THE MUSES lookingglass.  
By T. R.  
London, Printed Anno Dom. 1643.   

THE muse's lookingglass,  

Actus 1.  

Scen. 1.  Enter Bird a featherman, and Mrs Flowrdew, wife to a Haberdasher of small Wares; the one having brought Feathers to the playhouse; the other Pins and Looking-glasses; two of the sanctified fraternity of Blackfriars. FLowrdew, 
See brother how the wicked throng and crowd,  
To works of Vanity! not a nook, or corner  
In all this house of sin, this cave of filthiness,  
This den of spiritual thieves, but it is stuffed,  
Stuffed, and stuffed full as is a cushion  
With the lewd Reprobate.  Bird. 
Sister, were there not before inns,  
Yes, I will say inns, for my zeal bids me  
Say filthy inns, enough to harbour such  
As traveled to destruction the broad way;  
But they build more and more, more shops of Satan.  Flowrd. 
Iniquity aboundeth, though pure zeal  
Teach, preach, huff, puff, and stnuffe at it, yet still,  
Still it aboundeth. Had we seen a Church,  
A new built Church erected North and South,  
It had been something worth the wondering at.  Bird. 
Good works are done.  Flowrd 
I say no works are good,  
Good works are merely Popish, and apocryphal.  Bird. 
But th'bad abound, surround, yea and confound us.  
No marvel now if playhouses increase,  
For they are all grown so obscene of late,  
That one begets another.  Flowrd 
Flat fornication!  
I wonder anybody takes delight  
To hear them prattle.  Bird. 
Nay, and I have heard  
That in a— Tragedy I think they call it,  
They make no more of killing one another,  
Than you sell pins.  Flowrd. 
Or you sell feathers brother,  
But are they not hanged for it?  Bird 
Law grows partial,  
And finds it but chance-medley: And their Comedies  
Will abuse you, or me, or anybody;  
We cannot put our moneys to increase  
By lawful usury, nor break in quiet,  
Nor put off our false wares, nor keep our wives  
Finer than others, but our ghosts must walk  
Upon their stages.  Flowrd. 
Is not this flat conjuring,  
To make our ghosts to walk ere we be dead?  Bird. 
That's nothing Mistress Flowrdew, they will play  
The knave, the fool, the devil, and all for money.  Flow. 
Impiety! O that men endued with reason  
Should have no more grace in them?  Bird. 
Be there not other  
Vocations as thriving, and more honest?  
Baylies, promoters, jailors, and Apparitors,  
Beadles, and marshal's men, the needful instruments  
Of the republic; but to make themselves  
Such Monsters? for they are monsters, theyare monsters,  
Base, sinful, shameless, ugly, vile deformed  
Pernicious monsters?  Flow. 
I have heard our Vicar  
Call playhouses the colleges of transgression▪  
Wherein the seven deadly sins are studied.  Bird. 
Why then the City will in time be made  
An university of iniquity.  
We dwell by Blackfriars college, where I wonder  
How that profane nest of pernicious Birds  
Dare roost themselves there in the midst of us,  
So many good and well disposed persons.  
O Impudence?  Flow. 
It was a zealous prayer  
I heard a brother make, concerning playhouses,  Bird. 
For charity what is it?  Flow. 
That the Globe,  
Wherein (quoth he) reigns a whole world of vice,  
Had been consumed? The Phoenix burnt to Ashes.  
The Fortune whipped for a blind whore: Blackfriars  
He wonders how it scaped demolishing  
I'th' time of reformation: Lastly he wished  
The Bull might cross the Thames to the Bear-Garden,  
And there be soundly baited?  Bird. 
A ●ood prayer.  Flow. 
Indeed it something pricks my conscience▪  
I come to sell 'em Pins and Looking-glasses.  Bird. 
I have their custom too for all their Feathers▪  
'tis fit that we which are sincere Professors  
Should gain by Infidels.   

Scen. 2.  Enter Roscius a Player. Mr. Roscius 
we hav' brought the things you spoke for▪  Rosc. 
Why 'tis well.  Flow. 
Pray Sir what serve they for?  Rosc 
We use them in our play.  Bird. 
Are you a player?  Rosc. 
I am Sir, what of that?  Bird. 
And is it lawful?  
Good sister let's convert him. Will you use  
So fond a calling?  Flow. 
And so impious?  Bird. 
So irreligious?  Flow. 
So unwarrantable?  Bird. 
Only to gain by vice?  Flow. 
To live by sin?  Rosc. 
My spleen is up: And live not you by sin▪  
Take away vanity and you both may break.  
What serves your lawful trade of selling Pins,  
But to joint gewgaws, and to knit together  
Gorgets, strips; neckcloths, laces, ribbons, ruffs▪  
And many other such like toys as these,  
To make the Baby Pride a pretty Puppet?  
And you sweet Featherman, whose ware though light,  
Oreweighs your conscience, what serves your trade  
But to plume folly, to give pride her wings,  
To deck vainglory? spoiling the peacock's tail  
T' adorn an idiot's Coxcomb: O dull ignorance!  
How ill 'tis understood what we do mean  
For good and honest! They abuse our Scene,  
And say we live by vice: indeed 'tis true  
As the physicians by diseases do,  
Only to cure them: They do live we see  
Like Cooks by pamp'ring prodigality,  
Which are our fond accusers. On the stage  
We set an Usurer to tell this age  
How ugly looks his soul: A prodigal  
Is taught by us how far from liberal  
His folly bears him: Boldly I dare say  
There has been more by us in some one Play  
Laughed into wit and virtue, than hath been  
By twenty tedious Lectures drawn from sin,  
And foppish humours; Hence the cause doth rise  
Men are not won by th'ears so well as eyes.  
First see what we present.  Flow▪ 
The sight is able  
To unsanctify our eyes, and make 'em carnal.  Rosc. 
Will you condemn without examination?  Bird. 
No sister, let us call up all our zeal,  
And try the strength of this temptation:  
Satan shall see we dare defy his Engines.  Flow. 
I am content.  Ros●. 
Then take your places here, I will come to you  
And moralize the plot.  Flow. 
That moralising  
I do approve, it may be for instruction.   

Scen. 3.  Enter a deformed fellow. DEfor. 
Roscius, I hear you have a new Play to day.  Rosc. 
We want not you to play Mephostopbolis.  
A pretty natural vizard!  Defo●. 
What have you there?  Rosc. 
A looking-glass, or two.  Defor. 
What things are they?  
Pray let me see them. Heaven, what fights are here?  
I'ave seen a devil. Looking-glasses call you them?  
There is no Bafiliske but a looking-glass.  Ros●. 
'tis your own face you saw.  Defor. 
My own? thou liest:  
I'd not be such a Monster for the world.  Rosc. 
Look in it now with me, what seest thou now▪  Defor. 
An angel and a devil.  Rosc. 
Look on that  
Thou calld'st an angel, mark it well, and tell me  
Is it not like my face?  Defor. 
As were the same.  Rosc. 
Why so is that like thine. Dost thou not see,  
'tis not the glass but thy deformity  
That makes this ugly shape; if they be fair  
That view the glass, such the reflections are.  
This serves the body: The soul sees her face  
In Comedy, and has no other glass.  Defor. 
Nay then farewell, for I had rather see  
Hell then a looking-glass or Comedy.  Exit Defor. Rosc 
And yet methinks if'twere not for this glass,  
Wherein the form of man beholds his grace,  
We could not find another way to see  
How near our shapes approach Divinity.  
Ladies, let they who will your glass deride,  
And say it is an instrument of Pride:  
I will commend you for it; there you see  
If ye be fair, how truly fair ye be:  
Where finding beauteous faces, I do know  
You'll have the greater care to keep them so.  
A heavenly vision in your beauty lies,  
Which nature hath denied to your own eyes;  
Were it not pity you alone should be  
Debarred of that others are blessed to fee?  
Then take your glasses, and yourselves enjoy  
The benefit of yourselves; it is no toy,  
Though ignorance at slight esteem hath set her,  
That will preserve us good or make us better.  
A Country slut, (for such she was, though here,  
Ith' City may be some as well as there:)  
Kept her hands clean, (for those being always seen  
Had told her else how sluttish she had been)  
But had her face as nasty as the stall  
Of a fishmonger, or a usurers Hall  
Daubed o'er with dirt: One might have dared to say  
She was a true piece of Prometheus clay,  
Not yet informed: And then her unkembed hair  
Dressed up with cobwebs, made her hag-like stare▪  
One day within her pail (for Country Lasses  
(Fair Ladies) have no other Looking-glasses:)  
She spied her ugliness, and fain she would  
Have blushed if through so much dirt she could:  
Ashamed, within that water, that I say  
Which showed her filth, she washed her filth away.  
So Comedies, as Poets do intend them,  
Serve first to show our faults, and then to mend them▪  
Upon our stage two glasses oft there be,  
The comic mirror, and the Tragedy:  
The comic glass is full of merry strife,  
The low reflection of a County life.  
Grave Tragedy void of such homely sports  
Is the sad glass of Cities and of Courts.  
I'll show you both, Thalia come and bring  
Thy buskined sister, that of blood doth sing.   

Scen. 4.  Comedy, Tragedy, Mime, satire. Comed 
WHy do you stop? go on.  T'rag. 
I charge him stay  
My robe of state, Buskins, and Crown of gold  
Claim a priority.  Com. 
Your Crown of Gold  
Is but the wreath of wealth; 'tis mine of laurel  
Is virtue's Diadem: This grew green and flourished  
When nature pitying poor morality,  
Hid thine within the bowels of the earth:  
Men looking up to heaven found this that's mine,  
Digging to find our hell they lied on thine.  Trag. 
I know you' have tongue enough.  Com. 
Besides, my Birth●right  
Gives me the first possession.  Trag. 
How, your birthright?  Com. 
Yes sister, Birth right: and a Crown besides,  
Put on before the Altar of Apollo  
By his dear Priest Phenomoe, she that first  
Full of her, God raged in heroic numbers.  Trag. 
How came it then the Magistrate decreed  
A public charge to ●urnish out my Chorus,  
When you were fain ●t appear in rags and tatters,  
And at your own expenses?  Come 
My reward  
Came after, my defer is went before yours,  Trag 
Deserts? yes! what deserts▪ when like a Gipsy  
You took a poor and beggarly Pilgrimage  
From village unto village; when I then  
As a fit ceremony of Religion  
In my full state con●ended at the Tomb  
Of mighty ●heseus  Co●e 
I before ●hat time  
Did chant our hymns in praise of great Apollo,  
The sheepherd's deity, whom they reverence  
Under the name of ●om●us, in remembrance  
How with them once he kept Admetus' sheep.  
And 'cause you urge my poverty, what were you?  
Till Sophocl●s laid guilt upon your Buskins  
You had no ornaments, no robes of state,  
No rich and glorious Scene; your first Benefactors  
Who were they, but the reeling Priests of Bacchus:  
For which a Goat gave you reward and name?  Trag 
But sis●er who were yours, I pray, but such  
As chanted forth religious, bawdy sonnets;  
In honour of the fine chaste god Priapus?  Come. 
Let age alone, merit must plead out Title.  Trag. 
And have you then the forehead to contend?  
I stalk in Princes Courts, great Kings, and Emperors  
From their close cabinets, and council Tables  
Yield me the fatal matter of my Scene.  Com●. 
Inferior persons, and the lighter vanities,  
(Of which this age I fear is grown too fruitful,)  
Yield subjects various enough to move  
plentiful laughter.  Trag. 
Laughter! a fit object  
For Poetry to aim at.  Com. 
Yes, Laughter is my object: 'tis a property  
In man essential to his reason.  Trag. 
So;  
But I move horror; and that frights the guilty  
From his dear sins: he that sees Oedipus  
Incestuous, shall behold him blind withal.  
Who views Orestes as a Parricide,  
Shall see him lashed with Furies too; Th'Ambitious  
Shall fear Prometheus Vultur; Daring gluttony  
Stand frighted at the sight of Tantalus:  
And every family great in sins as blood  
Shake at the memory of Pelops house.  
Who will rely on fortune's giddy smile  
That hath seen Priam acted on the stage?  Com. 
You move with fear, I work as much with shame▪  
A thing more powerful in a generous breast.  
Who sees an eating Parasite abused;  
A covetous Bawd laughed at; an ignorant Gull  
Cheated; a glorious soldier knocked, and baffled;  
A crafty servant whipped; a niggard churl  
Hoarding up dicing-monies for his son;  
A spruce fantaftique Courtier, a mad roarer,  
A jealous Tradesman, an overweening Lady,  
Or corrupt Lawyer rightly personated.  
But (if he have a blush) will blush, and shame  
As well to act those follies as to own them.  Trag. 
The subject of my Scene is in the persons  
Greater, as in the vices; Atheists, Tyrants,  
O're-daring Favourites, Traitors, Parasites,  
The Wolves and Cats of state, which in a language  
High as the men, and loud as are their crimes  
I thunder forth with terrou● and amazement  
Unto the ghastly wondering Audience.  Satyre. 
And as my Lady takes deserved place  
Of thy light Mistress, so yield thou to me,  
Fantastic Mime.  Mime. 
Fond satire why to thee?  Sat. 
As the attendant of the nobler Dame;  
And of my selfmore worthy?  Mime. 
How! more worthy.  Sat. 
As one whose whip of steel can with a lash  
Imprint the Characters of shame so deep,  
Even in the brazen forehead of proud sin,  
That not eternity shall wear it out.  
When I but frowned in my Lucilius brow,  
Each conscious cheek grew red, and a cold trembling  
Freezed the chill soul; while every guilty breast  
Stood fearful of dissection, as afraid  
To be anatomised by that skilful hand;  
And have each artery, nerve, and vein of sin  
By it laid open to the public scorn.  
I have untrussed the proudest; greatest tyrants  
Have quaked below my powerful whip, half dead  
With expectation of the smarting jerk,  
Whose wound no salve can cure: each blow doth leav●  
A lasting scar, that with a poison eats  
Into the marrow of their fames and lives;  
Th'eternal ulcer to their memories!  
What can your Apish-fine gesticulations  
My manlike-Monky Mime, vie down to this?  Mime. 
When men through sins were grown unlike the Gods,  
Apes grew to be like men; therefore I think  
My Apish imitation, Brother Be addle,  
Does as good service to reform l●ad manners  
As your proud whip, with all his ferks, and jerks.  
The S●artans when they strov● t'express the loathsomeness  
Of drunkenness to their child●en. brought a slave,  
Some captive H●lo●, overcharged with wine  
Reeling in thus;— His eyes shot out with staring,  
A fire in his nose, a burning redness  
Blazing in either cheek, his hair upright,  
His tongue and senses faltering, and his stomach  
O'reburdened ready to discharge her load  
In each man's face he met. This made 'em see  
And hate that sin of swine, and not of men.  
Would I express a complemental youth,  
That thinks himself a spruce and expert Courtier,  
Bending his supple hams, kissing his hands,  
Honouring shoestrings, scruing his writhed face  
To several postures of affection,  
Dancing an entertainment to his friend,  
Who would not think it a ridiculous motion?  
Yet such there be that very much please themselves  
In such like Antique humours. To our own sins  
We will be Moles, even to the grossest of 'em:  
But in another's life we can spy forth  
The least of faults, with eyes as sharp as Eagles,  
Or the E●idaurean serpent: Now in me,  
Where self-love casts not her Egyptian mists,  
They find this misbecoming foppishness,  
And afterwards apply it to themselves:  
This (satire) is the use of mimic Elves.  Trag. 
Sister let's lay this poor contention by,  
And friendly live together, if ●ne womb  
Could hold us both, why should we think this room  
Too narrow to contain us? On this stage  
we'll plead a trial; and in one year contend  
Which shall do best: that past, she then that shall  
By the most sacred and impartial judgement  
Of our Apollo, best deserve the bays,  
Shall hold th' entire possession of the place.  Come 
I were unworthy if I should  
Appeal from his tribunal; Be it so:  
I doubt not but his censure runs with me;  
Never may any thing that's sad and tragical  
Dare to approach his presence; let him be  
So happy as to think no man is wretched,  
Or that there is a thing called misery.  Trag. 
Such is my prayer, that he may only see,  
Not be the subject of a Tragedy!  
Sister, a truce till then; that vice may bleed,  
Let us join whips together.  Come. 
'tis agreed.  Mime. 
Let it be your office to prepare  
The Masque which we intended:  Mime. 
'tis my care.  Exeunt. Flowr. 
How did she say? a mass? Brother fly hence▪  
●ly hence, Idolatry will overtake us.  Rosci. 
It was a Masque she spoke of, a rude Dance  
Presented by the seven deadly sins.  Bird. 
Still 'tis a mass, sister, away, I tell you  
It is a mass, a mass of vile Idolatry.  Rosci 
'tis but a simple Dance, brought in to show  
The native foulness and deformity  
Of our dear sin, and what an ugly guest.  
He entertains, admits him to his breast?  

Song and Dance.  
Say, in a Dance how shall we go,  
That never could a measure know!  
How shall we sing to please the Scene  
That never yet could keep a mean?  
Disorder is the Masque we bring,  
And discords are the Tunes we sing.  
No sound in our harsh ears can find a place  
But highest Trebles, or the lowest Base.   Flow. 
See Brother, if men's hearts and consciences  
Had not been seared, and cauterised, how could they  
Affect these filthy harbingers of hell!  
These Proctors of Belzebub, Lucifer's Hinch-boyes!  Rosc. 
I pray ye stir yourselves within a while.  Exeune. Roscius Solus. 
And here, unless your favourable mildness  
With hope of mercy do encourage us,  
Our Author bids us end: he dares not ventur●  
Neither what's past, nor that which is to come  
Upon his Country, 'tis so weak, and impotent  
It cannot stand a trial; nor dares hope  
The benefit of his Clergy; But if rigour  
Sit judge, must of necessity be condemned  
To Vulcan or the sponge: All he can plead  
Is a desire of Pardon; for he brings you  
No plot at all, but a mere Olla Podrida,  
A medley of ill placed, and worse penned humours.  
His desire was in single Scenes to show  
How Comedy presents each single vice  
Ridiculous, whose number as their Character  
He borrows from the man to whom he owes  
All the poor skill he has, great Aristotle.  
Now if you can endure to hear the rest,  
Y'are welcome; if you cannot, do but tell  
Your meaning by some sign, and all farewell▪  
If you will stay resolve to pardon first;  
Our Author will deserve it by offending.  
Yet if he miss a Pardon, as in justice  
You cannot grant it, though your mercy may,  
Still he hath this left for a comfort to him,  
That he picks forth a subject of his rhyme  
May lose perchance his credit, not his time.  Exit. 
Finis Actus 1.    

ACTVS 2.  

SCENA 1.  Roscius. Bird. Flowrdew. Rosc. 
REceive your places. The first that we present are the extremes of a virtue necessary in our Conversation, called Comitas or courtesy, which, as all other virtues, hath her deviations from the Mean. The one Colax, that to seem over Courteous falls, into a servile flattery; the other, (as fools fall into the contraries which they shumic) is Discolus, who hating to be a slavish Parasite, grows into peevishness and impertinent distaste.  Flow. 
I thought you taught two vices for one virtue.  Rosc. 
So does Philosophy, but the Actors enter▪  Colax. Dyscolus. Colax. 
How far they sin against humanity  
That use you thus! Believe me 'tis a symptom  
Of barbarism, and rudeness, so to vex  
A gentle, modest nature as yours is.  Dysco. 
Why dost thou vex me then?  Colax. 
I? Heaven defend!  
My breeding has been better; I vex you!  
You that I know so virtuous, just, and wife,  
So pious and religious, so admired,  
So loved of all?  Dys. 
Wilt thou not leave me then  
Eternal torture? could your cruelty find  
No back but mine that you thought broad enough  
To bear the load of all these epithets?  
Pious? Religious? he takes me for a fool.  
Virtuous? and just? Sir, did I ever cheat you,  
cousin, or gull you; that you call me just,  
And virtuous? I am grown the common scoff  
Of all the world; the scoff of all the world!  Colax. 
The world is grown too vile then.  Dysc. 
So art thou.  
Heaven! I am turn' ridiculous!  Colax. 
You ridiculous?  
But 'tis an impious Age; There was a time,  
(And pity 'tis so good a time had wings  
To fly away,) when reverence was paid  
To a grey head; 'twas held a sacrilege  
Not expiable to deny respect  
To one, Sir, of your years and gravity.  Dysc. 
My years and gravity! Why, how old am I?  
I am not rotten yet, or grown so rank  
As I should smell oth'grave▪ O times and manners!  
Well Colax, well; go on: ye may abuse me,  
Poor dust and ashes, worms meat; years and gravity:  
He takes me for a Careasse! what see you  
So crazy in me? I have half my teeth▪  
I see with spectacles, do I not? and can walk too  
With th' benefit of my staff, mark if I cannot!—  
But you sir at your pleasure with years and gravity  
Think me decrepit.  Colax. 
How? Decrepit sir!  
I see young roses bud within your cheeks;  
And a quick active blood run free and fresh  
Through your veins.  Dysco. 
I am turned boy again!  
A very stripling schoolboy! have I not  
The Itch and kibes? am I not scabbed and ma●gy  
About the wrists and hams?  Colax. 
Still Dyscolus?—  Dysc. 
Dyscolus! and why Dyscolus? when were we  
Grown so familiar? Dyscolus! by my name  
Sure we are Pylades and Orestes! are we not?  
Speak good Pylades.  Colax. 
Nay worthy Sir  
Pardon my error, 'twas without intent  
Of an offence. I'll find some other name  
To call you by—  Dysc. 
What do you mean to call me?  
Fool? Ass? or Knave? my name is not so bad  
As that I am ashamed on't.  Colax. 
Still you take all worse than it was meant,  
You are too jealous.  Dysco. 
Jealous? I ha'not cause for't, my wife's honest;  
Dost see my horns? Dost? if thou dost,  
Write Cuckold in my forehead; do, write Cuckol●  
With aquafortis, do. Jealous! I am jealous;  
Free of the Company! wife, I am jealous.  Col●x. 
I mean suspicious.  Dysc. 
How! suspicious?  
For what? for treason, felony, or murder?  
Carry me to the justice: bind me over  
For a suspicious person: hang me too  
For a suspicious p●rson! O, O, O,  
Some courteous plague cease me, and free my soul  
From this immortal torment! every thing  
I meet with, is vexation, and this, this  
Is the vexation of vexations,  
The Hell of Hells, and devil of all devils.  Flow. 
For pity sake frer not the good old Gentlem●●  Disc. 
O! have I not yet torments great enough,  
But you must add to my a●fliction?  
Eternal s●lence cease you!  Co●●●. 
Sir we strive  
To please you, but you still misconstrue us.  Disc. 
I must be pl●as'd! a very babe, an infant!  
I must be pleased! give me some pap, or plums▪  
Buy me a rattle, or a hobby-horse,  
To s●●ll me, do! be pleased? wouldst have me get  
A Para●ite to be flattered?  Col 
How? a Parasite?  
A cogging, flattering, slavish Parasite?  
Things ● abhor and hate. 'tis not the belly  
Shall make my brains a captive. Flatterers!  
Souls below reason will not stoop so low  
As to give up their liberty; only flatterers  
Move by another's wheel. They have no passion●  
Free to themselves. All their affections,  
Qualities, humours, appetites, desires,  
Nay wishes, vows and prayers, discourse and th●ughts  
Are but another's Bondman. Let me tug  
At the Turks galleys; be etern●lly  
Damned to a Qu●r●y. In this state my mind  
Is free: A flatterer has nor soul nor body;  
What shall I say?— No I applaud your temper,  
That in a generous braveness take distaste  
At such whose servile nature strives to please you.  
'tis royal in you Sir.  Dysc. 
Ha! what's that?  Colax. 
A feather stuck upon your cloak.  Dysc. 
A feather!  
And what have you to do with my feathers?  
Why should you hinder me from t●lling th'world  
I do not lie on flock-beds?  Colax. 
Pray be pleased.  
I brushed it off for m●er re●p●ct I bare to you.  Dysc. 
Respect! a fine respect, Sir, is it not,  
To make the world believe I nou●ish vermin?  
O death, death, death, if that our graves hatch worms  
Without tongues to torment us, let 'em have  
What teeth they will. I meet not here an object  
But adds to my affliction! Sure I am not  
A man; I could not then be so ridiculous▪  
My ears are ov●rgrown, I am an ass;  
It is my ears they gaze at. What strange Harty,  
●en●●re or Gorgon am I turned into?  
What Circe wrought my M●t●morphosis?  
●f I be a beast, she might have m●●e me lion,  
Or something not ridiculous! O 〈◊〉,  
●f I do branch like thee, it is my fortune!  
●hy look they on me else? There is within  
A glass they say, that has strange qualities in it;  
That shall resolve me. I will in to se●  
Whether or no, I man or monster be. Exit.   

SCEN. 2.  To them Deilus. Aphobus. Bird. 
Who be these? They look like presumption, and D●spai●e.  Rosc. 
And such they are. That is Aphobus, one th●● out of an impious confidence fears nothing. The other Dcilus, that from an atheistical distrust, shakes at the motion of a reed. These are the extr●ams of Fortitude, the Steers an even course between overmuch daring, and overmuch fearing.  Flow. 
Why stays this reprobate Colax?  Rosc. 
Any vice▪  
Yields work for flattery.  Flow. 
A good Doctrine, mark it.  Deil●s. 
Is it possible? did you not fear it, say you  
To me the mere relation is an ague.  
Good Aphobus no more such terrible stories;  
I would not for a world lie alone to night:  
I shall have such strange dreams!  Apho. 
What can there be  
That I should fear? The Gods? If they be good,  
'tis sin to fear them; if not good, no Goods;  
And then let them fear me. Or are they devils  
That must af●right me?  Deilus. 
Devils! where good Aphobus?  
I thought there was some conjuring abroad,  
'tis such a terrible wind! O here it is;  
Now it is here again! O still, still, still.  Apho. 
What's the matter?  Deilus. 
Still it follows me!  
The thing in black, behind; soon as the Sun  
But shines, it haunts me? Gentle spirit leave me!  
Cannot you lay him Aphobus: what an ugly looks it has▪  
With eyes as big as fawcers, nostrils wider  
Than barber's basons!  Apho. 
'tis nothing Deilus  
But your weak fancy, that from every object  
Draws arguments of fear. This terrible black thing—  Deil. 
Where is it Aphobus;  Ppho. 
— Is but your shadow Deilus.  Deil. 
And should we not fear shadows?  Apho. 
No! why should we?  Deil. 
Who knows but they come learing after us  
To steal away the substance? Watch him Aphobus.  Apho. 
I nothing fear.  Colax. 
I do commend your valour,  
That fixes your great soul fast as a centre,  
Not to be moved with dangers; let slight cock-boats  
Be shaken with a wave, while you stand firm  
Like an undaunted rock, whose constant hardness  
Rebeats the fury of the raging sea,  
Dashing it into froth. Base fear doth argue  
A low degenerate soul.  Deil. 
Now I fear every thing.  Colax. 
'tis your discretion. Every thing has danger,  
And therefore every thing is to be feared.  
I do applaud this wisdom: 'tis a symptom  
Of wary providence. His too confident rashness  
Argues a stupid ignorance in the soul,  
A blind and senseless judgement; give me fear  
To man the fort, 'tis such a circumspec●  
And wary sentinel—  Flowrd. 
Now shame rake thee for  
A Luke warm formalist.  Colax. 
— But daring valour  
Uncapable of danger sleeps securly,  
And leaves an open entrance to his enemies.  D●il. 
What are they landed?  Apho. 
Who?  Deil. 
The enemies  
That Colax talks of.  Apho. 
If they be I care not;  
Though they be giants all, and armed with thunder▪  Deil. 
Why do you not fear thunder?  Apho. 
Thunder? no!  
No more than squibs and crackers.  Deil. 
Squibs and crackers?  
I hope there be none here! 'slid, squibs and crackers!  
The mere Epitomies of the Gun powder Treason,  
Faux in a lesser volume.  Apho. 
Let fools gaze  
At bearded stars, it is all one to me  
As if they h●d been shaved— thus, thus would I  
Out beard a Meteour, for I might as well  
Name it a prodigy when my candle blazes.  Deil. 
Is there a Comet say you? Nay, I saw it,  
It rea●h'd from Paul's to Charing, and portends  
Some certain eminent danger to th'inhabitants  
Twixt those two places: I'll go get a lodging  
Out of its influence.  Colax. 
Will that serve?— I fear  
It threatens general ruin to the Kingdom.  De●l. 
I'll to some other Country.  Colax. 
There's danger to cross the Seas.  Deil. 
Is there no way, good Colax,  
To cross the Sea by Land? O the situation!  
The horrible situation of an Island!  Colax. 
You sir are far above such frivolous thoughts.  
You fear not death.  Apho. 
Not I.  Col. 
Not sudden death.  Apho. 
No more than sudden sleeps: Sir I dare die.  Deil. 
I dare not; Death to me is terrible:  
I will not die.  Apho. 
How can you Sir prevent it?  Deil. 
Why, I will kill myself.  Col. 
A valiant course;  
And the right way to prevent death indeed.  
Your spirit is true Roman!— But yours greater  
That fear not death, nor yet the manner o● it,  
Should heaven fall—  Apho. 
Why, then we should have Larks.  Deil. 
I shall never eat Larks again while I breath.  Col. 
Or should the earth yawn like a sepulchre,  
And with an open throat swallow you quick?  Apho. 
To would save me the expenses of a grave.  Deil. 
I''ve rather trouble my Executors by th'half●  Apho. 
Cannons to me are potguns.  Deil. 
Potguns to me  
Are Cannons; the report will strike me dead.  Apho. 
R Rapier's but a bodkin.  Deil. 
And a bodkin,  
It is a most dangerous weapon; since I read  
Of Julius Caesar's death, I durst not venture  
Into a tailor's shop ●or fe●r of bodkins.  Apho. 
O that the valiant giants should again  
rebel against the Gods, and besiege Heaven,  
So I might be their leader.  Col. 
Had Enc●ladu●  
Been half so valiant, Jove had been his prisoner.  Apho. 
Why should we think there be such things as dangers?  
Scylla, Charybdis, Python are but fables.  
Medcas' Bull, and Dragon very tales.  
Sea-Monsters, serpents, all poetical figment●.  
Nay Hell itself, and Achcron mere inventions,  
Or were they true, as they are false, should I be  
So timorous as to fear these Bug bear harpies,  
Medusa's, Centaeurs, Gorgon's?  Deil. 
O good Aphobus,  
Leave conjuring, or take me into th'circle.  
What shall I do good Colax?  Col. 
Sir walk in,  
There is, they say, a looking-glass, a strange on●  
Of admirable virtues, that will render you  
Free from enchantments.  Deil. 
How! a looking-glass?  
Dost think I can endure it? why there lies  
A man within'● in ambush to entrap m●.  
I did but lift my hand up, and he presently  
catched at it,  Colax. 
'Twas the shadow Sir of yourself.  
Trust me a mere reflection.  Deil. 
I will trust thee. Exit.  Apho. 
What glass is that?  Colax. 
A trick to fright the Idiot  
Out of his wits, a Gl●sse so full of d●ead,  
Rendering unto the eye such horrid spectacle●  
As would amaze even you. Sir I do thin●  
Your optic nerves would shrink in the beholding:  
This if your eye endure, I will confess you  
The Prince of Eagles.  Apho. 
Look to it eyes, if ye refuse this sight,  
My nails shall damn you to eternal night. Exit.  Col. 
Seeing no hope of gain, I pack them hence,  
'Tis gold gives flattery all her eloquence.   

SCENE. 3.  Acolastus. Anaisthetus. Rosci. 
Temperance is the mediocrity of enjoying pleasures, when they are present, and a moderate desire of them being absent; And these are the extremes of that virtue. Acolastus a voluptuous Epicure, that out of an immoderate, and untamed desire seeks after all pleasures promiscuously, without respect of honest or lawful. The other Anaisthetus a mere Anchorite that delights in nothing, not in those legitimate recreations allowed of by God and nature.  Acolast. 
O now for an eternity of eating!  
Fool was he that wished but a Cranes short neck;  
Give me one, nature, long as is a Caqle,  
Or sounding-line, and all the way a palate  
To taste my meat the longer. I would have  
My se●ses feast together; Nature envied us  
In giving single pleasures; let me have  
My ears, eyes, palate, nose, and touch, at once  
Enjoy their happiness; lay me in a bed  
Made of a summer's cloud; to my embraces  
Give me a Venus hardly yet fifteen,  
●resh, plump, and active; she that Mars enjoyed  
Is grown too ●tale: And then at the same instant  
My touch is pleased, I would delight my sight  
With pictures of Diana, and her Nymphs,  
Naked, and bathing, drawn by some Apelles;  
By them some of our fairest Virgins stand;  
That I may see whether 'tis Art or Nature  
Which heightens most my blood and appetite.  
Noah cease I here. Give me the seven Orbs  
To charm my ears with their celestial lutes,  
To which the Angels that do move those spheres  
Shall sing some amorous ditty; nor yet here  
Fix I my bounds; The sun himself shall fire  
The Phoenix nest to make me a perfume,  
While I do eat the Bird, and eternally  
Quaff of eternal Nectar. These single, are  
But torments, but together, O together!  
Each is a paradise. Having got such objects  
To please the senses, give me senses too  
Fit to receive those objects: Give me therefore  
An eagles eye, a bloodhounds curious smell,  
A Stages quick he●ring, let my feeling be  
As subtle as the spiders, and my taste  
Sharp as a squirrels: Then I'll read the Alcoran,  
And what delights that promises in future  
I'll practise in the present.  Bird. 
Heathenish Glutton!  Flow. 
Base belly-God, licentious Libertine!  Anai. 
And I do think there is no pleasure at all  
But in contemning pleasures; Happy Niobe  
And blessed Daph●e, and all such as are  
Turned stocks and sto●●s▪ would I were laurel too,  
Or marble, I, or any thing insensible.  
It is a toil for me to eat or drink,  
Only for nature's satisfaction;  
Would I could live without it. To my ear  
Music is but a mandrake. To my smell  
Nard scents of rue, and wormwood; And I taste  
Nectar with as much loathing, and distaste  
As gall, or aloes, or my doctor's potion.  
My eye can meet no object but I have it.  Acola. 
Come brother Stoic be not so melancholy.  Anai. 
Be not so foolish brother Epicure.  Aco. 
Come we'll go and see a Comedy, that will raise  
Thy heavy spirits up.  Anai. 
A Comedy?  
Sure I delight much in those toys; I can  
With as much patience hear the mariners  
Chide in a storm.  Aco. 
Then let's go drink a while.  Anai. 
'Tis too much labour; Happy Tantalu●  
That never drinks.  Aco. 
A little Venery  
Shall recreate thy soul.  Ana. 
Yes like an itch,  
For 'tis no better▪ I could wish an heir,  
But that I cannot take the pains to get one.  Aco. 
Why, marry, if your conscience be so tender▪  
As not to do it otherwise; Then 'tis lawful.  Ana. 
True Matrimony's nothing else indeed  
But fornication licenced, lawful Adultery.  
O heavens! how all my senses are wide sluices  
To let in discontent and miseries!  
How happy are the moles that have no eyes!  
How blessed the Adders that have no ears!  
They never see nor hear aught that afflicts them.  
But happier they that have no sense at all;  
That neither see, nor hear, taste, smell, nor fe●l.  
Any thing to torment them: souls were given  
To torture bodies, man has reason too  
To add unto the heap of his distractions.  
I can see nothing without sense, and motion,  
But I do wish myself transformed into it.  Col. 
Sir I commend this temperance; your armed soul  
Is able to contemn these petty baits,  
These flight temptations, which we title pleasures;  
That are indeed but names; Heaven itself knows  
No such like thing; the stars nor eat nor drink,  
Nor lie with one another; and you imitate  
Those glorious bodies, by which noble abstinence  
You gain the names of moderate, chaste, and sober;  
While this effeminate gets the infamous terms  
Of Glutton, Drunkard, and Adulterer;  
Pleasures, that are not man's, as man is man,  
But as his nature sympathies with beasts.  
You shall be the third Cato. This grave look  
And rigid eyebrow will become a Censor.  
But I will fit you with an object Sir,  
My noble Anaisthetus, that will please you.  
It is a looking-glass, wherein at once  
You may see all the dismal groves and caves,  
The horrid vaults, dark cells, and barren deserts,  
With what in hell itself can dismal be.  Anais. 
That is indeed a prospect fit for me. Exit.  Acol. 
He cannot see a stock or stone, but presently  
He wishes to be turned to one of those.  
I have another humour, I cannot see  
A fat voluptuous low with full delight  
Wallow in dirt, but I do wish myself  
Transformed into that blessed Epicure.  
Or when I view the hot salacious sparrow  
Renew his pleasures with fresh appetite,  
I wish myself that little bird of Love.  Colax. 
It shows you a man of a soft moving clay▪  
Not made of flint; Nature has been bountiful  
To provide pleasures, and shall we be niggards  
At plenteous boards? He's a discourteous guest  
That will observe a diet at a feast.  
When nature thought the earth alone too little  
To find us meat, and therefore stored the air  
With winged creatures, not contented yet,  
She made the water fruitful to delight us.  
Nay I believe the other Element too  
Doth nurse some curious dainty for man's food;  
If we would use the skill to each the Salamander▪  
Did she do this to have us eat with temperance?  
Or when she gave so many different odours  
Of spices, unguents, and all sorts of flowers,  
She cried not— stop your noses: would she give us  
So sweet a choir of winged musicians  
To have us deaf? or when she placed us here,  
Here in a paradise, where such pleasing prospects,  
So many ravishing colours entice the eye,  
Was it to have us wink? when she bestowed  
So powerful faces, such commanding beauties  
On many glorious Nymphs, was it to say  
Be chaste and continent? Not to enjoy  
All pleasures, and at full, were to make nature  
Guilty of that she ne'er was guilty of,  
A vanity in her works.  Acol. 
A Learned Lecture!  
'tis fit such grave and solid arguments  
Have their reward— here— half of my estate  
T'invent a pleasure never tasted yet,  
That I may be the first shall make it stale.  Col. 
Within Sir is a glass, that by reflection  
Doth show the image of all sorts of pleasures  
That ever yet were acted, more variety  
Than Aretincs pictures.  Aco. 
He see the jewel;  
For though to do most moves my appetite,  
I love to see, as well as act delight. Exit.  Bird. 
These are the things indeed the stage doth teach,  
Dear heart, what a foul sink of sins run here!  Flow. 
In soothe it is the common shore of lewdness.   

SCEN. 4.  Asotus. Aneleutherus. Rosc. 
These are Aneleutherus an illiberal Niggardly usurer, that will sell heaven to purchase ●arth. That his son Asotus a profuse prodigal, that will sell earth to buy Hell. The extremes of liberality which prescribes a mediocrity in the getting and spending of Riches.  Aneleu. 
Com● boy, go with me to the Scriveners, go.  Asot. 
I was in hope you would have said a Bawdy house.  Anel. 
Thence to th' Exchange.  Asot. 
No, to the Tav●rn Father.  Anel. 
Be a good husband boy, follow my counsel.  Asot. 
Your counsel? No dad, take you mine,  
And be a good f●llow— shall we go and roar?  
'Slid Father I shall never live to spend.  
That you have got already— Pox of attorneys,  
Merchants, and Scriveners, I would hear you talk  
Of Drawers, Punks, and Panders.  Anel. 
Prodigal child I 〈…〉  
Thou dost not know the sweets ●f getting wealth.  Asot. 
Nor you the pleasure that I fake in spending it,  
To feed on caviar, and eat Anchoveal  Anel. 
Asotus, my dear son, talk not to me  
Of your Anchoves, or your caviar.  
No, feed on widows, have each meal an Orphan  
Served to your Table, or a glib●ery heir  
With all his lands melted into a mortgage.  
The Gods themselves ● feed not on such fine dainties,  
Such fatting, thriving diet.  Asot. 
Trust me Sir,  
I am ashamed lafoy— to call you Father,  
Ne'er trust me now. I'm come to be a Gentleman.  
One of your havings, and thus cark and car●?  
Come, I will send for a whole Coach or two  
Of bankside Ladies, and we will ●● jovial!  
Shall the world say you pine and pinch for no●hing▪  
Well do your pleasure, keep me 〈◊〉 of mon●es▪  
When you are dead, as die I hopely 〈◊〉 must,  
He make a shift to spend one half at least  
Ere you are coffined and the other half  
Ere you are fully laid into your grave  
Were not you better help away with some of it  
But you will starve yourself, that when y'are 〈◊〉  
One— Have at all of mine may set it flying.  
And I will have your Bones cut into Dice,  
And make you guilty of the spending of it▪  
Or I will get a very handsome bowl  
Made of your skull, to drink't away in healths.  Anel. 
That's not the way to thrive! No, sit and brood  
On thy estate, as y●● it is not hatched  
Into maturity.  Asot. 
Marry I will brood upon it,  
And hatch it into chicken, capons, ●ens,  
L●●●s, thrushes, quails, woodcocks, ●nites, & pheasants,  
The best that can be got for love or money.  
There is no life to drinking!  Anel. 
O yes, yes;  
Exaction, usury, and oppression.  
Twenty i'th' hundred is a very Nectar.  
And wilt thou, wasteful lad, spend in a supper  
What I with sweat and labour, care and industry  
Have been an age a scraping up together,  
No, no Asotus, trust gray-head experience;  
As I have been an ox, a painful ox,  
A diligent, toiling, and laboriou● ox  
To plow up Gold for thee; so I would have thee—  Asot. 
Be a fine silly ass to keep it.  Anel. 
Be a good watchful Dragon to preserve it.  Colax. 
Sir, I over heard your wife instructions,  
And wonder ●t the gravity of your cou●sel!  
This wild vubridled boy is not yet grown.  
Acquainted with the world; he has not felt  
The weight of need, that want is virtue's clog;  
Of what necessity respect and value  
Wealth is, how base and how contemptible.  
Poverty makes us. Liberality  
In some circumstances may be allowed;  
As when it has no end but honesty,  
With a respect of person, quantity,  
Quality, time, and place; but this profu●e,  
Vain, injudicious spending speaks him Idiot:  
And yet the best of liberality  
Is to be liberal to ourselves; and thus  
Your wisdom is most liberal, and knows  
●ow fond a thing it is for discreet men  
To purchase with the loss of their estate  
The name of one poo●e virtue, liberality,  
And that too only from the mouth of beggars!  
One of your judgement would not, I am sure,  
Buy all the virtues at so dear a rate.  
Nor are you, Sir, I dare presume, so fond  
As for to weigh your gains by the strict scale  
Of equity, and justice, names invented  
To keep us beggars; I would counsel now  
Your son to tread no steps but yours, for they  
Will certainly direct him the broad way  
That leads unto the place where Plenty dwells;  
And she shall give him honour.  Anel. 
Your tongue is powerful:  
Pray read this Lecture to my son; I go  
To find my scrivener who is gone, I hear,  
To a strange glass wherein all things appear. Exit  Aset. 
To see if it can show him his lost ears.  
Now to your Lecture.  Col. 
And to such a one  
As you will be a willing pupil ●o,  
Think you I meant all that I told your Father?  
No, 'twas to blind the eyes of the old hunks.  
I love a man like you that can make much  
Of his blessed Genius: Miracle of Charity!  
That open hand becomes thee; Let thy Father  
Scrape like the Dunghill cock the Dirt, and mire,  
To find a precious gem for thee, the Chicken  
Of the white Hen to wear. It is a wonder  
How such a generous branch as you, could spring  
From that old root of damned avarice!  
For ●very widow's house the father swallows,  
The son should sp●w a tavern. How are we  
Richer than others not in having much,  
But in bestowing;  
And that shines glo●ious in you. The chuffs crownes  
Imprisoned in his ●●usty chest methinks  
I hear groan out, and ●ong till they be thin▪  
In hope to see the light again. Thou canst not  
Stand in a flood of Nectar up to th' chin  
And yet not dare to s●p it; nor canst suffer  
The Golden Apples dangle at thy lips,  
But thou wilt taste the fruit. 'T is generous this.  Asot. 
Gramercy thou shalt be Doctor o' th' chair.  
Here— 'tis too li●●e, but 'tis all my store,  
I'll in to pump my Dad, and fetch thee more. Exit.  Colax. 
How like you now my art? is 't not a subtle ones  Flow. 
Now out upon thee thou lewd reprobate!  
Thou man of sin, and shame, that sowest cushions  
Unto the elbows of iniquity.  Colax. 
I do commend this zeal; you cannot be  
Too fervent in a cause so full of goodness.  
There is a general frost hath ceased devotion.  
And without such like ardent flames as these.  
There is no hope to thaw it. The word, Puritan,  
Tha● I do glorify, and esteem reverend,  
As the most sanctified, pure, and ●oly Sect  
Of all professors, is by the profane  
Used for a name of infamy, a by word, a slander.  
That I soothe Vice I do but flatter them,  
As we give children plums to learn their prayers,  
T●entice them to the truth, and by fair means  
Work out their reformation.  Bird. 
'Tis well done.  
I hope he'll become a brother, and make  
A Separatist!  Flow. 
You shall have the devotions.  
Of all the Elders. But this foppishness  
Is wearisome; i could at our Saint An●●●●s,  
Sleeping and all, sit twenty times as long.  Rosc. 
Go in with me to recreate your s●irits,  
(As music theirs) with some, refreshing song,  
Whose patience our rude Scene hath h●ld too long.  Exeunt. 
Finis Actus 2.    

ACTS 3  

SCEN. 1.  Roscius, Bird, Flowrdew. Bird. 
I will no more of this abomination.  Rose. 
The end crowns every action; stay till that.  
Just judge will not Be prejudicate,  Flow. 
Pray Sir continue still the moralising  Rose. 
The next ●e present are the ●●treames of Magnificence, who teaches a Decorum in great expenses, as Liberality in the lesser: One is Banausus, out of a me●re ostentation vaingloriously, exp●nsive; the other Micropre●es one in glorious works extremely ●ase an●, ●enur●ous.  Banausus. Microprepes. Ban. 
Being borne not for ourselves but for our friends,  
〈◊〉 country a●● ou● glory; it is f●●  
We do expre●●e the Majesty o● our souls  
In deeds of bou●●y and magni●●c●nce.  Micro. 
The world i●●ull of va●●●y; and fond fool's  
Pro●●se ●●emselves a name fro● building Churches,  
Or any thing that ●ends to the republic,  
〈◊〉 the Re-priva●● that I study for  Banau. 
First therefore for the fame of my republic,  
I'll imitate a brave Egyptian King,  
And plant such store of onions, and of garlic,  
As shall maintain● so many thousand workmen,  
To th' building of a Pyramid at Saint Albon,  
Upon whose to● I'll set a hand of brass,  
With a scroll in't to show the way to L●nd●n  
For th'benefit o● Travellers.  Colax. 
Excellent,  
'Tis charity to direct the wandering Pilgrim.  Micro. 
I am Ch●rch-warden, and we are this year  
To build our steeple up▪ now to save charges  
●'le get a high crowned hat with five Low-bel●  
To make a peal shall serve as well as ●ow.  Colax. 
'Tis wisely cast,  
And like a careful steward of the Church▪  
Of which the Steeple is no part, at least.  
No necessary.  Bird. 
Verily 'tis true  
They are but wicked Synagogues where those instr●ments  
Of Superstition and Idolatry ring  
Warning to sin, and chime all into the devil.  Banau. 
And 'cause there be such swar●es of Heresies rising▪  
I'll have an Artist frame two wond●rous weatherco●h  
Of Gold, to set on Paul's, and Gr●●tam Steeple,  
To show to all the kingdom what fashion next  
The Wind of Humour ●ither meane● to blow.  Micro. 
A Wicker Chair●, will fit them for a Pulpi●.  Colax. 
It is the Doctrine, Sir, that you respect.  Flow. 
Insooth I'have h●ard as wholesome instruction●  
From a zealous wicker chair, as e'er I did  
From the carved idol of wainscot.  Banau. 
Next, i intend to found an hospital  
For the decayed professors of the Suburbs,  
With a college of physicians too at Che●sy  
Only to study the cure of the French Pox;  
That so the sinners may acknowledge m●  
Their only benefactor, and repent.  Colax. 
You have a care Sir of your countries, health  Micro. 
Then i well s●ll the lead to thatch the chancel.  Ban. 
I have a rare device to set Dutch windmills  
Upon New-market Heath, and Salisbury Plain●,  
To drain the Fens.  Colax. 
The Fens Sir ●re not there.  Ban. 
But who knows but they may be?  Col. 
Very right:  
You aim at the prevention of a danger.  Micr. 
A porter's frock shall s●rve me for a surplice.  Flow▪ 
●ndeed a Frock i● no● so C●re●●nious.  ●an. 
But the great work in which i me●n to glory,  
Is in the raising a cathedral Church:  
It shall be at Hoggs-Nort●n, with a pair●  
Of sta●ely Organs; more, than pity 'twere  
the Pigs should lose ●heir skill for want of practice▪  Bird. 
Organs fie on them for a Babylonian bagpipes▪  Micro. 
Then for the painting, i be●thinke myself  
That i have seen in Mother Redcap's Hall  
In painted cloth the story of the prodigal▪  Col. 
And that will be for very good use and moral.  
Sir, you are wise; what serve Egyptian Pyramids▪  
Ephesian Temples, Babylo●ian Towers,  
Carian Colosses. Tr●ians water-works,  
Domitian's amphitheatres, the vain cost  
Of ignorance ●nd prodigality?  
Rome flourished when her Capitol was thatched,  
And all her gods dwelled but in Cottages;  
Since Parian marble and Corinthian bras●e  
entered her gaudy Temple, soon she fell,  
To superstition, and from thence to ruin,  
You see that in our Churches glorious Statues,  
Rich Copes, and other ornam●nts of state  
Draw● wandering eyes from their devo●ion.  
Unto a wanton gazing, and that other  
Rich edifices, and such gorgeous toys  
Do more procl●ime our Countrie● wealth then safety,  
And serve but like so many gilded b●its  
T'entice a foreign Foe to our invasion.  
Go in, there is a glass will show you, Sir,  
What sweet simplicity our Grandsires used,  
How in the age of Gold on Church was gilded.  Exit Micre. Banau. 
O I'have thought on't I will straight way build  
A free-school here in London, a free-school  
For th' education of young Gentlemen  
To study how to drink, and take Tobacco▪  
To swear, to roar, to dice, to d●●●, to quarrel:  
'twill be the great Gymnasium of ●●e realm,  
The Frontifte●ium of great Bri●any  
And for their better study, I will f●●nish them  
With a large Library of Draper's books.  Col. 
'Twill put down Bodli●s, and the Vatican.  
Royal Banausus! how many spheres fly you  
Above the earthly dull Microp●epes  
I hope to live to see you build a S●ewes  
Shall outbrave Venice, to rep●ire old Tyburn  
And make it Ced●●▪ This magnificent course  
Doth purchase you an immortali●e  
In them you build your honour to remain  
The'example and the wonder of posterity,  
While other hide bound churls do grudge themselves  
The Charges of a tomb.  Ban. 
But I'll have one  
In which I'll lie embalmed with myrrh and Cassia,  
And richer unguents than th' Egyptian Kings.  
And all that this my precious tomb may Furnish  
The Land with mummy.  Colax. 
Yonder is a glass  
Will show you plots and models of all monuments  
formed the wold way, you may invent a new,  
'Twill make for your more glory.  Ban. 
Colax, true.  Rosc. 
These are the extremes of magnanimity Caunus, a fellow so highly conceited of his own parts, that he thinks no honour above him; the other Micropsychus, a base and low spirited fellow, that undervaluing his own qualities dares not aspire to those dignities; that otherwise his merits are capable of.   

SCEN. 2.  Caunus. Micropsychus. Caun. 
I wonder that I hear no news from Court.  Colax. 
All hail unto the honourable Caunus.  Caun. 
The honourable Caunus? 'Tis decreed  
I am a privy counsellor, our new honours  
Cannot so alter us as that we can  
Forget our Friends; walk with us our familiar.  Mic. 
It puzzles me to think what worth I have,  
That they should put so great an honour on me.  Colax. 
Sir, I do know and see, and so do all  
That have not wilful blindness, what rare skill  
Of wisdom, policy, judgement, and the rest  
Of the state virtues sit within this breast,  
As if it were their Parliament; but as yet  
I am not, Sir, the happy Messenger  
That tells you, you are called unto the Helm;  
Or that the Rudder of great Britain  
Is put into your hands, that you may steer  
Our floating Delos till she be arrived  
At the the blessed Port of happiness, and surnamed  
The Fortunate Isle from you that are the fortunate.  Cau. 
'Tis strange that I the best experienced  
The skilfullest and the rarest of all Carpenters,  
Should not be yet a privy council our!  
Surely the State wants eyes, or has drunk Opium  
And sleeps, but when it wakes it cannot choose  
But meet the glorious beams of my deferes  
Bright as the rising Sun, and say to England,  
England, behold thy light!  Micro. 
Make me a Constable!  
Make me that am the simplest of my Neighbours  
So great a Magistrate! so powerful an Officer!  
I blush at my unworthiness a Constable!  
The very Prince o'th' parish! you are one Sir  
Of an ability to discharge it better,  
Let me resign to you  Cau. 
How? I a Constable?  
What might I be in your opinion Sir?  Micro. 
A Carpenter of worship.  Cau. 
Very well,  
And yet you would make me a Constable.  
I'll evidently demonstrate that of all men  
Your Carpenters are best statesmen; of all Carpenters  
I being the best, am best of Statesmen too:  
Imagine, Sir, the commonwealth a log,  
Or a rude block of wood, your Statesman comes,  
(For by that word I mean a Carpenter)  
And with the saw of policy divides it  
Into so many boards or several orders,  
Of Prince, Nobility, Gentry, and the other  
Inf●riour boards called Vulgar fit for nothing but to make styles, or planks to be trod over,  
Or trampled on: This adds unto the Log  
Called commonwealth at least some small perfection;  
But afterwards he plains them, and so makes  
The commonwealth, that was before a board,  
A pretty Wainscot; some he carves with Titles  
Of Lord, or Knight, or Gentleman; some stand plain▪  
And serve us more for use then Ornament,  
We call them Yeomen; (Boards now out of fashion.)  
And lest the diproportion break the frame,  
He with the pegs of amity and concord,  
As with the gluepot of good Government  
Joynts'e m together, make an absolute edifice  
Of the republic, state-skilled Machiavelli  
Was certainly a Carpenter; yet you think  
A Constable a giant-dignity.  Micro. 
Pray Heaven that ●eares like I do not melt  
The waxen plumes of my ambition!  
Or that from this bright Charîot of the Sun  
I fall not headlong down with Phaeton,  
I have aspired so high: make me a Constable  
That have not yet attained to the Greek tongue!  
Why 'tis his office for to keep the peace,  
His majesty's peace: I am not fit to keep  
His majesty's Hogs. much less his Peace, the best of all his jewels▪ How dare I presume to charge a man in the Kings-Name I faint  
Und●r the burden of so great a place,  
Whose weight might press down Atlas: Magistrates  
Are only Sump●er-Horses, Nay they threaten me  
To make me warden of the Church.  
Am I a Patriot? or have I ability  
To present Knights-Re●usant, Clergy reelers,  
Or Gentlemen Fornica●or●?  Col. 
You have worth  
Richly enamelled with a modesty;  
And though your lofty merit might sit crowned  
On Caucasus or the P●enean mountains  
You choose the humbler valley, and had ●athe●  
Grow a safe shrub below; then dare the winds,  
And be a Cedar, Si● you know there is not  
Half so much honour in t●e Pilots place  
As danger in the storm, poor windy Titles  
Of dignity, and Offic●s that puff up  
The bubble ride till it swell big and burst,  
What are they but brave nothings? Toys called Honour  
Make th●m on whom they ar● be●tow'd no better  
Than glorious slaves, the servants of the Vulgar:  
Men sweat at helm, as much as at the oar.  
Ther● is a glass within shall show you, 〈◊〉  
The vanity of these Silk worms, that do think  
They toil 〈◊〉 ●●●se they ●●in so fine a thr●●d.  Micro. 
I'll see it. Honour is a baby's ra●tle▪  
And let blind Fo●●une where she will bestow her;  
Lay me o● earth, and I shall fall no lower.  Cau. 
Colax, what news  Col. 
The Persian Emperor  
Is desp●●●tely sick.  Cau. 
Heaven take his soul  
When I am the g●and sophy (●s 'tis lik●ly  
I may be) Colax thou art made for ever,  Col. 
The i●●●ke they say prepares again for Poland.  Cau. 
And●● no Easham yet? Sultan repent it!  Col. 
The State of Venice too is in distraction.  Cau. 
And can that State be so supinely negligent,  
As not to know whom they may choose their Duke?  Col. 
Our Merchants do report th' inhabitants there  
Are now in consultation for the settling  
The crown upon a more deserving head  
Then his that bears it.  Cau. 
Then my fortunes rise  
On confident wings, and all my hopes fly certain.  Colax. 
Be bold, thou seest the Prester-john.  
Well England, of all Countries in the world  
Most blind to thy own good. Other Nations  
Woo me to take the bridle in my hands  
With gifts and presents; had I lived in Rome who durst with Caunus stand a candidate?  
I might have choice of aediles, Consul, Tribune,  
Or the perpetual dictator's place.  
I could discharge 'em all, I know my merits  
Are large, and boundless: A Caesar might be hewed  
Out of a Carpenter, if a skilful workman.  
But undertook it.  Colax. 
'tis a worthy confidence.  
Let Birds of night and shame, with their owls eyes  
Not dare to gaze upon the Sun of Honour;  
They are no precedents for Eagles: Bats,  
Like dull Microsychus; things of earth, and lead,  
May love a private safety; men in whom  
Promotheus has spent much of his stolen fire.  
Mount upwards like a flame, and court bright honour  
Hedged in with thousand dangers! Wh●ts man  
Without desert, and what's desert to him  
That does not know he ha● it? Is he rich  
Th●t holds within his house some buried Ch●sts  
Of Gold, or pearl, and knows not where to look them,▪  
What was the loadstone, till the use was found,  
But a foul dotard on a Fouler Mistress?  
I praise your Argus eyes, that not alone  
Shoot their beams forwards, but reflect and turn  
Back on themselves, and find an object there  
More worthy their intentive contemplation:  
You are at home no stranger, but are grown  
Acquainced with you virtues, and can tell  
What use the pearl is of, which Dunghill cocks  
Scrape into dirt again. This searching judgement  
Was not intended to work wood, but me●.  
Honour attends you. I shall live to see  
A Diadem crown that head. There is within  
A glaffe that will acquaint you with all places  
Of Dignity, Authority and renown,  
The State, and carriage of them: Choose the be●t,  
Such as deserve you, and refuse the rest.  Cau. 
I go, that want no worth to merit honour;  
'Tis honour that wants worth to merit me,  
Fortune, thou arbitress of human things  
Thy credit is at stake: if I but rise,  
The world's opinion will conceive th''ve eye.  Exit,  

SCEN. 3.  Orgylus. Aorgus. Rosc. 
These are the extremes of meekness. Orgylus an ●gry quarrelsome man moved with the least shadow, or ap●earance of injury. The other in desect, Aorgus, a fellow ● patient, or rather insensible of wrong, that he is not ca●●ble of the grossest abuse.  ●●g. 
Persuade me not, he has awaked a fury  
●●at carries steel about him. Dags, and pistols!  
To bite his thumb at me  Aor. 
Why should not any man  
Bite his own thumb?  Org. 
At me' Wear I a sword  
To see men bite their thumbs!— Rapiers and Daggers—  
He is the son of a whore.  Aor. 
That hurts not you.  
Had he bit yours, it had been some pretence  
T'have moved this anger; he may bite his ow●  
And eat it too.  Org. 
Musets, an Cannons!— eat it?  
If he dare eat it in contempt of me,  
He shall eat something else too that rides here;  
Iletry his ostrich stomach.  Aor. 
Sir, be patient  Srg. 
You lie in your throat, and I will not.  Aor. 
To what purposeiss this impertinent madness●?  
Pray be milder.  Org. 
Your Mother was a whore, and I will not put it up.  Aor. 
Why should so slight a toy thus trouble you?  Org. 
Your Father wa● hanged, and I will be revenged.  Aor. 
When reason doth in equal balance poise  
The nature of two injuries, yours to me  
Lies heavy, when that other ●vould not turn  
An even scale; and yet it moves not me;  
My anger is not up.  Org. 
But I will raise it;  
You are a fool!  Aor. 
I know it, and shall I  
Be angry for a truth?  Org. 
You are besides  
An arrant Knave!  Aor. 
●o are my better●, Sir.  Org. 
I cannot move him— O my spleen— it rises,  
For very anger I could eat my knuckles.  Aor. 
You may, or bite your thumb, all's one to me:  Org. 
You are a horned beast, a very Cucko●d,  Aor. 
'Tis my wife's fault, not mine, I have no reason  
Then to be angry for another's sin.  Org. 
And I did graft your horns, you might have come  
And found us glued together like two Goats,  
And stood a witness to your transformation.  Aor. 
Why if I had, I am so far from anger  
I would have e'en fall'n down upon my knees,  
And desired heaven to have forgiven you both.  Org. 
Your children are all Bastards, not one of them  
Upon my Knowledge, of your own begetting.  Aor. 
Why then I am the more beholding to them  
That they will call me father▪ it was lust  
Perchance, that did beget them▪ but I am s●re  
'Tis charity to keep the Infants.  Org. 
Not yet stirreed?  
'Tis done of mere contempt, he will not now  
Be angry, to express his scorn of me.  
'Tis above patience this, insufferable.  
Proclaim me coward, if I put up this!  
Dotard you, will be angry, will you not;  Aor. 
To see how strange a course fond wrath doth 〈◊〉  
You will be angry 'cause I am not so.  Org. 
I can endure no longer, if your spleen  
Lie in your breech, thus I will kicked it up—  Aor. 
Alpha. Beta. Gamma. Delta, Epsiton, Zeta, Eta. Theta. Jota. Kappa. Lambda, mu Nu. Xi. O●icron. Pi. Ro. Sigm● Tau. Vpsilon. Phi. Chi. Psi. Omega.  Org. 
How? What contempt is this;  Aor. 
An antidote  
Against the poison, Anger: 'twas prescribed  
A Roman Emperor, that on every injury  
Repeated the Greek Alphabet, that being done  
His anger too was over. This good rule  
I learned from him, and Practise.  Org. 
Not yet angry?  
Still will you vex me? I will practise too, (Kicks again)  Aor. 
Aleph, Beth, Gimel.  Org. 
What new Alphabet  
Is this?  Aor. 
The Hebrew Alphabet, that I use  
A second remedy.  Org. 
O my Torment still?  
Are not your Buttocks angry with my toes?  Aor. 
For aught I feel your toes have more occasion  
For to be angry with my buttocks.  Org. 
Well,  
I'll try your physic for the third assault;  
And exercise the patience of your nose.  Aor. 
A. B. C. D. E. F. G. H. I. K. L. M. N. O. P. Q. R. S. T. V. W. X. Y. Z.  Org. 
Are you not angry now?  Aor. 
Now sir? why now?  
Now have you done.  Org. 
O 'tis a mere plot this,  
To jeer my tameness: will no sense of wrong  
Waken the Lethargy of a coward's soul?  
Will not this rouse her from her dead sleep, nor this▪  Aor. 
Why should I Sir be angry if I suffer  
An injury? it is not guilt of mine;  
No, let it trouble them, that do the wrong;  
Nothing but peace approaches innocence▪  Org. 
A bitterness overflows me; my eyes flame,  
My blood boyles in me, all my faculties  
Of soul and body move in a disorder,  
His patience hath so tortured me: Sirrah villain  
I will! dissect thee with my rapiers point;  
Rip up each vein, and ●inew of my storque,  
Anatomize him, searching every entrail,  
To see if nature, when she made this ass,  
This suffering ass, did not forget to give him  
Some gall.  Cola. 
Put it up good Orgylus,  
Let him not glory in so brave a death,  
As by your hand, it stands not with your honour  
To stain your rapier in a coward's blood.  
The Lesbian Lions in their noble rage  
Will prey on Bulls, or mate the unicorn;  
But trouble not the painted butterfly,  
Ants crawl securely by him.  Orgy. 
'Tis intolerable!  
Would thou wert worth the killing.  Colax. 
A good wish,  
Savouring as well discretion, as bold valour:  
Think not of such a baffled ass as this.  
More stone, than man▪ Meedusa's head has turned him.  
There is in ants a choler, every fly  
Carries a spleen: poor worms being trampled on  
Turn ●ayle, as bidding battle to the feet  
Of their oppressors. A dead palsy sure  
Hath struck a desperate numbness though his soul.  
Till it be grown insensible: mere stupidity  
Hath seized him: Your more manly soul I find  
Is capable of wrong, and like a flint  
Throws forth a fire into the strikers eyes.  
You bear about you valours wherstone, anger;  
Which sets an edge upon the sword, and makes it  
Cut with a spirit; you conceive fond patience  
Is an injustice to ourselves, the suffering  
One injury invites a second that,  
Calls on a third, till wrong● do multiply  
And reputation bleed. How bravely anger  
Becomes that martial Brow, A glass within  
Will show you sir when your great spleen doth rise  
How fury darts a lightning from your eyes.  Org. 
Learn anger sir against you meet me ne●●,  
Never was man like me with patience vexed. Exit.  Aor. 
I am so far from anger in myself,  
That 'tis my grief I can make others so.  Colax. 
It proves a sweetness in your disposition,  
A gentle winning carriage— dear Aorgus,  
O give me leave to open wide my breast,  
And let so rare a friend unto my soul;  
Enter, and take possession; such a man  
As has no gall, no bitterness, no exceptions;  
Whom nature meant a Dove, will keep alive  
The flame of amity, where all discourse  
Flows innocent, and each free jest is taken.  
He's a good friend will pardon his friends errors;  
But he's a better, takes no notice of them.  
How like a beast with rude and savage rage  
Breathed the distempered soul of Orgylus?  
The proneness of this passion is the Nurse  
That fosters all confusion, ruins states,  
Depopulares Cities, lays great kingdoms waste;  
'Tis that affection of the mind that wants  
The strongest bridle, give it reins it runs  
A desperate course, and drags down reason with it.  
It is the whirlwind of the soul, the storm  
And tempest of the mind, that raises up  
The billows of disturbed passions  
To shipwreck judgement, O— a soul like yours  
Constant in patience! Let the Northern wind meet  
The South at Sea, and Zephyrus breath opposite  
To Eurus; let the two and thirty sons  
Of Aeolus break forth at once, to plow  
The Ocean, and dispeople all the woods;  
Yet here could be a calm; it is not danger  
Can make this cheek grow pale, nor injury  
Call blood into it. There's a glass within  
Will let you see yourself, and tell you now  
How sweet a tameness dwells upon your brow.  Aor. 
Colax, I must believe, and therefore go;  
Who is distrustful will be angry too.   

SCEN. 4.  Alazon. Eiron Rosc. 
The next are the extremes of Truth, Alazon one that arrogates that to himself which is not his; and Eiron, one that out of an itch to be thought modest dissembles his qualities; the one erring in defending a falsehood, the other offending in denying a truth.  Alaz. 
I hear you're wondrous valiant?  Eir. 
Ay! alas  
Who told you I was valiant  Alaz. 
The world speaks it.  Eir. 
She is deceived, but does she speak truly?  Alaz. 
I am indeed the Hector of the age;  
But she calls you Achilles.  Eir. 
I Achilles!  
No, I am not Achilles: I confess  
I am no coward. That the world should think  
That I am an Achilles yet the world may  
Call me what she please.  Alaz. 
Next to my valour,  
(Which but for yours could never hope a second)  
Yours is reported.  Eir. 
I may have my share;  
But the last valour showed in Christendom  
Was in Lepanto.  Alazon. 
He might be thought so sir● by them 〈◊〉 knew him not;  
But I have found him a poor, ●af●l'd snake●)  
Sir I have writ him and proclaimed him cowar●  
On every post i'th' City.  Eiron. 
Who?  Alaz. 
Lepanto,  
The valour sir that you so much renown.  Eir. 
Lepanto was no man sir, but the place  
Made famous by the so much mentioned battle  
Batwixt the Turks and Christians.  Al●z. 
Cry you mercy!  
Then the Lepanto that I meant it seems,  
Was but Lepanto's namesake. I can  
Find that you are well skilled in history.  Eir. 
Not a whit, A novice, I! I could perchance  
Discourse from Adam downward, but what's that  
To History? All that I know is only  
Th'original, continuance, height, and alteration  
Of every Common wealth. I have read nothing.  
But Plutarch, Livy, Tacitus, Suetonius, Appian, Dion, Iuniu●, Paterculus,  
With Flo●●, Justine, Sallust, and some few  
More of the Latin: For the modern, I  
Have all without book Gallo-Belgicus,  
Philip De-Comine, Machiavele, Guic●iardine,  
The Turkish and Egyptian Histories,  
With those of Spain, France, and the Netherlands.  
For England, Polydore Virgil, Cambden, Speed,  
And a matter of forty more; nothing  
Alas to one that's read in Histories.  
In the Greek I have a smack or so, at  
Xenophon, Herodotus, Thucydides, and  
Stow's Chronicle.  Alaz. 
Believe me sir, and that  
Stow's' Chronicle is very good Greek; you little  
Think who writ it! Do you not see him? are  
You blind? I am the man.  Eir. 
Then I must number  
You with my best Authors in my Library.  Alaz. 
Sir the rest too are mine, but that I venture 'em  
With other names, to shun the opinion  
Of arrogance; so the subtle Cardinal  
Calls one book Bellarmine,' neither Tostatus,  
Yet one man's labour both. You talk of numbering;  
You cannot choose but hear how loud fame speaks  
Of my experience in arithmetic:  
She says you too grow near perfection.  Eir. 
Far from it ay; some insight, but no more.  
I count the stars, can give the Totall sum,  
How many sands there bei'th' sea, but these  
Are ●●ifles to the expert, that have studied  
Pen keth-ma●s president. Sir, i have no skill  
In any thing, if i have any, 'tis  
In languages, but yet in sooth I speak  
Only my mother Tongue; I have nor gained  
The Hebrew, Chaldee, Synack, or Arabic;  
Nor know the Greek with all her Dialects.  
Scaliger and Tom Choriate both excel me.  
I have no skill in French, Italian, Spanish,  
Turkish, Egyptian, Chi●a, Persian Tongues.  
Indeed the Latin, I was whipped into;  
But Ruscian, Sclavonian, and Dalmatian  
With Saxon, Danish, and Albanian speech,  
That of the Cossaches, and Hungarian too,  
With Biscays, and the prime of languages,  
Dutch, Welsh, and Irish are too hard for me  
To be familiar in: and yet some think  
(But thought is free) that i do speak all these  
As i were borne in each; but they may err  
That think so; 'Tis not every judgement sits  
In the infallible chair. To confess truth  
All Europe, Asia, and Africa too;  
But in America, and the new found world  
I very much fear there be some languages  
That would go near to puzzle me.  Alaz. 
Very likely.  
You have a pretty pittance in the Tongues,  
But Eiron, I am now more general;  
I can speak all alike, there is no stronger  
Of so remote a nation hears me talk  
But confidently calls me countryman.  
The witty world giving my worth her due  
Surnames me the Confusion: I but want  
An orator like you to speak my praise.  Eir. 
Am I an orator Alazon? no;  
Though it hath pleased the wiser few to say  
Demosthenes was not, so eloquent;  
But friends will flatter, and I am not bound  
To believe all Hyperboles: something sir  
Percha●ce I have, but 'tis no● worth the naming,  
Especially Alazon in your presence  Alaz. 
Your modesty Eiron speaks but truth in this.  Colax. 
I need not flatter these, they'll do't themse●ves,  
And cross the Proverb that was wont to say.  
One Mule doth scrub another, here each ass  
Hath learned to claw himself.  Alaz. 
I do surpass  
All orators. How like you my Orations?  
Those against Ca●iline, I account them best,  
Except my Philippick●; all acknowledge me  
Above the three great orators of Rome▪  Eir. 
What three, Alazon?  Ala. 
Marcus, Tuttius,  
And Cicero, the best of all the three.  Eir. 
Why those three names are all the selfsame man's  Alaz. 
Then all is one. Were those three names three men,  
I should excel them all. And then for Poetry  Eir. 
There is no Poetry but Homer's I●iads▪  Alaz. 
A lass 'twas writ i'th' nonage of my Muses,  
You understand th' Italian?  Eir. 
A little, sir,  
I have read Tasso.  Ala. 
And Torquato t●●?  Eir. 
They're still the same▪  Ala. 
I find you very skilful  
Eiron, I err only to found your judgement.  
You are a Poet too?  Eir. 
The world may think so,  
But 'tis deceived and I am for●y for't.  
But I will tell you sir some excellent verses  
Made by a friend of mine; I have not read  
A better Epigram of a Neoterique.  Ala. 
Pray do my eyes the favour, sir, to let me learn 'um.  Eir. 
Strange sights there late were seen, that did affright  
The multitude; the moon was seen by night,  
And Sun appeared by day— is it not good?  Ala. 
Excellent good! proceed.  Eir. 
Without ●e●o●se  
Each star and planet kept their wonted course.  
What here could fright them? (mark the answer now)  
O sir ask not that;  
The Vulga●●now not why they fear, nor what.  
But in their humours too inconstant be,  
Nothing seems strange to them but constancy▪  
Has not my friend approved himself a Poet?  Alaz. 
The verses sir are excellent, but your friend  
Approves himself a thief.  Eir. 
Why good Alazon?  Alaz. 
A Plag●ary, I mean, the verses sir  
Were stolen.  Eir. 
From whom?  Alaz. 
From me, believe't I made 'um.  Eir. 
They are alas unworthy sir your owning,  
Such trifles as my muse had stumbled on  
This morning.  Alaz. 
Nay, they may be yours: I told you  
That you come near me sir. Yours they may be.  
Good wits may jump: but let me tell you, Eiron,  
Your friend must steal them, if he have them.  Col. 
What pretty Gulls are these? I'll take u● off.  
Alazon, You are learned.  Alaz. 
I know that.  Col. 
And virtuous.  Alaz. 
'tis confessed.  Col. 
A good Historian.  Alaz. 
Who dares deny it?  Col. 
A rare ●rithmetician▪  Alaz. 
I' have heard it often.  Col. 
I commend your care  
That know your virtues, why should modesty● neighbours  
Stop good men's mouths from their own praise? our  
Are envious, and will rather blast ●ur memories  
With infamy, then immorralize our names;  
When same hath taken cold, and lost her voice,  
We must be our own trumpers; careful men  
Will have an inventory of their goods,  
And why not of their virtues? should you say  
You were not wife, it were a sin to truth.  
Let Eiron's modesty tell bashful lies,  
To cloak and mask his parts; he's a fool for't.  
'twas heavenly counsel bid us know ourselves.  
You may be confident, chant your own encomiums.  
Ring out a panegyric to yourself;  
And your s●lfe write the learned Commentary  
Of your own actions.  Ala. 
So I have  Co. 
Where is it?  Ala. 
'tis stolen.  Co. 
I know the thief, they call him C●sar.  
Go in good sir, there is within a glass  
That will present you with the Felons face. Exit Alaz.  
Eiron, You hear the news?  Eir. 
No● I, what is it?  Co. 
That you are held the only man of Art.  Eir. 
Is't currant Colax?  Col. 
Currant as the air  
Every man breathes it for certainty  Eir. 
This is the first time I heard on't in truth.  
Can it be certain? so much charity left  
In men's opinion?  Co. 
You call it charity  
Which is their duty: virtue sir, like yours  
Commands ●ens praises. Emptiness and folly,  
Such as Alazon is, use their own Tongues,  
While real worth hears her own praise, not speaks it.  
Other men's mouths become your trumpeters,  
And winged fame proclaims you loudly forth  
From East to West, till either pole admire you.  
Self praise is bragging, and begets the envy  
Of them that hear it, while each man therein  
Seems undervalued: You are wisely silent  
In your own worth, and therefore 'twere a sin  
For others to be so: The fish would lose  
Their being mute, ere such a modest worth  
Should want a speaker: yet sir I would have you  
Know your own virtues, be acquainted with them.  Eir. 
Why good sir bring me but acquainted with them.  Col. 
There is a glass within shows you yourself  
By a reflection; go and speak 'em there.  Eir. 
I should be glad to see 'em anywhere. Exit. Eir.  Rosc. 
Retire yourselves again, for these are sights  
Made to revive, not burden with delights.  Exeunt omnes. 
Finis Actus 3.    

ACTUS 4.  

SCENA 1.  Flowrdew, Bird, Roscious: Bird. 
My indignation boileth like a pot,  
An over heated pot, still, still it boileth;  
It boileth, and it bubbleth with disdain.  Flow. 
My Spirit within me too fumeth, I say  
Fumeth, and steemeth up, and runneth o'er  
With holy wrath, at these delights of flesh.  Rosc. 
The Actors beg your silence— The next virtue whose extremes we would ●resent, wants a name both in the Greek● and Latin.  Bird. 
Wants it a name? 'tis an unchristian virtue.  Rosc. 
But they describe i● such a modesty as directs us in the pursuit, and refusal of the meanet honours, and so ●●swers to Magnanimity, as Liberality to Magnificence: But here, that humour of the persons, being a●●eady foresta●●'d; and no pride n●w so much practised, or countenanced as that of apparel, let me present you Philotimia, an overcurious Lady, t●o ●●at in her attire; and for Aphilotimus, Luparius a●●asty sordid sloven.  Flow. 
Pride is a vanity worthy the correction.  Philotimia▪ Luparus. Col●x. Phil. 
Wh●● m●le dr●st me to day? O patience! (maids)  
Who would be troubled with these mop-eyed Chambe●▪  
there's a whole hair on this side more than tother,  
I am no Lady else! come on you sloven.  
Was ever Christian Madam so tormented  
To wed a swine as I am? make you ready.  Lup●▪ 
I would the tailor had been hanged for me.  
That first invented cloath●s— O nature, nature!  
More cruel unto man then all thy creatures!  
Calves come into the world with doublets on;  
And Oxen have no breeches to put off.  
The Lamb is borne with her friese-coat about her:  
Hogs go to bed in rest, and are not troubled  
With pulling on their Hole and shoes ● i● morning  
With gartering, girdling, trussing, but●oning,  
And a thousand torments th●t afflict humanity.  Phi. 
To see her negligence! she hath made this cheek  
By much too pale, and hath forgot to whiren  
The natural redness of my nose, she knowesnot  
What 'tis wants dealbation. O fine memory!  
If she has not set me in the selfsame teeeh  
That I wore yesterday, I am a Jew.  
Does she think that I can eat twice with the same,  
Or that my mouth stands as the Vulgar does?  
What? are you snoring there, you'll rise you sluggard,  
And make you ready?  Lupa. 
Rise, and make you ready?  
Two works of that, your happy birds make one;  
They when th●y rise are ready. Blessed birds!  
They, fortunate creatures! sleep in their own clothes,  
And rise with all their featherbeds about them.  
Would nakedness were come again in fashion;  
I had some hope then when the breasts went bare  
Their bodies too would have come to 't in time  Phi. 
Beshrew her for't, this wrinkle is not filled.  
You'll go and wash— you are a pretty husband!  Lupa. 
Our Sow ne'er was●●●' yet she has a face  
Me thinks as cleanly, Madam, as yours is,  
If you durst wear you own.  Co. 
Madam Superbia,  
You're st●dying the Lady's Library,  
The looking-glass; 'tis Well! so great a beauty  
Must have her ornaments. Nature adorns  
The peacock's tail with stars; 'tis she attires  
The Bird of Paradise in all her plumes;  
She decks the fields with various flowers; 'tis she  
Spangled the Heavens with all those glorious lights;  
She spotted th' Exmin's skin; and armed the fi●h  
In silver male. But man she sent forth naked  
Not that he should remain so, but that he  
Endued with reason should adorn himself  
With every one of these. The silk worm is  
Only man's spinster, else we might suspect  
That she esteemed the painted Butterfly  
Above her masterpiece. You are the Image  
Of that bright goddess, therefore w●are the Jewels  
Of all the East; let the red sea be ransacked  
To m●ke you glitter, look on Luparus  
Your husband there, and see how in a sloven  
All the best characters of divinity,  
Not yet worn out in man, are lost and buried.  Philo. 
I see it to my grief, pray counsel him.  Col. 
This vanity in your nice Lady's humours  
Of being so curious in her toys, and dresses,  
Makes me suspicious of her honesty.  
‛ These Cobweb-lawnes catch spider's Sir, believe it;  
You know that clothes do not commend the man,  
But 'tis the living; though this age prefer  
A cloak of Plufh, before a brain of art.  
You understand what misery 'tis to have  
No worth but that we owe the Draper for;  
No doubt you spend the time your Lady loses  
In tricking up her body, to clothe the soul.  Lup. 
To clothe the soul? must the soul too be clothed?  
I protest sir, I had rather have no soul  
Then be tormented with the clothing of it.  Rosc. 
To these enter the extremes of modesty, a near kinswoman of the virtues, Anaiskyntia or Impudence, a bawd, and Kataplectus an over-bashful scholar: where our Author hopes the women will pardon him, if of 4. & 20 vices, be presents but two (pride and impudence) of their sex.   

SCENE. 2  Anaiskyntia. Kataplectus. Philo. 
Here comes Anaiskyntia too;— O fates▪  
Acolastus, and Asotus have sent for me,  
And my breath not perfumed yet! Kat. O sweet mother▪  
Are the Gentlemen there already?  Anais. 
Come away,  
Are you not ashamed to be so bashful? well  
If I had thought of this in time, I would  
As soon have seen you fairly hanged as sent you  
To 'th university.  Phil. 
What gentleman is that?  Anais. 
A shamefast Scholar, Madam: look upon her,  
Speak to her, or you lose your exhibition  
— You'll speak I hope, wear not away your buttons.  Kata. 
What should I say?  Anais. 
Why tell her you are glad  
To see her ladyship in health, nay out with i●  
Katap— Gaudeo'te bene valere—  Phil. 
A pretty Proficient!  
What standing is he of i'th' university?  Anais. 
He dares not answer to that question, Madam—  Philo. 
How long have you been in the Academy?  Katap.. 
Profecto D●— Dom na sum Bac— Bac— Bacchalaureus Artium.  Phil. 
What pity 'tis he is not impudent!  Anais. 
Nay all my cost I see is spent in vain;  
I having as your ladyship knows full well,  
Good practice in the Suburbs; and by reason  
That our Mortality there is very subject  
To an infection of the French Disease,  
I brought my Nephew up i'th' university,  
Hoping he might (having attained some knowledge)  
Save me the charge of keeping a physician;  
But all in vain: he is so bashful, Madam,  
He dares not look upon a woman's water.  Colax. 
Sweet Gentleman proceed in bashfulness,  
'Tis virtue's best preserver—  Kata. 
Rectè dicis, sic inquit Aristoteles.  Col. 
That being gone,  
The rest soon follow, and a swarm of vice  
Enter the soul; no colour but a blush▪  
Becomes a young man's cheek: pure shamefastness  
Is porter to the lips, and ears, that nothing  
Might enter, or come out of man, but what  
Is good, and modest: Nature strives to hide  
The parts of shame, let her, the best of guides,  Katap. 
Natura dux optima.  Colax. 
Teach us to do so too in our discourse.  Katap. 
Gratias tibi ago.  Philo. 
Inu●e him to speak bawdy.  Anais▪ 
A very good way▪ Kataplectus here's a Lady,  
Would hear you speak obscenely.  Katap. 
Obscenum est, quod intra scenom agi non oport●●  Anais. 
Off goes your Velvet cap! did I maintain you  
To have you disobedient? you'll be persuaded?  Katap. 
Liberis operam dare.  Anais. 
What's that in english?  Katap. 
To do an endeavour for children.  Anais. 
Some more of this, it may be something one day●  Katap. 
Communis est omnium animantium conjunction●● appetitus procreandi causâ.  Phil. 
Construe me that.  Katap. 
All creatures have a natural desire, or appe●ret●● to be joined together in the lawful bonds of Matrimony that they may have sons and daughters▪  Anais. 
Your laundress has bestowed her time but ill.  
Why could not this have been in proper terms?  
If you should catechise my head, and say,  
What is your name, would it not say, a head?  
So would my skin conf●sse itself a skin;  
Nor any part about me be ashamed  
Of his own name, although I catechised  
All over. Come good Nephew, let not me  
Have any member of my body nicknamed  Col. 
Our Stoic, the gravest of Philosophers,  
Is just of your opinion, and thus argues;  
Is any thing obscene, the filthinesle  
Is either grounded in the things themselves,  
Or in the words that signify those things;  
Not in the things, that would make nature guilty,  
Who creates nothing filthy and unclean,  
But chaste, and honest; if not in the things,  
How in the words, the s●●●●owes of those things  
To manure grounds, is a chaste honest term;  
Another word that signifies the same,  
Unlawful: every man endures to hear,  
He got a child; speak plainer and he blushes,  
Yet means the same. The Stoic thus disputes,  
That would have men to breath as freely down'ward,  
As they do upward.  Anais. 
I commend him Madam,  
Unto your ladyship's service, he may mend  
With counsel; let him be your Gentleman-usher;  
Madam, you may in time bring down his legs  
To the just size, now overgrown with playing  
Too much at football▪  Philo. 
So he will prove a Stoic;  
I long to have a Stoic strut before me:  
Here kiss my hand. Come what is that in Latin?  Katap. 
Deosculor manum.  Philo. 
My lip;— nay sir you must if I command you.  Katap. 
Osculor te, vel osculor a te.  Philo. 
His breath smells strong.  Anais. 
'Tis but of logic, Madam.  Philo. 
He will come to it one day— you shall go with me  
To see an exquisite glass to dress me by.  
Nay go! you must go first; you are too mannerly.  
It is the office of your place, so— on— Exeunt.  Colax. 
Slow Luparus rise, or you'll be metamorphosed;  
Acteon's fate is immiment.  Lup. 
Where's my wife?  Colax. 
she's gone with a young Snip, and an old b●wd.  Lup. 
Then I am cuckolded; If I be, my comfort is  
She' has put me on a cap, that will not trouble me  
With pulling off, yet Madam 〈◊〉 prevent you. Exit.  Rose. 
The next are the extremes of justice.   

SCEN. 3.  Enter justice Nimis justice Nihil. Plus and Minus their Clarks. Nim. 
Plus!  Plus. 
What says your worship?  Nim. 
Have my tenant●  
That hold their lease of lust here in the suburbs.  
By copyhold from me, their Lord in chief, paid their rent-charge?  Plus. 
They have, an't please your worship;  
I, Receiver general gave'em my acquittance.  Parum. 
Sir I resign my Pen, and, ink-horn to you; shall forget my hand, if I stay here.  
I have not made a Mitimus since I served you,  
Were I a reverend Justice as you are,  
I would not sit a Cipher on the Bench,  
But do as Justice Nimis does, and be  
The Dominus-fac-totum of the Sessions.  Nihil. 
But I will be a Dominus-fac-misericordiam  
Instead of your Totums: People shall not wish  
To see my spurs filled off, i●t does me good  
To take a merciful nap upon the Bench,  
Where I so sweetly dream of being pitiful  
I wake the better for it.  Nim. 
The yearly value  
Of my fair manor of Clerken-well, is pounds  
So many— besides new-year's capons, the Lordship  
Of Turnball so— which with my Pick ha●ch grange  
And Shoreditch farm, and other premises  
Adjoining— very good, a pretty maintenance  
To keep a justice of Peac●, and Coram too;  
Besides the fines I take of young beginners,  
With harriots of all such as due, quatenus whores,  
And ruined bawds, with all Amercements due  
To such as hunt in Purly, this is something,  
With mine own Game reserved  Plus. 
Besides a pretty pittance too for me,  
That am your worship's bailie.  Parum. 
Wil't please your worship sit, to hear the Catalogue  
Of such offenders, as are brought before you?  Nihil. 
It does not please me, Sir, to hear of any  
That do offend; I would the world were innocent.  
Yet to express my mercy you may read them.  Par. 
First here is one accused for Cutting a purse  Nihil. 
Accused? is that enough? if it be guilt  
To be accused, who shall be innocent?  
Discharge him Parum.  Parum. 
Here's another brought  
For the same fact, ta'en in the very Action.  Nihil. 
Alas it was for need, bid him take warning,  
And so discharge him too; 'tis the first time.  Nimis. 
Plus, say, what hopes of gain brings this day's sin?  Plus. 
Anaiskyntia Sir was at door  
Brought by the Constable.  Nimis. 
Set the Constable by the heels. he's at certain with us.  Plus. 
Then there's Intemperance the bawd.  Nim. 
A tenant too.  Plus. 
With the young Lady, Madam Incontinence.  Nim. 
Search o'er my doomsday book; is not she Plus  
One of my last Compounders?  Plus. 
I remember it.  
Then there is jumping Jude, heroic Doll,  
With bouncing Nan, and Cis, your worship's sinner.  Nim. 
All Subsidy women, go free'em all.  Parum. 
Sir, here's a known offender: one that has  
Been stocked, and whipped innumerable times,  
Has suffered Bridewell often; not a jail  
But hee'● familiar with, burnt in the hand,  
Forehead, and shoulder; both his ears cut off,  
With his nose slit, what shall I do with him?  Nihl. 
So often punsh▪ d▪ nay, if no correction  
Will serve his turn; e'en let him run his course.  Plus 
Here's Mistress Frailty too, the waiting-woman.  Nim. 
For what offence?  Plus. 
A sin of weakness too  Nim. 
Let her be strongly whipped.  Plus. 
An't please your worship  
She has a noble man's letter.  Nim. 
Tell her, Plus, she must  
Have the King's Picture too.  Plus. 
Besides  
Sh'has promised me i should examine her  
Above i'th' garret.  Nim. 
what's all that to me?  Plus. 
And she entreats your worship to accept—  Nim. 
Nay, if she can entreat in English, Plus,  
Say she is injured.  Par. 
Sir here's Snip the tailor.  
Charged with a riot.  
Nihil, Parum, let him go,  
He is our Neighbour.  Parum. 
Then there is a stranger for quarrelling.  Nihil. 
A stranger! O 'tis pity  
To hurt a stranger, we may be all strangers,  
And would be glad to find some mercy, Parum.  Plus. 
Sir here's a Gentlewoman of S. Joanes' is  
Charged with dishonesty,  Nim. 
With dishonesty?  
Severity will amend per, and yet Plus  
Ask her a question, if she will be honest?  Plus 
And here's a cobbler's wife brought for a scold.  Nim. 
Tell her of cooking-stooles, tell her there be  
Oyster queans, with Orange women,  
Carts and coaches store, to make a noise,  
Yet if she can speak English,  
We may suppose her silent,  Par. 
Her's a bachelor  
And a citizen's wife for flat Adultery,  
What will you do with them?  Nih. 
A citizen's wife!  
Perchance her husband is grown impotent,  
And who can blame her then?  Par. 
Yet I hope you'll bind o'er the bachelor.  Nih. 
No inquire  
First if he have no wife, for if the bachelor  
Have not a wife of his own, 'twas but frailty;  
And Justice counts it venial.  Plus. 
Her's one Adicus,  
And Sophron, that do mutually accuse  
Each other of flat felony!  Nim. 
Of the two which is the richer?  Plus. 
Adicus is the richer.  Nim. 
Then Sophron is the thief.  Plus. 
Here is withal  
P●nourgus come with one called Prodote●  
Lay treason Sir to one another's charge  
Panourgus is the richer.  Nim. 
he's the traitor then.  Plus. 
How Sir? the richer?  Nim. 
Thou art ign●rant Plus;  
We must do some injustice for our credit,  
Not all for gain.  Plus. 
Eutr●peles complains Sir,  
●omolochus has abused him.  Nim. 
Send Eutrapeles to th' jail.  Plus. 
It is Eutrapeles that complains Sir.  Nim. 
Tell him we are pleased to think 'twas he offended.  
will must be law: wert not for Summum Ius,  
How could the land subsist?  Colax. 
Ay, or the justices  
Maintain themselves— go on— The Land wants such  
As dare with rigor execute her laws:  
Her festered members must be lane'● and tented  
He's a bad Surgeon, that for pity spares  
The part corrupted, 'til the Grangrene spread  
And all the body perish; he that's merciful  
Unto the bad, is cruel to the good.  
The Pillory must cure the ears disease;  
The stocks the feet offences; let the back  
Bear her own sin, and her rank blood purge forth  
By the Phlebotomy of a whipping post:  
And yet the secret, & purse-punishment  
Is held the wiser course; because at once  
It helps the virtuous & corrects the vicious  
Let not the sword of justice sleep, and rust  
Within her Velvet sheath; preserve her edge,  
And keep it sharp with cutting, Use must whet her  
Tame mercy is the breast that suckles vice,  
Till Hydra-like she multiply her heads.  
Tread you on sin, squeeze out the serpent's brains,  
All you can find ● for some have lurking holes  
Where they lie hid. But there's within a glass  
Will show you every close offender's face,  Nim. 
Come Plus let'ts go in to find out th●se concealments;  
We will grow rich, and purchase honour thus—  
I mean to be a Baron of Summum Ius. Exit. Ni. Plus.  Parum. 
You are the strangest man, you will ackn●wledge  
None for offenders, here's one apprehended  
For murder.  Nihil. 
How!  Par. 
He killed a man last night.  Nih. 
How camed to pass?  Par. 
Upon a falling out.  Nih. 
They shall be friends, I'll reconcile 'em, Parum.  Par. 
One of them is dead.  Nih. 
is he not buried yet?  Par. 
No Sir.  Nih. 
Why then I say they shall shake hands.  Col. 
As you have done  
With Cl●mency, most Reverend justice Nihil;  
A gentle mildness thrones itself within you,  
Your worship would have justice use her balance  
More than her sword; nor can you endure to die  
The robe sh● wears, deep scarlet, in the blood  
Of poor offenders: How many men hath ●igour  
By her too hasty, and severe proceedings  
Prevented from amen●ment, that perchance  
Might have turned honest and have proved good Christians  
Should Jove not spare his thunder, but as often  
Discharge at us, as we dart sins at him,  
Earth would want men, and ●he himself want arms,  
And yet tire Vulcan, and P●racmon too.  
You imitate the Godsland he sins less  
Strikes not at all, than he strikes once amiss.  
I would not have justice too falcon-eyed;  
Sometimes a wilful-blindness much becomes her;  
As when upon the bench she sleeps and winks  
At the transgressions of Mortality:  
In which most merciful posture I have seen  
Your pitiful Wor●hip snorting out pardons  
To the despairing sinner, there's within  
A mirror sir like you! go● see your face  
How like Astrea's 'tis in her own glass  Par▪ 
And I'll petition Justice Nimi's clerk  
To admit me for his under Officer. Exeunt.   

SCEN. 4.  Agroicus. Rosc. 
This is Agroicus, a rustic clownish fellow, whose discourse is all Country; a● extreme of urbanity, whereby you may observe there is a virtue in jesting.  Agro. 
They talk of witty discourse and fine conceits, and I ken not what a deal of prittle prattle, would make a Cat piss to hear 'em. Cannot they be content with their Grandams English? They think they talk learnedly, when I had rather hear our brindled cur howl, or Sow grunt. They must be breaking of jests with a murrain, when I had as live hear 'em break wind Sir reverence. My son Dick is a pretty bookish scholar of his ago, God bless him; he can write and read, and makes bonds and bills, and hoblig●tions God save all. But by'r Lady, if I wotted it would make him such a Jacksawce, as to have more wit than his forefathers, he should have learned nothing for old Agroicus, but to keep a tally. There is a new trade lately come up to be a vocation, I wis not what; they call 'em— Boets, a new name for beggars I think, since the statute against Gypsies. I would not have my son Dick one of those Boets for the best Pig in my sty by the mackins: Boets? Heaven shield him, and zend him to be a good Varmer; if he can cry ●y, ho, give, hut, give, ho, it is better I trow then bring a Boet. Boets? I had rather zee him remitted to the jail, and have his twelve God-vathers, good men and true contemn him to the gallows, and there see him vairely persecuted. There is a Bom●lchus one of the Boets, now a bots ache all the red-nose tribe of 'em for Agroicus! he does so abuse his betters! well 'twas a good world, when I virst held the plow!  Col. 
They cared not then so much for speaking well  
As to mean honest; and in you still lives  
The good simplicity of the former times:  
When to do well was rhetoric, not to talk.  
The tongue-disease of Court spreads her infections  
Through the whole kingdom; flattery, that was wont  
To be confined within the verge, is now  
Grown epidemical, for all our thoughts  
Are borne between our lips: The heart is made  
A stranger to the tongue; as if it used  
A language that she never understood.  
What is it to be witty in these days,  
But to be bawdy, or profane? at least  
A busy? Wit is grown a petulant wasp,  
And stings she knows not whom, not where, nor why;  
Spews Vinegar, and gall on all she meets  
Without distinction, buys laughter with the loss  
Of reputation, Father, Kinsman, Friend;  
Hunt's ordinaries only to deliver  
The idle Timpanies of a windy brain;  
That beats and throbs above the pain of childbed,  
Till every care she meets be made a Midwife  
To her light Ba●●ard issue; how many times  
Bomolochus sides, and shoulders ache, and groan!  
H●'s so witty— here he comes— away—  Agro. 
His wit is dangerous, and I dare not stay. Exit.   

SCEN. 5.  Bomolochus. Rosc. 
This is the other extreme of urbanity; Bomolochus a fellow conceited of his own wit, though indeed it be nothing but the ●ase dregs of scandal, and a lump of most vile and loathsome scurrility.  Bird. 
ay, this is he we looked for all the while!  
Scurrility, here she hat● her impious throne,  
Here lies her heathenish dominion,  
I● this most impious cell of corruption;  
For 'tis a Purgatory, a mere limbo,  
Where the black devil and his dam Scurrili●y  
Do rule the roast, foul Princes of the air▪  
Scurrility! That is he that throweth scandals,  
Soweth, and throweth scandals, as 'twere dirt  
Even in the Face of holiness, and devotion.  
His presence is cont●gious, like a dragon  
He belches poison forth, poison of the pit,  
Brimstone, hellish and sulphureous poison;  
I will not stay, but fly as far as zeal.  
Can hurry me— the roof will fall and brain me,  
If I endure to hear his blasphemies,  
His graceless blasphemies.  Rosc. 
He shall vent none here;  
But stay, and see how justly we have used him,  Flow. 
Stay brother, I do find the spirit grow strong.  Col. 
Hail sacred wit!— Earth breeds not B●yes enough  
To crown thy spacious merit.  Bomo. 
Oh— Oh— Oh—  Col. 
Cratinus, Eupolis, Aristophanes,  
Or whatsoever other wit did give  
Old Comedies the reins, and let her lose  
To stigmatize what brow she pleased with slander  
Of people, Prince, Nobility— All must yield  
To this triumphant brain.  Bomo. 
Oh— Oh— Oh—  Col. 
They say you'll lose a friend before a jest,  
'tis true, there's not a jest that comes from you,  
That is the true Minerva of this brain,  
But is of greater value than a world  
Of friends, were every pair of men we meet  
A Pylades and Orestes.  Bomo. 
Oh— Oh— Oh—  Col. 
Some say you will abuse your Father too,  
Rather than lose the opinion of your wit;  
Who would not that has such a wit as yours?  
'Twere better twenty Parents were exposed  
To scorn and la●ghter, than the simplest thought  
Or least conceit of yours, should die abortive,  
Or perish a brain Embrio.  Bomo. 
Oh— Oh— Oh—  Col. 
How's this? that tongue grown sile●t that Sirens  
S●ood still to admire?  Bomo. 
Oh— Oh— Oh—  Col. 
'twere better that the spheres should lose their harmony,  
And all the Chorister● of the wood grow hoarse:  
What wolf hath spied you first!  Bomo. 
Oh— Oh— Oh—  Col. 
Sure H●●mes envying that there was on earth  
An eloquence more than his, has struck you dumb!  
Malicious deity!  Bomo. 
Oh— Oh— Oh—  Cola. 
Go in sir, there's a glass that will restore  
T●at tongue, whose sweetness Angels might adore.  Bomo. 
Oh— oh— oh— oh— oh— oh— oh—  Rosc. 
Thus Sir you see how we have put a gag  
In the licentious mouth of base scurrility;  
He shall not Ibis-like purge upward here,  
T'infect the place with pestilential breath;  
We'll keep him tongue-tied; you, and all, I promise  
By Phoebus and his daughters, whose chaste zones  
Were never yet by impure hands unti●d;  
Our language shall flow chaste, nothing sounds here  
That can give just offence to a strict ear.  Bird. 
This gag hath wrought my good opinion of you.  Flow. 
I begin to think 'em lawful recreations.  Colax. 
Now there's none left here, whereon to practice,  
I'll flatter my dear self— O that my skill  
Had but a body, that I might embrace it!  
Kiss it, and hug it, and beget a brood,  
Another brood of pretty skills upon it!  
Were I divided I would hate all beauties,  
And grow enamoured with my other half!  
Self-love, Narciss●us, had not been a faul●,  
Hadst thou, instead of such a beauteous face,  
Had but a brain like mine: I can gild vice,  
And praise it into alchemy, till it go  
For perfect gold, and cozen almost the touchstone,  
I can persuade a toad into an ox,  
Till swelled too big with my Hyperboles  
She burst asunder, and 'tis ver●u●s name  
Lends me a mask to scandalize herself.  
Vice, if it be no more, can nothing do:  
That art is great makes virtue guilty too.  
I have such strange varieties of colours,  
Such shifts of shapes, blue P●oteus sure begot me  
On a chameleon, and I change so quick  
That I suspect my mother did conceive me,  
As they say Mares do, on some wind or other.  
I'll peep to see how many fools I made  
with a report of a miraculous glass.  
— Heaven bless me, I am ruined! O my brain  
Witty to my undoing! I have jested  
Myself to an eternal misery,  
I see lean hunger with her meager face  
Ride Post to overtake me, I do prophesy  
A Lent immortal; Phoebus I could curse  
Thee and thy brittle gifts; Pandora's box  
Compared with this might be esteemed a blessing.  
The glass which I conceived a fabulous humour,  
Is to the height of wonder proved a truth,  
The two extremes of every ver●u● there  
Beholding how they either did exceed,  
Or want of just proportion, joy●d together,  
And are reduced into a perfect Mean:  
As when the skilful and deep learned physician  
Does take too different poisons, one that's cold,  
The other in the same degree of heat,  
And blends them both to make an Antidote;  
Or as the Lutanist takes Flats and sharp●,  
And out of those so dissonant notes, does strike  
A ravishing Harmony. Now there is no vice  
'tis a hard world for Colax: what shift now?  
Dyscolus doth expect me— since this age  
Is grown too wise to entertain a Parasite,  
I'll to the glass, and there turn virtuous too,  
Still strive to please, though not to flatter you.  Bird. 
There is good use indeed-la to be made  
From their Conversion.  Flow. 
Very good insooth— lafoy  
And edifying.  Rosc. 
Give your eyes some respite.  
You know already what our Vices be,  
In the next Act you shall our virtues see.  Exeunt.   

ACTUS 5.  

SCEN. 1.  Roscius, Flowrdew. Bird. Flow. 
Now verily I find the devour Bee  
May suck the honey of good Doctrine thence,  
And bear it to the hive of her pure family,  
Whence the profane and irreligious spider  
Gathers her impious venom! I have picked  
Out of the Garden of this play a good  
And wholesome salad of instruction!  
What do you next present?  Rosc. 
The several virtues.  Bird. 
I hope there be no Cardinal virtues there!  Rosc. 
There be not.  Bird. 
Then I'll stay, I hate a virtue  
That will be made a Cardinal: Cardinall-vertues,  
Next to Pope-vertues are most impious.  
Bishop-vertues are unwarrantable  
I hate a virtue in a Morris dance.  
I will allow of none but Deacon-vertues,  
Or Elder-vertues.  Rosc. 
Those are Morall-vertues.  Bird. 
Are they lay-vertues?  Rosc. 
Yes!  Bird. 
Then they are lawful,  
Virtues in Orders are unsanctified.  Rosc. 
We do present them royal, as they are  
In all their state, in a full dance.  Bird. 
What dance?  
No wanton Jig I hope, no dance is lawful  
But Prinkum Prankum!  Flow. 
Will virtues dance?  
O vile, absurd, Maypole— maid-marian virtue!  Rosc. 
Dancing is lawful, &c.  Flourish. Enter mediocrity. Flow. 
Who's this?  Rosc. 
It is the Mother of virtues.  Flow. 
Mother of Pearl● I think she is so gaudy,  Rosc. 
It is the golde● mediocrity.  Flow. 
She looketh like the idol of Cheapside▪  Mediocrity. Med. 
I am that even course that must be kept  
To shun two dangerous gulfs; the middle tract  
twixt Scylla and Charybdis; the small Isthmus  
That suffers not th' AEgean tide to meet  
The violent rage of the Ionian wave.  
I am a bridge o'er an impetuous sea;  
Free, and safe passage to the wary step:  
But he whose wantonness, or folly dares  
Decline to either side, falls desperate  
Into a certain ruin,— Dwell with me,  
Whose mansion is not placed so near the Sun,  
As to complain of's neighbourhood, and be scorched  
With his directer beams: nor so remote  
From his bright ra●es as to be situate  
Under the Icy Pole of the cold bear;  
But in a temperate zone: 'tis I am she,  
I am the golden mediocrity:  
The labour of whose womb are all the virtues,  
And every passion too commendable:  
Sisters so like themselves, as if they were  
All but one birth; no difference to distinguish them  
But a respect they bear to several objects:  
●lse had their names been on● as are their features▪  
So when eleven fair Virgins of a blood,  
All Sisters, and alike grown ripe of years,  
Match into several houses, from each family,  
Each makes a name distinct, and all are different:  
They are not of complexion red or pale,  
But a sweet mixture of the flesh and blood▪  
As if both roses were confounded there.  
Their stature neither dwarf nor Gyantish,  
But in a comely well disposed proportion▪  
And all so like their Mot●er, that indeed  
They are all mine▪ and I am each of them.  
When in the midst of dangers I stand up  
A wary confidence betwi●t fear and daring▪  
Not so ungodly bold, as not to be  
Fearful of heaven's just anger when she speaks  
In prodigies, and tremble at the hazard  
Of my Religion, shake to see my Country  
Thr●at●ed with fire and sword, by a stark coward  
To any thing may blast my reputation:  
But I can scorn the worst of poverty,  
Sickness, Captivity, Banishment, Grim death,  
If she dare meet me in the bed of honour;  
Where, with my country's cause upon my sword  
Not edged with hope or anger, nor made bold  
With civil blood, or customary danger▪  
Nor the fool's whetstone, in experience;  
I can throw valour as a lightning from me,  
And then I am the Amazon fortitude!  
Give me the moderate cup of lawful pleasures,  
And I am Temperance Take me wealth's just st●ward,  
And call me: Liberality; with one hand  
I'll gather riches home, and with the other  
Rightly distibute 'em, and there observe  
The persons, quantity, quality, time & place:  
And if in great expenses i be set  
Chief arbitress, I can in glorious work●,  
As raising Temples, Statues, Altars, Shrines,  
Vestures, and ornaments to Religion, be  
Neither too thrifty nor too prodigal.  
And to my country the like mean observe,  
In building Ships, and Bulwarks, Castles, walls,  
Conduits, Theaters, and what else may serve her  
For use or ornament: and at home be royal  
In buildings, Gardens, costly furniture,  
In entertainments free and hospitable,  
With a respect to my estate, and means,  
And then I may be named Magnificence;  
As Magnanimity, when I wisely aim  
At greatest honours, if I may deserve'm,  
Not for ambition, but for my countries good,  
And in that virtue all the rest do dwell.  
In lesser dignities I want a name;  
And when ● am not over patient,  
To put up such gross wrongs as call me coward,  
But can be angry, yet in that observe  
What cause hath moved my anger, and with whom▪  
Look that it be not sudden, nor too thirsty  
Of a revenge, nor violent, nor greater  
Than the off●nce, know my time when, where  
I must be angry, and how long remain so;  
Then, than you may firname me Mansuetude.  
When in my carriage and discourse I keep  
The mean that neither flatters nor offends,  
I am that virtue the well nurtured Court  
Gives name and should do being— Courtesy.  
Twixt fly dissembling and proud arrogance  
I am the virtue Time calls daughter, Truth.  
Give me my sword and balance rightly swayed,  
And justice is the Title I deserve.  
When on thi● stage I come with innocent wit,  
And j●sts that have more of the salt then gall.  
That move the laughter and delight of all▪  
Without the grief of one; free, chaste conceits,  
Not scurril, base, obscene, illiberal,  
Or contumelious slandyrs, I am then  
The virtue they have termed, V●banity:  
To whom if your least, countenance may appear  
She vows to make her constant dwelling here.  
My daughters now are come.  The Song.  

SCEN. 2▪  The Masque, wherein all the virtues dance together. Medi●c. 
You have seen all my daughters, Gentlemen▪  
Choose you wives hence; you that are bachelors  
Can find no better; and the married too  
May wed'em, yet not wrong their former wives▪  
Two. may have the same wife, and the same man  
May wed two virtues, yet no bigamy;  
He that weds most is chastest▪ These are all  
The daughters of my womb; I have five more,  
The happy issue of my intellect  
And thence syrnamed the intellectual virtues  
They now attend not on their mother's train,  
We hope they Act in each ●pectator●●raine.  
I have a niece besides a beauteous one  
My daughter's dear companion— lovely Friendship  
A● royal nymph; her we present not too,  
It is a virtue we expect from you.  Exit cum Cho●o cantantium.  

SCEN. 3.  Bird. 
O Sister what a glorious train they be  Flow. 
They s●em to me the Family of love,  
But is there such a glass, good Roscius?  Rosc. 
There is! sent hither by the great Apollo  
Who in the world's l●r●ght eye and ev●ry day  
●et in this Car of light, surveys the earth  
From East to west's who finding every plac●  
Fruitful in nothing but fantastic follies▪  
And most ridiculous humours, as he i●  
The God of physic, thought it apper●ain'd  
To him to find a cure to purge the eart●  
Of ignorance and sin, two grand diseases,  
And now grown epidemical: many receipts  
He thought upon, as to have planted H●llebore  
In every Garden— But none pleased like this.  
He takes out water from the muse's spring,  
And sends it to the North, there to be freezed  
Into a crystal— That being done, he make●,  
A mirror with it: and instills thi● virtue,  
That it should by reflection show each man  
All his deformities both of soul and body,  
And cure'em both—  Flow. 
Good Brother let's go see it!  
Saints may want something of perfection.  Rosc. 
The glass is but of one days' continuance  
For Pluto, thinking if it should cur● all,  
His kingdom would grow empty (for ti's●in  
That people's hell) went to the fatès and bid'em  
Spin it too short a thread; (for every thing  
As well as man is measured by their spindle.)  
They, as they must obey, gave it a thread  
No longer than the Beasts of Hyppanis  
That in one day is spun, drawn out, and cut.  
But Phoebus to require the black God's envy,  
Will, when the Glas●e is broke, transfuse her virtue  
To live in Com●edie— If you mean to see it,  
Make haste—  Flow. 
We will go post to reformation. Exeunt.  Rosc. 
Nor is the glass of so short li●e I fear  
As this poor labour— our distrustful Author  
Think● the same Sun that rose upon her cradle  
Will hardly set before her funeral:  
Your gracious and kind acceptance may  
Keep her alive from death, or when she's dead;  
Raise her again, and spin her a new thread.   

SCEN. 4.  Enter Flowrdew and Bird. Flow. 
This ignorance even makes Religion sin,  
Sets zeal upon the rack, and stretches her  
Beyond her length— Most blessed looking-glass  
That didst instruct my blinded eyes to day,  
I might have gone to hell the Narrow way!  Bird. 
Hereafter I will visit comedies▪  
And see them oft, they are good exercises!—  
I'll teach devotion now a milder temper,  
No● that it shall lose any of her heat  
Or Purity▪ but henceforth shall be such Exeunt.  
As shall burn bright, although not blaze so much.     

EPILOGVS. Roscius solus.  
Y' Have seen The muse's lookingglass, Lady's fair,  
And Gentle youths; and others too who e'er  
Have filled this orb: it is the end we mean●  
Yourselves unto yourselves still to present  
A soldier; shall himself in Hector see,  
Grave counsellors, Nestor, view themselves in thee  
When Lucrece Part shall on our Stage appear,  
Every chaste Lady sees her shadow there.  
Nay come who will, for our indifferent G●asses  
Will show both sooles, and knaves, and all their fates,  
To vex and cure them: But we need not fear,  
We do not doubt but each one now that's here,  
That has a fair soul and a Beauteous face,  
Will visit oft the muse's lookingglass.  
FINIS.