitely proud if you will deign to value me worthy the embracement of your (Puff) better affection.  Pla. 
Speak you from your thought sir?  puff. 
ay, or would my silk stock should lose his gloss else, I shall triumph as much in the purchase of your (Puff) love, as if I had obtained the great elixir: Let us incorporate our affections I pray you: let me be forward in your favour.  Pla. 
Sir, I pray you let me beg you for a Fool.  Puff. 
I affect no rudeness gentlemen, the heavens stand  
Propitious to your fair designs:  
assoon as next the sun shall 'gin to shine,  
I will salute the eyes of Katherine.  Bra. Sig. 
Of Katherine, M. Planet observe the next,  
M. john, what makes you so melancholy?  Ellis. 
I do not use to answer questions.  Bra. Iu. 
What are you thinking on now?  El. 
I do not use to think.  Bra. Sig. 
He looks as demurely as if he were asking his Father blessing.  El. 
I do not use to ask my Father blessing.  Bra. Iu. 
Heart, how chance he is out of his similes?  Pla. 
I have followed Ordinaries this twelvemonth, only to find a Fool that had lands, or a fellow that would talk treason, that I might beg him. john, be my Ward john, faith I'll give thee two coats a year and be my Fool.  Bra. Sig. 
He shall be your Fool, and you shall be his  
coxcomb. Ha, ha, I have a simple wit, ha, ha.  Pla. 
I shall crow o'er him then.  Enter Winifride. Wini. 
Is there not one M. john Ellis here?  Page. 
There sits the thing so called.  Winifride and Ellis talk. Br. Sig. 
Now to the last course: Monsieur john fo de King,  
I will help you to a wench monsieur.  Moun. 
No point, a burn child fear de fire.  Ellis. 
As a hungry dog waiteth for a mutton bone, or as a tattered footboy for a cast suit, even so will I attend on my Mistress.  Enter Winifride. Moun. 
O my Vinifride, pray you awe, by gour, me ang de for her.  Bra. Sig. 
Nay stay, stay, I will help you to a delicate plump-lipped wench.  Moun. 
Toh, phi, phi, your proffer ware stink: stay Vinifride; or by gour die, me die, me die by gour, me ang so desirous adieu goot Sir.  Bra. Sig. 
Oh stay monsieur, how do you pronounce Demurra? Ha, ha, I'll plague him.  Moun. 
Grand Sot, my vench is gone, & me brule, and me brule, like one mad bule, me go into de vaterto cool my rain, ang my back made de vater hize again, does so brule, me burst vor a vench, and yet grand pox on you all, pray you adieu.  Ellis. 
As the jig is called for when the Play is done, even so let monsieur go.  Moun. 
He, me teach you much French vor dis, I go to Highgate, adieu grand Sors.  Exit monsieur. Ellis 
As sore eyes cannot endure the Sun, nor scabbed hands abide salt water, so must I leave all, and see my mistress, and as fair Ladies do use soul foils, even so do I bid you farewell.  Exit Ellis. Bra. Sig. 
Why this is sport imperial, by my Gentry, I would spend forty Crowns, for such another feast of fools. Ha, ha.  Bra. Iu. 
I wonder who would be the fool then?  Bra. Sig. 
Why 'tis the recreation of my Intellect, I think I speak as significant, ha, ha, these are my zanies, I fill their paunches, they seed my pleasures, I use them as my fools faith, ha, ha.  Pla. 
'tis a generous honour.  Bra. Sig. 
troth I think you have a good wit, ha? pray you sup with me, I love good wits, because mine own is not unfortunate: pray you sup with me.  Pla. 
I'll give God thanks sir, that hath sent a fool to feed me.  Bra. Sig. 
Come along then, ye shall have a Capon, a tansy, and some kickshaws of my wits, ha, ha, some toys of my spirit.  Exit Bra. Sig. and Bra. junior. Pla. 
I will eat his meat, and spend's money, that's all the spite I can do him: but if I can get a Patent for concealed Sots, that Daw shall troop among my Idiots.  Exit.  

ACTVS SECVNDVS.  Enter M. puff with his Page. puff. 
Boy what's o'clock?  Page. 
Past three, and a fair morning.  puff. 
burns not that light within the sacred shrine?  
I mean the chamber of bright Katherine.  Page. 
ay, should appear by these presence, that it doth.  puff. 
I wonder that the light is up so soon.  Page. 
O Mistress Snuff was weary with sleeping in the Socket, and therefore hath newly put on her stammel petticoat, & taken her pewter state to give light to things are in darkness.  Puff. 
And I know that women of gravity and sweetness are soon up.  Page. 
I see that women of levity and lightness, are soon down.  Puff. 
Boy clear thy throat, and mount thy sweetest notes  
Upon the bosom of this sleek cheeked air:  
That it may gently breath them in the ear  
Of my adored Mistress: Come begin.  

The Song.  
Delicious beauty that doth lie  
Wrapped in a skin of ivory,  
Lie still, lie still upon thy back,  
And Fancy let no sweet dreams lack  
To tickle her, to tickle her with pleasing thoughts.  
But if thy eyes are open full,  
Then deign to view an honest gull,  
That stands, that stands, expecting still  
When that thy Casement open will  
And bless his eyes, & bless his eyes, with one kind glance.   The Casement opens, and Katherine appears. Puf. 
All happiness and unconceived delight,  
Wait on the love of sweet faced Katherine.  Kathe. 
Good youth Amen: I do return your wish  
With ample interest of beatitude.  Puf. 
I do protest, with ceremonious (puff) lips  
The purest blood of my affection,  
Is even fatally predestinate  
To consecrate itself unto your (puff) love.  Ka. 
Unto my love? Oh sir you bind me to you:  
Fair Gentleman I have a thankful heart,  
Though not a glorious speech to sweet my thanks.  Puf. 
Reward my love then with your kinder love.  Ka. 
With my love sir, I relish not your speech.  Puf. 
I with your love, in pleasing marriage.  Ka. 
Alas sir, cannot be my Loves a man,  
Who hardly can requite the dear protests  
Of kind affection, which you seem to vow  
Unto his fortunes: kind youth, you did wish  
All happiness to wait upon my love:  
Well he shall know it when we next do meet,  
And thank you kindly: now good morrow sweet.  Puf. 
You take my, my, my meaning (puff.)  Page. 
Nay if he be puffing once, the fire of his wit is out.  Puf. 
Why she is gone. Heart did I rise for this?  Pa. 
She cannot endure puffing. O you puffed her away  Puf. 
Let's slink along unseen, 'tis yet scarce day.  Exeunt. Enter Mamon with Flawne, bearing a light before Mamon. Flawn. 
Now methinks I hold the candle to the devil.  Mam. 
Put out the light, the day begins to break.  Flawn. 
Would the day and thy neck were broke together.  Mam. 
Oh how the gout and love do tire me.  Flawne. 
Why sir, love is nothing but the very gout.  Mam. 
As how Flawne? as how?  Flawne 
Thus sir: Gout and love, both come with Idleness, both incurable, both humorous, only this difference: the Gout causeth a great tumour in a man's legs, and love a great swelling in a woman's belly.  Mam. 
Why then o Love, o Gout, o gouty Love, how thou torments old Mammon: good morrow to the sweet lipped Katherine, eternal spring unto thy beauty's love.  Ka. 
Alas good aged Sir, what make you up?  
In faith I pity you, good soul to bed,  
Troth soon you'll cry, Oh God my head, my head.  Mam. 
No Katherine, the wrinkling print of time  
Erred, when it sealed my forehead up with age:  
I have as warm an arm to entertain  
And hug thy presence in a nuptial bed,  
As those that have a cheek more lively red:  
And though my voice be rude, yet Flawne can sing  
paeans of beauty, and of Katherine.  
List to the Music that corrupts the Gods,  
Subverts even Destiny, and thus it shogs.  

The Song.  
Chunk, chunk, chunk, chunk, his bags do ring  
A merry note with chunks to sing:  
Those that are far more young and witty,  
Are wide from singing such a Ditty  
As Chunk, chunk, chunk,  
There's Chunk that makes the Lawyer prate,  
There's Chunk that make a fool of Fate:  
There's Chunk, that if you will be his,  
Shall make you live in all heart's bliss.  
With Chunk, chunk, chunk.   Ka. 
'tis well sung good old man, hence with your gold,  
Leave the green fields 'tis dewy; you'll take cold.  Mam. 
The Casements shut, well here I'll lurk & stay,  
To see who bears the glory of the day.  
Hence, hence, to London, Flawne let me alone.  Enter Flawne 
I can hardly leave him alone, for the Devil and double Ducats, still associate him, but I am gone.  Exit. Enter Pasquill. Pasquil. 
The glooming morn with shining Arms hath chased  
The silver Ensign of the grim cheeked night,  
And forced the sacred troops of sparkling stars  
Into their private Tents, yet calm hushed sleep  
Strikes dumb the snoring world: yet frolic youth  
That's lately matched unto a well shaped Lass,  
clips his sweet Mistress, with a pleasing arm,  
Whilst the great power of Imperious Love  
Summons my duty to salute the shine  
Of my loves beauties. unequalled Katherine  
I bring no Music to prepare thy thoughts  
To entertain an amorous discourse:  
More music's in thy name, and sweet dispose,  
Then in Apollo's Lyre, or Orpheus close.  
I'll chant thy name, and so enchant each ear,  
That Katherine's happy name shall hear.  
My Katherine, my life, my Katherine.  Kathe. 
My Ned, my Pasquil, sweet I come, I come,  
Even with like swiftness, though not with like heart:  
As the fierce falcon stoops to rising fowl  
I hurry to thee: do not go away,  
The place is private, and 'tis yet scarce day.  Pas. 
Oh these kind words imparadise my thoughts.  Ma. 
Ha, ha, young Pasquil have I found you out?  
be't you must bore my nose, I'll bore your heart:  
Why this same boy's as bare as naked Truth.  
A low ebbed gallant, yet she'll match with him:  
I'll match him, if his skin be poniard proof.  
He may scape the force of gold and murder, if not,  
As you return sir, I will pepper you.  Exit. Enter Katherine to Pasquill. 
And art thou come dear heart, first fee be this,  
This kind embrace, and next this modest kiss.  Pas. 
This is no kiss, but an Ambrosian bowl,  
The Nectar dew of thy delicious soul:  
Let me suck one kiss more, and with a nimble lip,  
Nibble upon those Rosy banks, more soft and clear  
Then is the jewelled tip of Venus' ear.  
Oh how a kiss inflames a lovers thought,  
With such a fuel let me burn and die,  
And like to Hercules so mount the sky.  Ka. 
Come you grow wanton. Oh you bite my lip.  Pas. 
In faith you jest, I did but softly sip  
The Roseal juice of your reviving breath:  
Let clumsy judgements, chillblained gouty wits  
Bung up their chief content within the whoops  
Of a stuffed dry Fat: and repose their hopes  
Of happiness, and heart's tranquillity,  
Upon increase of dirt: but let me live  
Clipped in the cincture of a faithful arm,  
Lulled in contented joy, being made divine,  
With the most precious love of Katherine.  Ka. 
Let the unsanctified spirit of ambition  
Entice the choice of muddy minded Dames  
To yoke themselves to swine, and for vain hope  
Of gay rich trappings, be still spurred and pricked  
With pining discontent for nuptial sweets.  
But let me live loved in my husband's eyes,  
Whose thoughts with mine, may sweetly sympathize.  Pas. 
The heavens shall melt, the sun shall cease to shine,  
Before I leave the love of Katherine.  Kathe. 
Nay when heavens melted, & the sun struck dead,  
Even then my love shall not be vanquished.  Pas. 
When I turn fickle, virtue shall be vice.  Ka. 
When I prove false, Hell shall be Paradise.  Pas. 
My life shall be maintained by thy kind breath.  Ka. 
Thy love shall be my life, thy hate my death.  Pas. 
Oh when I die let me embrace thy waste.  Ka. 
In death let me be counted thine and chaste.  Pas. 
heavens grant, being dead my soul may live nigh thee  Ka. 
One kiss shall give thee mine eternally.  Pas. 
In fair exchange vouchsafe my heart to take.  Ka. 
With all my mind, wear this Ned for my sake,  
But now no more, bright day malings our love,  
Farewell, yet stay, but 'tis no matter too,  
My Father knows I think, what must ensue.  
Adieu, yet hark, nay faith, adieu, adieu.  Pas. 
Peace to thy passions, till next interview.  Exeunt. Enter Mamon, and monsieur john fo de King. Mam. 
Now monsieur be but confident, and hold  
There is the price of blood, this way he comes,  
Strike home bold arm, and thou shalt want no crowns.  Moun. 
Fear you noting, when he is die, me bring you word. Exit Mamon.  
He, by gour brave crown, brave money,  
Me have here a patent to take up, one, two, threescore  
Vench: fine Crown, fine vench, unreasonably fine,  
Dis money is my bawd. Me send a French crown  
To fetch a fine vench, de French crown fetch de  
Fine vench, de fine vench take de French crown,  
And give me de French pox. He excellent, you see  
Me kill a man, you see me hang like de Burgullian,  
He no poine: He by Gour, me have much vitt,  
Ang me much bald, and me ang much bald wit.  
Here come de Gentleman metre Pasquill.  Enter Pasquill. Pasquill. 
be't possible that sisters should so thwart  
In native humours? one's as kind and fair,  
As constant, virtuous, and as debonair,  
As is the heart of goodness: the other, proud,  
Inconstant, fantastic, and as vain in loves,  
As travelers in lies: blessed Katherine,  
Camelia's not thy sister, if she be,  
she's bastard to the sweets that shine in thee.  Moun. 
Boniour Metre Pasquill, sance jest, me am hired to kill you, monsieur Mammon, Messier: jounck, jounck, give me money to stab you, but me know there is a God that hate blood, derfore, me no kill, me know dear is a vench, that love Crown, derefore me keep de money.  Pas. 
Unhallowed villain, that with gold and blood, Thinks that almighty love can be withstood.  
Hold monsieur, there are more Crowns, only do this, return to Mammon, tell him the deed is done, and bring him hither, that he may vainly triumph in my blood, I have some painting which I found by chance in loose Camelia's chamber, with that I'll stain my breast, go and return with speed.  Moun. 
He, by gour I smell a rat, me fly, me fly, by gour.  Exit monsieur. Pas. 
Lewd miscreant, that through the throat of hell,  
Wouldst mount to heaven, and enjoy love,  
Invaluably precious: no rank churl,  
Thou wast not made to slaver her fair lips  
With thy dead rheumy chops, nor clip her waste,  
With thy shrunk bloodless arm, I hear him come.  
Now Pasquill feign, o thou eternal light,  
Mourn that thy creatures should in blood delight.  He lies down, and feigns himself dead. Enter Mamon and monsieur. Mam. 
Now smug faced boy, now nibble on her lips,  
Now sip the dew of her delicious breath.  
Stink, rot, damn, bake in thy cluttered blood,  
Snakes, Toads, and Earwigs, make thy skull their nest,  
Engendering dew-worms, cling o'erthrwart thy breast.  Moun. 
Hush, hush, leave praying for dead, 'tis no good  
calvianism, puritanism. Dissemble, here are company.  Exit Moun. Enter Bra. Sig. and Planet. Bra. Sig. 
Good morrow Sir, who lies there murdered?  Mam. 
Oh Gentlemen, the kindest virtuous youth  
That e'er adorned London. Damned thieves  
To spoil such hopes: the last words that he spoke,  
Sticks still within the hollow of mine ear.  
Katherine quoth he, hold M. Mammon dear,  
I know not what he meant, but so he said.  
If that you pass to Highgate, tell the Knight,  
Pasquill is sunk into eternal night.  Pla. 
Faith 'twas a good youth, come Brabant, come away.  Exeunt Brabant and Planet. Mam. 
Dead Kate, dead Kate, dead is the boy,  
That kept rich Mammon from his joy.  Mamon sings. Lantara, etc. Pasquill riseth, and striketh him. Mam. 
Oh the devil, the ghost of Pasquill, I am dead, if you have any courtesy in you, believe it. I believed you when you feigned, believe me now, for I am almost dead, numbed up with fear, give faith sweet gentle youth.  Pas. 
Old wretch, amend thy thoughts, purge, purge, repent,  
I'll hide thy ulcer, be but penitent.  Exit. Mam. 
Ha, I think 'twas but his ghost that swept along.  Enter monsieur singing. 
Grand sot Mammon, Pho, fie, fie, fie, a foutra pour vos chunck, chunk. john fo de King, teach you a ding, john fo de King grand Sot, Sot, Sot.  Exit monsieur. Ma. 
Death, plague, and hell, how is cursed Mammon vexed?  
scourged with the whip of sharp derision:  
I'll home, and starve, this cross, this peevish hap,  
Strikes dead my spirits like a thunderclap.  Exit Mamon. Enter Brabant junior, and Planet. Bra. 
God's precious, I forgot to bring my Page,  
To breath some Ditty in my Mistress ear.  Pla. 
Wouldst have a Ballet to salute her with?  Bra. 
No, but a Song. How wouldst thou court thy Mistress?  Pla. 
Why with the world, the flesh & the devil.  Bra. 
Right dog, well thou'lt swear, that I am blessed  
Beyond infinity of happiness,  
When thou beholdest admired Camelia.  Pla. 
And God would bless me with 3. such mistresses,  
I would give two of them to the devil, that he would take the third.  Bra. 
Oh when she clips, and clings about my neck,  
And sucks my soul forth with a melting kiss.  Pla. 
Doth she use thee so kindly then, ha?  Bra. 
O ay, and calls me dear, dear Brabant, and (o jesu God)  
I cannot express her sweets of entertain,  
she'll so insinuate with chaste amorous speech,  
And play the wanton with such pretty grace,  
And vows love to me: Oh I'll make thee mad  
To see how gracious Brabant's in her eye.  
Here is her window, mark but when I call,  
How swift she comes, and with what kind salutes  
She welcomes me. What ho Camelia?  
Faith you'll be ta'en up, what in bed so late?  Winifride looks from above. Pla. 
And you take her up Brabant, she'll take you down.  Bra. 
Heart they hear not: My Camelia wake?  Wini. 
What harsh uncivil tongue keeps such a coil?  Bra. 
Winifrid 'tis I. Tell my sweet Duck I am here,  
Now mark Ned Planet, now observe her well.  Wini. 
she wonders at your rudeness that intrudes  
Upon the quiet of her morning's rest,  
And she's amazed, that with such impudence  
You dare presume to intimate some love to her,  
As if she knew you more than for a youth,  
A younger brother, and a stipendiary.  Enter john Ellis. Pla. 
Now mark Ned Planet, now observe her kindness.  
Good morrow M. john.  Ellis. 
As the Country maid crieth to her Cow to milk her, or as the travailer knocketh with his Hosts for a reckoning, even so do I call to thee o Mistress.  Camelia from her window. Came. 
Sweet john my Love, here's thy Camelia:  
Hold wear this favour, with this kiss upon't.  Bra. 
Flesh and blood cannot bear such disgrace.  Brabant beats Ellis. El. 
Help, help, help, help, he boxes me that he doth. Help, help.  Enter Sir Edward, Katherine, Drum, and Twedle. Sir Ed. 
What outrage have we here so early up?  
Sir you do wrong the quiet of my house. Enter Camelia.  
i'faith you do, and 'tis but rudely done,  
Go too 'tis not. Is this a place to brawl?  Pla. 
And please thee knight, I'll tell thee faith & troth.  Came. 
What did he strike thee sweet?  El. 
I in good deed la, and a my conscience, I think he hath made my nose bleed.  Came. 
And would not you draw your weapon out, and to it lustily, as long as you could stand?  El. 
I do not use to draw.  Ca. 
Did he give thee a box on the ear, and wouldst thou take it?  El. 
And he be such a fool to give it me, why should not I be so wise as to take it.  Ca. 
Pure honesty, kind Duck, kiss me sweet john.  Bra. Iu. 
Heart Sir Edward, will you suffer this?  
Now on my life she is enamoured on the fools babble.  Sir Ed. 
Go too sir boy forbear, you wrong my Love,  
And you forget yourself to use such jests,  
Such nasty ribaldry upon my daughter:  
I tell you M. Brabant, doth she love  
Any that meriteth the name of man?  Bra. Iu. 
Why he's no man, but a very—  S. Ed. 
Well, well, no more; my house, myself, my love,  
Opens their hearts with liberal embrace  
To entertain your presence: I or any man's  
So they'll be civil, modest, not profane,  
Not like to those that make it their chief grace,  
To be quite graceless.  Pla. 
Well said honest knight,  
We have had blood enough today already:  
Ned Pasquil's slain by bloody murdering Rogues.  Sir Ed. 
Speak softly, God forbid, my daughter hears,  
Tell me the circumstance, I pray you Sir.  Ka. 
Eternal death unto my happiness,  
My Pasquil slain? Oh God, oh God, oh God.  Exit Katherin, tearing her hair. Pla. 
ay, and I think the Usurer made a Tent  
Even of his nose it was so red and near:  Sir Ed. 
God for his mercy, what mischance is here?  
A good youth, a virtuous modest youth,  
i'faith he was. And I can tell your sir,  
My daughter Katherine, where is she now?  
Whither's she gone? Drum call her hither strait.  Drum. 
Your Drum will sound a call sir presently.  Exit Drum. Sir Ed. 
And as I told you sir, my daughter Katherine  
Affected him right dearly: by my peace of soul,  
If he had lived, I could have heartily wished  
He had been my son in law, i'faith I could:  
But see the will of God. How now Drum,  
Where's my daughter?  Drum. 
Sir, she is either invisible, or deaf, for I can neither see her, nor she hear me.  Sir Ed. 
body of me, my heart misgives me now,  
Look, call, search, run all about.  
My daughter gone? Go all and search her out.  
here's Pasquil ha? Is this the man that's dead?  Enter Pasquil. Pas. 
Let me entreat this favour, do not search  
Or be inquisitive why I feigned:  
Repute me worthy your better censure: and thus think  
My cause was urgent, the rest lie buried.  Sir Ed. 
Well, I would you had not feigned.  Pas. 
Why would you have had me dead indeed?  Sir Ed. 
Oh no, but I have lost my child I fear,  
By your strange feigning, she no sooner heard  
The tidings of your death, but gone she was,  
And God knows whither. Ha what news now?  Enter Drum. Drum. 
'tis easier to find wit in ballading, honesty in Brokers, Virginity in Shoreditch, than to hear of my Mistress.  Sir Ed. 
Broach me a fresh Butt of Canary Sack,  
Let's sing, drink, sleep, for that's the best relief:  
To drown all care, and overwhelm all grief.  
power Wine, sound Music, let our bloods not freeze,  
Drink Dutch like gallants, let's drink upsey freeze.  Exeunt Sir Edward, Planet, Brabant, Drum & Twedle. Came. 
Servant you'll go in too, and stay dinner?  El. 
I in truth, for as the Itch is augmented  
By scratching, so is my love by seeing my mistress.  Exeunt Camelia and Ellis. Pas. 
How's this, how's this, My Katherin gone hence?  
Senses awake, and thou amazed soul  
Unwind thyself from out the Labyrinth  
Of gaping wonder, and astonishment.  
My Katherine departed? how? which way?  
Fool, fool, stand not debating, but pursue  
Haste to her comfort, for from thee doth spring  
(Wretch that thou art) her cause of sorrowing.  Exit.  

ACTVS TERTIVS.  Enter a Page solus. Page. 
Ha, ha, ha, tipsy, tipsy, tipsy, all turned whirligig, john fo de king, Drum, and Timothy Twedle, are rare fine, ha for the heavens, i'faith: Drums lion drunk, and he dings the pots about, cracks the glasses, swaggers with his own shadow. Honest Timothy is maudlin drunk, and he weeps for kindness, and kisses the hilts of Jack Drums Dagger. Mounsieurs Goat drunk, and he shrugs, and scrubs, and he's it for a wench. Here they come reeling, I must pack, or we shall swagger, for they having a crack in their heads, and I a fault in my hands, we shall near agree.  Exit. Enter Drum, monsieur, and Twedle. Drum. 
A Servingman quoth you? Heart, and if I serve any that's flesh and blood, would I might ne'er taste my liquore more: stand bare whilst he makes water, out upon't, I'll to Ireland, and there I'll Tan, ran, ty, ry, dan, Sa, sa, sa, sa: Nay 'tis the only life.  Twe. 
Nay good Thewte heart, good kind jack, stay, if you would love me, as I love you, we would live & die together: and please God, would I were dead, and you are gone. And here's M. john so de king, a very honest man too.  Drum. 
ay, ay, he's a very good honest man: for there's not a hair betwixt him and heaven.  Twe. 
he'll live with us now & teach us French.  Moun. 
I by my trot, ang you help me to a Vench now, me teach you French. 5. thousand, thousand year, o your Secke is hot, and make me brule, and brule, and burn, for a (he) by gour your Seck is hot.  Enter Winifride. Drum. 
Welcome Basilisco, thou wilt carry level, and knock one's brains out with thy pricking wit. Kiss me sweet wench, kiss me.  Moun. 
He my Vinifride, by gour you are come, in te very nick to pleasure me, pray you kiss me, clip me, love me, or by gour me ang die certain.  Drum. 
Out you French Dog, touch my Love, and I'll—  Moun. 
Touch her, by gour me touch her, and touch her, and touch her.  Drum. 
I'll touch you, I'll slash you, I'll vench ye.  Wini. 
Put up, put up, for the passion of God put up, or if you'll needs too it, sheath both your weapons in me first.  Drum. 
Heart touch my love, touch my Winifrid?  Wini. 
Hark you Jack, come to my chamber an hour hence, and you shall have what you will ask, and I can grant.  Drum. 
Why then my choler's down. john fo de King. Foutra for you.  Exit Drum. Moun. 
Foutra for me, futtra, futtra, futtra, five thousand futtras for you.  Twe. 
Stay friend Jack, I'll reel along with you, if you'll not swagger.  Exit Twedle. Wini. 
Sweet, sweet monsieur, hang you slaves, I love you infinitely.  Moun. 
By gour me teach you French four thousand year dan.  Wini. 
Well monsieur, I'll give you pleasure.  Moun. 
But will you presently? quickly, for by gour me am a hot shot.  Wini. 
I so they say, I heard you were under the torrid zone last day.  Moun. 
Pish 'tis no matter, me am like a Tobacco Pipe, de more me am burn, de cleaner me am.  Wini. 
Well then, two hours hence come to my chamber, and Timothy Twedle shall give you me in a sack.  Moun. 
In a sack? Ha very well.  Wini. 
And you shall carry me to my masters house at Holloway, for in the house we cannot be private without suspect. Till then, farewell.  Exit Winifride. Moun. 
By my trot unreasonably good, I carry de vench on my back, and devench carry me on her (he) fine back, fine vench, fine monsieur, fine, fine, fine Knight, all fine, unreasonably fine, me sing vor joy; by gour me sing la, liro, liro la, lilo.  Exit. Enter Brabant signor, Brabant junior, and Planet. Bra Sig. 
Gentlemen, as e'er you loved wench, observe M. Puff and me.  Bra. Iu. 
What shall we observe you for?  Bra. Sig. 
Oh for our complement.  Pla. 
Complement, what's that?  Bra. Sig. 
Complement, is as much as (what call you it) 'tis derived of the Greek word, a pox on't.  Pla. 
Complement, is as much as what call you it, 'tis derived of the Greek word, a pox on't.  Enter puff. Bra. Sig. 
You shall see M. Puff and me toss it, i'faith mark with what grace I encounter him.  Pla. 
Heart thy brother's like the Instrument the Merchants sent over to the great Turk: you need not play upon him, he'll make music of himself, and he be once set going.  Bra. Sig. 
M. Puff, I long to do fair service to your love.  puff. 
Most accomplished wit, exquisitely accoutred, (Puff) judgement, I could wish my ability worthy your service, and my service worthy your ability.  Pla. 
By the Lord fustian, now I understand it: complement is as much as fustian.  Bra. Sig. 
I protest your abilities are infinite, your perfections matchless, your matchless perfection infinite in ability, and your infinite ability, matchless in perfection.  Pla. 
Good again, rejoice Brabant, thy brother will not live long, he talks Idly already.  Puff. 
Delicious spirit, disparaged not your courtesy, stand not bare to him that was borne to honour you.  Bra. Sig. 
Let us press our hairs then, with an uniform consent.  Puff. 
The pressure of my hairs, or the puncture of my heart, stands at the service of your solid perfections: my life is bound to your love, your love being my life, though my life be not worthy your love, your perfection is the centre to which all the parallels of my affection are drawn: your love my life, your perfection, my affection, being—  Pla. 
Your Ass, my Fool.  Puff. 
Being chained by the mighty coplet of inevitable destiny, who seeth the sun, but he must adore it: who seeth beauty, but he must honour it: who vieweth gold, but he must covet it: then, (o then) who can behold your sunlike beauteous golden beauties, but he must more than adore, much more than honour, and most infinitely love to be out, out, out.  Bra. Iu. 
Out he is indeed.  Pla. 
he's at a stand, like a resty jade, or a Fiddler, when he hath cracked his Minikin.  Puff. 
Outrageously addicted to the worthy pursuit of such matchless worth.  Bra. Sig. 
Sir, I can rest but truly thankful, for your more than good conceit of my no less than little worth. And now fir for the consequent hours of the day; how stands your intention for employment?  Puff: 
I ha' ta'en my leave of Sir Edward, bid adieu to love, my Mistress is gone, my humour is spent, my joys are at an end, and therefore Gentlemen, I leave love, and fall to the (puff) Law, I will inter myself in Ployden's Coffin, and take an eternal congee of the world. And so sweet gallants farewell.  Exit. Bra. Sig. 
Nay I'll follow you to your grave. Gentlemen you'll not accompany the corpse?  Exit. Pla. 
No, no, look Ned Brabant, yond's a pleasing object for thy eyes.  Enter Camelia, Ellis, and Winifride. Bra. Iu. 
My Mistress is turned Bucephalus, nobody must ride her but Alexander: nobody kiss her but john Ellis. Now stand and list good Planet.  Ca. 
Come sweetest Love, let's give time pleasing wing,  
What shall we make some purposes or sing?  El. 
I will sing, so you will bear my burden.  Ca. 
Come lay thy head then in my virgin lap,  
And with a soft sleek hand I'll clap thy cheek,  
And wring thy fingers with an ardent gripe:  
I'll breath amours, and even entrance thy spirit,  
And sweetly in the shade lie dallying.  

The Song.  
Now dally sport and play, This merry month of May,  
This is the merry, merry month, Sweet time for dallying:  
The Birds sit chirping, chirping, The Doves sit billing, billing,  
Philip is treading, is treading, is treading, is treading, is treading,  
All are to pleasures willing.  
You that are fair and witty, Observe this easy Ditty,  
And leave not Nature's Nature's bliss; Do not refuse to kiss.  
The Birds sit chirping, chirping, The Doves sit billing, billing,  
Philip is treading, is treading, etc.   Bra. Iu. 
Death I can holder: Life of love  
Amazing beauty, let not me seem rude,  
Though thus I seem to square with modesty.  El. 
Pray you let me go, for he'll begin to square, And even as some do wear Muffs for warmth, some for wantonness, some for pride, some for neither, but to hide gouty fingers, so will I get your Father's consent, and marry you. Fare you well.  Exit. Came. 
Sir it were good you got a benefice,  
Some Evenuched Vicarage, or some Fellowship,  
To prop up your weak younger brothership.  
Match with your equals, dare not to aspire  
My seat of love, I wis Sir, I look higher.  Bra. Iu. 
Astonishment of Nature, be not proud  
Of Fortune's bounties: Brabant is a man,  
Though not so clogged with dirt as others are:  
I do confess my younger brothership;  
Yet therein lay no such disparagement  
As your high scorn imputes unto my worth.  
Coach Jades and Dogs, are coupled still together,  
Only for outward likeness, growth and strength,  
But the bright models of eternity,  
Are joined together for affection,  
Which in the soul is formed. Oh let this move,  
Love should make marriage, and not marriage Love.  Pla. 
Woo her no more Brabant, thou'lt make her proud,  
You Dutch Ancient why should you look higher?  
His births as good as yours, and so's his face:  
Put off your Iengle, jangles, and be not as fair,  
He shall renounce it, fore this Audience,  
Put off your clothes, and you are like a Banbery cheese,  
Nothing but paring: why should you be proud,  
And look on none but Weathercocks forsooth?  
O you shall have a thousand pound a year!  
Bar Lady that's a bumming sound. But hark,  
Wilt therefore be a slave, unto a slave,  
One that's a bound Rogue unto Ignorance?  
Well thou'lt serve to make him gelid broths,  
And scratch his head, and may be now and then  
he'll slaver thee a kiss. Plague on such marriages.  Came. 
Rude uncivil Clown.  Pla. 
Tut rail not at me, turn your eye upon the leprosy of your own judgement, loathe it, hate it, scorn it, and love this young Gentleman, who is a Fool in nothing but in loving thee: mad in nothing but affecting thee: and cursed in eternity if he marry thee.  Ca. 
Sir you ha' spoke exceeding pleasingly,  
For which I love you, as I love a dull dead eye.  
Brabant I do conjure thee Court not me,  
Do not presume to love or fancy me.  Bra. Iu. 
How not presume to love or fancy you?  
Heart, I will love you, by this light I will  
Whether you will or no, I'll love you still.  
Spite of your teeth I will your love pursue,  
I will by heaven, and so sweet soul adieu.  Exit Bra. junior. Ca. 
Farewell, and never view my face again.  Exit Camelia. Pla. 
Hark you fair Winifrid, sweet gentle maid,  
I have but feigned with you all this while,  
I dote upon the sweet Camelia,  
And if your favour will but second me,  
I vow when I shall wed Camelia,  
To endow you with a hundred pound a year,  
And what I have shall stand at your command.  Win. 
Sir I will undertake to forward your fair love,  
So you'll remember what you here do vow.  Pla. 
If I forget it, heaven forget me:  
Do you but praise me, let not her once know  
I love, or do affect her for the world.  Wini. 
Well fear no rubs, farewell fair bounteous Sir.  Exit Winifride. Pla. 
It works, it works, magnificent delight,  
Laughter, triumph, for ere the Sun go down,  
Thy forehead shall be wreathed, with pleasure's crown.  Exit Planet. Enter Pasquil at one door, and his Page at the other. Pas. 
Now my kind Page, canst thou nor hear, nor see,  
Which way my Katherine hath bent her steps?  Page. 
Sir I can.  Pas. 
What canst thou my sweet Page?  
What canst thou Boy?  
Oh how my soul doth burn in longing hope,  
And hangs upon thy lips for pleasing news.  Page. 
Sir I can tell ye.  Pas. 
What? o how my heart doth quake & throb with fear.  Page. 
Sir I can tell you nothing of her in good faith.  Pas. 
Oh thou hast tortured me with lingering hope,  
Go haste away, fly from the pestilence  
Of my contagious grief, it will infect thee boy,  
Murder thy youth, and poison thy life's joy.  
Run search out Katherine, in her eyes dwell  
Heavens of joy; but in Pasquil hell.  
Oh thou omnipotent, infinity,  
Crack not the sinews of my patience  
With racking torment: Insist not thus to scourge  
My tender youth with sharp affliction,  
If I do love that glory of thy hand,  
That rich Idea of perfection,  
With any lustful or profane intent,  
Crossed be my love, murdered be all my hopes:  
But if with chaste and virtuous arm I clip  
The rarest model of thy workmanship,  
Be then propitious: o eternal light,  
And bless my fortunes, maugre hellish spite.  Enter Katherine in a petticoat. Ka. 
Black sorrow, nurse of plaints, of tears, & groans,  
Evaporate my spirit with a sigh,  
That it may hurry after his sweet breath,  
Who made thee dote on life, now hunt for death.  Pas. 
What soul is that, that with her tearful eyes  
Seems to lament with me in miseries?  Ka. 
Here seems to be the pressure of his trunk,  
Dear earth confirm my doubt, was this the place  
Which the fair body of my Pasquil priest,  
When he lay murdered? See the drooping grass  
Hangs down his mourning head, and seems to say  
This was the fatal place, where Pasquil lay.  
Oh thou sweet print, stamped by the fairest limbs,  
The richest Coffin of the purest soul  
That ever priest the bosom of the earth,  
First drink my tears, and next suck up my blood.  
Now thou immortal spirit of my Love,  
Thou precious soul of Pasquil view this knife  
Which once thou gavest me, and prepare thy arm  
To clip the spirit of thy constant Love.  
Dear Ned I come, by death I will be thine,  
Since life denies it to poor Katherine.  She offers to stab herself. Pas. 
Hold, hold, thou miracle of constancy,  
First let heaven perish, and the crazed world run  
Into first Chaos of confusion,  
Before such cruel violence be done  
To her fair breast, whose fame by virtue won,  
Shall honour women whilst there shines a sun.  Kathe. 
Thrice sacred spirit, why dost thou forsake  
Elysium pleasures, to withhold the arm  
Of wretched Katherine? Oh let me die,  
Retire sweet Ghost, do not pollute thy hand  
With touch of mortals.  Pas. 
Amazement of thy Sex, Pasquill doth live,  
And lives to love thee in eternity.  
Be not aghast, recover spirit, (Sweet)  
'tis Pasquill speaks, 'tis Pasquill clips thy waste,  
'tis Pasquill prints a kiss on thy fair hand.  Ka. 
What do I dream? or have I drawn the sluice  
Of life up? and through streams of blood  
Unfelt, have set my prisoned soul at large?  
Am I in heaven? or in Pasquil's Arms?  
I am in heaven, for my Ned's embrace  
Is Katherine's long wished celestial place.  Pas. 
Divinity of sweetness, I protest,  
If these inferior Orbs were rolled up,  
And the imperial heaven barred to my view,  
'twere not so gracious, nor so much desired,  
As my dear Katherine is to Pasquil's sight.  Ka. 
Heaven of Content, Paphos of my delight.  Pas. 
Mirror of Constancy, lifeblood of love.  Ka. 
Center to whom all my affections move.  Pas. 
Renown of Virgins, whose fame shall ne'er fleet.  Ka. 
Oh I am mazed with joy, I pray thee sweet,  
Unfold to me, what sad mischance it was,  
Forced thy death's rumour, and such woes dispersed?  
Sad sorrow passed, delights to be rehearsed.  Pas. 
It will be tedious, but in brief think thus,  
Old Mammon's malice was the venomed foam,  
That poisoned all the sweets of our content.  Kathe. 
Alas dear heart, that love should be so crossed.  
Now good Ned fetch my gown, 'tis at yond house,  
I would be loath to turn to Highgate thus.  Pas. 
I am obliged with infinite respect, to do you service.  
Oh power divine, was ever such a love as Katherine?  Ent. Ma. 
Look Mammon, search Mammon, this way she went,  
Put on thy spectacles, this way she went:  
Blessed, blessed, blessed, be thy nativity,  
Yonder she sits, I'll either have her now,  
Or none shall e'er enjoy her with content.  Ka. 
How loves impatient, when will Ned return?  Ma. 
Tut, 'tis no matter when, look where thy Mammon is.  Ka. 
Good devil, for God's sake do not vex my sight:  
Didst not thou plot the death of my dear Love?  Ma. 
Yes, yes, and would complot ten thousand deaths,  
Even damn my soul, for beauteous Katherine.  
My ship shall comb the Ocean's curled back  
To furnish thee with brave habiliments,  
Rucks of rich Pearl, and sparkling Diamonds  
Shall fringe thy garments with embroidery:  
Thy head shall blaze as bright with Orient stone,  
As did the world being burnt by Phaeton.  Ka. 
You make me death, for pities sake forbear:  
Oh when will Pasquil come? Good Sir depart.  
When wilt return? I pray you Sir go hence,  
And troth, I will not hate you: nay I'll speak  
Against my heart, and say I loathe you not.  
You vex my patience, gentle sir forbear,  
I beg it on my knee, and with a tear.  Mam. 
Tut will you love me, and detest yond boy?  Ka. 
Heaven detest me first, and loath my soul.  Mam. 
Is it your final resolution?  Ka. 
God knows it is. So good Sir rest content.  Mam. 
ay, I will rest, and thou shalt rest thus blurred,  
Thus poisoned; venomed with this oil of Toads:  
If Mammon cannot get thee, none shall joy  
Which he could not enjoy. I fear no law,  
Gold in the firmest conscience makes a flaw.  
Rot like to Helen: Spittle hence, adieu,  
Let Pasquil boast in your next interview.  Ka. 
Be pitiful and kill me gentle Sir.  
Heaven my heart is cracked with misery:  
Where shall I hide me? which way shall I cleanse  
The eating poison of this venomed oil?  
Poor wretch (alas) see where thy Pasquil comes.  Pas. 
Here Love put on your gown. How now? good God,  
Heaven give me patience: who hath used thee thus?  Ka. 
The devil in the shape of Mammon. Sweet  
Touch me not. Pasquil I conjure thee now  
By all the power of affection,  
By that strict bond of love that links our hearts,  
Leave and abandon me eternally.  
I merit now no love, yet prithee sweet,  
Vouchsafe to give me leave to love thee still.  
But I do bind thee by thy sacred vow  
Of our once happy, and thrice blessed love,  
Follow not Katherine: good Ned, do not grieve,  
In time just heaven may our woes relieve.  Exit Katherine. Pas. fureus. 
O dira fata, saeva, miseranda, horida  
Quis hic Locus? quae Regio? quae Mundi plaga?  
ubi sum? Katherina, Katherina, Eheu Katherina.  Enter Mamon. Mam. 
My Spectacles will betray me, look  
Mammon, search Mammon, hereabouts they fell.  Pas. 
Welcome Erra Pater, you that make Prognostications for ever. Where's you Almanac?  pulls his Indentures out of Mammon's bosom. Ma. 
Lord bless my Obligations, Lord bless my bonds, Lord bless my Obligations. Alas, alas, alas.  Pas. 
Let me see sir now, when will true valour be at the full? Oh there's an opposition 'tis eclipsed, Venus, I Venus is mounted. Where's the Goat now? combed, fine combed. Oh here are Dog days, out upon't Dog days, Dog days, Dog days, out upon't.  He tears the Papers. Mam. 
Alas my Obligations, my Bonds, my Obligations, my Bonds. Alas, alas, alas.  Pas. 
Katherina, Katherina, Ehew Katherina.  Exit Pasquil. Mam. 
Obligations, Obligations: Alas my Obligations, I am undone, undone, undone.  Enter Flawne. Flawne. 
Sir, Sir, Sir.  Mam. 
What sir you for, you Dog, you Hound, you  
Crust, what's best news with you now? Out-alas my  
Obligations, my Bonds, I am undone, undone.  Flawne. 
Sir, the best news is, your ship (the Hopewell) hath happed ill, returning from Barbary. 'tis but sunk, or so, not a scrap of goods saved.  Mam. 
villains, Rogues, Jews, Turks, Infidels, my nose will rot off with grief. O the Gout, the Gout, the Gout, I shall run mad, run mad, run mad.  Flawne. 
Amen, amen, amen. But there's other news to comfort you withal sir.  Mam. 
Let's hear them good Flawne. My ship, my bonds, my bonds, my ship, I shall run mad unless thy good news reclaim me. Let's hear thy news.  Flawne. 
Your house with all the furniture is burnt, not a rag left, the people stand warming their hands at the fire, and laugh at your misery.  Mam. 
I defy heaven, earth and hell, renounce my nose, plague, pestilence, confusion, famine, sword and fire, devour all, devour me, devour Flawne, devour all: bonds, house, and ship, ship, house, and bonds, Despair, Damnation, Hell, I come, I come, so room for Mammon, room for Usury, room for thirty in the hundred. I come, I come, I come.  Exit Mamon. Flawne. 
Why methinks this is right now, I'll even lay him up in Bedlam, commit him to the mercy of the whip, the entertainment of bread and water, and the the sting of a usurers Conscience for ever.  Exit Flawne.  

ACTVS QVARTVS.  Enter Drum and Winifride. Drum. 
Truly Mistress Winifrid, as I would be willing to be thankful, and thankful to find you willing to prostrate your fair parts to my pleasure, so I hope you will remember your promise, and promise what you now remember, if you have forgot, I would be glad to put you in mind of it.  Wini. 
Truly friend john, as I would be loath to break my promise, so I would be unwilling to keep my word to the dishonesting of my virginity. Marry for a night's lodging or so, I will not be straight laced to my friend. Therefore thus it must be. tonight I must lie at the Farm at Holloway, thither shall you be conveyed in this Sack, & laid in my chamber, from whence you shall have free access to the pleasures of my private bed.  Drum. 
Well then be constant Winifrid, and you shall find me faithful Jack Drum: and so taking leave of your lips, I betake me to the tuition of the Sack.  Enter Twedle. Exit Drum. Twe. 
Winifrid my Mistress Camelia stays for you to attend her to the Green, I must go and clap my tabor cheeks there, for the heavens i'faith.  Wini. 
Stay a little here, and if john fo de king come, give him that Sack. Oh I could crack my Whalebones, break my busk, to think what laughter may arise from this.  Exit Winifride. Enter monsieur. Moun. 
By my trot, dis love is a most cleanly Gentleman, he is very full of shift, de fine Vench, can invent ten thousand, thousand trick to kiss a men (he) see by gour she ha' keep her word, she is in de seck already, he, brave by gour, my blood das sparkle in my vein for joy. Metre Timotty you must give me dat seck dear.  Timo. 
Owy da monsieur, that is well pronounced is it not?  Moun. 
Ritt, ritt, ritt, excellan: excellan: adieu Timothy, me am almost burst for joy.  Exit monsieur. Twe. 
Well, I know what the Wenches on the green are saying now, as well as if I were in their bellies, when will Timothy come, when will honest Timothy approach, when will good Timothy draw near? Well Wenches now rejoice, for Timothy Twedle doth come.  Exit Twedle. Enter Pla. Bra. Sig. and Bra. junior. Bra. Iu. 
Brother how like you of our modern wits?  
How like you the new Poet Mellidus?  Bra. Sig. 
A slight bubbling spirit, a Cork, a Husk.  Pla. 
How like you Musus fashion in his carriage?  Bra. Sig. 
O filthily, he is as blunt as Pawles.  Bra. Iu. 
What think you of the Lines of Decius?  
Writes he not a good cordial sappy style?  Bra. Sig. 
A surreinde jaded wit, but 'a rubs on.  Pla. 
Brabant thou art like a pair of Balance,  
Thou weigh'st all saving thyself.  Br. Sig. 
Good faith, troth is, they are all Apes & gulls,  
Vile imitating spirits, dry heathy Turfs.  Bra. Iu. 
Nay brother, now I think your judgement errs.  Pla. 
Err, he cannot err man, for children & fools speak truth always.  Enter monsieur with a Sack, and jack Drum in it. Bra. Sig. 
See who comes yonder sweating with a pack.  Pla. 
monsieur, what do you bear there ha?  Moun. 
pray you away, you break my glasses der, Jesus, now me know not what to do, Zot dat I was to come dis way widd dem.  Pla. 
Glasses you salt rheum, come what ha' you there?  Moun. 
trick no more for Jesus sake, by gour me have brittle vare, if you knock it, it will break presant, pre you adieu.  Br. Iu. 
We must know what's in the bag i'faith.  Moun. 
By my trot, me tell you true, will you no trick me?  Bra. Iu. 
No faith, but see you tell us true, or else.  Moun. 
Or else, or else by gour, do what you please wid me: Sweet Vinifride, my very art dus vurst, he by gour, me did not dink to wrong yow dus: come out sweet Vinifrid, me much discredit yow.  
He jack Drum. jesu vat made you dear?  Drum. 
Gentlemen my M. desires you to come sup with him, I was sent to invite you, and this itching goat, would needs ease my legs & carry me: I hope you'll come, and so I take my leave. ay, I am gulled, but if I quit her not, well.  Exit Drum. Bra. Sig. 
Come, there's some knot of knavery in this trick.  Pla. 
His colour is not currant, well, let pass.  Bra. Sig. 
Come monsieur, come, I'll help you to a  
Go down the hill before, I'll follow you. Wench,  Moun. 
Me dank you: Mor deu, he mon a me, me am trooke dead wit grief, de cock of my humour is down, and me may hang myself vor a Vench.  Exit Moun. Bra. Sig. 
Gentlemen will you laugh heartily now?  Pla. 
ay, and if thou wilt play the fool kindly now.  Bra. Sig. 
I will straight frame the strongest eternal jest  
That e'er was builded by Invention:  
My wife lies very private in the Town,  
I'll bring the French man to her presently,  
As to a loose lascivious Courtesan:  
Nor he, nor you, nor she, shall know the rest,  
But it shall be immortal for a jest.  Exit Bra. Sig. Bra. Iu. 
Farewell brother, we shall meet at Highgate soon.  Pla. 
The wicked jest be turned on his own head,  
Pray God he may be kindly Cuckoled.  Exeunt both. Enter Camelia and Winifride. Came. 
Carry this favour to my Ellis straight,  
I long to see him, prithee bid him come.  Wini. 
I would be loath to nourish your defame,  
And therefore Mistress pray you pardon me.  Came. 
What is thy judgement of my Ellis change?  Wini. 
No that is firm: but your estate is changed.  
You know your sister's strangely vanished,  
And now the hope and revenue of all,  
Calls you his sole, and fair apparent heir:  
Now therefore would I have you change your love.  
Indeed I yield 'tis modern policy,  
To kiss even dirt that plasters up our wants.  
I'll not deny, 'tis worthy wit's applause,  
For women on whom lowering Fortune squints,  
And casts but half an eye of due respect,  
To pin some amorous Idiot to their eyes,  
And use him as they use their looking-glass,  
See how to adorn their beauties by his wealth,  
And then case up the fool and lay him by.  
But for such Ladies as yourself is now,  
Whose fortunes are sustained by all the props  
That gracious Fortune can advance you with,  
For such a one to yoke her free sweet youth  
Unto a Loon, a Dane-like barbarous Sot,  
A gilden Truncheon, fie, 'tis slavish vile.  
Oh what is richer than content in love?  
And will you now having so huge a Ruck  
Of heaped up fortunes, go and chain yourself  
To a dull post, whose very eyes will blaze  
His base bred spirit, where so e'er he comes,  
And shame you with the very name of wife.  
No Mistress, no, I have found out a man  
That merits you, if man can merit you.  Came. 
Lord what a tide of hate comes creeping on  
Upon my former judgement? Come, the man?  Wini. 
The man? (oh God) the man is such a man,  
That he is matchless: oh, I shall profane  
His name, with unrespected utterance.  Ca. 
Oh thou torment'st me, dear Winifrid the man?  Wi. 
By the sweet pleasures of an amorous bed,  
I think you will be deified by him.  
O God the most accomplished man that breathes,  
And Planet is the man.  Came. 
Out on the devil, there's a man indeed.  Wini. 
Nay look you now, you'll straight o'ershoot yourself,  
You'll say he's sour and unsociable:  
Tush you know him not, that humour's forced:  
But in his native spirit he's as kind  
As is the life of love. And then the clearest skin,  
The whitest hand, the cleanest well shaped leg:  
The quickest eye: Fie, fie, I shall but blur  
And sully his bright worth with my rude speech.  Came. 
Well, if he court me, I'll not be much coy.  Wi. 
Court you? nay you must court him for aught I know:  
You must not think forsooth, that I am feed  
To urge you thus. I solemnly protest,  
I motion this out of my pure vowed love,  
Which wisheth all advancement and content  
To attend the glory of your beauteous youth.  Ca. 
O I am Planet stricken Winifrid,  
How shall I intimate my love to him?  Wi. 
I saw him coming up the hill even now,  
Send him a favour, and I'll bear it to him,  
And tell him you desire to speak with him.  Exit Winifride. Ca. 
Do, do, dear Winifrid, sweet wench make haste.  Enter Sir Edward Fortune, and john Ellis, with a Paper in his hand. Ellis. 
Sir, I have her good will, and please you now to give me your consent, and look you Sir, here I have Itemed forth what I am worth.  Sir Ed. 
Tush show me no Items, and she love you, a God's name: I'll not be cursed by my daughter for forcing her to clip a loathed, abhorred match: and see how fortunate we are; Look where she stands.  Came. 
Sweet Planet, thou only governest me.  Sir Ed. 
Daughter give me your hand, with your consent, I give you to this Gentleman.  Ca. 
Marry phoh, will you match me to a fool?  Sir Ed. 
God pardon me, not I: why M. Ellis ha?  
Had you her consent, speak freely man?  El. 
Indeed la now; I thought so: by my troth  
You said you loved me, that you did indeed.  Ca. 
I as my fool, my Idiot to make sport.  Sir Ed. 
Fie daughter, you are too plain with him.  
Alas my son simile is out of countenance.  El. 
Truly as a Mill-horse, is not a horse Mill, and as a Cart jade, is not a jade Cart, even so will I go hang myself.  Sir Ed. 
Mary god forbid, what frolic, frolic man, we'll have a Cup of Sack and Sugar soon, shall quite expel these musty humours of stale melancholy.  Enter Pasquil and a Country Wench, with a Basket of Eggs. Pas. 
Is this the Egg where Castor and Pollux bred?  
I'll crack the Bastard in the very shell.  Coun. Maid. 
Alas my markets, my markets are clean spoiled.  Exit Wench. Pas. 
ubi Helena, vbi Troia, be't not true my Ganymede,  
When shall old Saturn mount his Throne again?  
See, see, alas how bleak Religion stands.  
Katherina, Katherina, you damned Titanoies,  
Why prick you heavens ribs with blasphemy?  
Python yet breathes, old grey haired piety.  Sir Ed. 
Alas kind youth, how came he thus distraught?  Page. 
I left him in pursuit of Katherine,  
And found him in this strange distemperature.  Pas. 
O Sir, be't you that stamp on literature?  
You are inspired you with prophesy.  El. 
Not I, as I shall be saved, I am M. john Ellis I.  Sir Ed. 
Come, come, let's entice him by some good means,  
I'll labour to reclaim him to his wits.  
O now my daughter Katherine remembers me,  
Where art thou girl? heaven give me patience.  Pas. 
Poor, poor Astrea, who blurs thy orient shine?  
Come yond's the Capitol of jupiter,  
Lett's whip the Senate, else they will not leave  
To have their justice blasted with abuse  
Of flattering Sycophants. Come let's mount the Stars,  
Reverend antiquity go you in first—  
Dotage will follow. Then comes pale faced Lust—  
Next Sodom, than Gomorha, next poor I,  
By heaven my heart is burst with misery.  Exit Pas. Enter Brabant signor, monsieur and the Page. Moun. 
I ha tell yow de very troth of the lagg jest, by gour your England Damosels are so fear, so vittie, so kit, by my troth she toss me wish vey she please der: but pre yow were is de Vench? Is dis de house? Ha is dis de house, pre yow tell me ha?  Bra. Sig. 
It is, it is, and she is in the Inner Chamber:  
Boy call her forth.  Exit Page. Moun. Sings. 
By gour den me must needs now sing,  
Ding, ding, a ding, Ding a, ding a, ding,  
For me am now at pleasure's spring.  
Ding a, ding, ding, ding a, ding a, ding a, ding,  
And a he da vench, da vench, da vench,  
Which must my bruling humour quench. Coma, coma, come.  Enter Mistress Brabant. Mist. Bra. 
Now sweet, you kept your promise well last night.  Moun. 
By gorshe give him much kind word already.  Bra. Sig. 
Well to make thee amends, boy fetch us a quart of Canary Sack. Pry thee Mall entertain this French Gentleman.  Mist. Bra. 
Sir you are very welcome to my Lodging.  Moun. 
Me danck you, and first me kiss your finger, next me buss your lip, and last me clip your vast, and now foutra for de Vinifride.  Page. 
Sir Edward's Caterer passed by sir, you willed me to remember lemons.  Bra. Sig. 
God's precious 'tis true: Boy go with me to Billingsgate. Mall I'll return straight.  Exit Bra. Sig. and his Page. Moun. 
Will yow no Vin sir, he, he is gone purposely, by my troth most kind Gentleman. Fair Madame pray yow pity me, by Gour me languish for your love, me am a pouera French Gentleman, pray you show me your bedchamber.  Mist. Bra. 
What mean you sir, by this strange passion?  Moun. 
Nay noting, by Gour damosel, you be so fair, so admirably fair, flesh and blood cannot endure your countenance, me brule, ang me brule, ang yow ha' no compassion, by gour me ang quite languish. Last night me go to bed, ang me put de candle behind me, and by my troth me see clean torough me. Me ang so dry, me put a cold plattre at my back, and my back melt de plattre quite, do so burn. pray you show me your bed Chambre, me will be secret constant: I love you unreasonably vell, unreasonably vell by gour.  Mist. Bra. 
In faith you make me blush, what should I say?  Moun. 
Say no, ang take it: Or ark you one ting, Say neder yea nor no, but take it, ang say noting.  Mist. Bra. 
You will be close and secret?  Moun. 
Secred, by gour as secred as your soul, me will tell noting, possible.  Mist. Bra. 
Well Sir, if it please you to see my Chamber, 'tis at your service.  Exit Mist. Brabant. Moun. 
He now me ang brave monsieur, by gour ang me had know dis, me wood have eat some potatoes, or Ringo: but vell: he. Me will tanck Metre Brabant vor dis, by gour me am caught in heaven bliss.  Exit monsieur. Enter Camelia and Winifride, hanging on Planets arms. Ca. 
Oh too unkind, why dost thou scorn my love?  
She that with all the vehemence of speech  
Hath been pursued, and kneeled too for love,  
Prostrates herself, and all her choicest hopes,  
As low as to thy feet, disdain me not,  
To scorn a Virgin, is man's odious blot.  Pla. 
To scorn a man, is virgin's odious blot.  
Wert thou as rich as is the Ocean's womb,  
As beauteous as the glorious frame of heaven,  
Yet would I loathe thee worse than varnished skulls,  
Whose ryuels are daubed up with plastering paint.  Came. 
O Rocky spirit.  Pla. 
breath not in vain, I hate thy flatterings,  
Detest thy purest elegance of speech,  
Worse than I do the Croaking of a Toad.  Wini. 
Sweet Gentleman.  Pla. 
Peace you Rebato pinner, poting-stick,  
You bribed corrupters of affection:  
I hate you both, by heaven I hate her more  
Than I do love myself. Hence pack, away,  
I'll sooner dote upon a blear-eyed Witch,  
A sapless Beldame, then I'll flatter thee.  Came. 
Be not too cruel sweet Planet, dear relent,  
Compassionate my amorous languishment.  Pla. 
Ha, ha, I pray thee kneel, beg, blubber, Cry,  
whilst I behold thee with a loathing eye:  
And laugh to see thee weep.  Came. 
Look, on my knees I creep,  
Be not impenetrable beauteous youth,  
But smile upon me, and I'll make the air  
Court thy choice ear with soft delicious sounds.  
Bring forth the Viols, each one play his part,  
music's the quiver of young Cupid's dart.  The Song with the Viols. Pla. 
Out Siren, peace screech-owl, hence chattering Pie,  
The blacked beaked night Crow, or the howling Dog,  
Shall be more gracious than thy squeaking voice:  
Go sing to M. john. I shall be blunt  
If thou depart not, hence, go mourn and die,  
I am the scourge of light inconstancy. Exit Camelia and Winifride.  
Thus my dear Brabant, am I thy revenge,  
And whip her for the peevish scorn she bore  
To thy weak younger birth: o that the souls of men  
Were temperate like mine, than Nature's paint  
Should not triumph o'er our infirmities.  
I do adore with infinite respect,  
Women whose merit issues from their worth  
Of inward graces, but these rotten posts  
That are but guilt with outward garnishment,  
O how my soul abhors them. yond's my friend, Enter Brabant junior.  
I will conceal what I for him have wrought,  
Nice jealousy mistakes a friendly part:  
Now Brabant where's thy elder brother ha?  
What hath he built the jest with monsieur yet?  Bra. Iu. 
Faith I know not, but I heard he left the  
Frenchman with his wife.  Pla. 
Knew she thy brothers meaning?  Bra. Iu. 
Not a whit, she's a mere stranger to this merriment.  Pla. 
Hit and be lucky, o that 'twere lawful now  
To pray to God that he were Cuckoled.  
Dear Brabant I do hate these bombast wits,  
That are puffed up with arrogant conceit  
Of their own worth, as if Omnipotence  
Had hoist them to such unequalled height,  
That they surveyed our spirits with an eye  
Only create to censure from above,  
When good souls they do nothing but reprove.  
See where a Shallop comes. How now, what news?  Enter Winifride, and whispers with Planet. Bra. Iu. 
What might this mean, that Winifrid salutes  
The blunt tongued Planet, with such private speech?  
See with what vehemence she seems to urge  
Some private matter. Planet is my friend,  
And yet the strongest link of friendship's strained,  
When female love puts to her mighty strength.  
Mark, Mark, she offers him Camelia's scarf:  
Now on my life 'tis so: Planet suppliants my Love.  Pla. 
Friend I must leave thee, prithee pardon me,  
we'll meet at supper soon with the good knight.  Exeunt Pla. and Winifride. Bra. Iu. 
ay, ay, content: o hell to my delight,  
My friend will murder me, thin Cobweb Lawn  
Burst with each little breath of tempting sweets. Winifride speaks from within.  
She entreats you M. Planet, to meet  
Her at the Cross stile.  Bra. Iu. 
Ha, at the cross stile, well I'll meet him there.  
He that's perfidious to me in my love,  
Confusion take him, and his blood be spilled  
Without confusion to the murderer.  Exit Brabant.  

ACTVS QVINTUS.  Enter Bra. Iu. and his Page, charging a Pistol. Bra. Iu. 
So load it soundly, murders great with me,  
Go Boy, discharge it, even in planet's breast,  
Shoot him quite through, & through, thou canst not sin  
To murder him, that murdered his dear friend  
With damned breach of friendship, when he is slain  
Bring me his Cloak and Hat, here I will stay  
To be embraced in steed of Planet: go, away. Exit Boy.  
I had rather die with blood upon my head,  
Shame and reproach clogging my heavy hour,  
Then t'have my friend still wounding of my soul  
With reprobate apostasism in love.  
O this Sophisticate friendship, that dissolves  
With every heat of Fancy, let it melt  
Even in hell's Forge. Hark, the Pistol is discharged,  
The Act of gory murder is performed.  
Have mercy heaven: o my soul is rent  
Enter the Page .With planet's wound. Come Boy the Hat and Cloak,  
Go post to Scotland, there are crowns for thee,  
Leave Brabant unto death, and obloquy. Exit Page.  
Why now the ulcerous swelling of my hate  
Is broken forth: Oh that these women's beauties,  
This Nature's witchcraft, should enchant our souls  
So infinitely unrecoverable,  
That Hell, death, shame, eternal infamy,  
Cannot reclaim our desperate resolves,  
But we will on spite of damnation. Enter Camelia and Winifride.  
Come ye poor garments of my murdered friend,  
Mourn that you are compelled to hide his limbs  
That slew you Master. See Camelia comes,  
I'll stand thus muffled and deceive her sight,  
When love makes head, friendship is put to flight.  Came. 
Persist not still, o thou relentless youth  
To scorn my love: what though I scorned thy friend,  
Do not upbraid me still with hating him,  
Do not still view me with a loathing eye.  
For Brabant's sake, do you but love me sweet,  
And I'll not scorn him. Why shouldst be so nice  
In keeping laws of friendship? didst thou e'er hear  
Of any soul that held a friend more dear,  
Than a fair woman?  Bra. Iu. 
O the sting of death, how hath Brabant erred?  
Hence thou vile womb of my damnation,  
Oh thou wronged spirit of my murdered friend,  
Thou guiltless, spotless, pure Immaculate,  
Behold this arm thrusting swift vengeance  
Into the Trunk of a cursed damned wretch.  He draws his Rapier. Wini. 
he'll spoil himself, let's run & call for help.  Exit Camel. and Wini. Bra. Iu. 
Now have I room for murder, this vast place,  
Hushed silence, and dumb solitude, are fit  
To be observers of my Tragedy.  
Planet accept the smoke of reeking blood  
To expiate thy murder. Friend I come,  
we'll troup together to Elysium.  Enter Sir Edward, Camelia, Winifride, Ellis, Brabant Sig. Twedle, Drum, and others. Sir Ed. 
Hold harebrained youth, what mischief mads thy thoughts?  Bra. Iu. 
Forbear good knight, you never sinned so deep,  
As in detaining this just vengeance  
To light upon me, but know I will die,  
I have infringed the laws of God and Man,  
In shedding of my Planets guiltless blood,  
Who I supposed corrivaled me in love  
Of that Camelia, but injuriously:  
And therefore gentle knight, let mine own hand  
Be mine own hangman.  Bra. Sig. 
Brother I'll get you pardon, fear it not.  Bra. Iu. 
You'll get my pardon, brother pardon me,  
You shall not, for I'll die in spite of thee.  Sir Ed. 
I am turned wild in wonder of this act.  Enter Planet and the Page. Pla. 
Come Brabant come, give me my Cloak & Hat,  
The evening's raw and dank, I shall take cold.  
How now? turned mad, why starest thou on me thus?  
Give me my Cloak. Heart is the youth distraught?  Bra. Iu. 
Ha, dost thou breath, let's see where is thy wound?  Pla. 
Dost breath, my wound, what dost thou mean by this?  Page. 
Gentlemen I can direct you forth  
This Labyrinth of intricate misdoubts,  
My M. willed me kill that Gentleman,  
Now I thought he was mad in putting me  
To such an enterprise, and therefore soothed him up,  
With I sir, yes sir, and so sir, at each word,  
whilst he would show me how to hold the Dag,  
To draw the Cock, to charge, and set the flint,  
Mean time I had the wit to think him mad,  
And therefore went, and as he willed me shot,  
Which he God knows, thought pierced his dear friends heart,  
Then went & borrowed that same Hat & cloak  
Of M. Planet, brought them to my Master,  
And so.  Pla. 
No more, no more, knight I will make thee smile  
When I discourse how much my friend hath erred.  Sir Ed. 
I will dissolve and melt my soul tonight,  
In influent laughter. Come 'my jocund spirit  
Presageth some unhoped for happiness:  
we'll crown this evening with triumphant joy,  
I'll sup upon this Green, here's room enough  
To draw a liberal breath, and laugh aloud:  
Drum fetch the Table: Twedle scour your Pipe,  
For my old bones will have a Round tonight.  
Now by my troth and I had thought on't too,  
I would have had a play: i'faith I would.  
I saw the Children of Paul's last night,  
And troth they pleased me pretty, pretty well,  
The Apes in time will do it handsomely.  Pla. 
i'faith I like the Audience that frequenteth there  
With much applause: A man shall not be choked  
With the stench of Garlic, nor be pasted  
To the barmy jacket of a Beer-brewer.  Bra. Iu. 
'tis a good gentle Audience, and I hope the Boys  
Will come one day into the Court of requests.  Bra. Sig. 
I and they had good Plays, but they produce  
Such musty fopperies of antiquity,  
And do not suit the humorous age's backs  
With clothes in fashion.  Pla. 
Well Brabant well, you will be censuring still,  
There lies a jest in steep will whip you fort't.  Sir Ed. 
Gallants I have no judgement in these things,  
But will it please you sit? Camelia  
Call these same Gentlemen unto thee wench:  
O there with thee my Katherine was wont  
To sit with graceful presence, well let't pass:  
Fetch me a Cup of Sack. Come Gallants sit,  
M. Brabant, M. Planet, I pray you sit.  
Young M. Brabant, and Gods precious M. john,  
Sit all, and consecrate this night to mirth.  
Here is old Ned's place: Come, sound Music there,  
What Gallants have you ne'er a Page can entertain  
This pleasing time with some French brawl or Song?  
What shall we have a Galliard? troth 'tis well.  
A Galliard .Good Boy i'faith, I would thou hadst more room.  Enter Katherine. Ka. 
Once more the gracious heavens have renewed  
My wasted hopes, once more a blessed chance  
Hath fetched again my spirit from the sound  
And languishing despair of happiness.  
A skilful Beldame with the juice of herbs  
Hath cured my face, and killed the venom's power,  
And now if Pasquil live and love me still,  
Heaven is bounteous to poor Katherine.  
Yond sups my Father, but my Ned's not there  
I fear, and yet I know not what I fear.  Sir Ed. 
Gallants I drink this to Ned Pasquil's health.  Pla. 
i'faith I'll pledge him, would he had his wits.  Sir Ed. 
And I my daughter. Fill me one Cup more:  
No grief so potent, but neat sparkling wine  
Can conquer him: Oh this is juice divine.  Ka. 
Would he had his wits. Oh what a numbing fear  
Strikes a cold palsy through my trembling blood.  Enter Pasquil mad. Pas. 
Virtue shall burst ope the Iron gates of Hell,  
I'll not be cooped up, room for Phaeton.  
Lame policy how canst thou go upright?  
O Lust, stain not sweet Love. Fie be not lost  
Upon the surge of vulgar humours. You Idiot  
Rivet my Armour, and Caparison,  
A mighty Centaur, for I'll run at Tilt,  
And tumble down y on Giant in the dust.  
Sit gentle judges of great Radamanth,  
Let not Proserpine rule thee. Oh she's dead.  
Now thou art right Aeacus, I appeal to thee,  
Have pity on a wretch's misery.  Sir Ed. 
I am quite sunk with grief, what shall we do  
To get recovery of his wits again?  Bra. Iu. 
Let Music sound, for I have often heard  
It hath such sweet agreement with our souls,  
That it corrects vain humours, and recalls  
His straggling fancies to fair union.  Pla. 
Why the soul of man is nought but symphonies,  
A sound of disagreeing parts, yet fair unite  
By heavens hand, divine by reason's light.  Sir Ed. 
Sound Music, then pray God it take effect.  The Musics sounds, and Pasquil's Eye is fixed upon Catherine. Bra. Iu. 
Mark with what passion he sucks up the sweets  
Of this fame delicate harmonious breath.  Pla. 
Observe him well, methinks his eye is fixed  
Upon some object that seems to attract  
His very soul forth with astonishment  
Mark with what vehemence his thoughts do speak  
Even in his eyes, some creature stands far off,  
That hath entranced him with a pleasing sight.  Pas. 
Amazement, wonder, stiff astonishment,  
Stare and stand gazing on this miracle,  
Perfection, of whate'er a human thought  
Can reach with his discursive faculties,  
Thou whose sweet presence purifies my sense,  
And dost create a second soul in me,  
Dear Katherine, the life of Pasquil's hopes.  Ka. 
Dear Pasquil, the life of Katherine's hopes.  Pas. 
Once more let me embrace the constant'st one  
That e'er was termed her Sex perfection.  Kathe. 
Once more let me be valued worth his love,  
In decking of whose soul, the graces strove.  Pas. 
Spite hath outspent itself, and thus at last,  Both speak. 
We clip with joyful arm each other's waist.  Sir Ed. 
O pardon me thou dread omnipotence,  
I thought thou couldst not thus have blessed me.  
O thou hast dewed my grey hairs with thy love,  
And made my old heart sprout with fertile joy.  Kathe. 
Forget dear father, that my act hath wronged  
The quiet of your age.  Sir Ed. 
No more, no more, I know what thou wouldst say  
Daughter, there's nothing but salvation,  
Could come unto my heart more gracious  
Than is the sight of my dear Katherine.  
Son Pasquill now, for thou shalt be my son,  
What frolic gentle youth.  Pas. 
Is Mammon here?  Drum. 
Oh Sir, M. Mammon is in a City of jury, called Bethlem, Alias plain Bedlam: the price of whips is mightily risen since his brain was pitifully overtumbled, they are so fast spent upon his shoulders.  Pas. 
Oh sacred heavens, how just is thy revenge?  Sir Ed. 
Why? did he cast you in the labyrinth  
Of these strange crosses?  Pas. 
Yes honoured knight, which in more private place  
And fitter time, I will disclose at large.  Came. 
Faith Sister, as I am your elder borne,  
So will I match before or with you sure,  
Young M. Brabant?  Bra. 
By this light not I.  Came. 
Honest M. Ellis?  Ellis. 
No indeed la, not I, I do not use to marry:  
For even as black patches are worn,  
Some for pride, some to stay the rheum, and  
Some to hide the scab, even so john Ellis  
Scorn her, that hath scorned him.  Came. 
Virtuous Master Planet.  Pla. 
Errant wandering star we shall near agree.  Ca. 
M. Brabant, M. Planet, M. Ellis, faith I'll have any.  Sir Ed. 
But nobody will have thee, this is the plague of light inconstancy.  
Go Twedle, bid the Butler broach fresh wine,  
Set up wax lights, and furnish new the boards,  
Knock down a score of beeves,  
Invite my neighbours straight,  
And make my Dressers groan with weight of meat.  
M. Ellis, pray you let us hear your high Dutch Song,  
You are admired for it: Good let's hear it.  El. 
I do not use to sing, and yet even as when the sky falls we shall have Larks, even so when my voice riseth, you shall have a Song.  He singeth, holding a Bowl of drink in his hand. 

The Song.  
Give us once a drink, for an the black Bowl,  
Sing gentle Butler bailey moy,  
For an the black bowl. Sing gentle Butler bailey moy.  
Give us once some drink, for an the pint Pot,  
Sing gentle Butler bailey moy, the pint pot,  
For an the black bowl. Sing gentle Butler bailey moy.  
Give us once a drink, for an the quart Pot,  
Sing gentle Butler baly moy, the quart, the pint Pot,  
For an the black bowl. Sing gentle Butler baly moy.  
Give us once some drink, for an the pottle Pot,  
Sing gentle Butler baly moy, the pottle, the quart, the pint pot,  
For an the black bowl. Sing gentle Butler baly moy.  
Give us once a drink, for an the gallon Pot,  
Sing gentle Butler baly moy, the gallon, the pottle, the quart, the pint pot, For an the black bowl.  
Sing gentle Butler baly moy.  
Give us once a drink for an the Firkin,  
Sing gentle Butler baly moy, the Firkin, the gallon, the pottle, the quart, the pint pot, For an the black bowl.  
Sing gentle Butler baly moy.  
Give us once a drink for an the Kilderkin,  
Sing gentle Butler baly moy, the Kilderkin, the Firkin, the gallon, the pottle, the quart, the pint pot,  
For and the black bowl. Sing gentle Butler baly moy.  
Give us once some drink for an the Barrel,  
Sing gentle Butler baly moy, the Barrel, the Kilderkin, the  
Firkin, the gallon, the pottle, the quart, the pint pot,  
For an the black bowl. Sing gentle Butler baly moy.  
Give us once some drink for an the hogshead,  
Sing gentle Butler baly moy, the hogshead, the Barrel, the  
Kilkerkin, the Firkin, the gallon, the pottle, the quart, the pint pot, For an the black bowl. Sing gentle Butler baly moy.  
Give us once a drink for an the But,  
Sing gentle Butler baly moy, the But, the hogshead, the Barrel, the Kilderkin, the Firkin, the gallon, the pottle, the quart, the pint pot, For an the black bowl.  
Sing gentle Butler baly moy.  
Give us once some drink for an the Pipe,  
Sing gentle Butler baly moy, the Pipe, the But, the hogshead, the Barrel, the Kilderkin, the Firkin, the gallon, the pottle, the quart, the pint pot, For an the black bowl.  
Sing gentle Butler baly moy.  
Give us once some drink for an the Tun,  
Sing gentle Butler baly moy, the Tun, the Pipe, the But, the the hogshead, the Barrel, the Kilderkin, the Firkin, the gallon, the pottle, the quart, the pint pot, For an the black bowl.  
Sing gentle Butler baly moy.   Sir. Ed. 
Well done, i'faith 'twas chanted merrily:  
What my Gallants, near a tickling jest  
To make us sown with mirth ere we go in?  Bra. Sig. 
Faith Gent. I ha' brewed such a strong headed jest  
Will make you drunk, and reel with laughter:  
You know monsieur john fo de king?  Sir. Ed. 
Very well, he read French to my daughters.  Bra. Sig. 
I to gull the Fool, have brought him to my wife, as to a loose lascivious Courtesan, she being a mere stranger to the jest, and there some three hours ago left him: but I am sure she hath so cudgeled him with quick sharp jests, and so battered him with a volley of her wit, as indeed she is exceeding witty, and admirable chaste, that in my conscience he'll never dare to court women more. Would to God he were returned.  Enter monsieur. Sir. Ed. 
See even on your wish he's come.  Moun. 
jesu preserve you sweet Metre Brabant, by gour de most delicate plump vench dat ever me touch: me am your slave, your peasant; by gour a votre service whilst I live vor dis.  Bra. Sig. 
He would persuade you now that he touched her, with an immodest hand. Ha, ha, ha.  Moun. 
touch her, by Gour me tuch her, and touch her, and me touch her, me near tuch such a vench, de finea foot, de cleanest leg, de sleekest skin: and me tell e sure token, she hath de finest little varte you know veare: he by Gour me near tuch such a vench.  Sir Ed. 
Pray God he have not brewed a heady jest indeed.  Bra. Sig. 
Why faith Gentlemen I am Cuckold, by this light I am.  Moun. 
By gour me no know, you tell a me 'twas a Courtesan, pray you pardon me, by my troth, me teach you French to th'end of de vorlde.  Pla. 
Come here's thy Cap of Maintenance, the Coronet  
Of Cuckolds. Nay you shall wear it, or wear  
My Rapier in your guts by heaven.  
Why dost thou not well deserve to be thus used?  
Why shouldst thou take felicity to gull  
Good honest souls, and in thy arrogance  
And glorious ostentation of thy wit,  
Think God infused all perfection  
Into thy soul alone, and made the rest  
For thee to laugh at? Now you Censurer  
Be the ridiculous subject of our mirth.  
Why Fool, the power of Creation  
Is still Omnipotent, and there's no man that breathes  
So valiant, learned, witty, or so wise,  
But it can equal him out of the same mould.  
Wherein the first was formed. Then leave proud scorn,  
And honest self made Cuckold, wear the horn.  Bra. Sig. 
Wear the horn? ay, spite of all your teeth  
I'll wear this Crown, and triumph in this horn.  Sir Ed. 
Why faith 'tis valorously spoke fair Sir,  
we'll solemnize your Coronation  
With royal pomp. Now Gentlemen prepare  
A liberal spirit to entertain a jest,  
Where free light jocund mirth shall be enthroned  
With sumptuous state. Now Music beat the air,  
entrance our thoughts with your harmonious sounds,  
Our Fortune laughs, and all content abounds.  Exeunt omnes. 
FINIS.   

The names of all the men and Women, that Act this Play.  

The Men.  
1. Sir Edward Fortune.  
2. Brabant signor, and his Page.  
3. Brabant junior, and his Page.  
4. Planet.  
5. Puff, and his Page.  
6. john Ellis.  
7. Mammon the Usurer, with a great nose.  
8. Flawne his Page.  
9. Timothy Twedle.  
10. Jack Drum.  
11. Pasquil.  
12. monsieur.   

The Women.  
1. Katherine.  
2. Camelia.  
3. Winifrid.  
4. Market Woman.