A JOVIAL CREW: OR, THE MERRY BEGGARS. Presented in a comedy, AT The Cockpit in Drury-Lane, in the year 1641.  
Written by RICHARD BROME.  Mart. 
Hic totus volo rideat Libellus.  
LONDON: Printed by I. Y. for E. D. and N. E. and are to be sold at the Gun in Ivy-Lane. 1652.   

To the Right Noble, Ingenious, and Judicious Gentleman, THOMAS STANLEY, Esq  
SIR,  
I Have, long since, studied in these anti-ingenious Times, to find out a Man, that might, at once, be both a Judge and Patron to this Issue of my Old age, which needs both. And my blessed Stars have flung me upon You: In whom both those Attributes concentre and flourish: Nor can I yet find a reason, why I should present it to You (it being below your Acceptance or Censure) but only my own Confidence; which had not grown to this forwardness, had it not been encouraged by your Goodness. Yet we all know, Beggars use to flock to great men's Gates. And, though my Fortune has cast me in that Mould, I am poor and proud; and preserve the humour of him, who could not beg for any thing, but great Boons, such, as are your kind Acceptance and Protection. I dare not say (as my Brethren use) that I present this, as a Testimonial of my Gratitude or Recompense for your Favours: For (I protest) I conceive it so far from quitting old Engagements, that it creates new. So that, all, that this Play can do, is but to make more Work; and involves me in Debts, beyond a possibility of Satisfaction. Sir, it were a folly in me, to tell you of your Worth, the World knows it enough; and are bold to say, Fortune and Nature scarce ever clubbed so well. You know, Sir, I am old, and cannot cringe, nor Court, with the powdered and ribbanded Wits of our days: But, though I cannot speak so much, I can think as well, and as honourably as the best. All the Arguments I can use to induce you to take notice of this thing of nothing, is, that it had the luck to tumble last of all in the Epidemical ruin of the Scene; and now limps hither with a wooden Leg, to beg an Alms at your hands. I will wind up all, with a Use of Exhortation, That since the Times conspire to make us all Beggars, let us make ourselves merry; which (if I am not mistaken) this drives at. Be pleased therefore, Sir, to lodge these harmless Beggars in the Outhouses of your thoughts; and, among the rest, Him, that in this cuckoo time, puts in for a Membership, and will fill the choir of those, that Duly and truly pray for you, and is,  
SIR, Your humble Servant RIC: BROME.   


To Master RICHARD BROME, on his Play, called, a jovial Crew: or, The merry BEGGARS.  
Plays are instructive Recreations:  
Which, who would write, may not expect, at once,  
No, nor with every breeding, to write well.  
And, though some itching Academics fell  
Lately upon this Task, their Products were  
Lame and imperfect; and did grate the ear;  
So, that they mocked the stupid stationer's care,  
That both with Guelt and Cringes did prepare  
Fine Copper-Cuts; and gathered Verses too,  
To make a Shout before the idle Show.  
Your Fate is other: You do not invade;  
But by great johnson were made free o'th' Trade.  
So, that we must in this your Labour find  
Some Image and fair Relic of his Mind.  
john Hall.   

To Master RICHARD BROME, on his Comedy of A jovial Crew: or, The merry Beggars.  
NOt to Commend, or Censure thee, or thine;  
Nor like a Bush, to signify good Wine;  
Nor yet to publish to the World, or Thee,  
Thou meritest bays by Wit and Poetry,  
Do I stand here. Though I do know, there comes  
A Shoal, with Regiments of Encomiums,  
On all occasions, whose Astronomy  
Can calculate a Praise to Fifty three,  
And write blank Copies, such, as being viewed,  
May serve indifferently each Altitude;  
And make Books, like Petitions, whose Commands  
Are not from Worth, but multitude of Hands:  
Those will prove Wit by Power, and make a Trade,  
To force by number when they can't persuade.  
Here's no such need: For Books, like Children, be  
Well Christened, when their Sureties are but three.  
And those, which to twelve Godfathers do come,  
Signify former Guilt, or speedy Doom.  
Nor need the Stationer, when all th' Wits are past,  
Bring his own Periwig Poetry at last.  
All this won't do: For, when their Labour's done,  
The Reader's ruled, not by their tastes, but's own.  
And he, that for Encomiastics looks,  
May find the bigger, not the better Books.  
So, that the most our levers serve for, shows  
Only that we're his Friends, and do suppose  
'Tis good: And that is all, that I shall say.  
In truth I love him well, and like his Play.  
And if there's any, that don't think so too:  
Let them let it alone for them, that do.  
I. B.   

To his worthy Friend Master RICHARD BROME, upon his Comedy, called, A jovial Crew: or, The merry Beggars.  
THis Comedy (ingenious Friend) will raise  
itself a Monument, without a Praise  
Begged by the Stationer; who, with strength of Purse  
And Pens, takes care, to make his Book sell worse.  
And I dare calculate thy Play, although  
Not elevated unto Fifty two.  
It may grow old as Time or Wit; and he,  
That dares despise, may after envy thee.  
Learning, the File of Poesy may be  
Fetched from the Arts and University:  
But he that writes a Play, and good, must know,  
Beyond his Books, Men, and their Actions too.  
Copies of Verse, that make the New Men sweat,  
Reach not a Poem, nor the muse's heat;  
Small Bavine-Wits, and Wood, may burn a while,  
And make more noise, than Forests on a Pile,  
Whose Fivers shrunk, may invite a piteous stream,  
Not to lament, but to extinguish them.  
Thy Fancy's Mettle; and thy strain's much higher  
Proof 'gainst their Wit, and what that dreads, the Fire.  
ja: Shirley.   

To my Worthy Friend Master RICHARD BROME, on his excellent Play, called, A jovial Crew: or, The merry Beggars.  
THere is a Faction (Friend) in Town, that cries,  
Down with the Dagon-Poet, johnson dies.  
His Works were too elaborate, not fit  
To come within the Verge, or face of Wit.  
Beaumont and Fletcher (they say) perhaps, might  
Pass (well) for currant Coin, in a dark night:  
But Shakespeare the plebeian Driller, was  
Foundered in's Pericles', and must not pass.  
And so, at all men fly, that have but been  
Thought worthy of Applause; therefore, their spleen.  
Ingrateful Negro-kind, dart you your Rage  
Against the Beams that warmed you, and the Stage!  
This malice, shows it is unhallowed heat,  
That boil your Raw-brains, and your Temples beat.  
Adulterate Pieces may retain the Mould,  
Or Stamp, but want the pureness of the Gold.  
But the World's mad, those Jewels that were worn  
In high esteem, by some, laid by in scorn;  
Like Indians, who their Native Wealth despise,  
And dote on Stranger's Trash, and Trumperies.  
Yet, if it be not too far spent, there is  
Some hopes left us, that this, thy well wrought Piece,  
May bring it Cure, reduce it to its sight,  
To judge th' difference twixt the Day, and Night;  
Draw th' Curtain of their Errors: that their sense  
May be conformable to Ben's Influence;  
And finding here, Nature and Art agree,  
May swear, thou liv'st in Him, and he in Thee.  
Io: Tatham.   

To Master RICHARD BROME, upon his Comedy, called, A jovial Crew: or, The merry Beggars.  
Something I'd say, but not to praise thee (Friend)  
For thou thyself, dost best thyself commend.  
And he that with an Eulogy doth come,  
May to's own Wit raise an Encomium,  
But not to thine. Yet I'll before thee go,  
Though Whiffler-like to usher in the Show.  
And like a quarter Clock, foretell the time  
Is come about for greater Bells to chime.  
I must not praise thy Poetry, nor Wit,  
Though both are very good; yet that's not it.  
The Reader in his progress will find more  
Wit in a line, than I praise in a score.  
I shall be read with prejudice, for each line  
I write of thee, or any thing that's thine,  
Be't Name, or Muse, will all be read of me,  
As if I clawed myself, by praising thee.  
But though I may not praise; I hope, I may  
Be bold to love thee. And the World shall say  
I've reason for't. I love thee for thy Name;  
I love thee for thy Merit, and thy Fame:  
I love thee for thy neat and harmless wit,  
Thy Mirth that does so clean and closely hit.  
Thy luck to please so well: who could go faster?  
At first to be the Envy of thy Master.  
I love thee for thy self; for who can choose  
But like the Fountain of so brisk a Muse?  
I love this Comedy, and every line,  
Because 'tis good, as well's because 'tis thine.  
Thou tell'st the World, the life that Beggars lead,  
'Tis seasonable, 'twill become our Trade.  
'T must be our study too; for in this time  
who'll not be innocent, since Wealth's a Crime?  
Thou'rt th' age's Doctor now; for since all go  
To make us poor, thou mak'st us merry too.  
Go on, and thrive; may all thy sportings be  
Delightful unto all, as th' are to me.  
May this so please t' encourage thee; that more  
May be made public, which thou keep'st in store.  
That though we've lost their Dress; we may be glad  
To see and think on th' happiness we had.  
And thou thereby may'st make our Name to shine;  
'Twas Royal once; but now 'twill be Divine.  
ALEX. BROME.    

Prologue.  
THe Title of our Play, A jovial Crew,  
May seem to promise Mirth: Which were a new,  
And forced thing, in these sad and tragic days,  
For you to find, or we express in Plays.  
We wish you, then, would change that expectation,  
Since jovial Mirth is now grown out of fashion.  
Or much not to expect: For, now it chances,  
(Our Comic Writer finding that Romances  
Of Lovers, through much travel and distress,  
Till it be thought, no Power can redress  
Th' afflicted Wanderers, though stout Chivalry  
Lend all his aid for their delivery;  
Till, lastly, some impossibility  
Concludes all strife, and makes a Comedy)  
Finding (he says) such Stories bear the sway,  
Near as he could, he has composed a Play,  
Of Fortune-tellers, Damsels, and their Squires,  
Exposed to strange Adventures, through the Briers  
Of Love and Fate. But why need I forestall  
What shall so soon be obvious to you all:  
But wish the dulness may make no Man sleep,  
Nor sadness of it any Woman weep.   

The Persons of the Play.  

Oldrents, an ancient Esquire.  
Hearty, his Friend, and merry Companion, but a decayed Gentleman.  
Springlove, Steward to Master Oldrents.  
Vincent, two young Gentlemen.  
Hilliard, two young Gentlemen.  
Randall, a Groom, Servant to Oldrents.  
Master Sentwell, and two other Gentlemen, Friends to Justice Clack.  
Oliver, the Justice's Son.  
Master Clack, the Justice himself.  
Master Talboy, Lover to the Justice's Niece.  
Martin, the Justice's clerk.  
Chaplain, to Oldrents.  
Usher, to Oldrents.  
Butler, to Oldrents.  
Cook to Oldrents.  
Rachel, Oldrent's Daughters.  
Meriel, Oldrent's Daughters.  
Amie, Justice Clack's Niece.  
Autum-Mort, an old Beggar-woman.  
Patrico, Four especial Beggars.  
Soldier, Four especial Beggars.  
Lawyer, Four especial Beggars.  
Courtier, Four especial Beggars.  
Scribble, their Poet.  
Divers other Beggars, Fiddlers, and Mutes.    

A JOVIAL CREW: OR, The merry Beggars.  

Actus Primus.  Oldrents. Hearty. Old. 
IT has indeed, Friend, much afflicted me.  Hea. 
And very justly, let me tell you, Sir,  
That could so impiously be curious  
You tempt a judgement on you; to give ear,  
And Faith too (by your leave) to Fortune-tellers,  
Wizards and Gipsies!  Old. 
I have since been frighted  
With't in a thousand dreams.  Hea. 
I would be drunk  
A thousand times to bed, rather than dream  
Of any of their Riddlemy Riddlemy's.  
If they prove happy so: If not, let't go;  
You'll never find their meaning till the event,  
If you suppose there was, at all, a meaning,  
As the equivocating Devil had, when he  
Cozened the Monk, to let him live soul-free,  
Till he should find him sleeping between sheets:  
The wary Monk, abjuring all such lodging,  
At last, by overwatching in his study,  
The foul Fiend took him napping with his nose  
Betwixt the sheet-leaves of his conjuring Book.  
There was the whim, or double meaning on't.  
But these fond Fortune-tellers, that know nothing,  
Aim to be thought more cunning then their Master,  
The foresaid Devil, tho' truly not so hurtful:  
Yet, trust 'em hang 'em. Wizards! old blind Buzzards!  
For once they hit, they miss a thousand times;  
And most times give quite contrary, bad for good,  
And best for worst. One told a Gentleman  
His son should be a man-killer, and hanged for't:  
Who, after proved a great and rich Physician,  
And with great Fame i'th' University  
Hanged up in Picture for a grave example.  
There was the whim of that. Quite contrary!  Old. 
And that was happy, would mine could so deceive my fears.  Hea. 
They may: but trust not to't. Another Schemist  
Found, that a squint-eyed boy should prove a notable  
Pickpurse, and afterwards a most strong thief;  
When he grew up to be a cunning Lawyer,  
And at last died a Judge. Quite contrary!  
How many have been marked out by these Wizards  
For fools, that after have been pricked for Sheriffs?  
Was not a shepherd-boy foretold to be  
A Drunkard, and to get his living from  
Bawds, Whores, Thieves, quarrelers, and the like?  
And did he not become a Suburb justice?  
And live in Wine and Worship by the Fees  
Racked out of such Delinquents? There's the whim on't.  
Now I come to you: Your Figure-stinger finds,  
That both your Daughters, notwithstanding all  
Your great Possessions, which they are coheirs of,  
Shall yet be Beggars: May it not be meant,  
(If, as I said, there be a meaning in it)  
They may prove Courtiers, or great Courtiers wives.  
And so be Beggars in Law? Is not that  
the whim on't think you? you shall think no worse on't.  Old. 
Would I had your merry heart.  Hea. 
I thank you, Sir.  Old. 
I mean the like.  Hea. 
I would you had; and I  
Such an Estate as yours. Four thousand yearly,  
With such a heart as mine, would defy Fortune,  
And all her babbling Soothsayers. I'd as soon  
Distrust in Providence, as lend a fear  
To such a Destiny, for a Child of mine,  
While there be Sack and Songs in Town or Country.  
Think like a man of conscience (now I am serious)  
What justice can there be for such a curse  
To fall upon your Heirs? Do you not live  
Free, out of Law, or grieving any man?  
Are you not th'only rich man lives unenvied?  
Have you not all the praises of the Rich,  
And prayers of the Poor? Did ever any  
Servant, or Hireling, Neighbour, Kindred curse you,  
Or wish one minute shortened of your life?  
Have you one grudging Tenant? will they not all  
Fight for you? Do they not teach their Children,  
And make 'em too, pray for you morn and evening,  
And in their Graces too, as duly as  
For King and Realm? The innocent things would think  
They ought not eat else.  Old. 
'tis their goodness.  Hea. 
It is your merit. Your great love and bounty  
Procures from Heaven those inspirations in 'em.  
Whose Rent did ever you exact? whose have  
You not remitted, when by casualties  
Of fire, of floods, of common dearth, or sickness,  
Poor men were brought behind hand? Nay, whose losses.  
Have you not piously repaired?  Old. 
Enough.  Hea. 
What Hariots have you ta'en from forlorn Widows?  
What Acre of your thousands have you racked?  Old. 
Good Friend, no more.  Hea. 
These are enough, indeed,  
To fill your ears with joyful acclamations  
where'er you pass: Heaven bless our Landlord Oldrent;  
Our Master Oldrent; our good Patron Oldrent.  
Cannot these sounds conjure that evil spirit  
Of fear out of you, that your Children shall  
Live to be Beggars? Shall Squire Oldrent's Daughters  
Wear old rents in their Garments? (there's a whim too)  
Because a Fortune-teller told you so?  Old. 
Come, I will strive to think no more on't.  Hea. 
Will you ride forth for air then, and be merry?  Old. 
Your counsel and example may instruct me.  Hea. 
Sack must be had in sundry places too.  
For Songs I am provided.  Enter Springlove with Books and Papers, he lays them on the Table. Old. 
Yet here comes one brings me a second fear,  
Who has my care the next unto my children.  Hea. 
Your Steward, Sir, it seems has business with you.  
I wish you would have none.  Old. 
I'll soon dispatch it:  
And then be for our journey instantly.  Hea. 
I'll wait your coming down, Sir. Exit.  Old. 
But why, Springlove,  
Is now this expedition?  Spr. 
Sir, 'Tis duty.  Old. 
Not common among Stewards, I confess,  
To urge in their Accounts before the day  
Their Lords have limited. Some that are grown  
To hoary hairs and Knighthoods, are not found  
Guilty of such an importunity.  
'Tis yet but thirty days, when I give forty  
After the half-year day, our Lady last.  
Could I suspect my Trust were lost in thee;  
Or doubt thy youth had not ability  
To carry out the weight of such a charge,  
ay, then, should call on thee.  Spr. 
Sir, your indulgence,  
I hope, shall ne'er corrupt me. ne'ertheless,  
The testimony of a fair discharge  
From time to time, will be encouragement  Springlove turns over the several Books to his Master. 
To virtue in me. You may then be pleased  
To take here a Survey of all your Rents  
Received, and all such other payments, as  
Came to my hands since my last Audit, for  
Cattle, Wool, Corn, all Fruits of Husbandry.  
Then, my Receipts on Bonds, and some new Leases,  
With some old debts, and almost desperate ones,  
As well from Country Cavaliers, as Courtiers.  
Then, here Sir, are my several Disbursements,  
In all particulars for yourself and Daughters,  
In charge of Housekeeping, Buildings and Repairs;  
Journeys, Apparel, Coaches, Gifts, and all  
Expenses for your personal necessaries.  
Here, Servants wages, Liveries, and Cures.  
Here for supplies of Horses, Hawks and Hounds.  
And lastly, not the least to be remembered,  
Your large Benevolences to the Poor.  Old. 
Thy charity there goes hand in hand with mine.  
And, Springlove, I commend it in thee, that  
So young in years art grown so ripe in goodness.  
May their Heaven-piercing Prayers bring on thee  
Equal rewards with me.  Spr. 
Now here, Sir, is  
The balance of the several Accounts,  
Which shows you what remains in Cash: which added  
Unto your former Bank, makes up in all—  Old. 
Twelve thousand and odd pounds.  Spr. 
Here are the keys  
Of all. The Chests are safe in your own Closet.  Old. 
Why in my Closet? is not yours as safe?  Spr. 
O, Sir, you know my suit.  Old. 
Your suit? what suit?  Spr. 
Touching the time of year.  Old. 
'Tis well-nigh May.  
Why what of that, good Springlove? Nightingale sings.  Spr. 
O, Sir, you hear I am called.  Old. 
Fie Springlove, fie.  
I hoped thou hadst abjured that uncouth practice.  Spr. 
You thought I had forsaken Nature then.  Old. 
Is that disease of Nature still in thee  
So virulent? and, notwithstanding all  
My favours, in my gifts, my cares, and counsels,  
Which to a soul ingrateful might be boasted:  
Have I first bred thee, and then preferred thee (from  
I will not say how wretched a beginning)  
To be a Master over all my Servants;  
Planted thee in my bosom; and canst thou,  
There, slight me for the whistling of a Bird?  Spr. 
Your reason, Sir, informs you, that's no cause.  
But 'tis the season of the year that calls me.  
What moves her notes, provokes my disposition  
By a more absolute power of Nature, than  
Philosophy can render an account for.  Old. 
I find there's no expelling it; but still  
It will return. I have tried all the means  
(As I may safely think) in humane wisdom,  
And did (as near as reason could) assure me,  
That thy last years restraint had stopped for ever,  
That running sore on thee, that gadding humour:  
When, only for that cause, I laid the weight  
Of mine Estate in Stewardship upon thee;  
Which kept thee in that year, after so many  
Summer vagaries thou hadst made before.  Spr. 
You kept a Swallow in a Cage that while.  
I cannot, Sir, endure another Summer  
In that restraint, with life: 'twas then my torment,  
But now, my death. Yet, Sir, my life is yours:  
Who are my Patron; freely may you take it.  
Yet pardon, Sir, my frailty, that do beg  
A small continuance of it on my knees.  Old. 
Can there no means be found to preserve life  
In thee, but wandering, like a Vagabond?  
Does not the Sun as comfortably shine  
Upon my Gardens, as the opener Fields?  
Or on my Fields, as others far remote?  
Are not my Walks and Greens as delectable  
As the Highways and Commons? Are the shades  
Of sycamore and Bowers of Eglantine  
Less pleasing then of Bramble, or thorn hedges?  
Or of my Groves and Thickets, then wild Woods?  
Are not my Fountain waters fresher than  
The troubled streams, where every Beast does drink?  
Do not the Birds sing here as sweet and lively,  
As any other where? is not thy bed more soft,  
And rest more safe, then in a Field or Barn?  
Is a full Table, which is called thine own,  
Less curious or wholesome, than the scraps  
From others' trenchers, twice or thrice translated?  Spr. 
Yea, in the winter season, when the fire Is sweeter than the air.  Old. 
What air is wanting?  Spr. 
O Sir, you've heard of Pilgrimages; and The voluntary travels of good men.  Old. 
For Penance; or to holy ends? but bring Not those into comparison, I charge you.  Spr. 
I do not, Sir. But pardon me, to think Their sufferings are much sweetened by delights, Such as we find, by shifting place and air.  Old. 
Are there delights in beggary? Or, if to take  
Diversity of Air be such a solace,  
Travel the Kingdom over: And if this  
Yield not variety enough, try further:  
Provided your deportment be gentile.  
Take Horse, and Man, and Money: you have all,  
Or I'll allow enough.  Sing nightingale, cuckoo etc. Spr. 
O how am I confounded!  
Dear Sir, retort me naked to the world,  
Rather than lay those burdens on me, which  
Will stifle me. I must abroad or perish.  Old. 
I will no longer strive to wash this Moor;  
Nor breathe more minutes so unthriftily,  
In civil argument, against rude wind,  
But rather practise to withdraw my love  
And tender care (if it be possible)  
From that unfruitful breast; incapable  
Of wholesome counsel.  Spr. 
Have I your leave, Sir?  Old. 
I leave you to dispute it with yourself.  
I have no voice to bid you go, or stay:  
My love shall give thy will pre-eminence;  
And leave th' effect to Time and Providence— Exit.  Spr. 
I am confounded in my obligation  
To this good man: His virtue is my punishment,  
When 'tis not in my Nature to return  
Obedience to his Merits. I could wish  
Such an Ingratitude were Death by th'law,  
And put in present execution on me,  
you rid me of my sharper suffering.  
Nor but by death, can this predominant sway  
Of nature be extinguished in me. I  
Have fought with my Affections, by th' assistance  
Of all the strengths of Art and Discipline  
(All which I owe him for in education too)  
To conquer and establish my observance  
(As in all other rules) to him in this,  
This inborn strong desire of liberty  
In that free course, which he detests as shameful,  
And I approve my earth's felicity:  
But find the war is endless, and must fly.  
What must I lose then? A good Master's love.  
What loss feels he that wants not what he loses?  
They'll say I lose all, Reputation.  
What's that, to live where no such thing is known?  
My duty to a Master will be questioned.  
Where duty is exacted it is none:  
And among Beggars, each man is his own.  Enter Randal and three or four servants with a great Kettle, and black jacks, and a baker's Basket, all empty, exeunt with all, manet Randal. 
Now fellows, what new from whence you came?  Ran. 
The old wonted news, Sir, from your Guesthouse, the old Barn. We have unloaden the Breadbasket, the Beef-Kettle, and the Beer-Bumbards there, amongst your Guests the Beggars. And they have all prayed for you and our Master, as their manner is, from the teeth outward, marry from the teeth inwards 'tis enough to swallow your Alms; from whence I think their Prayers seldom come.  Spr. 
Thou shouldst not think uncharitably.  Ran. 
Thought's free, Master Steward, and it please you. But your Charity is nevertheless notorious, I must needs say.  Spr. 
Meritorious thou meantst to say.  Ran. 
Surely Sir, no; 'tis out of our curate's Book.  Spr. 
But I aspire no merits, nor popular thanks, 'Tis well if I do well in it.  Ran. 
It might be better though (if old Randal, whom you allow to talk, might counsel) to help to breed up poor men's children, or decayed labourers, past their work, or travel; or towards the setting up of poor young married couples; then to bestow an hundred pound a year (at least you do that, if not all you get) besides our Master's bounty, to maintain in begging such wanderers as these, that never are out of their way; that cannot give account from whence they came, or whither they would; nor of any beginning they ever had, or any end they seek, but still to stroll and beg till their bellies be full, and then sleep till they be hungry.  Spr. 
Thou art ever repining at those poor people! they take nothing from thee but thy pains: and that I pay thee for too. Why shouldst thou grudge?  Ran. 
Am I not bitten to it every day, by the six-footed bloodhounds that they leave in their Litter, when I throw out the old, to lay fresh straw for the new comers at night. That's one part of my office. And you are sure that though your hospitality be but for a night and a morning for one Rabble, to have a new supply every evening. They take nothing from me indeed, they give too much.  Spr. 
Thou art old Randall still I ever grumbling, but still officious for 'em.  Ran. 
Yes: hang 'em, they know I love 'em well enough, I have had merry bouts with some of 'em.  Spr. 
What sayst thou Randall?  Ran. 
They are indeed my pastime. I left the merry Grigs (as their provender has pricked 'em) in such a hoy yonder! such a frolic! you'll hear anon, as you walk nearer 'em.  Spr. 
Well honest Randal. Thus it is. I am for a journey. I know not how long will be my absence. But I will presently take order with the Cook, Pantler and Butler, for my wonted allowance to the Poor; And I will leave money with thee to manage the affair till my return.  Ran. 
Then up rise Randal, Bayley of the Beggars.  Spr. 
And if our Master shall be displeased (although the charge be mine) at the openness of the Entertainment, thou shalt then give it proportionably in money, and let them walk farther.  Ran. 
Pseugh! that will never do't, never do 'em good: 'Tis the Seat, the Habitation, the Rendezvous, that cheers their hearts. Money would clog their consciences. Nor must I lose the music of 'em in their lodging.  Spr. 
We will agree upon't anon. Go now about your business.  Ran. 
I go. Bayley? nay Steward and Chamberlain of the Rogues and Beggars. 
Exit.   Spr. 
I cannot think but with a trembling fear  
On this adventure, in a scruple, which  
I have not weighed with all my other doubts.  
I shall, in my departure, rob my Master.  
Of what? of a true Servant; other theft  
I have committed none. And that may be supplied,  
And better too, by some more constant to him.  
But I may injure many in his Trust,  
Which now he cannot be but sparing of.  
I rob him too, of the content and hopes  
He had in me, whom he had built and raised  
Unto that growth in his affection,  
That I became a gladness in his eye,  
And now must be a grief or a vexation  A noise and singing within. 
Unto his noble heart. But hark! I there's  
The Harmony that drowns all doubts and fears.  
A little nearer—  

Song.  
FRom hunger and cold who lives more free,  
Or who more richly clad than we?  
Our bellies are full; our flesh is warm;  
And, against pride, our rags are a charm:  
Enough is our Feast, and for tomorrow  
Let rich men care: we feel no sorrow.  
No sorrow, no sorrow, no sorrow, no sorrow.  
Let rich men care, we feel no sorrow.   Sp. 
The Emperor hears no such Music; nor feels content like this!  

Each City, each Town, and every Village,  
Affords us either an Alms or Pillage.  
And if the weather be cold and raw  
Then, in a Barn we tumble in straw.  
If warm and fair, by yea-cock and nay-cock  
The Fields will afford us a Hedge or a Haycock.  
A Haycock, a Haycock, a Haycock, a Haycock,  
The Fields will afford us a Hedge or a Haycock.   Spr. 
Most ravishing delight! But, in all this  
Only one sense is pleased: mine ear is feasted.  
Mine eye too must be satisfied with my joys.  
The hoarding Usurer cannot have more  
Thirsty desire to see his golden store,  
When he unlocks his Treasury, than I  
The equipage in which my beggar's lie.  He opens the Scene; the Beggars are discovered in their postures; then they issue forth; and last, the Patrico. All. 
Our Master, our Master! our sweet and comfortable Master.  Spr. 
How cheer my hearts?  I Beg. 
Most crowse, most cap'ringly.  
Shall we dance, shall we sing, to welcome our King?  
Strike up Piper a merry merry dance  
That we on our stampers may foot it and prance,  
To make his heart merry as he has made ours;  
As lustick and frolic as Lords in their Bowers.  Music. Dance. Spr. 
Exceeding well performed.  1 Beg. 
'Tis well if it like you, Master. But we have not that rag among us, that we will not dance off, to do you service; we being all and only your servants, most noble Sir. Command us therefore and employ us, we beseech you.  Spr. 
Thou speak'st most courtly.  2 Beg. 
Sir, he can speak, and could have writ as well. He is a decayed Poet, newly fallen in among us; and begs as well as the best of us. He learned it pretty well in his own profession before; and can the better practise it in ours now.  Spr. 
Thou art a wit too, it seems.  3 Beg. 
He should have wit and knavery too, Sir: For he was an Attorney, till he was pitched over the Bar. And, from that fall, he was taken up a Knight o' the Post; and so he continued, till he was degraded at the whipping-post; and from thence he ran resolutely into this course. His cunning in the Law, and the others labour with the Muses are dedicate to your service; and for myself, I'll fight for you.  Spr. 
Thou art a brave fellow, and speak'st like a Commander. Hast thou born Arms?  4. Beg. 
Sir, he has born the name of a netherlands Soldier, till he ran away from his Colours, and was taken lame with lying in the Fields by a Sciatica: I mean, Sir, the strappado. After which, by a second retreat, indeed running away, he scambled into his Country, and so scaped the Gallows; and then snapped up his living in the City by his wit in cheating, pimping, and such like Arts, till the Cart and the Pillory showed him too publicly to the world. And so, begging being the last refuge, he entered into our society. And now lives honestly, I must needs say, as the best of us.  Spr. 
Thou speak'st good language too.  1 Beg. 
He was a Courtier born, Sir, and begs on pleasure I assure you, refusing great and constant means from able friends to make him a staid man. Yet (the want of a leg notwithstanding) he must travel in this kind against all common reason, by the special policy of Providence.  Spr. 
As how, I prithee?  1 Beg. 
His Father, Sir, was a Courtier; a great Court Beggar I assure you;  
I made these Verses of Him and his Son here.  
A Courtier begged by Covetise, not Need,  
From Others that, which made them beg indeed.  
He begged, till wealth had laden him with cares  
To keep for's children and their children shares:  
While the oppressed, that lost that great Estate  
Sent Curses after it unto their Fate.  
The Father dies (the world says) very rich;  
The Son, being gotten while (it seems) the itch  
Of begging was upon the Courtly Sire,  
Or bound by Fate, will to no wealth aspire,  
Tho' offered him in Money, Clothes or Meat,  
More than he begs, or instantly must eat.  
Is not he heavenly blessed, that hates Earth's Treasure  
And begs, with What's a Gentleman but's pleasure?  
Or say it be upon the Heir a curse;  
What's that to him? The Beggar's ne'er the worse.  
For of the general store that Heaven has sent  
He values not a penny till't be spent.  All. 
A Scribble, a Scribble!  2 Beg. 
What City or Court Poet could say more than our hedge Muse-monger here?  2 Beg. 
What say, Sir, to our Poet Scribble here?  Spr. 
I like his vain exceeding well; and the whole Consort of you.  2 Beg. 
Consort, Sir. We have Musicians too among us: true merry Beggars indeed, that being within the reach of the Lash for singing libellous Songs at London, were fain to fly into our covey, and here they sing all our Poet's Ditties. They can sing any thing most tunably, Sir, but Psalms. What they may do hereafter under a triple Tree, is much expected. But they live very civilly and gentily among us.  Spr. 
But what is he there? that solemn old fellow, that neither speaks of himself, nor anybody for him.  2 Beg. 
O Sir, the rarest man of all. He is a Prophet. See how he holds up his prognosticating nose. He is divining now.  Spr. 
How? a Prophet?  2 Beg. 
Yes Sir, a cunning man and a Fortune-teller: 'tis thought he was a great clerk before his decay, but he is very close, will not tell his beginning, nor the fortune he himself is fall'n from: But he serves us for a Clergyman still, and marries us, if need be, after a new way of his own.  Spr. 
How long have you had his company?  2 Beg. 
But lately come amongst us, but a very ancient stroll all the Land over, and has traveled with Gipsies, and is a Patrico. Shall he read your Fortune Sir?  Spr. 
If it please him.  Pat. 
Lend me your hand, Sir. 
By this Palm I understand,  
Thou art born to wealth and Land,  
And after many a bitter gust,  
Shalt build with thy great grandsire's dust.   Spr. 
Where shall I find it? but come, I'll not trouble my head with the search.  2 Beg. 
What say, Sir, to our Crew? are we not well congregated?  Spr. 
You are A jovial Crew; the only people Whose happiness I admire.  3 Beg. 
Will you make us happy in serving you? have you any Enemies? shall we fight under you? will you be our Captain?  2. 
Nay, out King.  3. 
Command us something, Sir.  Spr. 
Where's the next rendezvouz?  1. 
Neither in Village nor in Town:  
But three mile off at Maple-down.  Spr. 
At evening there I'll visit you.  

Song.  

COme, come; away: The Spring  
(By every Bird that can but sing,  
Or chirp a note) doth now invite  
Us forth, to taste of his delight.  
In Field, in Grove, on Hill, in Dale;  
But above all the Nightingale:  
Who in her sweetness strives t'outdo  
The loudness of the hoarse cuckoo.  
cuckoo cries he, Jug Jug Jug sings she,  
From bush to bush, from tree to tree,  
Why in one place then tarry me?   

Come away; why do we stay?  
We have no debt or rent to pay.  
No bargains or accounts to make;  
Nor Land or Lease to let or take:  
Or if we had, should that remove us,  
When all the world's our own before us,  
And where we pass, and make resort,  
It is our Kingdom and our Court.  
cuckoo cries he etc. Exeunt Gantantes.    Spr. 
So, now away.  
They dream of happiness that live in State,  
But they enjoy it that obey their Fate.   

Actus Secundus.  Vincent, Hilliard, Meriel, Rachel. Vin. 
I Am overcome with admiration, at the felicity they take!  Hil. 
Beggars! They are the only people, can boast the benefit of a free state, in the full enjoyment of Liberty, Mirth and Ease; having all things in common and nothing wanting of Nature's whole provision within the reach of their desires. Who would have lost this sight of their Revels?  Vin. 
How think you Ladies? Are they not the only happy in a Nation?  Mer. 
Happier than we I'm sure, that are pent up and tied by the nose to the continual steam of hot Hospitality, here in our Father's house, when they have the Air at pleasure in all variety.  Ra. 
And though I know we have merrier Spirits than they, yet to live thus confined, stifles us.  Hil. 
Why Ladies, you have liberty enough; or may take what you please.  Mer. 
Yes in our Father's Rule and Government, or by his allowance. What's that to absolute freedom; such as the very Beggars have; to feast and revel here today, and yonder tomorrow; next day where they please; and so on still, the whole Country or Kingdom over? there's Liberty! the birds of the air can take no more.  Ra. 
And then at home here, or wheresoever he comes, our Father is so pensive, (what muddy spirit soe'er possesses him, would I could conjure't out) that he makes us even sick of his sadness, that were wont to see my gossips cock today; mould Cocklebread; dance clutterdepouch; and Hannykin booby; bind barrels; or do any thing before him, and he would laugh at us.  Mer. 
Now he never looks upon us, but with a sigh, or tears in his eyes, tho' we simper never so sanctifiedly. What tales have been told him of us, or what he suspects I know not; God forgive him, I do; but I am weary of his house.  Ra. 
Does he think us Whores trow, because sometimes we talk as lightly as great Ladies. I can swear safely for the virginity of one of us, so far as Word and Deed goes; marry Thought's free.  Mer. 
Which is that one of us I pray? yourself or me?  Ra. 
Good sister Meriel, Charity begins at home. But I'll swear I think as charitably of thee: And not only because thou art a year younger neither.  Mer. 
I am beholden to you. But for my Father, I would I knew his grief and how to cure him, or that we were where we could not see it. It spoils our mirth, and that has been better than his Meat to us.  Vin. 
Will you hear our motion Ladies?  Mer. 
Pshaw, you would marry us presently out of his way, because he has given you a foolish kind of promise: But we will see him in a better humour first, and as apt to laugh as we to lie down, I warrant him.  Hill. 
'Tis like that course will cure him, would you embrace it.  Ra. 
We will have him cured first, I tell you: And you shall wait that season, and our leisure.  Mer. 
I will rather hazard my being one of the Devil's Ape-leaders, than to marry while he is melancholy.  Ra. 
Or I to stay in his house; to give entertainment to this Knight, or tother Coxcomb, that comes to cheer him up with eating of his cheer: when we must fetch 'em sweetmeats, and they must tell us, Ladies, your lips are sweeter, and then fall into Courtship, one in a set speech taken out of old Britain's Works, another with Verses out of the Academy of Compliments, or some or other of the new Poetical Pamphleteers, ambitious only to spoil Paper, and publish their names in print. And then to be kissed, and sometimes slavered— fagh.  Mer. 
'Tis not to be endured. We must out of the House. We cannot live but by laughing, and that aloud, and nobody sad within hearing.  Vin. 
We are for any adventure with you, Ladies. Shall we project a journey for you? your Father has trusted you, and will think you safe in our company; and we would fain be abroad upon some progress with you. Shall we make a fling to London, and see how the Spring appears there in the Spring-Garden; and in Hyde-park, to see the Races, Horse and Foot; to hear the jockeys crack; and see the Adamites run naked afore the Ladies?  Ra. 
We have seen all already there, as well as they, last year.  Hil. 
But there ha' been new Plays since.  Ra. 
No: no: we are not for London.  Hil. 
What think you of a Journey to the Bath then?  Ra. 
Worse than t' other way. I love not to carry my Health where others drop their Diseases. There's no sport i' that.  Vin. 
Will you up to the hill top of sports, then, and Merriments, dovor's Olympics or the Cotswold Games.  Mer. 
No, that will be too public for our Recreation. We would have it more within ourselves.  Hil. 
Think of some course yourselves then. We are for you upon any way, as far as Horse and Money can carry us.  Vin. 
ay, and if those means fail us, as far as our legs can bear, or our hands can help us.  Ra. 
And we will put you to't. Come aside Meriel— Aside.  Vin. 
Some jeer, perhaps to put upon us.  Hil. 
What think you of a Pilgrimage to St. Winifride's Well?  Vin. 
Or a Journey to the wise woman at Nantwich, to ask if we be fit husbands for 'em?  Hil. 
They are not scrupulous in that, we having had their growing loves up from our Childhoods; and the old Squire's good will before all men.  Ra. 
Me. Ha ha ha—  Vin. 
What's the conceit I marvel.  Ra. 
Me. Ha ha ha ha—  Hill. 
Some merry one it seems.  Ra. 
And then, sirrah Meriel— Hark again— ha ha ha—  Vin. 
How they are taken with it!  Mer. 
Ha ha ha— Hark again Rachel.  Hill. 
Some wonderful Nothing sure. They will laugh as much to see a swallow fly with a white feather imped in her tail.  Vin. 
They were born laughing I think.  Ra. 
Me. Ha ha ha—  Vin. 
If it be not some trick upon us, which they'll discover in some monstrous shape, they cozen me. Now Ladies, is your Project ripe? possess us with the knowledge of it.  Ra. 
It is more precious, then to be imparted upon a slight demand.  Hil. 
Pray let us hear it. You know we are your trusty servants.  Vin. 
And have kept all your counsels 'ever since we have been Infant Playfellows.  Ra. 
Yes, you have played at all kinds of small game with us; but this is to the purpose. Ha ha ha—  Hil. 
It seems so by your laughing.  Ra. 
And asks a stronger tongue-tie than tearing of Books; burning of Samplers; making Dirt-pies; or piss and paddle in't.  Vin. 
You know how, and what we have vowed: to wait upon you any way, any how, and any whither.  Mer. 
And you will stand to't?  Hill. 
ay, and go to't with you, wherever it be.  Mer. 
Pray tell 't 'em'em, sister Rachel.  Ra. 
Why Gentlemen— ha ha— Thus it is— Tell it you Meriel.  Vin. 
O, is that all?  Mer. 
You are the elder. Pray tell it you.  Ra. 
You are the younger. I command you tell it. Come, out with it They long to have it.  Hil. 
When?  Vin. 
When?  Mer. 
Introth you must tell it, sister, I cannot. Pray begin.  Ra. 
Then Gentlemen stand your ground.  Vin. 
Some terrible business sure!  Ra. 
You seemed e'en now to admire the felicity of Beggars.  Mer. 
And have engaged yourselves to join with us in any course.  Ra. 
Will you now with us, and for our sakes turn Beggars?  Mer. 
It is our Resolution, and our Injunction on you.  Ra. 
But for a Time, and a short Progress.  Mer. 
And for a spring-trick of youth, now, in the season.  Vin. 
Beggars! What Rogues are these?  Hil. 
A simple trial of our Loves and service!  Ra. 
Are you resolved upon't? If not God bye'. We are resolved to take our course.  Mer. 
Let yours be to keep council.  Vin. 
Stay, stay. Beggars! Are we not so already?  
Do we not beg your loves, and your enjoyings?  
Do we not beg to be received your servants?  
To kiss your hands, or (if you will vouchsafe)  
Your lips; or your embraces?  Hil. 
We now beg,  
That we may fetch the Rings and Priest to marry us.  
Wherein are we no Beggars?  Ra. 
That will not serve. Your time's not come for that yet.  
You shall beg Victuals first.  Vin. 
O, I conceive your begging progress is to ramble out this summer among your Father's Tenants; and 'tis in request among gentlemen's Daughters to devour their Cheesecakes, Apple-pies, Cream Custards, Flapjacks, and Pan-puddings.  Mer. 
Not so, not so,  Hil. 
Why so we may be a kind of civil Beggars.  Ra. 
I mean stark, errant, downright Beggars, ay, Without equivocation; Statute Beggars.  Mer. 
Couchant and Passant, Guardant, Rampant Beggars.  Vin. 
Current and vagrant—  Hil. 
Stockant, whippant Beggars!  Vin. 
Must you and we be such? would you so have it?  Ra. 
Such as we saw so merry; and you concluded Were th'only happy People in a Nation.  Mer. 
The only Freemen of a Commonwealth;  
Free above Scot-free; that observe no Law,  
Obey no Governor, use no Religion,  
But what they draw from their own ancient custom,  
Or constitute themselves, yet are no Rebels.  Ra. 
Such as of all men's Meat and all men's Money  
Take a free part; and, wheresoever they travel.  
Have all things gratis to their hands provided.  Vin. 
Course fare most times.  Ra. 
Their stomach makes it good;  
And feasts on that, which others scorn for Food.  Mer. 
The Antidote, Content, is only theirs.  
And, unto that, such full delights are known,  
That they conceive the Kingdom is their own.  Vin. 
'Fore Heaven I think they are in earnest: for they were always mad.  Hill. 
And we were madder than they, if we should lose 'em.  Vin. 
'Tis but a mad trick of youth (as they say) for the Spring, or a short progress: and mirth may be made out of it; knew we how to carry it.  Ra. 
Pray Gentlemen be sudden.  
Hark, you hear the cuckoo. cuckoo  Hil. 
We are most resolutely for you in your course.  Vin. 
But the vexation is how to set it on foot.  Ra. 
We have projected it. Now if you be perfect and constant Lovers and friends, search you the means. We have puzzled 'em.  Mer. 
I am glad on't. Let 'em pump.  Vin. 
Troth a small stock will serve to set up withal. This Doublet sold off o' my back, might serve to furnish a Camp Royal of us.  Hil. 
But how to enter or arrange ourselves into the Crew will be the difficulty. If we light raw and tame amongst 'em (like Cage-Birds among a flight of wild ones) we shall never pick up a Living, but have our brains pecked out.  Vin. 
We want instruction dearly.  Enter Springlove. Hil. 
O here comes Springlove. His great Benefactorship among the Beggars might prefer us with Authority into a ragged Regiment presently. Shall I put it to him.  Ra. 
Take heed what you do. His greatness with my Father will betray us.  Vin. 
I will cut his throat then. My noble Springlove, the great Commander of the Maunders, and King of Canters, we saw the gratitude of your loyal Subjects, in the large Tributary content they gave you in their Revels.  Spr. 
Did you, Sir?  Hil. 
We have seen all with great delight and admiration.  Spr. 
I have seen you too, kind Gentlemen and Ladies; and overheard you in your quaint design, to new create yourselves out of the worldly blessings, and spiritual grace's Heaven has bestowed upon you, to be partakers and Coactors too, in those vile courses, which you call delights, ta'en by those despicable and abhorred Creatures.  Vin. 
Thou art a Despiser, nay a Blasphemer  
Against the Maker of those happy Creatures.  
Who, of all humane, have priority  
In their content. In which they are so blessed  
That they enjoy most in possessing least.  
Who made 'em such, dost think? or why so happy?  Ra. 
He grows zealous in the Cause: sure he'll beg indeed.  Hil. 
Art thou an Hypocrite, then, all this while?  
Only pretending Charity; or using it  
To get a Name and Praise unto thyself;  
And not to cherish and increase those Creatures,  
In their most happy way of living? Or  
Dost thou bestow thine Alms with a foul purpose  
To stint their Begging, and with loss to buy  
And slave those free souls from their liberty?  Mer. 
They are more zealous in the Cause then we.  Spr. 
But are you, Ladies, at defiance too  
With Reputation, and the Dignity  
Due to your Father's House and You?  Ra. 
Hold thy peace, good Springlove,  
And, tho' you seem to dislike this course, and reprove us for it,  
Do not betray us in it: your throat's in question.  
I tell you for good will. good Springlove.  Mer. 
What wouldst thou have us do?  
Thou talk'st o'th' House.  
'Tis a base melancholy House.  
Our Father's sadness banishes us out on't.  
And, for the delight thou tak'st in Beggars and their  
brawls, thou canst not but think they live a better  
life abroad, than we do in this House.  Spr. 
I have sounded your Faith: And I am glad I find you all right. And for your Father's sadness, I'll tell you the cause on't. I overheard it but this day in his private Discourse with his merry Mate Master Hearty. He has been told by some Wizard that you both were born to be Beggars.  All. 
How. How!  Spr. 
For which he is so tormented in mind, that he cannot sleep in peace, nor look upon you but with heart's grief.  Vin. 
This is most strange.  Ra. 
Let him be grieved then, till we are Beggars,  
We have just reason to become so now:  
And, what we thought on but in jest before,  
We'll do in earnest now.  Spr. 
O, I applaud this resolution in you; Would have persuaded it; will be your Servant in't. For, look ye Ladies: The Sentence of your Fortune does not say, that you shall beg for need; hungry or cold necessity. If therefore you expose yourselves on pleasure into it, you shall absolve your destiny nevertheless, and cure your Father's grief. I am overjoyed to think on't; and will assist you faithfully.  All. 
A Springlove! a Springlove!  Spr. 
I am prepared already for th' adventure.  
And will with all conveniencies furnish,  
And set you forth; give you your Dimensions,  
Rules and Directions: I will be your Guide,  
Your Guard, your Convoy, your Authority.  
You do not know my Power; my Command  
I' th' beggar's Commonwealth.  Vin. 
But how? But how, good Springlove?  Spr. 
I'll confess all. In my Minority  
My Master took me up a naked Beggar;  
Bred meat School; then took me to his Service;  
(You know in what good fashion) and you may  
Collect to memory for seven late Sommers,  
Either by leave, pretending Friends to see  
At far remote parts of the Land, or else,  
By stealth, I would absent myself from service,  
To follow my own Pleasure, which was Begging,  
Led to't by Nature. My indulgent Master  
(Yet ignorant of my course) on my submission  
When Cold and Hunger forced me back at Winter,  
Received me still again. Till, two years since,  
He being drawn by journey towards the North,  
Where I then quartered with a ragged Crew;  
On the high way, not dreaming of him there,  
I did accost him, with a Good your Worship  
The gift one small penny to a cripple;  
(For here I was with him) and the good Lord Halts  
To bless you, and restore it you in Heaven.  All. 
Ha ha ha.  Spr. 
My head was dirty clouted, and this leg  
Swaddled with Rags, the other naked, and  
My body clad, like his upon the Gibbet.  
Yet, He, with searching eyes, through all my Rags  
And counterfeit Postures, made discovery  
Of his Man Springlove; chid me into tears;  
And a confession of my forespent life.  
At last, upon condition, that vagary  
Should be the last, he gave me leave to run  
That Summer out. In Autumn home came I  
In my home Clothes again and former Duty.  
My Master not alone conserved my Counsel;  
But lays more weighty Trust and Charge upon me;  
Such was his love to keep me a home-Man,  
That he conferred his Steward's place upon me,  
Which clogged me, the last year, from those Delights,  
I would not lose again to be his Lord.  All. 
A Springlove, a Springlove.  Spr. 
Pursue the course you are on then, as cheerfully  
As the inviting Season smiles upon you.  
Think how you are necessitated to it,  
To quit your Father's sadness, and his fears  
Touching your Fortune. Till you have been Beggars  
The Sword hangs over him. You cannot think  
Upon an Act of greater Piety  
Unto your Father, then t'expose yourselves  
Brave Volunteers, pressed by common need  
Into this meritorious Warfare; whence  
(After a few days, or short season spent)  
You bring him a perpetual Peace and Joy  
By expiating the Prophecy that torments him.  
'twere worth your Time in painful, woeful steps,  
With your lives hazard in a Pilgrimage,  
So to redeem a Father. But you'll find  
A Progress of such Pleasure (as I'll govern't)  
That the most happy Courts could never boast  
In all their Tramplings on the country's cost;  
Whose envy we shall draw, when they shall read  
We out-beg them, and for as little Need.  All. 
A Springlove! a Springlove!  Spr. 
Follow me, Gallants, then, as cheerfully As— (hark!) we are summoned forth. Birds singing  All. 
We follow thee.— Exeunt.  Enter Randal. A Purse in his hand. Ran. 
Well, go thy ways. If ever any just or charitable Steward was commended, sure thou shalt be at the last Quarter-day. Here's five and twenty pounds for this quarter's Beggar-charge. And (if he return not by the end of this Quarter) here's order to a Friend to supply for the next. If I now should venture for the commendation of an unjust Steward, and turn this Money to mine own use! ha! dear Devil tempt me not. I'll do thee service in a greater Matter. But to rob the Poor! (a poor trick) every Churchwarden can do't. Now something whispers me, that my Master, for his Steward's love, will supply the Poor, as I may handle the matter. Then I rob the Steward, if I restore him not the Money at his return. Away Temptation, leave me. I am frail flesh: yet I will fight with thee. But say the Steward never return. O but he will return. Perhaps he may not return. Turn from me Satan: strive not to clog my conscience. I would not have this weight upon't for all thy Kingdom.  Enter Hearty singing, and Oldrents. Hey down hay down a down etc. 
Remember, Sir, your Covenant to be merry.  Old. 
I strive you see to be so. Yet something pricks me within, methinks.  Hea. 
No further thought, I hope, of Fortune's tell-tales.  Old. 
I think not of'em. Nor will I presage,  
That when a disposition of sadness  
o'erclouds my spirits, I shall therefore hear  
Ill news, or shortly meet with some disaster.  Hea. 
Nay, when a man meets with bad tidings,  
why  
May not be then compel his mind to mirth;  
As well as puling stomachs are made strong  
By caring against Appetite?  Old. 
Forced Mirth tho' is not good.  Hea. 
It relishes not you'll say. No more does Meat  
That is most savoury to a long sick stomach,  
Until by Strife and Custom 'tis made good.  Old. 
You argue well. But do you see yond Fellow?  Hea. 
I never noted him so sad before.  
He neither sings nor whistles.  Old. 
Something troubles him.  
Can he force Mirth out of himself now, think you?  Hea. 
What speak you of a Clod of Earth; a Hind?  
But one degree above a Beast, compared  
To th' aery spirit of a Gentleman?  Old. 
He looks, as he came laden with ill news,  
To meet me on my way.  Hea. 
'Tis very pretty.  
Suppose the Ass be tired with sadness: will you disburden him  
To load yourself? Think of your Covenant to be merry  
In spite of Fortune and her Riddle-makers.  Old. 
Why how now Randal! sad? where's Springlove?  Hea. 
He's ever in his Care. But that I know  
The old Squire's virtue, I should think Springlove  
Were sure his Bastard.  Ran. 
Here's his Money, Sir.  
I pray that I be charged with it no longer.  
The Devil and I have strained courtesy these two hours about it. I would not be corrupted with the trust of more than is mine own. Mr. Steward gave it me, Sir, to order it for the Beggars. He has made me Steward of the Barn and them, while he is gone (he says) a Journey, to survey and measure Lands abroad about the Countries. Some purchase I think for your Worship.  Old. 
I know his measuring of Land. He is gone his old way.  
And let him go. Am not I merry Hearty?  Hea. 
Yes; but not hearty merry. There's a whim now.  Old. 
The Poor's charge shall be mine. Keep you the Money for him.  Ran. 
Mine is the greater charge then.  
Knew you but my temptations and my care,  
You would discharge me of it.  Old. 
Ha ha ha.  Ran. 
I have not had it so many minutes, as I have been in several Minds about it; and most of them dishonest.  Old. 
Go then, and give it to one of my Daughters to keep for Springlove.  Ran. 
O, I thank your Worship— Exit.  Old. 
Alas poor knave! How hard a task it is to alter Custom!  Hea. 
And how easy for Money to corrupt it.  
What a pure Treasurer would he make!  Old. 
All were not born for weighty Offices.  
Which makes me think of Springlove.  
He might have ta'en his leave tho'.  Heat. 
I hope he's run away with some large Trust,  
I never liked such demure down-looked Fellows.  Old. 
You are deceived in him.  Hea. 
If you be not 'tis well. But this is from the Covenant.  Old. 
Well Sir. I will be merry. I am resolved  
To force my Spirit only unto Mirth.  
Should I hear now, my Daughters were misled  
Or run away, I would not send a sigh  
To fetch 'em back.  Hea. 
tother old Song for that.  

Song.  
THere was an old fellow at Waltham Cross,  
Who merrily sung when he lived by the Loss.  
He never was heard to sigh with Hey-ho:  
But sent it out with a Haigh trolly lo.  
He cheered up his Heart, when his Goods went to wrack,  
With a heghm boy, heghm, and a Cup of old Sack.   Old. 
Is that the way on't? well, it shall be mine then  Enter Randal. Ran. 
My Mistresses are both abroad, Sir.  Old. 
How? since when?  Ran. 
On foot, Sir, two hours since, with the two Gentlemen their Lovers. Here's a Letter they left with the Butler. And there's a muttering in the House.  Old. 
I will not read, nor open it; but conceive  
Within myself the worst, that can befall them;  
That they are lost and no more mine. What follows?  
That I am happy: all my cares are flown.  
The Counsel I anticipated from  
My Friend, shall serve to set my Rest upon  
(Without all further helps) to jovial Mirth;  
Which I will force out of my spleen so freely,  
That Grief shall lose her name, where I have being;  
And sadness, from my furthest foot of Land,  
While I have life, be banished.  Hea. 
What's the whim now?  Old. 
My Tenants shall sit Rent-free for this twelvemonth;  
And all my servants have their wages doubled;  
And so shall be my charge in Housekeeping.  
I hope my friends will find and put me to't.  Hea. 
For them I'll be your Undertaker, Sir.  
But this is overdone. I do not like it.  Old. 
And for thy news, the Money that thou hast,  
Is now thine own. I'll make it good to Springlove.  
Be sad with it and leave me. For I tell thee,  
I'll purge my house of stupid melancholy.  Ran. 
I'll be as merry as the Charge that's under me  A confused noise within of laughing and singing, and one crying out. 
The Beggars, Sir. doye hear 'em in the Barn?  Old. 
I'll double their allowance too; that they may  
Double their Numbers, and increase their Noise:  
These Bear not found enough: and one( methought)  
Cried out among 'em.  Ran. 
By a most natural Cause. For there's a Doxy  
Has been in labour, Sir. And 'tis their Custom,  
With songs and shouts to drown the woman's cries.  
A Ceremony which they use, not for  
Devotion, but to keep off Notice of  
The Work, they have in hand. Now she is in  
The straw it, seems; and they are quiet.  Hea. 
The straw! that's very proper there. That's Randal's whim.  Old. 
We will have such a lying in, and such  
A Christening; such upsitting and gossiping!  
I mean to send forty miles Circuit at the least,  
To draw in all the Beggars can be found;  
And such Devices we will have for jollity,  
As Fame shall boast to all Posterity.  
Am I not merry Hearty? hearty merry?  Hea. 
Would you were else. I fear this overdoing.  Old. 
I'll do't for expiation of a crime  
That's charged upon my Conscience till't be done.  Hea. 
What's that? what says he?  Old. 
We will have such a Festival month on't, Randall—  Ran. 
Sir, you may spare the labour and the cost:  
They'd never thank you for't. They'll not endure  
A Ceremony, that is not their own,  
Belonging either to the Child, or Mother.  
A month Sir? They'll not be detained so long  
For your Estate. Their Work is done already:  
The Bratling's born, the doxy's in the Strummel,  
Laid by an Autumn Mort of their own Crew,  
That served for Midwife: and the Childbed woman  
Eating of hasty Pudding for her supper,  
And the Child part of it for pap  
I warrant you by this time; then to sleep;  
So to rise early to regain the strength  
By travail, which she lost by travail.  Hea. 
There's Randal again.  Old. 
Can this be?  Ran. 
She'll have the Bantling at her back tomorrow That was today in her belly, and march a footback with it.  Hea. 
Art there again, old Randal?  Ran. 
And for their gossiping (now you are so nigh)  
If you'll look in, I doubt not, but you'll find 'em  
At their high Feast already.  Hea. 
Pray let's see 'em, Sir.  Randal opens the Scene. The Beggars discovered at their Feast. After they have scrambled a while at their Victuals: This Song. 


HEre, safe in our Skipper, let's cly off our Peck,  
And bowse in defiance o' th' Harmanbeck.  
Here's Pannum and Lap, and good Poplars of Yarrum,  
To fill up the Crib, and to comfort the Quarron.  
Now bowse a round health to the Go-well and Com-well  
Of Cisley Bumtrinket that lies in the Strummel.  
Now bowse a round health to the Go-well and Com-well  
Of Cisley Bumtrinket that lies in the Strummel.   

Here's Ruffpeck and Casson, and all of the best,  
And Scraps of the Dainties of Gentry Cofe's Feast.  
Here's Grunter and Bleater, with Tib of the Buttery,  
And Margery Prater, all dressed without sluttery.  
For all this bene Cribbing and Peck let us then,  
Bowse a health to the Gentry Cofe of the Ken.  
Now bowse a round health to the Go-well and Com-well  
Of Cisley Bumtrinket that lies in the Strummel.    Old. 
Good Heaven how merry they are.  Hea. 
Be not you sad at that.  Old. 
Sad Hearty, no unless it be with envy  
At their full happiness. What is an Estate  
Of Wealth and Power, balanced with their Freedom,  
But a mere load of outward compliment?  
When they enjoy the Fruits of rich Content?  
Our Dross but weighs us down into Despair,  
While their sublimed spirits dance i' th' Air.  Hea. 
I ha' not so much Wealth to weigh me down,  
Nor so little (I thank Chance) as to dance naked.  Old. 
True my Friend Hearty, thou having less than I,  
(Of which I boast not) art the merrier man:  
But they exceed thee in that way so far,  
That should I know, my Children now were Beggars  
(Which yet I will not read) I must conclude,  
They were not lost, nor I to be aggrieved.  Hea. 
If this be madness, 'tis a merry Fit.  Enter Patrico. Many of the Beggars look out. Patrico. 
Toure out with your Glasiers, I swear by the Ruffian,  
That we are assaulted by a choir Cuffin.  Ran. 
Hold! what d'ye mean, my Friends? This is our Master,  
The Master of your Feast and feasting-House.  Pat. 
Is this the Gentry Cofe?  All the Beggars. 
Lord bless his Worship. His good  
Worship. Bless his Worship.  Exit Beggars manet Patr. Pat. 
Now, bounteous Sir, before you go,  
Hear me, the Beggar Patrico;  
Or Priest, if you do rather choose,  
That we no word of Canting use.  
Long may you live, and may your Store  
Never decay, nor balk the Poor:  
And as you more in years do grow,  
May Treasure to your Coffers flow;  
And may your care no more thereon  
Be set, than ours are, that have none:  
But as your Riches do increase,  
So may your hearts Content and Peace.  
And, after many, many years,  
When the Poor have quit their Fears  
Of losing you; and that with Heaven  
And all the world you have made even,  
Then may your blessed Posterity,  
Age after Age successively,  
Until the world shall be untwined  
Inherit your Estate and Mind.  
So shall the Poor to the last day,  
For you, in your succession, pray.  Hea. 
'Tis a good Vote, Sir Patrico: but you are too grave. Let us hear and see something of your merry Grigs, that can sing, play gambols, and do Feats.  Pat. 
Sir, I can lay my Function by,  
And talk as wild and wantonly  
As Tom or Tib, or jack, or jill,  
When they at bousing Ken do swill.  
Will you therefore deign to hear  
My Autumn Mort, with throat as clear,  
As was Dame Anisses of the Name;  
How sweet in Song her Notes she'll frame,  
That when she chides, as loud is yawning,  
As chanticleer waked by the dawning.  Hea. 
Yes, pray let's hear her. What is she your wife?  Pat. 
Yes Sir. we of our Ministry,  
As well as those o'th' Presbytery,  
Take wives and defy Dignity. Exit.  Hea. 
A learned clerk in verity!  Enter Patrico with his old wife, with a wooden Bowl of Drink, She is drunk. Pat. 
By Salmon, I think my Mort is in drink.  
I find by her stink; and the pretty pretty pink  
Of her Neyes, that half wink,  
That the tippling Feast, with the Doxy in the Nest,  
Hath turned her brain, to a merry merry vain.  Mort. 
Go Fiddle Patrico, and let me sing. First set me down here on both my Prats. Gently, gently, for cracking of my wind, now I must use it. Hem hem.  She sings. 

THis is Bien Bowse, this is Bien Bowse,  
Too little is my Skew.  
I bowse no Lage, but a whole Gage  
Of this I'll bowse to you.   

This Bowse is better than Rom-bowse,  
It sets the 'gan a giggling;  
The Autum-Mort finds better sport  
In bousing then in niggling.  
This is Bien-bowse etc.   She tosses off her Bowl, falls back, and is carried out. Pat. 
So so: your part is done— Exit with her  Hea. 
How find you, Sir, yourself?  Old. 
Wondrous merry, my good Hearty.  Enter Patrico. Pat. 
I wish we had, in all our store,  
Something that could please you more.  
The old or autumn-mort's asleep;  
But before the young ones creep  
Into the straw, Sir, if you are,  
(As Gallants sometimes love course fare,  
(So it be fresh and wholesome Ware)  
Disposed to Doxy, or a Dell,  
That never yet with man did Mell;  
Of whom no Upright man is taster,  
I'll present her to you, Master.  Old. 
Away. You would be punished. Oh.  Hea. 
How is it with you, Sir?  Old. 
A sudden qualm overchills my stomach. But 'twill away.  Enter Dancers. Pat. 
See, in their rags, then, dancing for your sports,  
Our Clapper dudgeons and their walking Morts.  Dance. Pat. 
You have done well. Now let each Tripper  
Make a retreat into the Skipper;  
And couch a Hogshead, till the dark man's past;  
Then all with Bag and Baggage b'ing awast.  Exeunt Beggars. Ran. 
I told you, Sir, they would be gone tomorrow.  
I understand their canting.  Old. 
Take that amongst you.— Gives Money.  Pat. 
May rich Plenty so you bless,  
Tho' you still give, you ne'er have less. Exit.  Hea. 
And as your walks may lead this way:  
Pray strike in here another day.  
So you may go, Sir Patrico—  
How think you, Sir? or what? or why do you think at all, unless on Sack and Suppertime? do you fall back? do you not know the danger of relapses?  Old. 
Good Hearty, thou mistak'st me. I was thinking upon this Patrico. And that he has more soul than a born Beggar in him.  Hea. 
Rogue enough though, to offer us his what-do-you-call-its? his Doxies. Heart and a cup of Sack, do we look like old beggar-nigglers?  Old. 
Pray forbear that Language.  Hea. 
Will you then talk of Sack, that can drown sighing? will you in, to supper, and take me there your Guest? Or must I creep into the Barn among your welcome ones?  Old. 
You have rebuked me timely; and most friendly. Exit.  Hea. 
Would all were well with him. Exit.  Ran. 
It is with me.  
For now these pounds are (as I feel them swag)  
Light at my heart, tho' heavy in the bag. Exit.   

Actus Tertius.  Vincent and Hilliard in their Rags. Vin. 
IS this the life that we admired in others; with envy at their happiness?  Hill. 
Pray let us make virtuous use of it: and repent us of that deadly sin (before a greater punishment then Famine and Lice fall upon us) by steering our course homeward. Before I'll endure such another night—  Vin. 
what? what wouldst thou do? I would thy Mistress heard thee.  Hil. 
I hope she does not. For I know there is no altering our course before they make the first motion.  Vin. 
Is't possible we should be weary already? and before their softer constitutions of flesh and blood?  Hill. 
They are the stronger in will it seems.  Enter Springlove. Spr. 
How now Comrades! repining already at your Fullness of Liberty? Do you complain of ease?  Vin. 
Ease call'st thou it? Didst thou sleep tonight?  Spr. 
Not so well these 18 months I swear; since my last walks.  Hill. 
Lightning and Tempest is out of thy litany.  
Could not the thunder wake thee?  Spr. 
Ha ha ha.  Vin. 
Nor the noise of the Crew in the Quarter by us?  Hill. 
Nor the Hogs in the hovel, that cried till they drowned the noise of the wind? If I could but once ha' dreamt in all my former nights, that such an affliction could have been found among Beggars, sure I should never have traveled to the proof on't.  Vin. 
We looked upon them in their Jollity, and cast no further.  Hill. 
Nor did that only draw us forth (by your favour Vince) but our obedience to our Loves, which we must suffer, till they cry home again. Are they not weary yet, as much as we dost think Springlove?  Spr. 
They have more moral understanding then so. They know (and so may you) this is your Birthnight into a new world. And we all know (or have been told) that all come crying into the World, when the whole World of Pleasures is before us. The World itself had ne'er been glorious, had it not first been a confused Chaos.  Vin. 
Well: never did Knight Errants in all Adventures, merit more of their Ladies, than we Beggar-errants or errant Beggars, do in ours.  Spr. 
The greater will be your Reward. Think upon that. And show no manner of distaste to turn their hearts from you. You're undone then.  Hill. 
Are they ready to appear out of their privy Lodgings, in the pig's Palace of pleasure? Are they coming forth?  Spr. 
I left 'em almost ready, sitting on their Pads of straw, helping to dress each others heads (The ones eye is the tother's Looking-glass) with the prettiest coil they keep to fit their fancies in the most graceful way of wearing their new Dressings, that you would admire.  Vin. 
I hope we are as gracefully set out. Are we not?  Spr. 
Indifferent well. But will you fall to practise? Let me hear how you can Maund when you meet with Passengers.  Hill. 
We do not look like men, I hope, too good to learn.  Spr. 
Suppose some Persons of Worth or Wealth passing by now. Note me. Good your good Worship, your Charity to the Poor, that will duly and truly pray for you day and night.—  Vin. 
Away you idle Rogue, you would be set to work and whipped—  Vin. 
That is lame and sick; hungry and comfortless—  Vin. 
If you were well served—  Spr. 
And even to bless you and reward you for it—  Hill. 
Prithee hold thy peace (here be doleful Notes indeed) and leave us to our own Genius. If we must beg, let's let it go, as it comes, by Inspiration. I love not your set form of Begging.  Spr. 
Let me instruct ye tho'.  Enter Rachel and Meriel in Rags. Ra. 
Have a care, good Meriel, what hearts or limbs soever we have, and tho' never so feeble, let us set our best faces on't, and laugh our last gasp out before we discover any dislike, or weariness to them. Let us bear it out, till they complain first, and beg to carry us home apickpack.  Mer. 
I am sorely surbated with hoofing already tho', and so crupper-cramped with our hard lodging, and so bumfiddled with the straw, that—  Ra. 
Think not on't. I am numbed i'the bum and shoulders too a little. And have found the difference between a hard floor with a little straw, and a down Bed with a Quilt upon't. But no words, nor a sour look I prithee.  Hill. 
O here they come now; Madam Fewclothes, and my Lady Bonnyrag.  Vin. 
Peace, they see us.  Ra. 
Mer.. Ha ha ha.  Vin. 
We are glad the Object pleases ye.  Ra. 
So does the Subject.  
Now you appear the glories of the Spring,  
Darlings of Phoebus and the summer's heirs.  Hill. 
How fairer, then fair Flora's self appear  
(To deck the Spring) Diana's Darlings dear!  
O let us not Acteon-like be struck  
(With greedy eyes while we presume to look  
On your half nakedness, since courteous rags  
Cover the rest) into the shape of Stags.  Ra. 
Mer.. Ha ha ha— we are glad you are so merry.  Vin. 
Merry and lusty too. This night will we lie together as well as the proudest Couple in the Barn.  Hill. 
And so will we. I can hold out no longer.  Ra. 
does the straw stir up your flesh to't, Gentlemen?  Mer. 
Or does your Provender prick you?  Spr. 
What! do we come for this? laugh and lie down  
When your bellies are full. Remember, Ladies,  
You have not begged yet, to quit your Destiny:  
But have lived hitherto on my endeavours.  
Who got your suppers, pray, last night, but I?  
Of dainty Trencher-Fees, from a Gentleman's house:  
Such as the Serving-men themselves, sometimes,  
Would have been glad of. And this morning now,  
What comfortable Chippings and sweet Buttermilk  
Had you to Breakfast!  Ra. 
O 'twas excellent! I feel it good still, here.  Mer. 
There was a brown Crust amongst it, that has made my neck so white methinks. Is it not Rachel?  Ra. 
Yes. You ga'me none on't. You ever covet to have all the Beauty. 'Tis the ambition of all younger Sisters.  Vin. 
They are pleased, and never like to be weary.  Hill. 
No more must we, if we'll be theirs.  Spr. 
Peace. Here come Passengers. Forget not your Rules; and quickly disperse yourselves, and fall to your Calling—  Enter two Gentlemen. 1. 
Lead the Horses down the Hill. The heat of our speed is over, for we have lost our Journey.  2. 
Had they taken this way, we had overtaken 'em, or heard of 'em at least.  1. 
But some of our Scouts will light on 'em, the whole Country being overspread with 'em.  2. 
There was never such an escape else.  Vin. 
A search for us perhaps. Yet I know not them, nor they me, I am sure. I might the better beg of 'em. But how to begin, or set the worst leg forwards, would I were whipped if I know now.  1. 
That a young Gentlewoman of her breeding, and Heir to such an Estate, should fly from so great a Match, and run away with her Uncle's clerk!  2. 
The old Justice will run mad upon't I fear.  Vin. 
If I were to be hanged now, I could not beg for my life.  Spr. 
Step forwards, and beg handsomely. I'll set my Goad i' your breech else.  Vin. 
What shall I say?  Spr. 
Have I not told you? now begin.  Vin. 
After you, good Springlove.  Spr. 
Good, your good Worships.—  1. 
Away you idle Vagabond—  Spr. 
Your worship's Charity to a poor Crytur welly starved.  Vin. 
That will duly and truly pray for ye.  2. 
You counterfeit Villains, hence.  Spr. 
Good Masters sweet Worship, for the tender mercy of—  Vin. 
Duly and truly pray for you.  1. 
You would be well whipped and set to work, if you were duly and truly served.  Vin. 
Did not I say so before?  Spr. 
Good Worshipful Master's Worship, to bestow your Charity, and— to maintain your health and Limbs.  Vin. 
Duly and truly pray for you.  2. 
Be gone, I say, you impudent lusty young Rascals.  1. 
I'll set you going else. Switch'em.  Spr. 
Ah the goodness of compassion to soften your hearts to the poor.  Vin. 
Oh the Devil, must not we beat 'em now? steth—  Spr. 
Nor show an angry look for all the skin of our backs. Ah the sweetness of that mercy that gives to all, to move your compassion to the hungry, when it shall seem good unto you, and night and day to bless all that you have. Ah ah—  2. 
Come back sirrah. His Patience and Humility has wrought upon me.  Vin. 
Duly and—  
2. Not you sirrah. The tother. You look like a sturdy Rogue.  Spr. 
Lord bless you Masters Worship.  2. 
There's a halfpenny for you. Let him have no share with you.  Vin. 
I shall never thrive o' this Trade.  1. 
They are of a Fraternity, and will share, I warrant you.  Spr. 
Never in our lives truly. He never begged with me before.  1. 
But if Hedges or Hen-roosts could speak, you might be found sharers in Pillage, I believe.  Spr. 
Never saw him before, bless you good Master, in all my life. (Beg for yourself. Your Credit's gone else.) Good heaven to bliss and prosper yea. Exit.  2. 
Why dost thou follow us? Is it your office to be privy to our talk?  Vin. 
Sir, I beseech you hear me. ('Slife what shall I say?) I am a stranger in these parts, and destitute of Means and Apparel.  1. 
So methinks. And what o' that?  Vin. 
Will you therefore be pleased, as you are worthy Gentlemen, and blessed with plenty—  2. 
This is Courtly!  Vin. 
Out of your abundant store, towards my relief in extreme necessity, to furnish me with a small parcel of Money— five or six pieces, or ten, if you can presently spare it.  1. 2. 
Stand off. Draw.  Vin. 
I have spoiled all; and know not how to beg otherwise.  1. 
Here's a new way of begging!  Vin. 
Quite run out of my Instructions.  2. 
Some Highway Thief o' my conscience, that forgets he is weaponless.  Vin. 
Only to make you merry, Gentlemen, at my unskilfulness in my new Trade. I have been another man i' my days. So I kiss your hands. Exit.  1. 
With your heels do you?  2. 
It had been good to have apprehended the Rakeshame. There is some mystery in his Rags. But let him go.  Enter Oliver, putting up his sword. Ol. 
You found your legs in time, I had made you halt for something else.  1. 
Master Oliver, well returned; what's the matter, Sir?  Ol. 
Why, Sir, a counterfeit lame Rogue begged of me; but in such Language, the high sheriff's Son o' the Shire could not have spoke better; nor to have borrowed a greater sum. (He asked me if I could spare him ten or twenty pound.) I switched him, his Cudgel was up. I drew, and into the Wood he scaped me, as nimbly— But first he told me, I should hear from him by a Gentleman, to require satisfaction of me.  2. 
We had such another begged of us. The Court goes a-begging, I think.  1. 
Dropped through the Clouds, I think; more Lucifers travailing to Hell, that beg by the way. Met you no news of your Kinswoman, Mistress Amie?  Ol. 
No. What's the matter with her? Goes her Marriage forwards with young, Master Talboy? I hastened my Journey from London to be at the Wedding.  2. 
'twas to ha' been yesterday morning; all things in readiness prepared for it. But the Bride, stolen by your Father's clerk, is slipped away. We were in quest of 'em, and so are twenty more, several ways.  Ol. 
Such young Wenches will have their own ways in their own loves, what Matches soever their Guardians make for 'em. And I hope my Father will not follow the Law so close to hang his clerk for stealing his Ward with her own consent. It may breed such a grudge, may cause some Clerks to hang their Masters, that have 'em oF the hip of injustice. Besides, Martin (though he be his servant) is a Gentleman. But, indeed, the miserablest Rascal! He will grudge her Meat when he has her.  1. 
Your Father is exceedingly troubled at their escape. I wish that you may qualify him with your Reasons.  Ol. 
But what says Talboy to the matter, the Bridegroom, that should ha' been?  2. 
Marry he says little to the purpose; but cries outright.  Ol. 
I like him well for that: He holds his humour. A miserable wretch too, tho' rich. I ha' known him cry when he has lost but three shillings at mumchance. But, Gentlemen, keep on your way to comfort my Father. I know some of his Man's private haunts about the Country here, which I will search immediately.  1. 
We will accompany you, if you please.  Ol. 
No, by no means: That will be too public.  2 
Do your pleasure. Exit 1.2.  Ol. 
My pleasure, and all the search that I intend, is, by hovering here, to take a review of a brace of the handsomest beggar-brachs that ever graced a Ditch or a Hedge side. I passed by 'em in haste, but something so possesses me, that I must— What the Devil must I? A Beggar? Why, Beggars are flesh and blood; and Rags are no Diseases. Their Lice are no French Fleas. And there is much wholesomer flesh under Country Dirt, than City Painting: And less danger in Dirt and Rags, than in Ceruse and Satin. I durst not take a touch at London, both for the present cost, and fear of an after-reckoning. But Oliver, dost thou speak like a Gentleman? fear Price or Pox, ha? Marry do I Sir: Nor can Beggar-sport be inexcusable in a young Country Gentleman, short of means, for another respect, a principal one indeed; to avoid the punishment or charge of Bastardy: There's no commuting with them; or keeping of Children for them. The poor Whores, rather than part with their own, or want children at all, will steal other folks, to travel with, and move compassion. He feeds a Beggar-wench well that fills her belly with young bones. And these reasons considered, good Master Oliver— 'slid yonder they are at peep. And now sitten down as waiting for my purpose. Ent. Vinc. Heart here's another delay. I must shift him. Dost hear honest poor fellow? I prithee go back presently: and at the hill foot (here's sixpence for thy pains) thou shalt find a Footman with a Horse in his hand. Bid him wait there. His Master will come presently, say.  Vin. 
Sir, I have a business of another nature to you. Which (as I presume you are a Gentleman of right Noble Spirit and Resolution) you will receive without offence; and in that temper as most properly appertains to the most Heroic natures.  Ol. 
Thy Language makes me wonder at thy Person. What's the matter with thee? quickly.  Vin. 
You may be pleased to call to mind a late affront, which, in your heat of passion, you gave a Gentleman.  Ol. 
What, such a one as thou art, was he?  Vin. 
True noble Sir. Who could no less in Honour, then direct me, his chosen Friend, unto you, with the length of his Sword, or to take the length of yours. The place, if you please, the Ground whereon you parted; the hour, seven the next morning: Or, if you like not these, in part, or all, to make your own appointments.  Ol. 
The bravest Method in Beggars, that ever was discovered! I would be upon the bones of this Rogue now, but for crossing my other design, which fires me. I must therefore be rid of him on any terms. Let his own Appointments stand. Tell him I'll meet him.  Vin. 
You shall most nobly engage his life to serve you, Sir.  Ol. 
You'll be his Second, will you?  Vin. 
To do you further Service, Sir, I have undertaken it.  Ol. 
I'll send a Beadle shall undertake you both.  Vin. 
Your Mirth becomes the bravery of your mind and dauntless Spirit. So takes his leave your Servant, Sir.  Ol. 
I think, as my Friend said, the Court goes a-begging indeed. But I must not lose my Beggar-wenches. Enter Rachel and Meriel .Oh here they come. They are delicately skinned and limbed. There, there, I saw above the ham as the wind blew. Now they spy me.  Ra. 
Sir, I beseech you look upon us with the favour of a Gentleman. We are in a present distress, and utterly unacquainted in these parts; and therefore forced by the Calamity of our misfortune, to implore the Courtesy, or rather Charity, of those to whom we are strangers.  Ol. 
Very fine, this!  Mer. 
Be therefore pleased, right noble Sir, not only valuing us by our outward Habits, which cannot but appear loathsome or despicable unto you, but as we are forlorn Christians; and, in that estimation, be compassionately moved to cast a handful or two of your Silver, or a few of your Golden Pieces unto us, to furnish us with Linen, and some decent Habiliments—  Ol. 
They beg as high as the Man-beggar I met withal! sure the Beggars are all mad today, or bewitched into a Language they understand not. The spirits of some decayed Gentry talk in 'em sure.  Ra. 
May we expect a gracious Answer from you Sir?  Mer. 
And that as you can wish our Virgin Prayers to be propitious for you.  Ra. 
That you never be denied a Suit by any Mistress.  Mer. 
Nay, that the fairest may be ambitious to place their favours on you.  Ra. 
That your Virtue and Valour may lead you to the most honourable Actions; and that the Love of all exquisite Ladies may arm you.  Mer. 
And that, when you please to take a wife, may Honour, Beauty, and Wealth, contend to endow her most with.  Ra. 
And that with her you have a long and prosperous life.  Mer. 
A fair and fortunate Posterity.  Ol. 
This exceeds all that ever I heard, and strikes me into wonder. Pray tell me how long have you been Beggars; or how chanced you to be so?  Ra. 
By influence of our Stars, Sir.  Mer. 
We were born to no better Fortune.  Ol. 
How came you to talk thus, and so much above the beggar's Dialect?  Ra. 
Our speech came naturally to us, and we ever loved to learn by wrote as well as we could.  Mer. 
And to be ambitious above the vulgar, to ask more than common Alms, whate'er men please to give us.  Ol. 
Sure some well disposed Gentleman, as myself, got these Wenches. They are too well grown to be mine own, and I cannot be incestuous with 'em.  Ra. 
Pray Sir your noble bounty.  Ol. 
What a tempting lip that little Rogue moves there! and what an enticing eye the 't'other. I know not which to begin with. What's this a flea upon thy bosom?  Mer. 
Is it not a straw coloured one, Sir?  Ol. 
O what a provoking Skin is there! that very touch inflames me.  Ra. 
Sir, are you moved in charity towards us yet?  Ol. 
Moved? I am moved. No flesh and blood more moved.  Mer. 
Then pray Sir your Benevolence.  Ol. 
Benevolence? which shall I be benevolent to; or which first? I am puzzled in the choice. Would some sworn Brother of mine were here to draw a Cut with me.  Ra. 
Sir, Noble Sir.  Ol. 
First let me tell you, Damsels, I am bound by a strong vow to kiss all of the woman sex I meet this morning.  Mer. 
Beggars and all Sir?  Ol. 
All, all. Let not your coyness cross a Gentleman's vow, I beseech you— Kiss.  Ra. 
You will tell now.  Ol. 
Tell quoth 'a! I could tell a thousand on those Lips— and as many upon those. What life restoring breaths they have! Milk from the Cow steams not so sweetly. I must lay one of 'em aboard; both if my tackling hold.  Ra. 
Mer.. Sir. Sir.  Ol. 
But how to bargain, now, will be the doubt. They that beg so high as by the handfuls, may expect for price above the rate of good men's wives.  Ra. 
Now, will you, Sir, be pleased?  Ol. 
With all my heart, Sweetheart. And I am glad thou knowest my mind. Here is twelvepence a piece for you.  Ra. 
Me. We thank you, Sir.  Ol. 
That's but in earnest. I'll Jest away the rest with ye. Look here— All this. Come, you know my meaning. Dost thou look about thee, Sweet little One? I like thy care. There's nobody coming. But we'll get behind these Bushes. I know you keep each others Counsels— Must you be drawn to't? Then I'll pull. Come away—  Ra. 
Me. Ah ah—  Enter Springlove, Vincent, Hilliard. Vin. 
Let's beat his brains out.  Ol. 
Come leave your squealing.  Ra. 
O you hurt my hand.  Hill. 
Or cut the Lechers throat.  Spr. 
Would you be hanged? Stand back. Let me alone.  Mer. 
You shall not pull us so.  Spr. 
O do not hurt 'em, Master.  Ol. 
Hurt 'em? I meant 'em but too well. Shall I be so prevented?  Spr. 
They be but young and simple. And if they have offended, let not your Worships own hands drag 'em to the Law, or carry 'em to Punishment. Correct 'em not yourself. It is the Beadle's Office.  Ol. 
Do you talk Shake-rag: Heart yond's more of 'em. I shall be Beggar-mauled if I stay. Thou sayst right, honest fellow, there's a Tester for thee.  Exit, running Vin. 
He is prevented, and ashamed of his purpose.  Spr. 
Nor were we to take notice of his purpose more than to prevent it.  Hill. 
True, politic Springlove, 'twas better his own fear quit us of him, than our force.  Ra. 
Look you here, Gentlemen, twelvepence a piece  Mer. 
Besides fair offers and large promises. What ha' you got today, Gentlemen?  Vin. 
More than (as we are Gentlemen) we would have taken.  Hil. 
Yet we put it up in your Service.  Ra. 
Mer.. Ha ha ha. Switches and kicks. Ha ha ha—  Spr. 
Talk not here of your gettings. We must quit this Quarter. The eager Gentleman's repulse may arm and return him with revenge upon us. We must therefore leap Hedge and Ditch now; through the Briers and Mires, till we scape out of this Liberty, to our next Rendezvous; where we shall meet the Crew, and then, hay toss and laugh all night.  Mer. 
As we did last night.  Ra. 
Hold out, Meriel.  Mer. 
Lead on, brave General. to Spr.  Vin. 
What shall we do? They are in heart still. Shall we go on?  Hill. 
There's no flinching back, you see.  Spr. 
Besides, if you beg no better than you begin, in this lofty Fashion, you cannot scape the Jail, or the whip, long.  Vin. 
To tell you true, 'tis not the least of my purpose, to work means for our discovery, to be released out of our Trade.  Enter Martin and amy in poor Habits. Spr. 
Stay, here come more Passengers. Single yourselves again, and fall to your Calling discreetly.  Hill. 
I'll single no more. If you'll beg in full cry I am for you.  Mer. 
I that will be fine; let's charm all together.  Spr. 
Stay first and list a little.  Mar. 
Be of good cheer, Sweetheart, we have scaped hitherto: And I believe that all the Search is now retired, and we may safely pass forwards.  Am. 
I should be safe with thee. But that's a most lying Proverb, that says, Where Love is, there's no Lack. I am faint, and cannot travail further without Meat; and if you loved me, you would get me some.  Mar. 
We'll venture at the next Village to call for some. The best is, we want no Money.  Am. 
We shall be taken then, I fear. I'll rather pine to death.  Mar. 
Be not so fearful. Who can know us in these Clownish Habits?  Am. 
Our Clothes, indeed, are poor enough to beg with. Would I could beg, so it were of Strangers that could not know me, rather than buy of those that would betray us.  Mar. 
And yonder be some that can teach us.  Spr. 
These are the young couple of Runaway Lovers disguised, that the Country is so laid for. Observe and follow now. Now the Lord to come with ye, good loving Master and Mistress, your blessed Charity to the poor, lame and sick, weak and comfortless, that will night and day—  All. 
Duly and truly pray for you. Duly and truly pray for you.  Spr. 
Pray hold your peace, and let me alone. Good young Master and Mistress, a little Comfort amongst us all, and to bless you where'er you go, and  All. 
Duly and truly pray for you. Duly and truly—  Spr. 
Pray do not use me thus. Now sweet young Master and Mistress, to look upon your Poor, that have no relief or succour, no bread to put in our heads.  Vin. 
Wouldst thou put Bread in thy Brains?  All together. 
No Lands or Livings.  Spr. 
No House nor home; nor covering from the cold; no health, no help but your sweet Charity.  Mer. 
No Bands or Shirts but lousy on our backs.  Hil. 
No smocks or Petticoats to hide our Scratches.  Ra. 
No Shoes to our Legs, or Hose to our Feet.  Vin. 
No Skin to our Flesh, nor Flesh to our Bones shortly.  Hill. 
If we follow the Devil that taught us to beg.  All. 
Duly and truly pray for you.  Spr. 
I'll run away from you if you beg a stroke more. Good worshipful Master and mistress—  Mar. 
Good Friend forbear. Here is no Master or Mistress. We are poor Folks. Thou seest no Worship upon our backs, I am sure. And for within, we want as much as you, and would as willingly beg, if we knew how as well.  Spr. 
Alack for pity. You may have enough. And what I have is yours, if you'll accept it. 'Tis wholesome Food from a good Gentleman's Gate— Alas good Mistress— Much good do your heart. How savourly she feeds!  Mar. 
What do you mean; to poison yourself?  Am. 
Do you show Love in grudging me?  Mar. 
Nay, if you think it hurts you not, fall too. I'll not beguile you. And here, mine Host, something towards your Reckoning.  Am. 
This Beggar is an Angel sure!  Spr. 
Nothing by way of bargain, gentle Master. 'Tis against Order, and will never thrive. But pray, Sir, your reward in Charity.  Mar. 
Here then in Charity. This fellow would never make a clerk.  Spr. 
What! All this, Master?  Am. 
What is it? Let me see't.  Spr. 
'Tis a whole silver threepence, Mistress.  Am. 
For shame, ingrateful Miser. Here Friend, a golden Crown for thee.  Spr. 
Bountiful Goodness! Gold? If I thought a dear year were coming, I would take a Farm now.  Am. 
I have robbed thy Partners of their shares too. There's a Crown more for them.  4. 
Duly and truly pray for you.  Mar. 
What have you done? less would have served. And your Bounty will betray us.  Am. 
Fie on your wretched policy.  Spr. 
No, no good Master. I knew you all this while, and my sweet Mistress too. And now I'll tell you. The Search is every way; the Country all laid for you. 'Tis well you stayed here. Your Habits, were they but a little nearer our Fashion, would secure you with us. But are you married, Master and Mistress? Are you joined in Matrimony? In heart I know you are. And I will (if it please you) for your great bounty, bring you to a Curate, that lacks no Licence, nor has any Living to lose, that shall put you together.  Mar. 
Thou art a heavenly Beggar!  Spr. 
But he is so scrupulous, and severely precise, that unless you, Mistress, will affirm that you are with Child by the Gentleman; or that you have, at least, cleft or slept together (as he calls it) he will not marry you. But if you have lain together, then 'tis a case of necessity, and he holds himself bound to do it.  Mar. 
You may say you have.  Am. 
I would not have it so, nor make that lie against myself for all the World.  Spr. 
That I like well, and her exceedingly. Aside  
I'll do my best for you however.  Mar. 
I'll do for thee, that— thou shalt never beg more.  Spr. 
That cannot be purchased scarce for the price of your Mistress. Will you walk, Master?— We use no Compliments.  Am. 
By enforced Matches Wards are not set free  
So oft, as sold into Captivity:  
Which made me, fearless, fly from one I hate,  
Into the hazard of a harder Fate.   

Actus Quartus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Talboy. Oliver. With riding switches. Tal. 
SHe's gone. Amie is gone. Ay me she's gone, And has me left of joy bereft, to make my moan. O me, Amie.  Ol. 
What the Devil ails the Fellow trow? why! why Master Talboy; my cousin Talboy that shouldst ha' been, art not ashamed to cry at this growth? and for a thing that's better lost than found; a Wench?  Tal. 
Cry! who cries? do I cry; or look with a crying Countenance? I scorn it; and scorn to think on her, but in just anger.  Ol. 
So, this is brave now, if 'twould hold.  Tall. 
Nay it shall hold. And so let her go, for a scurvy what d'ye call't; I know not what bad enough to call her.— But something of mine goes with her I am sure. She has cost me in Gloves, Ribbons, Scarfs, Rings, and such like things, more than I am able to speak of at this time— Oh.  Ol. 
Because thou canst not speak for crying. Fie Master Talboy, again?  Tal. 
I scorn it again, and any man that says I cry, or will cry again And let her go again; and what she has of mine let her keep, and hang herself, and the Rogue that's with her. I have enough; and am Heir of a well-known Estate, and that she knows— And therefore that she should sleight me, and run away with a wages-fellow, that is but a petty clerk and a Servingman. There's the vexation of it— Oh there's the grief, and the vexation of it— Oh—  Ol. 
Now he will cry his eyes out! You Sir. This life have I had with you all our long journey; which now is at an end here. This is Master Oldrents house, where perhaps we shall find old Hearty, the Uncle of that Rogue Martin, that is run away with your Sweetheart.  Tal. 
I 'tis too true, too true, too true. You need not put me in mind on't— Oh— O—  Ol. 
Hold your peace and mind me. Leave your bawling, for fear I give you correction. This is the House I say, where it is most likely we shall hear of your Mistress and her companion. Make up your face quickly. Here comes one of the Servants, I suppose. Enter Randall .Shame not yourself for ever, and me for company. Come, be confident.  Tall. 
As confident as yourself or any man— But my poor heart feels what lies here. Here. I here it is, O—  Ol. 
Good morrow, Friend. This is Squire Oldrents House, I take it.  Ran. 
Pray take it not, Sir, before it be to be let. It has been my Masters, and his Ancestors in that Name, above these three hundred years, as our House Chronicle doth notify; and not yet to be let. But as a Friend, or stranger, in Guestwise, you are welcome to it; as all other Gentlemen are, far and near, to my good Master, as you will find anon when you see him.  Ol. 
Thou speak'st wittily and honestly. But I prithee, good Friend, let our Nags be set up: they are tied up at the post. You belong to the Stable, do you not?  Ran. 
Not so much, as the Stable belongs to me, Sir. I pass through many Offices of the House, Sir. I am the running Bayley of it.  Ol. 
We have rid hard, hoping to find the Squire at home at this early time in the morning.  Ran. 
You are deceived in that, Sir. He has been out these four hours. He is no Snail, Sir. You do not know him, I perceive, since he has been new moulded. But I'll tell you, because you are Gentlemen.  Ol. 
Our Horses, good Friend.  Ran. 
My Master is an ancient Gentleman, and a great Housekeeper; and prayed for by all the Poor in the Country. He keeps a Guesthouse for all Beggars, far and near, costs him a hundred a year, at least; and is as well beloved among the Rich. But, of late, he fell into a great Melancholy, upon what, I know not: for he had then more cause to be merry than he has now. Take that by the way.  Ol. 
But good Fiend, our Horses.  Ran. 
For he had two Daughters, that knew well to order a House, and give entertainment to Gentlemen. They were his House-Doves. But now they are flown; and no man knows how, why, or whither.  Tall. 
My Dove is flown too. Oh—  Ran. 
Was she your Daughter, Sir? She was a young one then, by the Beard you wear.  Tall. 
What she was, she was, d''ee see. I scorn to think on her— But I do— Oh.  Ol. 
Pray hold your peace, or feign some mirth, if you can.  Sing. Tal. 
Let her go, let her go. I care not if I have her, I have her or no. Ha ha ha— Oh my heart will break— Oh—  Ol. 
Pray think of our horses, Sir.  Ran. 
This is right my Master. When he had his Daughters he was sad; and now they are gone, he is the merriest man alive. Up at five o'clock in the morning, and out till dinnertime. Out again at afternoon, and so till Suppertime. Skise out this away, and skise out that away. (He's no Snail I assure you.) And Tantivy all the Country over, where Hunting, Hawking, or any Sport is to be made, or good Fellowship to be had; and so merry upon all occasions, that you would even bless yourself, if it were possible.  Ol. 
Our Horses, I prithee.  Ran. 
And we, his Servants, live as merrily under him; and do all thrive. I myself was but a silly Lad when I came first, a poor turnspit Boy. Gentlemen kept no whirling Jacks then, to cozen poor People of Meat. And I have now, without boast, 40. l. in my Purse, and am the youngest of half a score in the House, none younger than myself but one; and he is the Steward over all; his name is Master Springlove (bless him where ere he is) he has a world of means: And we, the Underlings, get well the better by him; besides the Rewards many Gentlemen give us, that fare well, and lodge here sometimes.  Ol. 
O! we shall not forget you, Friend, if you remember our Horses, before they take harm.  Ran. 
No hurt, I warrant you: there's a Lad walking them.  Ol. 
Is not your Master coming, think you?  Ran. 
He will not be long a coming. He's no Snail, as I told you.  Ol. 
You told me so, indeed.  Ran. 
But of all the Gentlemen, that toss up the Ball, yea and the Sack too, commend me to old Master Hearty; a decayed Gentleman; lives most upon his own Mirth, and my Master's Means, and much good do him with it: He is the finest Companion of all: He does so hold my Master up with Stories, and Songs, and Catches, and tother Cup of Sack, and such Tricks and Jigs, you would admire— He is with him now.  Ol. 
That Hearty is Martin's Uncle. I am glad he is here. Bear up Talboy. Now, Friend, pray let me ask you a question.— Prithee stay.  Ran. 
Nay, marry I dare not. Your Yawdes may take cold, and never be good after it.— Exit.  Ol. 
I thought I should never have been rid of him. But no sooner desired to stay, but he is gone. A pretty humour!  Enter Randall. Ran. 
Gentlemen, my Master will be here e'en now, doubt not: for he is no Snail, as I told you.  Exit. Ol. 
No snail's a great word with him. Prithee Talboy bear up. Enter Vsher .Here comes another grey Fellow.  Vsh. 
Do you stand in the Porch, Gentlemen? the House is open to you. Pray enter the Hall. I am the Usher of it.  Ol. 
In good time, Sir. We shall be bold here, then, to attend your Masters coming.  Vsh. 
And he's upon coming; and when he comes he comes apace. He is no Snail, I assure you.  Ol. 
I was told so before, Sir. No Snail! sure 'tis the word of the House, and as ancient as the Family.  Vsh. 
This Gentleman looks sadly, methinks.  Tal. 
Who I? not I. Pray pardon my looks for that. But my heart feels what's what. Ay me—  Vsh. 
Pray walk to the Buttery, Gentlemen. My Office leads you thither.  Ol. 
Thanks, good Master Usher.  Vsh. 
I have been Usher these twenty years, Sir. And have got well by my place, for using Strangers respectfully.  Ol. 
He has given the Hint too.  Vsh. 
Something has come in by the by, besides standing Wages, which is ever duly paid (thank a good Master, and an honest Steward) Heaven bless 'em. We all thrive under 'em. Enter Butler with Glasses and a Napkin .O here comes the Butler.  But. 
You are welcome, Gentlemen. Please ye draw nearer my Office, and take a morning Drink in a Cup of Sack, if it please you.  Ol. 
In what please you, Sir. We cannot deny the courtesy of the House, in the Master's absence.  But. 
He'll come apace when he comes. He's no Snail, Sir. Going.  Ol. 
Still 'tis the House-word. And all the Servants wear Livery-Beards.  But. 
Or perhaps you had rather drink Whitewine and Sugar. Please yourselves, Gentlemen; here you may taste all Liquours. No Gentleman's House in all this County, or the next, so well stored(— make us thankful for it.) And my Master, for his Hospitality to Gentlemen, his Charity to the Poor, and his bounty to his Servants, has not his Peer in the Kingdom(— make us thankful for it.) And 'tis as fortunate a House for Servants, as ever was built upon Faery-Ground. I myself, that have served here, Man, and Boy, these four and forty years, have gotten together (besides something, more than I will speak of, distributed among my poor Kindred) by my Wages, my Vails at Christmas, and otherwise, together with my Rewards of kind Gentlemen, that have found courteous entertainment here.—  Ol. 
There he is too.  But. 
Have, I say, gotten together (tho' in a dangerous time I speak it) a brace of hundred pounds— Make me thankful for it. And for losses, I have had none. I have been Butler these two and thirty years, and never lost the value of a Silver Spoon, nor ever broke a Glass— Make me thankful for it. White Wine and Sugar, say you Sir?  Ol. 
Please yourself, Sir.  But. 
This Gentleman speaks not. Or had you rather take a Drink of brown Ale with a Toast, or March Beer with Sugar and Nutmeg? or had you rather drink without Sugar?  Ol. 
Good Sir, a Cup of your household-beer. Exit. But. I fear he will draw down to that at last.  Enter Butler with a Silver Can of Sack. But. 
Here, Gentlemen, is a Cup of my Masters small Beer: But it is good old Canary, I assure you. And here's to your welcome.  Enter Cook. Cook. 
And welcome the Cook says, Gentlemen. Brother Butler, lay a Napkin, I'll fetch a Cut of the sirloin to strengthen your patience till my Master comes, who will not now be long, for he's no Snail, Gentlemen.  Ol. 
I have often heard so. And here's to you, Master Cook— Prithee speak, Master Talboy, or force one Laugh more, if thou canst.  Cook. 
Sir, the Cook drinks to you. To Talb.  Tal. 
Ha ha ha—  Ol. 
Well said.  Tal. 
He is in the same Livory-Beard too.  Coo. 
But he is the oldest Cook, and of the ancientest House, and the best for Housekeeping, in this County, or the next. And tho' the Master of it write but Squire, I know no Lord like him. Enter Chaplain .And now he's come. Here comes the Word before him. The Parson has ever the best stomach. I'll Dish away presently.  Exit. But. 
Is our Master come, Sir Domine?  Chap. 
Est ad Manum. Non est ille testudo.  Ol. 
He has the Word too in Latin. Now bear up Talboy.  Cha. 
Give me a Preparative of Sack. It is a gentle Preparative before Meat. And so a gentle touch of it to you Gentlemen.  Ol. 
It is a gentle Offer, Sir; and as gently to be taken.  Enter Oldrents and Hearty. Old. 
About with it, my Lads. And this is as it should be.— Not till my turn, Sir, I. Though, I confess, I have had but three Morning-draughts today.  Ol. 
Yet it appears you were abroad betimes, Sir.  Old. 
I am no Snail, Sir.  Ol. 
So your men told us, Sir.  Old. 
But where be my Catchers? Come, a Round. And so let us drink.  The Catch sung. And they drink about. The Singers are all Graybeards. 
A Round, a Round, a Round, Boys, a Round.  
Let Mirth fly aloft, and Sorrow be drowned.  
Old Sack, and old Songs, and a Merry old Crew,  
Can charm away Cares when the Ground looks blue.  Old. 
Well said old Hearty. And, Gentlemen, welcome.  Tal. 
Ah— He sighs.  Old. 
Oh mine ears! What was that, a sigh? And in my House? Look: has it not split my Walls? If not, make vent for it: Let it out: I shall be stifled else. Exit. Chap.  Ol. 
He hopes your pardon, Sir: his Cause considered.  Old. 
Cause? Can there be cause for sighing.  Ol. 
He has lost his Mistress, Sir.  Old. 
Ha ha ha. Is that a Cause? Do you hear me complain the loss of my two Daughters?  Ol. 
They are not lost, I hope Sir.  Old. 
No more can be his Mistress. No Woman can be lost. They may be mislaid a little: but found again, I warrant you.  Tal. 
Ah— Sigh.  Old. 
Ods my life! He sighs again: And means to blow me out of my House. To Horse again. Here's no dwelling for me. Or stay: I'll cure him, if I can. Give him more Sack, to drown his Suspirations.  While Oldrents and Talboy drink. Oliver takes Hearty aside. Ol. 
Sir, I am chiefly to inform you of the Disaster.  Hea. 
May it concern me?  Old. 
Your Nephew Martin has stolen my Father's Ward, that Gentleman's Bride that should have been.  Hea. 
Indeed, Sir.  Ol. 
'Tis most true— He gives Hearty a Letter.  Hea. 
Another Glass of Sack. This Gentleman brings good news.  Ol. 
Sir, if you can prevent his danger—  Hea. 
Hang all Preventions. Let 'em have their Destiny.  Tal. 
Sir, I should have had her, 'tis true— But she is gone, d''ee see? And let her go. To Oldrents.  Old. 
Well said. He mends now.  Tal. 
I am glad I am rid of her (d''ee see) before I had more to do with her—  Hea. 
He mends apace.  Hearty reads the Letter. Tal. 
For should I have married her before she had run away, d''ee see: And that she had run away (d'ye see) after she had been married to me (d''ee see.) Than I had been a married Man without a Wife (d''ee see.) Where now she being run away before I am married (d''ee see) I am no more married to her, d''ee see, than she to me, d''ee see. And so long as I am none of hers (d''ee see) nor she none of mine (d''ee see) I ought to care as little for her, now she is run away (d''ee see) as if she had stayed with me, d''ee see.  Old. 
Why this is excellent! Come hither Hearty.  Tal. 
I perceive it now; and the reason of it; And how, by Consequence (d''ee see) I ought not to look any further after her. Cries .But that she should respect a poor base fellow, a clerk at the most, and a Servingman at best, before me, that am a rich man, at the worst; and a Gentleman, at least, makes me— I know not what to say—  Old. 
Worse than ever 'twas! Now he cries outright.  Tal. 
I know not what to say— What to say— Oh—  Hea. 
Then I do, Sir. The poor base Fellow, that you speak of, is my Nephew: As good a Gentleman as yourself. I understand the business by your Friend here.  Tal. 
I cry you mercy, Sir.  Old. 
You shall cry no Mercy, nor any thing else here, Sir; nor for any thing, here, Sir. This is no place to cry in: Nor for any business. You, Sir, that come on business— To Ol.  Ol. 
It shall be none, Sir.  Old. 
My House is for no business; but the Belly-business. You find not me so uncivil, Sir, as to ask you from whence you came; who you are; or what's your business. I ask you no question. And can you be so discourteous, as to tell me, or my Friend, any thing like business. If you come to be merry with Me, you are welcome. If you have any business, forget it: You forget where you are else. And so to Dinner.  Hea. 
Sir, I pray let me only prevail with you but to read this.  Old. 
Spoil my Stomach now, and I'll not eat this fortnight. He reads aside.  Hea. 
While he reads, let me tell you, Sir. That my Nephew Martin has stolen that Gentleman's Mistress, it seems, is true. But I protest, as I am a Gentleman, I know nothing of the matter; nor where he or she is. But, as I am the foresaid Gentleman, I am glad on't with all my heart. Ha, my Boy Mat. Thou shall restore our House.  Ol. 
Let him not hear, to grieve him, Sir.  Hea. 
Grieve him? What should he do with her; teach their Children to cry?  Tal. 
But I do hear you though; and I scorn to cry, as much as you, d''ee see, or your Nephew either, d''ee see.  Hea. 
Now thou art a brave fellow. So, so, hold up thy head, and thou shalt have a Wife, and a fine Thing.  Tal. 
Hang a Wife; and Pax o' your fine Thing (d''ee see) I scorn your Fopperies, d''ee see.  Old. 
And I do hear thee, my Boy; and rejoice in thy conversion. If thou canst but hold now.  Tal. 
Yes, I can hold, Sir. And I hold well with your Sack. I could live and die with it, as I am true Talboy.  Old. 
Now thou art a tall Fellow; and shalt want no Sack.  Tal. 
And, Sir, I do honour you (d''ee see) and should wish myself one of your Household Servants (d''ee see) if I had but a grey Beard, d''ee see? Hay, as old Master Clack says.  Old. 
Well, I have read the business here.  Ol. 
Call it not business, I beseech you, Sir. We defy all business.  Tal. 
I marry do we, Sir. D''ee see, Sir? And a Hay, as old Master Clack says.  Old. 
Gramercy Sack. Well, I have read the Matter here written by Master Clack. And do but bear up in thy humour, I will wait upon thee home. Knock within .Hark! they knock to the Dresser. I have heard much of this old odd-ceited Justice Clack: And now I long to see him. 'Tis but crossing the Country two days and a night's Journey. We'll but dine and away presently. Bear up, I say, Master Talboy.  Tal. 
I will bear up, I warrant you, d''ee see, Sir— But here's a grudging still— Exeunt.   

Scena Secunda.  A great noise within of rude Music, Laughing, Singing, etc. Enter amy. Rachel. Meriel. Am. 
HEre's a Wedding with a witness, and a Holiday with a hoy. Let us out of the noise, as we love our ears.  Ra. 
Yes: and here we may pursue our own Discourse, and hear one another.  Mer. 
Concerning, Springlove and yourself, Mistress Amie.  Am. 
Well, Ladies, my confidence in you, that you are the same that you have protested yourselves to be, hath so far won upon me, that I confess myself well-affected both to the Mind and Person of that Springlove. And, if he be (as fairly you pretend) a Gentleman, I shall easily dispense with Fortune.  Ra. Me. 
He is, upon our Honours.  Am. 
How well that high Engagement suits your Habits.  Ra. 
Our Minds and Blood are still the same.  Am. 
I have passed no affiance to the other,  
That stole me from my Guardian, and the Match  
He would have forced me to: From which I would  
Have fled with any, or without a Guide.  
Besides, his mind, more clownish than his Habit,  
Depraved by Covetousness and Cowardice,  
Forced me into a way of misery,  
To take relief from Beggars.  Mer. 
From poor Us.  Am. 
And then, to offer to marry me under a Hedge, as the old Couple were today, without Book or Ring, by the Chaplain of the beggar's Regiment, your Patrico, only to save Charges.  Ra. 
I have not seen the Wretch these three hours, whither is he gone?  Am. 
He told me, to fetch Horse and sit Raiment for us; and so to post me hence: But I think it was to leave me on your hands.  Mer. 
He has taken some great distaste sure: For he is damnable jealous.  Ra. 
ay, didst thou mark what a wild look he cast, when Springlove tumbled her, and kissed her on the Straw this morning, while the Music played to the old Wedding-Folks?  Mer. 
Yes, and then Springlove, to make him madder, told him, that he would be his Proxy, and marry her for him, and lie with her the first night, with a naked Cudgel betwixt 'em, and make him a King of Beggars.  Am. 
I saw how it angered him. And I imagined then, and before, that there was more in Springlove, then downright Beggar. But tho' he be never so good a Gentleman, he shall observe sit time and distance till we are married.  Ra. 
Matrimony forbid else. (She's taken.) But while we talk of a Match towards, we are missed within in the Bride-Barn among the Revel rout.  Am. 
We have had all the sport they could make us, in the past passages.  Mer. 
How cautious the old contracted Couple were for Portion and jointure!  Ra. 
What Feoffees, she being an Heir of fourscore, (and seven years stone-blind) had, in trust for her Estate.  Am. 
And how carefully he secured all to himself, in case he outlived her, being but seven years older than she. And what pains the Lawyer of the Rout here, took about it.  Ra. 
And then, how solemnly they were joined, and admonished, by our Parson Under-hedge, to live together in the fear of the Lash, and give good example to the younger Reprobates, to beg within Compass, to escape the jaws of the Justice, the Clutch of the Constable, the Hooks of the Headborough, and the biting blows of the Beadle. And, in so doing, they should defy the Devil, and all his Works, and after their painful Pilgrimage in this life, they should die in the Ditch of Delight.  Mer. 
O but Poet Scribble's Epithalamium. 
To the blind Virgin of fourscore,  
And the lame Bachelor, of more,  
How Cupid gave her Fies to see,  
And Vulcan lent him Legs:  
How Venus caused their Sport to be  
Prepared with buttered Eggs.  
Yet when she shall be seven years wed,  
She shall be bold to say,  
She has as much her Maidenhead,  
As on her Wedding day.   Ra. 
So may some Wives that were married at sixteen, to Lads of one and twenty.  Am. 
But at the Wedding-Feast, when the Bride bridled it, and her Groom saddled it. There was the sport, in her Mumping, and his Champing; the Crew scrambling; ourselves trembling; then the confusion of Noises, in talking, laughing, scolding, singing, howling; with their Actions, of snatching, scratching, tousing and lousing themselves, and one another— Enter Springl. Vinc. and Hilliard. But who comes here?  Spr. 
O, Ladies, you have lost as much Mirth, as would have filled up a week of Holidays.  Springlove takes amy aside, and courts her in a gentile way. Vin. 
I am come about again for the beggar's life now.  Ra. 
You are. I am glad on't.  Hill. 
There is no life but it.  Vin. 
With them there is no Grievance or Perplexity;  
No fear of war, or State Disturbances.  
No Alteration in a Commonwealth,  
Or Innovation, shakes a Thought of theirs.  Mer. 
Of ours you should say.  Hil. 
Of ours, he means.  
We have no fear of lessening our Estates;  
Nor any grudge with us (without Taxation)  
To lend or give, upon command, the whole  
Strength of our Wealth for public Benefit:  
While some, that are held rich in their Abundance,  
(Which is their Misery, indeed) will see  
Rather a general ruin upon all,  
Then give a Scruple to prevent the Fall.  Vin. 
'Tis only we that live.  Ra. 
I'm glad you are so taken with your Calling.  Mer. 
We are no less, I assure you. We find the Sweetness of it now.  Ra. 
The Mirth, the Pleasure, the Delights. No Ladies live such Lives.  Mer. 
Some few, upon necessity, perhaps. But that's not worth Gramercy.  Vin. 
They will never be weary.  Hil. 
Whether we seem to like, or dislike, all's one to them.  Vin. 
We must do something to be taken by, and discovered, we shall never be ourselves, and get home again else.  Spr. and amy come to the rest. Spr. 
I am yours for ever. Well, Ladies, you have missed rare Sport; but now the Bride has missed you with her half-half eye; and the Bridegroom, with the help of his Crutches, is drawing her forth for a Dance, here, in the opener air. The House is now too hot for 'em. O, here come the chief Revellers. The Soldier, the Courtier, the Lawyer, and the Poet, who is Master of their Revels, before the old Couple in State. Attend, and hear him speak, as their Inductor.  

Poet.  
HEre, on this Green, like King and Queen,  
(For a short truce) we do produce  
Our old new-married Pair.  
Of Dish and Wallet, and of Straw-pallet,  
With Rags to show, from top to toe,  
She is the ancient Heir.   

He is the Lord of Bottle-gourd,  
Of Satchel great, for Bread and Meat,  
And, for small Pence, a Purse.  
To all that give, Long may you live  
He loudly cries: But who denies  
Is sure to have his Curse.   Vin. 
Well said Field-Poet. Phoebus, we see, inspires As well the Beggar, as the Poet Laureate.  Spr. 
And shines as warm under a Hedge bottom, as on the tops of Palaces.  Po. 
I have not done yet. Now this is to incite you to dance.  

PRepare yourselves, like Faëry Elves,  
Now in a Dance to show,  
That you approve, the God of Love  
Has many Shafts to's Bow:   

With Golden head, and some of Lead,  
But that which made these feel,  
By subtle craft, was sure a Shaft  
That headed was with Steel.   

For they were old; no Earth more cold;  
Their Hearts were Flints entire;  
Whence the Steels stroke did sparks provoke,  
That set their Bloods on fire.   

Now strike up Piper; and each Lover here  
Be blithe, and take his Mistress by the Goll.   Hil. 
That's no Rhyme, Poet.  Po. 
There's as good Poetry in blank Verse, as metre.  Music. Spr. 
Come, hay! the Dance, the Dance. Nay we'll ha' the old Couple in, as blind and lame as they are.  Bri. 
What will you so?  Dance. Spr. 
Well hobbled Bridegroom!  Vin. 
Well groped Bride!  Hil. 
Hay lusty. Hay Holiday.  Spr. 
Set 'em down; set 'em down: They ha' done well.  Gro. 
A ha! I am lustier than I was 30. years ago.  Bri. 
And I, than I was threescore passed. A hem, a hemh.  Vin. 
What a night here's towards!  Hil. 
Sure they will kill one another.  Po. 
Each with a fear the tother will live longest.  Spr. 
Poet, thou hast spoken learnedly, and acted bravely. Thou art both Poet and Actor.  Po. 
So has been many famous men. And if here were no worse, we might have a Masque, or a Comedy presented tonight, in honour of the old Couple.  Vin. 
Let us each man try his ability Upon some Subject now Extempore.  Spr. 
Agreed. Give us a Theme; and try our Action.  Po. 
I have already thought upon't. I want but Actors.  Hil. 
What Persons want you? what would you present?  Po. 
I would present a Common wealth; Utopia, With all her Branches and Consistencies.  Ra. 
I'll be Utopia; who must be my Branches?  Po. 
The Country, the City, the Court, and the Camp. Epitomised and personated by a Gentleman, a Merchant, a Courtier, and a Soldier.  Soul. 
I'll be your Soldier. Am not I one? ha!  Con. 
And am not I a fashionable Courtier?  Po. 
But who the Citizen or Merchant?  Spr. 
I.  Vin. 
And I your Country Gentleman.  Hill. 
Or I.  Po. 
Yet to our Moral I must add two Persons, Divinity and Law.  La. 
Why la you now. And am not I a Lawyer?  Po. 
But where's Divinity?  Vin. 
marry that I know not. One of us might do that, if either knew how to handle it.  Spr. 
Where's the old Patrico, our Priest, my Ghostly Father? He'll do it rarely.  1 Beg. 
He was telling Fortunes e'en now to Country Wenches. I'll fetch him—  Exit. Spr. 
That Patrico I wonder at: He has told me strange things in clouds.  Am. 
And me somewhat that I may tell you hereafter.  Spr. 
That you shall be my Bride?  Am. 
I will not tell you now.  Vin. 
Well: but what must our Speeches tend to? what must we do one with another?  Po. 
I would have the Country, the City, and the Court, be at great variance for Superiority. Then would I have Divinity and Law stretch their wide throats to appease and reconcile them: Then would I have the Soldier cudgel them all together, and overtop them all. Stay, yet I want another person.  Hill. 
What must he be?  Po. 
A Beggar.  Vin. 
Here's enough of us, I think. What must the Beggar do?  Po. 
He must, at last, overcome the Soldier; and bring them all to Beggars-Hall. And this, well acted, will be for the honour of our Calling.  All. 
A Scribble! A Scribble!  Hill. 
Come, where's this Patrico, that we may begin?  Enter Patrico. Pa. 
Alack and welladay, this is no time to play. Our Quarter is beset. We are all in the Net. Leave off your merry Glee.  Vin. 
You begin scurvily.  Spr. 
Why what's the Matter?  Within. 
Bing awast, b'ing awast. The Choir Cove and the Harmanbeck.  Some Beggars run over the Stage. Spr. 
We are beset indeed. What shall we do?  Vin. 
I hope we shall be taken.  Hil. 
If the good hour be come, welcome by the grace of good Fortune.  Enter Sentwell, Constable, Watch. The Crew slip away. Sent. 
Beset the Quarter round. Be sure that none escape.  Spr. 
Lord to come with you, blessed Master, to a many distressed—  Vin. 
Hill. Duly and truly pray for you.  Ra. 
Mer.. Good your good Worship, duly and truly, etc.  Sen. 
A many counterfeit Rogues! So frolic and so lamentable all in a breath? You were acting a Play but now: We'll act with you. Incorrigible Vagabonds.  Spr. 
Good Master, 'tis a Holiday with us. An Heir was married here today.  Sen. 
Married! Not so I hope. Where is she? 'Tis for an Heir we seek.  Spr. 
Here She is Master— Hide yourselves in the Straw— the Straw. Quickly into the Straw—  Sen. 
What tell'st thou me of this? An old blind Beggar-woman. We must find a young gentlewoman-heir among you. Where's all the rest of the Crew?  Con. 
Slipped into the Barn and the Bushes by: but none can scape.  Sen. 
Look you to that, and to these here.  Exit. with Watch. Spr. 
Into the Straw, I say.  Vin. 
No, good Springlove. The Ladies and we are agreed now to draw Stakes, and play this lousy Game no further.  Hil. 
We will be taken, and disclose ourselves. You see we shall be forced to it else. The cowardly clerk has done't to save himself.  Spr. 
Do you fear no shame, Ladies?  Ra. 
Dost think it a shame to leave Begging?  Mer. 
Or that our Father will turn us out to it again?  Spr. 
Nay, since you are so resolute, Know, that I myself begin to find this is no course for Gentlemen. This Lady shall take me off it.  Am. 
Make but your Protestations good, and take me yours. And for the Gentleman that surprises us, tho' he has all my uncle's trust, he shall do any thing for me to our advantage.  Vin. 
If, Springlove, thou couldst post now to thy Tiring-house, and fetch all our Clothes, we might get off most neatly.  Spr. 
A Horse and six hours Travel would do that.  Am. 
You shall be furnished, doubt not.  Enter Sentwell. Watch. Sent. 
She's scaped, or is invisible. You Sir, I take to be the chief Rogue of this Regiment. Let him be whipped till he brings forth the Heir.  Con. 
That is but till he stinks, Sir. Come, Sir, strip, strip.  Am. 
Unhand him, Sir. What Heir do you seek, Master Sentwell?  Sent. 
Precious, how did my haste oversee her? O Mistress amy! Could I, or your Uncle, Justice Clack, a wiser man than I, ever ha' thought to have found you in such company?  Am. 
Of me, Sir, and my company, I have a story to delight you: which on our March towards your House, I will relate to you.  Sent. 
And thither will I lead you as my Guest. But to the Law surrender all the rest. I'll make your peace.  Am. 
We must fare all alike.  Exeunt.   

Actus Quintus.  Clack. Martin. Cla. 
I have forgiven you. Provided that my Niece be safely taken; and so to be brought home. Safely, I say, that is to say, unstained, unblemished, undishonoured; that is to say, with no more faults, criminal, or accusative, than those she carried with her.  Mar. 
Sir, I believe—  Cla. 
Nay, if we both speak together, how shall we hear one another? you believe her Virtue is Armour of proof, without your Council or your Guard; and therefore you left her in the hands of Rogues and Vagabonds, to make your own Peace with me. You have it. Provided, I say (as I said before) that she be safe, that is to say, uncorrupted, undefiled; that is to say— as I said before.  Mar. 
Mine intent, Sir, and my only way—  Cla. 
Nay, if we both speak together, how shall we hear one another? as I said before. Your intent, and your only way, you would ha' said, was to run away with her; and that by her only Instigation, to avoid the tie of Marriage with Master Talboy; that is to say, to shun the Match, that I had made for her; that is to say, rather to disobey me, than to displease herself. Wherein (although she did not altogether transgress the Law) she did both offend and prejudice me, an Instrument; nay, I may say, a Pillar thereof. And you, in assisting her, furthering, and conveying her away, did not only infringe the Law, in an unlawful Departure from your Master, but in a higher point; that is to say, Top and top-Gallows high. I would ha' found a Jury should ha' found it so.  Mar. 
But Sir, an't please you.  Cla. 
Must we then both speak together? Have I not born with thee, to speak all thou pleasest in thy defence? Have I not broke mine own Rule, which is, to punish before I examine; and so to have the Law the surer o' my side? And dost thou still persist? Hold your own peace; or, as I am a Justice of the Kings, I will unsay what I said before, and set a Currat Lex at you, Sirrah, that shall course you up the heavy Hill. Oh, is your Tongue fallen into your Leg now? Do not you know I have acquitted you? Provided— As I said before. Go your way in, and see that the Gentlemen, who, I think, were got in Sack, christened in Sack, nursed with Sack, and fed up to grey hairs with only Sack; see, I say, that they want no Sack. My Son Oliver (I thank him) has brought me a pair of such Guests. Enter Sentwell.  
O Master Sentwell! Good News?  Sen. 
Of beggarly news, the best you have heard.  Cla. 
That is to say, you have found my Niece among the Beggars. That is to say—  Sen. 
True, Sir Oliver, I found her—  Cla. 
Now if we both speak together, who shall hear one another?  Sen. 
I thought your desire was to be informed.  Cla. 
I can inform myself, Sir, by your looks. I have taken a hundred Examinations i' my days of Felons, and other Offenders, out of their very Countenances; and wrote 'em down verbatim, to what they would have said. I am sure it has served to hang some of 'em, and whip the rest.  Sen. 
Justice Clack still! He must talk all. His Clack must only go.  Cla. 
But to the point. You have found my Niece. You have left her at your own House; not only to shift her out of her Disguise, but out of her shame, to come nearer me, until I send her pardon.  Sen. 
Most true, Sir. But the Company she was in—  Cla. 
Again! Do not I know the Company? Beggars, Rogues, Vagabonds, and Hedge-birds.  Sen. 
But do you know whom, or how many we have taken? and how the rest escaped?  Cla. 
A needless knowledge. Why should we take more than herself? Or how could you take those that could escape?  Enter Martin. Mar. 
Sir, the old Gentlemen within, sent me to wait upon you. Without you (they say) they need not my Service.  Cla. 
Tell 'em then, I'll wait on 'em presently.  Exit Martin. Sen. 
But Sir, we have taken with her such Beggars, such Rogues, such Vagabonds, and such Hedge-birds (since you call 'em so) as you never knew, or heard of, though now the country's swarm with 'em under every Hedge, as if an innumerable Army of 'em were lately disbanded without Pay. Hedge-birds said you? Hedge Ladybirds, Hedge Cavaliers, Hedge Soldier, Hedge Lawyer, Hedge Fiddlers, Hedge Poet, Hedge Players, and a Hedge Priest among 'em. Such we have taken for the Principals. But to see how the Multitude scaped us; was more sport than pity. How, upon a Watchword given, they in the instant vanished by more several ways than there were legs among 'em; how the Cripples leapt over Pales and Hedges; how the Blind found their way thorough Lakes and Ditches; how a Doxy flew with two Children at her back, and two more, perhaps, in her belly—  Cla. 
A Hedge Priest have you taken, say you?  Sen. 
Yes, Sir, an old Patrico, an ancient Prophet, to tell Fortunes, and cozen our poor Country People of their single Money.  Enter Oliver. Ol. 
Sir, Master Oldrents, in that he enjoys not your company, begins to doubt of his welcome.  Cla. 
Who led him into that doubt? ay, or you that brought him hither?  Ol. 
Sir, his own desire, and love to you, brought him hither. I but showed him the way.  Cla. 
You reason fairly. Tell him I come.  Ol. 
Pray, Sir, be pleased to do so: for he says—  Cla. 
Nay, if we both talk together—  Ol. 
Who shall hear one another. Exit. Oliver.  Cla. 
But are there Players among the apprehended?  Sen. 
Yes, Sir. And they were contriving to act a Play among themselves, just as we surprised 'em, and spoiled their Sport.  Cla. 
Players! I'll pay them above all the rest.  Sen. 
You shall do well in that; to put 'em in stock to set up again.  Cla. 
Yes, I'll put 'em in Stocks, and set 'em up to the Whipping-post. They can act justices, can they? I'll act a justice among 'em; that is to say, I will do justice upon them; that is to say—  Sen. 
Pray Sir, be not severe, they act Kings and Emperors, as well as justices. And justice is blind they say: you may therefore be pleased to wink a little. I find that you have merry old Gentlemen in your House, that are come far to visit you. I'll undertake that these Players, with the help of their Poet; in a device which they have already studied, and a pack of Clothes which I shall supply 'em with, shall give your Guests much content, and move compassion in you towards the poor strolls.  Cla. 
But you know my way of justice (and that's a sure way) is to punish 'em first, and be compassionate afterwards, as I find 'em upon their Examination.  Sen. 
But for your Guests sakes, who (I know) do favour and affect the Quality of Actors very much, permit 'em, Sir. It will enlarge your Entertainment exceedingly.  Cla. 
And perhaps save me the expense of a rundlet of Sack the while. Well, Sir, for that Respect, and upon your undertaking that they shall please, I will prorogue my justice on the Rogues. And so to my merry Gentlemen, whom I will prepare to see their Interlude against after Supper. But pray, Master Sentwell, as you have found my Niece, look to her, and see her decently brought home.  Sen. 
In her own best Apparel. But you must prorogue your displeasure to her too.  Cla. 
I will do so, until my scarce welcome Guests be gone.  Enter Randall. Ran. 
Sir, my Master sends you word, and plainly, that without your Company, your Entertainment stinks. He has commanded me saddle his Nags, and away tonight. If you come not at once, twice, thrice, he's gone presently, before Supper; He'll find an Host at an Inn worth a hundred o' you.  Cla. 
Good friend, I will now satisfy your Master, without telling him he has a saucy Knave to his Man. Exit Clack.  Ran. 
Thank your Worship.  Sen. 
Do you hear, Friend, you serve Master Oldrents.  Ran. 
I could ha' told you that. And the best Housekeeper my Master is of any Gentleman in the County he dwells in; and the best Master to a man, as I, the worst of twenty, can say for him, and would be ashamed to say less.  Sen. 
Your name is Randall.  Ran. 
Forgive me! Are you so wise? you are too young to be my Godsire. And I hope not old enough to be a Witch. How know you, that I am Randall? were you ever at my Master's House i' nottinghamshire, or at Dunghilford, where I was born?  Sen. 
No. But I have Notes to know you by.  Ran. 
I was never twelve mile from thence i' my life, before this Journey. God send me within ken of our own Kitchen smoke again.  Sen. 
Your Master's Steward's name is Springlove.  Ran. 
Master Springlove, an't please you. There is not an honester Gentleman between this and the head of him. And my heart's with him, where'er he is. Know you him too?  Sen. 
Yes, and your Master's Daughters too.  Ran. 
Whaw.  Sen. 
And that they are all from home, your Master knows not where.  Ran. 
Whaw, whaw. Know you that too?  Sen. 
Yes, and the two young Gentlemen that are with 'em, Master Vincent, and Master Hilliard.  Ran. 
Whaw, whaw again. You know 'em all, I think. But know you where they all are?  Sen. 
Even here by, at my own House.  Ran. 
Whaw—  Sen. 
And they knowing that your Master is here, and Master Hearty too—  Ran. 
Whaw, whaw.  Sen. 
And yourself too. They directed me to find you, Randall, and bring you to 'em.  Ran. 
Whaw, whaw, whaw, whaw.— Why do we not go then?  Sen. 
But secretly. Not a word to anybody.  Ran. 
Mum— Will you go then?  Enter Martin. Mar. 
O, Master Oldrent's man. Pray let me entreat you into the Buttery.  Ran. 
Will you go, Master Gentleman?  Mar. 
Indeed it is my Master's desire, and he commanded me.  Ran. 
Now, when it's Suppertime did he? to fill my belly with thin drink to save his Meat? It's the manner in churl's Houses. Will you go, Master Gentleman?  Mar. 
Introth my Master is so merry with yours within—  Ran. 
shit o' your Master. My Master's Steward's a better Man. I'll to him, at this Gentleman's House, and all the rest. Whaw, whaw.  Sen. 
Randall, you forget.  Ran. 
Mum again then. Why would you not go then? Exit Sent. and Rand.  Mar. 
The man's as mad as his Master. The strangest strangers that ever came to our House.  Enter Talboy Tal. 
Well, Martin, for confessing thy fault, and the means thou mad'st whereby she is taken, I am friends with thee. But I shall never look upon her, or thee— but with grief of mind, however I bear it outwardly. Oh—  Mar. 
You bear it very manfully, methinks.  Tal. 
ay, you think so, and I know so— But what I feel, I feel. Would one of us two had never both seen one another.— Oh—  Mar. 
You speak very good sense, Sir. But does my Master continue his merry humour with the old Gentlemen within.  Tal. 
Yes. Justice Clack's Clack goes as merrily as any.  Mar. 
Well said, Sir. Now you speak merrily too. But I could say somewhat that would still him. And for your comfort, I'll tell you. Mistress Amie is fallen in love with one of the Beggars.  Tal. 
Then have I nothing else to do, but to laugh at thee as long as I live. Ha ha ha— To let a Beggar cozen thee of her. Ha ha ha. A Beggar! I shall die merrily yet. Ha ha ha.  Enter Clack. Oldrents. Hearty. Oliver. Cla. 
A hay Boys, a hay. This is right; that is to say, as I would have it; that is to say—  Tal. 
A Beggar. Ha ha ha—  Mar. 
Ha ha ha—  Cla. 
A hay Boys, a hay. They are as merry without, as we were within. A hay, Master Oldrents, and Master Hearty! The virtue of your Company turns all to Mirth and Melody, with a hay trololly lolly lolly. Is't not so, Master Hearty?  Old. 
Why thus it should be: How was I deceived! Now I see you are a good Fellow.  Ol. 
He was never so before. If it be a Lightning before Death, the best is, I am his Heir.  Tal. Mar. 
Ha ha ha—  Cla. 
Again, Boys, again; that is to say, a hay Boys, ah hay—  Hea. 
What is the Motive of your Mirth, Nephew Martin? Let us laugh with you.  Old. 
Was that spoke like my Friend, Hearty? Lack we Motives to laugh? Are not all things, any thing, every thing to be laughed at? And if nothing were to be seen, felt, heard, or understood, we would laugh at It too.  Cla. 
You take the loss of your Mistress merrily, Master Talboy.  Tal. 
More merrily than you will take the finding of her. Ha ha ha— A Beggar! Ha ha ha—  Cla. 
Can I be sad to find her, think you?  Mar. 
He thinks you will be displeased with her, and chide her.  Cla. 
You are deceived, Master Talboy; you are wide, Master Talboy; above half your length, Master Talboy. Law and Justice shall sleep, and Mirth and good Fellowship ride a Circuit here tonight. A hay, Master Oldrents, a hay Master Hearty, and a hay Son Oliver, and a hay Nephew Talboy, that should ha' been, and a hay, my clerk Martin, and a hay for the Players. When come they? Son Oliver, see for Master Sentwell, that is no readier with his new Company.  Tal. 
Players! Let us go see too. I never saw any Players. Exit Talb. Mar.  Ol. 
This is the first fit that ever he had of this Disease. And if it be his last, I say, as I said before. I am his Heir. Exit.  Old. 
But is there a Play to be expected, and acted by Beggars?  Cla. 
That is to say, by Vagabonds; that is to say, by strolling Players. They are upon their Purgation. If they can present any thing to please you, they may escape the Law; that is (a hay) If not, tomorrow, Gentlemen, shall be acted, Abuses stripped and whipped, among 'em; with a hay, Master Hearty, you are not merry. Enter Sentwell .And a hay Master Sentwell, where are your Drammatis Personae; your Prologus, and your Actus Primus, ha? Ha' they given you the slip, for fear of the Whip? A hay.  Sen. 
A word aside, an't please you.—  Sentwell takes Clack aside, and gives him a Paper. Old. 
I have not known a man in such a Humour.  Hea. 
And of his own finding! He stole it, indeed, out of his own Bottles, rather than be robbed of his liquour. miser's use to tipple themselves so.  Old. 
He does so outdo us, that we look like stayed men again, Hearty; fine sober things.  Hea. 
But how long will it last? He'll hang himself tomorrow, for the Cost we have put him to.  Old. 
I love a Miser's Feast dearly. To see how thin and scattering the Dishes stood, as if they feared quarrelling.  Hea. 
And how the Bottles, to scape breaking one another, were brought up by one at once!  Old. 
How one of the Serving-men, untrained to wait, spilt the White-broth!  Hea. 
And another, stumbling at the Threshold, tumbled in his Dish of Rouncivals before him.  Old. 
And most suitable to the Niggardliness of his Feast, we shall now have an Entertainment, or Play, presented by Beggars.  Cla. 
Send 'em in, Master Sentwell. Exit Sent. Sat Gentlemen, the Players are ready to enter. And here's a Bill of their Plays. You may take your choice.  Old. 
Are they ready for them all in the same Clothes? Read 'em, good Hearty.  Hea. 
First, here's The two lost Daughters.  Old. 
Put me not in mind of the two lost Daughters, I prithee. What's the next?  Hea. 
The vagrant Steward.  Old. 
Nor of a vagrant Steward. Sure some abuse is meant me.  Hea. 
The old Squire and the Fortune-teller.  Old. 
That comes nearer me. Away with it.  Hea. 
The beggar's Prophecy.  Old. 
All these Titles may serve to one Play, of a Story that I know too well. I'll see none of them.  Hea. 
Then here's The merry Beggars.  Old. 
ay, that; and let 'em begin.  Enter Talboy and Oliver. Tal. 
The Players are coming in: And Mistress Amie and your man Martin, are to be Actors among 'em.  Cla. 
A hay then for that too. Some merry device sure. A Flourish of Shalms .Hark! the beggar's Hoboys. Now they begin.  Old. 
See, a most solemn Prologue.  Enter Poet for Prologue. 
TO Knight, to Squire, and to the Gentiles here,  
We wish our Play may with content appear.  
We promise you no dainty Wit of Court,  
Nor City Pageantry, nor Country Sport:  
But a plain Piece of Action, short and sweet;  
In Story true. You'll know it when you see't.  Old. 
True Stories and true Jests do seldom thrive on Stages.  Cla. 
They are best to please you with this tho', or a hay with a Whip for them tomorrow.  Old. 
Nay, rather than they shall suffer, I will be pleased, let 'em Play their worst.  A flourish. Enter Patrico. With Lawyer habited like Oldrents. 
See our Patrico among 'em.  Hea. 
That offered you a Doxy in the Barn.  Pat. 
Your Children's Fortunes I have told,  
That they shall Beg ere they be old.  
And will you have a Reason why?  
'Tis justice in their Destiny.—  Cla. 
justice, ha! Are you meddling with justices already?  Pat. 
Your Grandfather, by crafty wile  
Of bargaining, did much beguile  
A thriftless Heir of half the Lands  
That are descended to your hands.  
And, then, by Law, not Equity,  
Forced Him and his Posterity  
To Woe and shameful Beggary.  Law. 
That was no fault of mine, nor of my Children.  Pat. 
But our forefather's Debts and Crimes,  
Although forborn till future times,  
Are not so paid. But what needs more,  
I wish you happy in your Store. Exit.  Old. 
Dost note this, Hearty?  Hea. 
You said you would be pleased, let 'em play their worst.  Lawyer walks sadly, beats his breast, etc. To him enter Soldier like Hearty, and seems to comfort him. Old. 
It begins my Story, and by the same Fortune-teller that told me my daughter's Fortunes; almost in the same words. I know him now. And he speaks in the Play to one that personates me, as near, as they can set him forth.  Cla. 
How like you it, Sir? You seem displeased. Shall they be whipped yet? A hay, if you say the word.  Old. 
O, by no means, Sir; I am pleased.  Soul. 
Sad for the words of a base Fortune-teller? Believe him! Hang him. I'll trust none of 'em. They have all Whims, and double double meanings In all they say.  Old. 
Whom does he talk or look like, now?  Hea. 
It is no matter whom. You are pleased, you say.  Soul. 
Ha' you no Sack i'th' House? am not I here? And never without a merry old Song?  
Old Sack, and old Songs, and a merry old Crew,  
Will fright away Cares when the ground looks blue.  
And can you think on gipsy Fortune-tellers?  Law. 
I'll think as little of 'em as I can.  Soul. 
Will you abroad then? But here comes your Steward.  Enter Springlove to Lawyer. Old. 
Bless me! Is not that Springlove?  Hea. 
Is that you, that talks to him, or that Coxcomb I, do you think? Pray let 'em play their Play: the Justice will not hinder 'em, you see; he's asleep.  Spr. 
Here are the Keys of all my Charge, Sir. And  
My humble suit is, that you will be pleased  
To let me walk upon my known occasions, this Summer.  Law. 
Fie! Canst not yet leave off those Vagancies?  
But I will strive no more to alter Nature.  
I will not hinder thee, nor bid thee go.  Old. 
My own very words at his departure.  Hea. 
No matter. Pray attend.  Law. 
Come, Friend, I'll take your Council.  Exeunt Lawy. Sould. Spr. 
I've striven with myself to alter Nature in me,  
For my good Master's sake; but all in vain;  
For Beggars, Cuckoo-like, fly out again,  
In their own Notes and Season.  Enter Rachel. Meriel. Vincent. Hilliard. Ra. 
Our Father's sadness will not suffer us To live in's House.  Mer. 
And we must have a Progress.  Vin. 
Th' assurance of your love's hath engaged us  Hil. 
To wait on you in any course.  Ra. 
Suppose we'll go a-begging.  Vin. Hil. 
We are for you.  Spr. 
And that must be your Course, and suddenly,  
To Cure your Father's sadness; who is told  
It is your Destiny: Which you may quit,  
By making it a trick of Youth and Wit.  
I'll set you in the way.  All 4. 
But how? But how?  All talk aside. Old. 
My Daughters and their Sweethearts too. I see  
The scope of their Design; and the whole drift  
Of all their Action now, with joy and comfort.  Hea. 
But take no notice yet. See a Whim more of it. But the mad Rogue that acted me, I must make drunk anon.  Spr. 
Now! are you all resolved?  All 4. 
Agreed, agreed.  Spr. 
You beg to absolve your Fortune, not for need.  Exeunt. Old. 
I must commend their Act in that. Praythee let's call 'em, and end the matter here. The purpose of their Play, is but to work my Friendship, or their Peace with me; and they have it.  Hea. 
But see a little more, Sir.  Enter Randall. Old. 
My Man Randall too! Has he a Part with 'em?  Ran. 
They were well set awork, when they made me a Player. What is that I must say? And how must I act now? Oh! that I must be Steward for the Beggars in Master Steward's absence; and tell my Master, he's gone to measure Land for him to purchase.  Old. 
You Sir. Leave the work you can do no better (I can forbear no longer) and call the Actors back again to me.  Ran. 
With all my heart. And glad my Part is so soon done. Exit.  Enter Patrico. Pat. 
Since you will then break off our Flay:  
Something in earnest I must say;  
But let affected Rhyming go.  
I'll be no more a Patrico.  
My name is Wrought-on— Start not. But (if you  
Desire to hear what's worth your best attention,  
More privately) you may draw nearer me.  Oldrents goes to him. Hea. 
Hear no more Fortunes.  Old. 
You shall give me leave.  Pat. 
I am Grandson to that unhappy Wrought-on,  
Whom your Grandfather, craftily, wrought out  
Of his Estate. By which, all his Posterity  
Were, since, exposed to Beggary. I do not charge  
You, with the least offence in this. But, now,  
Come nearer me: for I must whisper to you.  Patrico takes Oldrents aside. 
I had a Sister, who among the Race  
Of Beggars, was the fairest. Fair she was  
In Gentle Blood, and Gesture to her Beauty;  
Which could not be so clouded with base Clothing,  
But she attracted Love from worthy Persons;  
Which (for her meanness) they expressed in Pity,  
For the most part. But some assaulted her  
With amorous, though loose desires; which she  
Had virtue to withstand. Only one Gentleman  
(Whether it were by her Affection, or  
His Fate, to send his Blood a-begging with her,  
I question not) by her, in heat of Youth,  
Did get a Son, who now must call you Father.  Old. 
Me?  Pa. 
You. Attend me, Sir. Your Bounty, then,  
Disposed your Purse to her; In which, besides  
Much Money (I conceive by your neglect)  
Was thrown this holy Relic. Do you know it?  Old. 
The Agnus Dei that my Mother gave me  
Upon her Deathbed! O the loss of it  
Was my sore grief: And, now, with joy, it is  
Restored by Miracle! does your Sister live?  Pa. 
No, Sir. She died within a few days after  
Her Son was born; and left him to my care;  
On whom, ay, to this day, have had an eye,  
In all his wanderings.  Old. 
Then the young Man lives!  Enter Springlove. Vincent. Hilliard. Rachell. Meriel. Pa. 
Here with the rest of your fair Children, Sir.  Old. 
My Joy begins to be too great within me!  
My Blessing, and a Welcome to you all.  
Be one another's, and you all are mine.  Vin. Hil. 
We are agreed on that.  Ra. 
Long since. We only stood till you shook off your Sadness.  Mer. 
For which we were fain to go a-begging, Sir.  Old. 
Now I can read the justice of my Fate, and yours—  Cla. 
Ha! justice? Are they handling of justice?  Old. 
But more applaud great Providence in both.  Cla. 
Are they jeering of justices? I watched for that.  Hea. 
I so methought. No, Sir. The Play is done.  Enter Sentwell. amy. Oliver. Martin. Sen. 
See, Sir, your Niece presented to you.  Springlove takes amy. Cla. 
What, with a Speech by one of the Players?  
Speak, Sir: and be not daunted. I am favourable.  Spr. 
Then, by your favour, Sir, this Maiden is my Wife.  Cla. 
Sure you are out o' your part. That is to say, you must begin again.  Spr. 
She's mine by solemn Contract, Sir.  Cla. 
You will not tell me that. Are not you my Niece?  Am. 
I dare not, Sir, deny't, we are contracted.  Cla. 
Nay, if we both speak together, how shall we hear one another?  Mar. 
I must disprove the Contract.  Tal. 
That is my part to speak.  Sen. 
None can disprove it. I am witness to it.  Cla. 
Nay, if we all speak— as I said before.  Old. 
Hear me for all then. Here are no Beggars (you are but one, Patrico) no Rogues, nor Players: But a select Company, to fill this House with Mirth. These are my Daughters; these their Husbands; and this that shall marry your Niece, a Gentleman, my Son. I will instantly Estate him in a thousand pound a year to entertain his Wife; and to their Heirs for ever. Do you hear me now?  Cla. 
Now I do hear you. And I must hear you. That is to say, it is a Match. That is to say— as I said before.  Tal. 
And must I hear it too— O—  Old. 
Yes, though you whine your eyes out.  Hea. 
Nephew Martin, still the Child with a Suckbottle of Sack. Peace, Lamb; and I'll find a wife for thee.  Old. 
Now, Patrico, if you can quit your Function,  
To live a moderate Gentleman, I'll give you  
A competent Annuity for your life.  Pat. 
I'll be, withal, your faithful Beadsman; and Spend my whole life in Prayers for you and yours.  Cla. 
And now, clerk Martin, give all the Beggars my free Pass, without all manner of Correction? that is to say, with a hay get 'em gone.  Ol. 
Are not you the Gentleman, that challenged me in right of your Friend here?  Vin. 
Your Inspection's good, Sir.  Ra. 
And you the Gentleman (I take it) that would have made Beggar-sport with us, two at once.  Mer. 
For twelve pence a piece, Sir.  Oli. 
I hope we all are Friends.  Spr. 
Now, on my Duty, Sir, I'll beg no more, But your continual Love, and daily blessing.  Old. 
Except it be at Court, Boy; where if ever I come, it shall be to beg the next Fool-Royal's place that falls.  Spr. 
A begging Epilogue yet would not be,  
methinks, improper to this Comedy.    

Epilogue.  
THo' we are, now, no Beggars of the Crew,  
We count it not a shame to beg of you.  
The Justice, here, has given his Pass free  
To all the rest, unpunished; only we  
Are under Censure, till we do obtain  
Your Suffrages, that we may beg again;  
And often, in the Course, We took today,  
Which was intended, for your Mirth, a Play;  
Not without Action, and a little Wit,  
Therefore we beg your Pass for us and It.  
FINIS.