Changeling  
Tue quoque  
Simpleton  
Clause  
French Dancing Mr  
Hosts  
Sr: I. Falstafe      

THE WITS, OR, SPORT upon SPORT. IN Select Pieces of DROLLERY, Digested into SCENES by way of DIALOGUE. Together with Variety of Humours of several Nations, fitted for the pleasure and content of all Persons, either in Court, City, Country, or Camp. The like never before Published.  
PART I.  
LONDON, Printed for Henry Marsh, at the Sign of the Prince's Arms in Chancery-Lane. 1662.   

To the READERS  
The Stationer sends Greeting:  
WHereas I have undertaken to collect a Miscellany of all Humours which our Famed Comedies have exquisitely and aptly represented in the becoming dress of the Stage: Now know ye that I think fit in compliance with the Design to usher in this Body of Humours with a Preface, for no other reason, nor to other purpose, then to humour and imitate the Mode of Writers; letting you see the folly and impertinence of Epistolary Personations (never acted before) which show their Books are chiefly written for their own sakes, and to adorn our Stalls.  
Now I must tell you, my Plot with my Humours is clearly for sale; for I intent to raise no other reputation to myself then that of Ready Money; and that I only be-speak in these preparatory lines: since it were besides the purpose, and an unpardonable presumption, to commend these excellent Fancies, which do command, and have Emerited universal applause.  
All I am obliged to say therefore, is in justification of the Collection of them into this entire consistency, the making of a fluid a solid Body, which even the Experiment itself, among the Ingenious, will fairly defend. But I should think the easy accommodation of them to every Gusto of Delight in this ready variety (saving the difficulty of purveying and hacking up and down) should best invite and entertain you.  
He that knows a Play, knows that Humours have no such fixedness and indissoluble connexion to the Design, but that without injury or forcible revulsion they may be removed to an advantage; which is so demonstrable, that I am sure nothing but a morose propriety will offer to deny it.  
To be a little serious: I was told by people that know better than myself, they would be in this Model more beneficial in sundry respects, then as they lay dispersed before. There is no sort of Melancholy whose sullen dulness and severe aversion to company, may not at one look be mocked out by one or other of these merry attemperatures and resemblances, which will most efficaciously manifest its Folly as in a Glass. Next, he who would make up a Treatment to his Friends by any such diversion, cannot study a more compendious method, without the help of Fiddlers and mercenary Mimics, and the long labour of a Cue: one Scene, which may almost be acted Extempore, will be abundantly satisfactory, being chosen fit and suitable to the Company, as none can come amiss. 'Twill make Physic work, 'twill cease the pains of more inveterate diseases, 'twill allay the heat and distemper of Wine, and generally it is the Panacea, the universal Cure, mighty Mirth's Elixir.  
Now you know all the Story, Gentlemen; pray remember the Rump Drolls, and for their sakes,  
Your old Servant H. MARSH.   

I am loath to confess there are any Errors in the Book; but if you find any, and they be not rude ones, pray use your Civility, and pass them over.   

A Catalogue of the several Droll-Humours, from what Plays collected, and in what page to be found in this Book.  

Droll. 1. The Bouncing Knight out of Edw. IU. pag. 1.  
Droll. 2. jenkin's Love-Course, out of the School of Compliments. p. 13.  
Droll. 3. The false Heir, out of the Scornful Lady. p. 19  
Droll. 4. Lame Commonwealth, out of the Beg. Bush. p. 28.  
Droll. 5. Sexton, or the Mock-Testator, out of the Spanish Curate. p. 34.  
Droll. 6. A Prince in conceit, out of the Opportunity. p. 39  
Droll. 7. An equal Match, out of Rule a wife and have a wife. p. 45.  
Droll. 8. The Stallion, out of the Custom of the Country. p. 50  
Droll. 9 The Grave-makers, out of Hamlet P. of Denm. p. 56  
Droll. 10. Loyal Citizens, out of Philaster. p. 62.  
Droll. 11. Invisible Smirk, out of the Milkmaids. p. 65.  
Droll. 12. The three Merry Boys, out of Rollo D. of Normandy. p. 73.  
Droll. 13. The Bubble, out of Tu quoque. p. 78.  
Droll. 14. Clubmen, out of Cupid's Revenge. p. 83.  
Droll. 15. Forced Valour, out of King and no King. p. 87.  
Droll. 16. Encounter, out of the Humorous Lieuten. p. 93.  
Droll. 17. Simpleton the Smith. p. 98.  
Droll. 18. Bumpkin. p. 108.  
Droll. 19 Simpkin. p. 112.  
Droll. 20. Hobbinal. p. 118.  
Droll. 21. Swabber. p. 121.  
Droll. 22. Monsieur the French Dancing-Master, out of the Varieties. p. 134.  
Droll. 23. The Landlady, out of the Chances. p. 140.  
Droll. 24. The testy Lord, out of the Maid's Tragedy. p. 148.  
Droll. 25. The Imperick, out of the Alchemist. p. 159.  
Droll. 26. The Surprise out of the Maid in the Mill. p. 167.  
Droll. 27. The Doctors of Dullhead College, out of Fathers own son. p. 182.    

THE BOUNCING KNIGHT, OR, THE ROBERS robbed.  
ARGUMENT.  
A company of mad fellows resolve to take a Purse, and to that purpose separate themselves, 4. in one company, 2. in the other, the four Rob and tame true Men, the two Rob those four again. And then all meeting, the 4. exclaim against the absent two; and other Scenes of mirth follow.  

ACTORS NAMES.  
Prince,  
Hal,  
Knight,  
jack,  
Poines,  
Peto,  
Roff,  
Hostess,  
Drawer.   Enter Several. HAL. 
How now jack, where hast thou been?  jack. 
A plague of all Cowards I say and a vengeance too, marry and amen; give me a Cup of Sack Boy, no virtue extant, you Rogue; there's lime in this Sack too, there is nothing but Roguery to be found in villainous Man, yet a Coward is worse than a Cup of Sack with lime in it, a villainous Coward, go thy ways old jack, die when thou wilt: if Manhood, good Manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the Earth, then am I a shotten hearing: there lives not three good men unhanged in England, and one of them is fat and grows old: a bad World I say, and a plague of all Cowards I say still.  Hal. 
How now woolsack, what mutter you?  jack. 
A King's Son? If I do not beat thee out of thy Kingdom with a Dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a stock of wild-Geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more, you Prince of Wales?  Hal. 
Why you whoreson round man what's the matter?  jack. 
Are you not a Coward? answer me to that, and Poines there.  Hal. 
Why ye fat paunch, and ye call me, Coward by this light, I'll stab thee.  jack. 
I call thee Coward? I'll see thee damned ere I call thee Coward; but I would give a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your back: call you that backing of your friends? a plague upon such backing: give me them that will face me, give me a cup of Sack, I am a Rogue if I drank to day.  Prince. 
Oh villain, thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drinkest last.  jack. 
All's one for that, a plague of all cowards still say I.  Prince. 
What's the matter?  jack. 
What's the matter? here be four of us have ta'en a thousand pound this morning.  Prince. 
Where is it, I ask where is it.  jack. 
Where is it? taken from us it is; a hundred upon poor four of us.  Prince. 
What a hundred man?  jack. 
I am a Rogue if I were not at half Sword with a dozen of them two hours together; I have scaped by miracle; I am eight times thrust through the doublet, four through the hose, my Buckler cut through and through, my sword hacked like a hansaw, ecce signum, I never dealt better since I was a man, all would not do, a plague of all Cowards, let them speak, if they speak more or less than truth, they are villains, and the sons of darkness.  Poines. 
Speak Sirs, how was it.  Roff. 
We four set upon a dozen.  jack. 
Sixteen at least my Lord.  Roff. 
And bound them.  Peto. 
No, no, they were not bound.  jack. 
You rogue they were bound, every man of them, or I am a jew else, an Hebrew jew.  Roff. 
And as we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us.  jack. 
And unbound the rest, & then came in the others.  Prince. 
What fought ye with them all?  jack. 
All? I know not what you call all: but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish: if there were not two or three & fifty upon poor old jack, than I am no two-legged Creature.  Prince. 
Pray God you have not murdered some of them.  jack. 
Nay that's past praying for, I have peppered two of them; two Rogues in buckram suits: I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a lie spit in my face, call me horse, thou know'st my old ward, here I lay, and thus I bore my point, four Rogues in buckram let drive at me.  Prince. 
What four? thou said's but two even now.  jack. 
Four Hal, I told thee four.  Poines. 
ay, I, he said four.  jack. 
These four came all affront, and mainly thrust at me; I made no more a do but took all their seven points in my Target, thus.—  Prince. 
Seven? Why there were but four even now▪  jack. 
In Buckram Hal, in Buckram.  Poines. 
I four in Buckram suits.  jack. 
Seven by these Hilts, or I am a villain else.  Prince. 
Prithee let him alone, we shall have more anon▪  jack. 
Dost thou hear me.  Hal. 
ay, and mark thee too jack.  jack. 
Do so for 'tis worth the listening to. These nine in Buckram that I told thee off.  Prince. 
So, two more already.  jack. 
Their points being broken.  Poynes. 
Down fell his Hose.  jack 
Began to give me ground, but I followed me close, came in foot and hand; and with a thought seven of the eleven I paid.  Prince. 
O Monstrous! eleven Buckram men grown out of two.  jack. 
But as the devil would have it, three misbegotten knaves, in Kendal green, came at my back and let drive at me, for it was so dark Hal that thou couldst not see thy hand.  Prince. 
These lies are like the father that begets, gross as a Mountain, open, palpable, why thou clay-brained guts thou knotty pated fool, thou whoreson obscent greasy tallow catch.  jack. 
What? art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth, the truth?  Prince. 
Why how couldst thou know these men in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand? what saidst thou to this?  Poines. 
Come, your reason jack, your reason.  jack. 
What upon compulsion? and I were at the strappado, or all the racks in the World, I would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on compulsion? were reasons as plenty as Blackberries, I would give no Man a reason upon compulsion, I.  Prince. 
I'll be no longer guilty of this sin, this sanguine Coward, this Bed-presser, this horseback breaker, this huge hill of flesh.  jack. 
You starveling, you Elf-skin, you dried Neat's tongue, Bulls pizle, you stock fish: O for breath to utter what is like thee? you Tailor's yard, you sheath, you Bow-case, you vile standing Turk.  Prince. 
Hear me sirrah bombast—  poins. 
Mark jack.  Prince. 
We two saw you four set upon four, bound them, and were Masters of their wealth, than did we two set on you four, and with a word outfaced you from the prize; what starting hole canst thou now find out to hid thee from this open and apparent shame?  Poynes. 
Come le's hear jack, what trick hast thou now?  jack. 
By the Lord I knew ye as well as he that made ye, why hear you Masters, was it for me to kill the heir apparent? should I turn up in the true Prince? why thou know'st I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware instinct, the Lion will not touch the true Prince. Instinct is a great matter, I was a Coward on instinct; I shall think the better of myself, and thee during my life; I for a valiant Lion, and thou for a true Prince: but by the Lord Lads, I am glad you have the money, Hostess clap to the doors, watch to night, pray tomorrow, what hearts of Gold shall we be merry? shall we have a Play ex tempore.  Prince. 
Content and the argument shall be thy running away.  jack. 
O no more of that Hall if thou lovest me.  Prince. 
How longi'st ago jack since thou sawst thine own knee.  jack. 
My own knee? when I was about thy years (Hal) I was not an Eagles tallant in the Waste: I could have crept into any Alderman's Thumb-Ring, a plague of sighing and grief, it blows a man up like a Bladder; but to he Play Hal.  Prince. 
I have a mind jack that thou shouldst stand for my father, and examine me upon the particulars of my life.  jack. 
Content: this Chair shall be my State, this dagger my Sceptre, and this Cushion my Crown. Well if the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, now shalt thou be moved, give me a cup of Sack to make mine eyes look red, that it may be thought I have wept: For I must speak in passion, and I will do it in King Cambysis vein.  Prince. 
Well, here is my Leg.  jack. 
And here is my speech: stand aside Nobility.  Hostess. 
O the Father, how he holds his countenance, he doth it as like one of these harlotry players as ever Isee.  jack. 
Peace good pint Pot, peace good tickle branes. Harry I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art accompanied, thou art my Son, I have partly thy Mother's word, partly my opinion, but chiefly a villainous trick of thine eye, and a foolish hanging of thy neither lip that doth warrant me. There is a thing Harry which thou hast often heard off, and known to many, in our Land, by the name of Pitch; this Pitch (as ancient writers report) doth defile, so doth the company thou keepest, yet there is one virtuous Man whom I have noted in thy company, but I know not his name.  Prince. 
What manner of Man, and it like your Majesty:  jack. 
A good portly man i'faith, and a corpulent, of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage, and as I think his age some fifty, or by'r Lady, inclining to threescore, and now I remember me, his name is Falstaff: if that man be lewdly given he deceives me, for Harry I see virtue in his looks; If then the tree may be known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in that Falstaff, and now thou naughty varlet, tell me where hast thou been this month?  Prince. 
Dost thou speak like a King? do thou stand for me, and I'll play my father.  jack. 
If thou dost it so Majestically, hang me up by the heels for a Rabbet-sucker or a Poulter's Hare.  Prince. 
Well here I am set.  jack. 
And here I stand judge my Masters.  Prince. 
Now Harry whence come you?  jack. 
My noble Lord from Eastcheap.  Prince. 
The complaints I hear of thee are grievous.  jack. 
Zlud my Lord they are false: nay I'll tickle you for a young Prince.  Prince. 
Swearest thou, ungracious Boy? henceforth ne'er look on me, thou art violently carried away from grace; there is a devil haunts thee in the likeness of a fat old man, a Tun of man, is thy companion, why dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that boulting-Butch of beastliness? that swollen parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of Sack, that stuff cloak bag of guts, that roasted manning-tree Ox, with the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that grey iniquity, wherein is he good but to taste Sack, and drink it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a Capon and eat it? wherein cunning but in craft? wherein crafty but in villainy? wherein villanous but in all things? wherein Worthy but in nothing?  jack. 
I would your grace would take me with you: who means your grace?  Prince. 
That villainous abominable misleader of youth, Falstaff, that old white bearded satan.  jack. 
My Lord the man I know.  Prince. 
I know thou dost.  jack. 
But to say I know more harm in him then in myself, were to say more than I know; that he is old, (the more the pity;) his white hairs do witness it: but that he is (saving your reverence) a whoremaster, that I utter lie deny; if Sack and Sugar be a fault, Heaven help the wicked: if to be old and merry be a sin, than many an old Host that I know is damned; if to be fat, be to be hated, than Pharaoh's lean Kine are to be beloved my good Lord: Banish Peto, banish Bardol, banish Poynes; but for sweet jack Falstaff, kind jack Falstaff, true jack Falstaff, valiant jack Falstaff; and therefore more valiant, being as he is old jack Falstaff, banish not him thy Harry's company; banish plump jack, and banish all the World.  Prince. 
I do. I will.  Enter Bardol. Bardol. 
Oh my Lord the Sheriff with a monstrous watch is at the door.  jack. 
Out you Rogue, play out the play, I have much to say in the behalf of that Falstaff.  Exeunt. Enter jack and Bardol. jack. 
Am I not fall'n away vilely, do I not bate? do I not diminish? my skin hangs about me like an old Ladies loose Gown, I am withered like an old apple john: well I'll repent, and that suddenly I shall be out of heart shortly and then I shall have no strength to repent, and I ha'not forgotten what the inside of a Church is made of, I am a pepper-corn, villainous company hath been the spoil of me.  Bardol. 
Sir john you are so fretful you cannot live long.  jack. 
Why there's it, come sing me a bawdy song, make me merry, well I have been as virtuously given as a Gentleman need to be, lived well and in good compass, and now I live out of all order, out of all compass.  Bardol. 
Why you are so fat Sir john, that you must needs be out of all compass, all reasonable compass Sir john.  jack. 
O mend thou thy face, and I'll mend my life: thou art our Admiral, thou bearest the Lantern in the poop, but 'tis in the Nose of thee, thou art the King of the burning Lamp, when thou runnest up Gad's Hill in the night to catch my Horse if I did not think thou hadst been an Ignis fatuus or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in money, O thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting Bonfire, by night.  Bardol. 
I would my face were in your belly.  jack. 
God a mercy, so I should be heart-burnt. Now dame partlet the Hen, have you enquired yet who picked my pocket.  Enter Hostess. Hostess. 
Why, Sir john do you think I keep thieves in my House Sir john.  jack. 
I'll besworne my pocket was picked; go, you are a woman, go.  Hostess. 
Who I? I defy thee: 'ods light I never was called so in my own House before, you owe me money Sir john, I bought you a dozen shirts to your back.  jack. 
Dowlis, filthy Dowlis, I have given them away to Baker's Wives, they have made boulters of them; I say my pocket was picked, I have lost a Seal-Ring of my Grandfathers worth forty marks.  Hostess. 
Oh Lord I have heard the Prince tell him I know how oft that Ring was Copper.  jack. 
The Prince is a jack, a sneak-cap, and he were here I would cudgel him like a dog, if he would say so.  Enter Prince. Hostess. 
Good my Lord hear me.  jack. 
Prithee let her alone and list to me, this house is turned bawdy house, my pocket has been picked here.  Prince. 
And what didst thou lose jack?  jack. 
If thou wilt believe me Hal, three or four Bonds of forty pounds a piece, and a Seal-Ring of my Grandfathers.  Prince. 
A trifle, some eight penny matter.  Hostess. 
I told him you said so, and he said he would cudgel you.  Prince. 
What a' did not.  Hostess. 
As I am a true woman he did.  jack. 
Go you thing, go.  Hostess. 
Say, what thing, what thing?  jack. 
Why, a thing to thank God on.  Hostess. 
I am nothing to thank God on, I would thou shouldst know it.  Prince. 
Thou slander est her most grossly.  Hostess. 
So he doth you my Lord, he said the other day you ought him a thousand pound.  Prince. 
Sirrah do I owe you a thousand pound?  jack. 
A thousand pound Hal? a million: thy love is worth a million: thou ow'st me thy love.  Hostess. 
Nay, my Lord he called you jack, and said he would cudgel you.  jack. 
Did I Bardol?  Bardol. 
Indeed Sir john, you said so.  jack. 
Yea if he said my Ring was Copper.  Prince. 
I say 'tis Copper: dar'st thou be as good as thy word now?  jack. 
Why Hal? thou know'st, as thou art but a man I dare: but as thou art Prince I fear thee as I fear the roaring of the Lion's Whelp.  Prince. 
And why not as the Lion?  jack. 
The King himself is to be feared as the Lion: dost thou think I'll fear thee, as I fear thy Father? nay, and I do, I pray my Girdle may break.  Prince. 
If it should, how would thy Guts fall about thy knees.  Exeunt. Enter jack as to the Wars. jack. 
Well I have misused the Kings press damnably, I have got in exchange of 150. Soldiers 300. And odd pound, I press none but warm slaves that had as lief hear the devil as a Drum, with hearts in their bellies no bigger than pins heads, and they have bought out their services, and now my whole charge consists of Ancients, Corporals, and the like: A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me I had unloaded all the Gibbets, & pressed the dead bodies, there's not a shirt and an half in all my company, and the half shirt is two napkins tucked together, and thrown over the shoulders like a Herald's coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to speak truth on't, is stolen from my host at St. Albans, but that's all one, they▪ l find linen enough on every hedge.  Enter Prince. Prince. 
How now Q●…ilt? tell me whose fellows are these that come after?  jack. 
Mine Hal, mine.  Prince. 
I did never see such pitiful Rascals.  jack. 
Tut, tut, good enough to toss; food for powder, food for powder, they'll fill a pit as well as better: mortal men; mortal men, but I would all were well Hal.  Prince. 
Why, thou ow'st a death.  jack. 
'Tis not due yet, and I would be loath to pay before the day, what need I be so forward till I am called upon, well 'tis no matter, Honour pricks me on, yea but how if Honour pricks me off when I come on? how then? can Honour set to a leg? or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no: Honour hath no skill in surgery then? no: what is Honour? a word: what is that word? Air: a trim reckoning: who hath it? he that died a wednesday: doth he feel it? no: doth he hear it? No: 'tis insensible then? yea to the dead: but will it not live with the living? No: why? detraction will not suffer it: therefore I'll have none of it, Honour is a mere scutcheon, and so ends my Catechism.  Exit. jack in fight falls down as he were dead, the Prince espying him on the ground, speaks. Prince. 
What old acquaintance, could not all this flesh keep in a little life? poor jack farewell; imboweled will I see thee by and by, till then, in blood by noble Percy lie.  Exit. jack. 
Imboweled? if thou embowel me to day, I'll give you leave to powder me, and eat me to morrow, 'Sblood 'twas time to counterfeit, or the Termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit? I am no counterfeit: to die is to be a counterfeit, for he is but the counterfeit of a man, who hath not the life of a man; but to counterfeit dying when a man thereby liveth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeed, the better part of valour is destruction; in the which better part I have saved my life.— I am afraid of this Gunpowder Percy, though he be dead; how if he should counterfeit too, and rise? by my faith I am afraid he would prove the better counterfeit: therefore I'll make him sure; yea and I'll swear I slew him, why may not he rise as well as I? nothing confutes me but eyes, and no body sees me! therefore sirrah with a new wound in your thigh, come you a long with me.  Ent. Pr. again. Prince. 
What's here? art thou alive? thou art not what thou seem'st sure.  jack. 
No, that's certain, I am not a double man: but if I be not Jack Falstaff, than I am a Jack: there is Percy, if your Father will do me any Honour, So: if not, let him slay the next Percy himself: I look to be either Earl or Duke, I can assure you.  Prince. 
Why, Percy I slew myself, and saw thee dead.  Jack. 
Didst thou? Lord, Lord, how the World is given to lying! I grant you I was down, & out of breath, and so was he, but we rose at an instant, and fought a long hour by Shrews busy Clock, if I may be believed, So: if not, let them that should reward valour, bear the sin upon their own heads, I'll take it upon my death I gave him this wound in the thigh, if the man were alive and would deny it I'd make him eat a piece of my sword.  Prince. 
Come bring your luggage nobly on your back, for my part, if a lie will do thee grace, I'll guild it with the happiest terms I have.  Jack. 
I'll follow, as they say, for a reward: He that rewards me, God reward him, if I do grow great, I'll grow less: for I'll purge and leave Sack, and live cleanly, as a Noble man should do.  Exit.  

JENKINS Love-course, and Perambulation.  
ARGUMENT.  
He finds his defect in Courtship, goes to School to learn it, where he meets with some affronts; Then he wanders to the Woods to seek his Mistress, and is encountered by an Echo, etc.  

ACTORS NAMES.  
jenkin's,  
jocarello,  
Page,  
Mistress,  
Infortunio,  
Gaspero,  
Echo,  
Bubulons,  
Antonio.   Enter jenkin's, Page, and Mistress. jenk. 
LOok you Pages where our sweet Heart and pigs-mies be; Sentlewoman if her know not her name, was jenkin born in Wales, came of Pighouse, and pritish bloods, was have great hills and Mountains awle her owns, when was get 'em again, any was her Confins and her Countryman was never conquered, but always have the victories pravely, have her arms and scutcheons, to know that say you, was give in her crests great deal of monsters and Dragons, kill 'em with their hooks very valiantly, as any Sentleman in the whole World: was please you place her affections and good wills upon her in ways of make money, mark you; teal plainly, jenkin was love her very honestly, else pox upon her, and her will fight in her cause and quarrels long as have any blood in bellies and backs too, mark you▪ Pray you was her love jenkin.  Mistress. 
In what I may serve you, you shall command me Sir.  jenkin. 
Shall her? was make her means & satisfactions warrant her, or say Jenkin was no Sentleman of Wales, say you Pages was have her matrimonies and wedlocks very fast, and when was get her awl her, her cousins was make joys & gratulations, for her good fortunes upon her Welsh Harps, knaw you dat very well Pages? her fear, her shall be Knighted one days, and have great cumulations of Uships, Honours and dignities too, agreat while ago.  jork. 
And great Castles i'th' Air.  jenkin. 
Was give awle our Lands and craggy Tenements in Wales away to our Cousin ap Shone, and live herself here upon very good fashions with our moneys and mighty riches, when her can get 'um.  To him Infortunio. Infortunio. 
Whether so fast; thou must get to hell by night, and thou goest but Alderman's pace.  jenkin. 
By cots blood her will go to the devil and her list, what is that to her?  Infortunio. 
Your name is Mr. jenkin.  jenkin. 
And what have her to say to Mr. Jenkin, Jenkin was as good names as her own, pray you, was good Shentleman as herself, know very well, say you now?  Infortunio. 
God boy, Sir:  jenkin. 
Boys, does her call her boys? hark you? her name is Jenkin, her be no boys no shildren, was knock as tall a man as herself, an her Welsh blood be up, look you.  Infortunio. 
'Tis impossible.  jenkin. 
Piple papels, 'tis very possible.  Infortunio. 
An hunger starved Rascal.  jenkin. 
Rascals? she shu? was never such names and appellations put upon her awle her days, begar her will make you eat up all her urds and ignominies, and her blade shall make holes in her pellies diggon.  Inf. 
I could curse.  jen. 
Her can curse & swear too look you now.  Infortunio. 
Pardon divinest Creature I submit.  jenkin. 
Nay and her crave pardons and make submissions, Jenkin was put up awle her anger and indignations farewell.  Exit. jenkin from his study. jenkin. 
jenkin has risen very early this mornings and been in studies and contemplations to make ditties and ferces upon her Mistress. Beauties and pulchritudes, but the tevill sure is in these Poetries, Pages have her seem treames and apparitions? hark you, Was Selina turned sheapheardess, pray you?  To him his Page, the Lady coming by. Page. 
We dream else Sir, the case is altered.  jenkin. 
What a tevill is in the matters and businesses pray you? cases! never was knawn such cases and alterations in awle her life, woman's never wear breeches in Wales, 'tis not possible we are awle in treames and visions, very treames and visions.  Exeunt. jenkin as at the School. jenkin. 
Bless you Shentlemen awl, and your studies and contemplations: is here a School of compliments pray you.  Gaspero. 
A place of generous Breeding.  jenkin. 
Shenerous preeding, hark you her name was jenkin, a good Shentleman 'tis knawn, he take no pleasures and delectations in words, Welshmen have awle hearts and fidelities mark you, yet if your Urships has any madrigals look you, for in truth was going now to the voods and forests, her will give you good payments of awle your inventions and muses pray you, here is moneys and considerations look you.  Infortunio. 
hay? how came you all thus damned?  jenkin. 
Damned, whose damned? is Shinkin damned?  Gaspero. 
Humour him a little.  jenkin. 
Will you have her be damned? when hear you pray a Welshman was damned? of all things in the Urld her cannot abide to be damned.  Infortunio. 
What are you.  jenkin. 
Her have no mind at all to be damned, be gar her will fight with her, and kill awle the devils in hell: diggon.  Gaspero. 
Sir 'tis but in jest.  jenkin. 
In jests, is it in jests? well, look you her will be content to be damned in jests and merriments for you.  Infortunio. 
You will tell me what you are damned for?  jenkin. 
And her be so hot, was get some body else to be damned for jenkin: her will tell her in patiences, look you, her was damned for her valour, and riding the Urld of monsters, look you Dragons with seven heads, and serpents with tails a mile long pray you.  Infortunio. 
Oh! let me hug thee Owen Glendower.  jenkin. 
Owen Glendower was her Cousin pray, so farewell Shentlemen, now her mean to make travails and peregrinations to the voes and plains, look you very fast.  Exit. jenkin in the Woods. jenkin. 
Has almost lost herself in these vods and Wildernesses, was very weary of these journeys and travels in foot-backs: have not since her coming beheld any my reasonable creatures: bless us awle, jocarello is lost too, cannot tell where, in these mazes and labourinths:  jocarello. 
So ho.  Echo. 
So ho.  Jenkin 
Ha, there's some podies yet, hark you t'ere, here is a Shentleman of Wales, look you, desires very much to have speeches and confabulations with you: where is her:  Echo: 
here is her.  Jenkin. 
Here is her? knaw not which ways to come to her: pray you tell Jenkin where you be?  Echo. 
Booby.  Jenkin. 
Boobies was her call her poobies? 'tis very saucy travels, her will teach her better manners, and moralities; mark you now, if her get her in reaches and circumferences of her Welsh plaids, truly.  Echo. 
You lie.  jenkin. 
How lies, and poobies too? hark you, Jenkin was give you mauls and knocks for your poobies, and lies, and indignities, look for your pates now.  Exit with his Sword drawn. Enter again 
Here is no poodies but Bushes and Briers, look you awle is very quiet: so ho, ho.  Echo. 
So ho, ho.  Jenkin. 
Her am very much deceived, now it comes into our minds, if these voices be not Echoes,  Echo. 
Echo.  Jenkin. 
'Tis very true, but her marvel much, have her Echoes in these Countries, pray you?  Echo. 
Yes pray you.  Jenkin. 
Warrant her 'tis a Welsh Echo was follow Jenkin in love out of Wales.  Echo. 
Out of Wales.  Jenkin. 
'Tis very true, bless us awle now, her to remembrances and memories, her had communications and talk with this very Echo in Glamorgan-Shire, in the Valleys and Talls there look you, her am very glad her hath met with Echoes was born in her own Countries, hark you, Jenkin was travel hither out of loves and affections to Selina.  Echo. 
Nay.  Jenkin. 
Nay, Yes very true, pray you tell her, be Selina in these Woods, or no?  Echo. 
No.  Jenkin. 
No, where is her then? have her taken awle these labours and ambulations in vanities? say you, shall Jenkin then go back as he came?  Echo. 
As he came,  Jenkin. 
Gone? it is not possible, hit may be Selina was turned spirits and be invisible rather, she is not gone verily.  Echo. 
There you lie.  Jenkin. 
Lie, very well, you have privileges to give lies and awle things in the Urld, but her will not leave these Vods for awle dat; her will be pilgrims awle tayes of her life's ere her go without her.  Echo. 
Go without her.  Jenkin. 
How, not love Jenkin? then there is a tevill in awle female sexes: know very well she promise loves and good wills in times, great while ago, pray you now, her will talk no longer with you, pray you if you meet her Pages, bid her make hasts and expeditions after her, fare you well.  Echo. 
Fare you well.  Exit. Jenkin and Jocarello. Jocarello. 
So ho, ho, master Jenkin.  Jenkin. 
It is our Pages again. Jocarello where have you been? you are very tilligent boys to lose your master thus.  Jocarello. 
I was lost myself.  Jenkin. 
Ha pages, here is Selina, awle was very true as our Countrywoman Echoes was make reports. Mrs. Selina call you to memories your promised loves to Jenkin in matrimonies create while ago.  Antonio. 
I am married to Ruffaldo.  Jenkin. 
Hit is not possible, Jenkin was never awle her days have such injuries and contumelies have her made repetitions and Genealogies of her blood for no Matrimonies: hum, Jenkin could fight with any podies in the whole Urld now, look you Master Blew-potles have you any stomachs or appetites to have any ploughs or knocks upon your custard; look you now?  Bubulons. 
No good stomach at this time.  Omnes. 
Come we'll all be friends.  Jenkin. 
Here is very good honest words, yes look you Jenkin is in all amities and friendship, but—  Antonio. 
Oh, no more shooting at that But.  Exeunt.  

The false Heir, and formal Curate.  
ARGUMENT.  
The younger Brother conceiving himself entitled to his elder Brother's estate, sells it, the Curate a long lover of a Ladies worn out Gentlewoman claps up a match with her.  

ACTORS NAMES.  
Younger Brother,  
Captain,  
Poet,  
Steward,  
Usurer,  
Widow, and  
Comrades, etc.  
Curate and his Mistress, etc.   Captain. 
SAve thy brave shoulder, my young puissant Knight, and may thy Backsword bite Them to the bone, that love thee not, thou art an errand Man, go on, the circumcised shall fall by thee. Let land and labour fill the Man that tills, thy Sword must be thy Blow, and jove it speed, Mecha shall sweat, and Mahomet shall fall, and thy dear name fill up his Monument.  Young Loveless. 
It shall Captain, I mean to be a worthy.  Captain. 
One worthy is too little, thou shalt be all.  Morecraft. 
Captain I shall deserve some of your love too.  Captain. 
Thou shalt have heart and hand too, noble Morecraft, if thou wilt lend me Money, I am a man of Garrison, be ruled, and open to me those infernal gates, whence none of thy evil Angels pass again, and I will style thee noble, nay Don Diego I'll woo thy Infaunta for thee, and my Knight shall feast her with high meats, and make her apt.  Morecraft. 
Pardon me Captain, you're beside my meaning.  Young Loveless. 
No Mr. Morecraft 'tis the Captain's meaning I should prepare her for ye.  Captain. 
Or provoke her. Speak my modern Man, I say provoke her.  Poet. 
Captain I say-so too, or stir her to it, so says the Critics.  Young Loveless. 
However you expound it, she is welcome, come sit down, some wine here, there is a scurvy banquet, if we had it. All this fair house is yours Sir; Savil?  Savil. 
Yes Sir.  Young Loveless. 
Are your keys ready, I must ease your burden.  Savil. 
I am ready to be undone Sir when you shall call me to't.  Young Loveless. 
Come, come, thou shalt live better.  Savil. 
I shall have less to do▪ that's all; there is half a dozen of my friends i'th' fields Sunning against a bank, with half a breech among 'em, I shall be with 'em shortly, the care and continual vexation of being rich, eat up this rascal; what shall become of my poor family, they are no sheep, and they must keep themselves.  Young Loveless. 
Drink Mr. Morecraft. Captain, speak loud and drink: Widow a word.  Captain. 
Expound her throughly Knight.  He courts the widow for himself. 
Here God a gold? here's to thy fair Possessions: Be a Baron, and a bold one; leave off your tickling of young heirs like trouts, and let thy Chimney's smoke, feed men O'war, live and be honest, and be saved yet.  Morecraft. 
I thank you worthy Captain for your council, you keep your Chimneys smoking there, your nostrils; and when you can, you feed a man of war, this makes you not a Baron, but a bare one, and how or when you shall be saved, let the Clerk o'th' company (you have commanded) have a just care of.  Poet. 
The man is much moved, Be not angry Sir, but as the Poet sings, let your displeasure be a short fury, & go out. You have spoke hom●… and bitterly to me Sir? Captain take truce, the Miser is a tart, and a witty whoreson.  Captain. 
Poet, you fain perdie; the wit of this man lies in his finger's ends, he must tell all; his tongue fills his mouth like a Neat's tongue, & only serves to lick his hungry chaps after a purchase: his Brains and brimstone are the Devil's diet to a fat Usurer's head: to her Knight, to her: clap her aboard, and stow her, where's the brave Steward.  Savil. 
Here's you poor friend, and Savil Sir.  Captain. 
Away thouart rich in Ornaments of nature, first in thy face, thou hast a serious face; abetting, bargaining, and saving face, a rich face, pawn it to the Usurer; a face to kindle the compassion of the most ignorant and frozen Justice.  Savil. 
'Tis such I dare not show it shortly Sir.  Captain. 
Be blithe, and bonny Steward; Mr. Morecraft drink to this Man of reckoning?  Morecraft. 
Here's even to him.  Savil. 
The devil guide it downward, would there were in't an acre of the great Broomfeild, he bought; to sweep his dirty conscience, or to choke you.  Young Loveless. 
Do but look on him, there's nothing in that hid-bound Usurer; that man of mat, that all decayed but Arches: for you to love, unless his perished Lungs, his dry Cough, or his scurvy; this is truth, and he has yet past cure of Physic, spa, or any diet, a primitive pox in his bones; and a' my knowledge he has been ten times roweled; he had a bastard, his own towardly issue, whipped, and then cropped for washing out the Roses, in three farthings to make 'em pence.  Wid. 
I do not like these morals▪  Young Loveless. 
You must not like him then. By my troth Sir you're welcome.  Savil. 
I dare say he's glad at heart to see you.  To them, Elder Loveless. Morecraft. 
This money must be paid again.  Young Loveless. 
No Sir, pray keep the sale, 'twill make good Tailor's measures:  Savil. 
I know not where I am, I am so glad; your worship is the welcom'st man alive; upon my knees I bid you welcome home: here have been such a hurry, such a din, such dismal drinking, swearing and whoring, 'thas almost made me mad: We have lived in a continual Turneball-street; Sir, blessed be Heaven, that sent you safe again; now shall I eat, and go to bed again.  Elder Loveless. 
What does that fellow tarry for?  Young Loveless. 
Sir, to be Landlord of your House and state: I was bold to make a little sale Sir:  Morecraft. 
Am I o'er reached? if there be Law I'll hamper you.  Elder Loveless. 
Prithee be gone, eat reddish till you raise your sums again, you are a stale Cozener, leave my house: no more.—  Morecraft. 
A pox upon your house. Come Widow, I shall yet hamper this young Gamester.  Widow, 
Good twelve in the hundred, keep your way I am not for your diet, marry in your own tribe Jew, and get a Broker.  Exit Morecraft. Elder Lov. 
To you good Mr. Savil, and your office; thus much I have to say, you're from my Steward become, first your own drunkard, than his Bawd: they say you are excellent grown in both, & perfect: give me your keys sir Savil. where's the best drink now? where's the soundest Whores? Ye old he Goat, ye dried ape, ye lame stallion, must you be leading in my House your Whores, like Fairies dancing their night rounds, without fear either of King or Constable? Are all my Hangings safe, my sheep unsold yet? I hope my Plate is Currant, I ha'too much on't. What say you to three hundred pounds in drink now?  Savil. 
Good Sir for give me, and but hear me speak?  Elder Loveless. 
Methinks thou shouldst be drunk still, and not speak, 'tis the more pardonable.  Savil. 
I will Sir, if you will have it so.  Elder Lovel. 
I thank ye. Yes, ' e'en pursue it Sir; d'ye hear? Get you a Whore soon for your recreation: go look out Captain broken-breech your fellow, and quarrel if you dare; I shall deliver these keys to one shall have more honesty, though not so much fine wit Sir; you may walk and gather cresses Sir, to cool your liver; there's something for you to begin a diet, you'll have the pox else; speed you well Sir Savil: you may eat at my house to preserve life, but keep no Fornication in the stables.  Exeunt. Savil. 
Now must I hang myself, my friends will look for't. Eating and sleeping I do despise you both now; I will run mad first, and if that get not pity, I'll drown myself to a most dismal ditty.  Exit. Abigal solus for her loss of time. Abigal. 
Alas poor Gentlewoman, to what a misery hath age brought thee: to what a scurvy fortune? Thou that hast been a companion of Noblemen, and at the worst of those times for Gentlemen: now like a broken Servingman, must beg for favour to those that would have crauled like pilgrims to thy chamber, but for an apparition of me; you that be coming on, make much of fifteen, and so till five and twenty, use your time with reverence that your profit may arise; it will not tarry with you, Ecce signum: here was a face! but time, that like a surfeit, eats our youth, plague of his Iron teeth, and draw 'em for't, has been a little bolder here the●… welcome? and now to say the truth, I am fit for no man, old men i'th' house of fifty call me Grannam; and when they are drunk, e'en then, when joan and my Lady are all one, not one will do me reason; my little Levite hath forsaken me, his silver sound of Cittern quite abollisht, his doleful Hymns under my Chamber window, digested into tedious learning; well fool, you leapt a haddock when you left him; he's a clean man, and a good edifier, and twenty nobles in's estate the claro, besides his Pigs in posse, to this good Homili●… I have been ever stubborn, which God forgive me for, and mend my manners: & love if ever thou hadst care of forty, of such a piece of lapland ground, hear my prayer, and fire his zeal so far forth, that my faults in this renewed impression of my love, may show corrected to our Gentle Reader.  To her Roger. 
See how negligently he passes by me? With what an Equipage canonical? As though he had broken the heart of Bellarmine, or added something to the singing brethren. 'Tis scorn, I know it and deserve it.— Master Roger.  Roger. 
Fair Gentlewoman, my name is Roger.  Abigal. 
Then Gentle Roger.  Roger. 
Ungentle Abigal.  Abigal. 
Why Mr. Roger, will you set your wit to a weak Woman's.  Roger. 
You are weak indeed, for so the Poet sings,  Abigal. 
I confess my weakness sweet Sir Roger.  Roger. 
Good my Lady's Gentlewoman, or my good Lady's Gentlewoman (this trope is lost to you now) leave your prating, you have a season of your first Mother in you; and surely had the Devil been in love, he had been abused too: go Dalida, you make men fools and wear fig Breeches.  Abigal. 
Well, well, hard hearted man; dilate upon the weak infirmities of Women; these are fit Texts, but once there was a time; would I had never seen those eyes, those eyes, those Orient eyes.  Roger. 
ay, they were pearls once with you.  Abigal. 
Saving your reverence Sir, so they are still.  Roger. 
Nay, nay, I do beseech you leave your cogging, what they are, they are, they serve me without spectacles I thank'um.  Abigal. 
O will you kill me?  Roger. 
I do not think I can, you're like a copy hold with nine lives in't.  Abigal. 
You were wont to bear a Christian fear about you; For your own worship's sake?  Roger. 
I was a Christian fool then: do you remember what a dance you led me? How I grew qualmed in love, and was a Dunce? Could expound but once a quarter, & then was out too: and then out of the stinking stir you put me in, I prayed for my own Royal issue, you do remember all this?  Abigal. 
O be as then you were.  Roger. 
I thank you for it, sure I will be wise Abigal; and as the Ethnic Poet sings, I will not lose my Oil and labour too, you're for the Worshipful I take it Abigal.  Abigal. 
O take it so, and then I am for you.  Roger. 
I like these tears well, and this humbling also; they are symptoms of contrition; if I should fall into my fit again, would you not shake me into a Quotidian Coxcomb; would you not use me scurvily again, and give me Possets with purging comfits in't? I tell thee Gentlewoman, thou hast been harder to me then a long Pedigree.  Abigal. 
Oh Curate cure me; I will love thee better, dearer, longer; I will do any thing, betray the secrets of the whole household to thy reformation, my Lady shall look lovingly on thy learning, and when true time shall point thee for a Parson, I will convert thy Eggs to penny Custards, and thy tithe Goose shall graze and multiply.  Roger. 
I am mollified, as well shall testify this faithful kiss, and have a great care Mistress Abigall how you depress the spirit any more with your rebukes and mocks: for certainly the edge of such a folly cuts its self.  Abigal. 
O Sir, you have pierced me thorough; here I vow a recantation to those malicious faults I ever did against you, never more will I despise your learning, never more pin Cards and Coney tails upon your Cassock, never again reproach your reverend Nightcap, and call it by the mangy name of murrain, never abuse your reverend person more, & say you look like one of Baal's Priests i'th' hangings, never again when you say grace, laugh at you, nor put you out at prayers, never cramp you more, nor when you ride get Soap and Thisles for you, no my Roger, these faults shall be corrected and amended, as by the tenor of my tears appears.  Roger. 
Now cannot I hold if I should be hanged, I must cry too, come to thine own beloved, and do even what thou wilt with me sweet, sweet Abigal. I am thine own for ever, here's my hand, when Roger proves a recreant hang him in the Bell-ropes.  Lady, 
How now Roger, will no prayers go down with you. 
* Here they are interrupted by the Lady, upon which Roger breaks forth to Abigal.   Roger. 
Do but stay a little, I'll chop up prayers and be with you again.  The Character the Younger Loveless gives of his Comrades to the Widow. Widow. 
But how these Sir, should live upon so little as Corn and Water, I am unbeleiving.  Young Loveless. 
Why prithee sweet heart, what's your Ale? is not that corn and water, my sweet Widow.  Widow. 
I but my sweet Knight where's the meat to this, and clothes that they must look for?  Young Loveless. 
In this short sentence Ale, is all included; meat, drink, and clothes; these are no ravening Footmen, no fellows, that at Ordinaries dare eat their eighteen pence thrice out before they rise, and yet go hungry to a play, and crack more nuts than would suffice a dozen Squirrels; besides the din, which is damnable: These are people of such a clean discretion in their diet, of such a moderate sustenance, that they sweat, if they but smell hot meat; pottage is poison, they hate a Kitchen as they hate a Counter, and shew'um but a Featherbed they sound; Ale is their eating and their drinking surely, which keeps their bodies clear, and soluble: Bread is a binder, and for that abolished, ' e'en in their Ale, whose lost room fills an Apple, which is more air, and of a subtler nature. The rest they take is little, and that little, is little ease, for like strict men of Order, they correct their bodies with a Bench, or a poor stubborn Table; if a Chimney offers itself with some few broken Rushes they are in Down; when they are sick, that's drunk, if they may have fresh straw, else they do despise these Worldly pamper, for their poor apparel 'tis worn out to the diet; new they seek none; and if a man should offer, they are angry; scarce to be reconciled again with him: you shall not heare'um ask one cast Doublet once in a year: which is modesty befitting my poor friends: you see their Wardrobe, though slender, competent: for shirts I take it, they are things worn out of their remembrance, lousy they will be when they list, and mangy, which shows a fine variety; and then to cure'um a Tanner's Lime-pit which is little charge, to Dogs and these, these two may be cured for three pence.  Widow. 
Use your pleasure Sir. Since I know your Diet Gentlemen, I'll take care that meat shall not offend you, you shall have Ale.  Captain. 
We ask no more, let it be mighty Lady; and if we perish, than our own sins on us.   

The Lame Commonwealth.  
ARGUMENT.  
A sort of Beggars meet at their Randevouze, and contend about choosing them a King, but are silenced by a Passenger, whose casting voice ends the controversy.  

ACTORS NAMES.  
Higgen,  
Ferret,  
Prig,  
Clause,  
Snap,  
Ginkes,  
jaculine,  
Goswin a Merchant, and  
Hubert a Gentleman.   Higgen. 
COme Princes of the ragged Regiment, you o'the blood, Prig my most upright Lord, and these (what name or title ere they bear) jarkman or Patrico, Cranke, or Clapperdudgeon, Frater, or Abram-man; I speak to all that stand in fair election for the title of King of Beggars, with the command adjoining, Higgen your Orator, in this inter-Regnum, that Whilom was your Dommerer, doth beseech you all to stand fair, and put yourselves in rank, that the first comer may at his first view make a free choice to say up the question.  Fer. Prig. 
'Tis done Lord Higgen.  Enter Clause. Higgen. 
Thanks to Prince Prig, Prince Ferret. But where is Clause.  Ferret. 
Behold the man. But pray my Masters all, Ferret be chosen, you're like to have a merciful mild Prince of me.  Prig. 
A very Tyrant, I, an arrant Tyrant. If e'er I come to reign; therefore look to't, except you do provide me Hum enough, and Lour to bouse with: I must have my Capons and Turkeys brought me in, with my green Geese, and Ducklings i'th' season: fine fat Chickens, Or if you chance where an eye of tame Pheasants or Partridges are kept, see they be mine, or straight I seize on all your privileges, places, revenues, offices, as forfeit, call in your crutches, wooden legs, false bellies, forced eyes, and teeth, with your dead arms; nor leave you a dirty clout to beg with on your heads, or an old rag with butter, frankincense, brimstone and resin, birdlime, blood, and cream to make you an old sore: not so much soap as you may some with i'th' falling-sickness; the very bag you bear, and the brown dish shall be escheated, all your daintiest dels too I will deflower, and take your dearest Doxies from your warm sides; and then some one cold night I'll watch you what old Barn you go to roost in, and there I'll smother you all i'th' musty Hay.  Higgen. 
This is Tyrant like indeed: but what would Ginkes or Clause be here, if either of them should reign?  Clause. 
Best ask an Ass, if he were made a Camel, what he would be; or a Dog and he were a lion.  Ginkes. 
I care not what you are, Sirs, I shall be a Beggar still, I am sure, find myself there.  Enter Goswin. Snap. 
O here a Judge comes.  Higgen. 
Cry a Judge, a Judge.  Goswin. 
What ayleyou Sirs? what means this outcry?  Higgen. 
Master, a sort of poor souls met: Gods-fools, good Master, have had some little variance amongst ourselves who should be honestest of us; and which uprightest in his call: now cause me thought we ne'er should 'gree on't ourselves, because indeed 'tis hard to say; we all dissolved, to put it to whom that should come next, and that's your Mastership, who I hope, will termine it as your mind serves you, right, and no otherwise we ask it: which? which does your worship think is he? sweet Master look over us all, and tell us; we are seven of us, like to the seven wise Masters, or the Planets.  Goswin. 
I should judge this the man with the grave beard, and if he be not,—  Clause. 
Bless you good Master, bless you.  Goswin. 
I would he were: there's something too amongst you to keep you all honest.  Snap. 
King of Heaven go with you.  Omnes. 
Now God reward him, may he never want it▪ to comfort still the poor in a good hour.  Ferret. 
What is't? see; Snap has got it.  Snap. 
A good Crown marry:  Prig. 
A crown of Gold.  Ferret. 
For our new King; good luck.  Ginkes. 
To the common treasury with it; if't be Gold thither it must.  Prig. 
Spoke like a Patriot, Ferret—  
King Clause, I bid God save the first, first, Clause, after this golden token of a Crown; where's Orator Higgen with his gratuling speech now in all our names?  Ferret. 
Here he is pumping for it.  Ginkes. 
H'has coughed the second time, 'tis but once more and then it comes.  Ferret. 
So, out withal; expect now—  Higgen. 
That thou art chosen venerable Clause, our King and Sovereign; Monarch o'th' Maunders, thus we throw up our Nab-cheats, first for joy, & then our filches; last we clap our fambles, three subject signs, we do it without envy: for who is he here did not wish thee chosen, now thou art chosen? ask 'em: all will say so, nay swear't, 'tis for the King, but let that pass; when last in conference at the bousing Ken this other day we sat about our dead Prince of famous memory: (rest, go with his rags:) and that I saw thee at the Tables end, rise moved, and gravely leaning on one Crutch, lift the other like a Sceptre at my head, I then presaged thou shortly wouldst be King, and now thou art so: but what needs presage to us, that might have read it in thy beard: Oh happy beard: but happier Prince whose beard was so remarked, as marked out our Prince, not baiting us a hair. Long may it grow, and thick and fair, that who lives under it, may live as safe, as under Beggars-Bush, of which this is the thing, that but the Type.  Omnes. 
Excellent, excellent Orator, forward good Higgen, give him leave to spit: the fine, well spoken Higgen.  Higgen. 
This is the beard, the bush, or bushy-beard under whose Gold and Silver reign 'twas said so many ages since, we all should smile on impositions, taxes, grievances, knots in a State, and whips unto a subject, lie lurking in his beard, but all kemed out: if now the Beard be such, what is the Prince that owes the Beard? a father; no, a Grandfather; nay the great Grandfather of you his people. He will not force away your Hens, your Bacon, when you have ventured hard for't, nor take from you the fattest of your puddings: under him each Man shall eat his own stolen Eggs and Butter, in his own shade, or Sun shine, and enjoy his own dear Dell, Doxy, or Mort, at night in his own straw, with his own shirt, or sheet, that he hath filched that day, I, and possess what he can purchase, back, or belly-cheats, to his own prop: he will have no purveyors for Pigs, and Poultry.  Clause. 
That we must have, my Learned Orator, it is our will, and every man to keep in his own Path and Circuit.  Higgen. 
Do you hear.  
You must hereafter maundon your own pads he says.  Clause. 
And what they get there, is their own, besides to give good words.  Higgen. 
Do you mark? to cut Bene-whids, that is the second Law.  Clause. 
And keep a foot the humble, and the common phrase of begging, least men discover us.  Higgen. 
Yes: and cry sometimes to move compassion; Sir, there is a Table, that doth command all these things, and enjoins 'em; be perfect in their Crutches: their feigned Plasters, and their true passe-bords, with the ways to stammer, and to be dumb, and deaf, and blind, and lame, There, all the halting paces are set down, i'th' learned Language.  Clause. 
Thither I refer them, those, you at leisure shall interpret to them, we love no heaps of Laws, where few will serve.  Omnes. 
O gracious Prince, save the good King Clause.  Higgen. 
A song to Crown him.  Ferret. 
Set a Sentinel out first.  Snap. 
The word?  Higgen. 
A cove comes. and fumbumbis to it— strike Which ended.  A Song. Enter Snap, Hubert, and Hemskirk. Snap. 
A Cove; Fumbumbis.  Prig. 
To your postures; Arme.  Hubert. 
Yonder's the Town; I see it.  Hemskirk. 
There's our danger indeed afore us, if our shadows save not.  Higgen. 
Bless your good worships.  Ferret. 
One small piece of money.  Prig. 
Amongst us all poor wretches.  Clause. 
Blind and lame.  Ginks. 
For his sake that gives all.  Hig. 
Pitiful worships.  Snap. 
One little doit.  Enter jaculine. jaculine. 
King, by your leave, where are you?  Clause. 
To buy a little bread.  Higgen. 
To feed so many mouths as will ever pray for you.  Prig. 
Here be seven of us.  Higgen. 
Seven, good Master, O remember seven, seven blessings.  Ferret. 
Remember, gentle Worshipful.  Higgen. 
'Gainst seven deadly sins.  Prig. 
And seven sleepers.  Higgen. 
If they be hard of heart, and will give nothing— alas we had not a charity this three days.  Ferret. 
Heaven reward you.  Prig. 
Lord reward you.  Higgen. 
The Prince of pity bless thee.  Hub. 
Do I see? or is't my fancy that would have it so? ha? 'tis her face; come hither Maid.  jaculine. 
What ha' you Bells for my Squirrel? I ha' given Bun meat, you do not love me do you? catch me a Butterfly, and I'll love you again; when? can you tell? Peace, we go a birding; I shall have a fine thing.  Hub. 
Her voice too says the same; but for my head I would not that her manners were so changed, hear me thou honest fellow; what's this Maiden that lives amongst you here?  Ginks. 
Ao, ao, ao, ao.  Hub. 
How? nothing but signs?  Ginks. 
Ao, ao, ao, ao.  Hub. 
'Tis strange, I would fain have it her, but not her thus.  Higgen. 
He is de— de— de— de— de— de— deaf, and du— du— du— dude-dumb sir.  Hub. 
'Slid they did all speak plain even now me thought, dost thou know this same Maid?  Snap. 
Why, why, why, why, which, gum, gum, gum, gum, God's fool she was bo— bo— bo— bo— born at the Barn yonder by be— be— be— be— Beggar's Bush, bo— bo— Bush, her name is My— my— my— my— Match; so was her Mother— More— Mothers too too.  Hub. 
I understand no word he says; how long has she been here?  Snap. 
lo— lo— long enough to be in— in— ingled; and she ha go— go— go— good luck  Exeunt Beggars. Hub. 
I must be better informed, then by this way. here was another face to that I marked, Oh the old man's but they are vanished all most suddenly; I will come here again, Oh that I were so happy, as to find it, what I yet hope? It is put on.  Exeunt Beggar Hubert. Enter Snap, and Ferret. Snap. 
The Coast is clear, Ferret, I bo— bo— bo —'d hence.  Ferret. 
ay, thou wert at thy ba, be, by, bo, but, which showed thou wert a Scholar.  Snap. 
He durst not hold discourse with me, so much for the credit of the Snaps, as the word says, either Snap some, or Snap all. That is if you cannot Snap all, Snap some.  Ferret. 
But thy snaping too short makes thee so lean, I think I have ferreted you there Snap.  Snap. 
We shall not get a snap if we prate longer, our King is served by this time, Dish, and bit, the Feast waits no man, but the man waits it.  Ferret. 
That is an eager stomach Snap; here I Ferret you again.  Exeunt.  

The Sexton, or the Mock- Testator.  
ARGUMENT.  
A Covetous jealous Lawyer, that keeps too severe an eye over his Wife, is drawn from home by a wild, to be made an Executor, and thereby enriched, whilst some Gentlemen effect their desire at his House.  

ACTORS NAMES.  
Sexton,  
Parson,  
Lawyer,  
two Gentlemen.   Table, Stools, Standish and Paper. LAwyer. 
So rich, and I his sole Executor.  Parson. 
Very right Sir, I am to make his will, will you come near Sir.  Lawyer. 
I am sorry neighbour to find you in so weak a State.  Sexton. 
Ye are welcome, but I am fleeting, Sir.  Lawyer. 
Methinks he looks well, his colour fresh and, strong, his eyes are cheerful.  Parson. 
A glimmering before death Sir, 'tis nothing else; do you see how he fumbles with the sheets?  Sexton. 
My learned Sir pray ye sit, I am bold to send for you to take a care of what I leave.—  Pars. 
Do you hear that?  Sexton. 
My honest neighbours weep not, I must leave ye, I cannot always bear ye company, we must drop still, there is no remedy: pray ye Mr. Parson will ye write my Testament, and write it largely, it may be remembered, and be witness to my legacies good Gentlemen: your worship I do make my full Executor, you are a man of wit and understanding: give me a cup of Wine to raise my spirits, for I speak low: I would, before these neighbours, have you to swear, (Sir) that you will see it executed; and what I give, let equally be rendered for my Souls health.  Lawyer. 
I vow it truly neighbours, let not that trouble ye, before all these, once more I give my Oath.  Sexton. 
Then set me higher, and pray you come near me all.  Parson. 
We are ready for you.  Sexton. 
First then, after I have given my Body to the Worms: (for they must be served first, they are seldom cozened.)  Parson. 
Remember your parish Neighbour.  Sexton. 
You speak truly, I do remember it, a vile lewd Parish, and pray it may be mended: To the poor of it (which is to all the Parish) I give nothing, for nothing unto nothing is most natural, yet leave as much space as will build an Hospital, their children may pray for me.  Lawyer. 
What do you give to it?  Sexton. 
Set down two thousand Ducats: To your Worship; (because you must take pains to see all finished) I give two thousand more, it may be three Sir, a poor gratuity for your painstaking.  Lawyer. 
These are large sums?  Parson. 
Nothing to him that has 'em.  Sexton. 
To my old Master I give five hundred, (five hundred and five hundred are too few Sir) but there are more to serve.  Lawyer. 
This fellow Coins sure.  Sexton. 
Give me some more drink, Pray ye buy Books, buy books, you have a learned head stuff it with libraries, and understand 'em when ye have done, 'tis justice, run not the parish mad with controversies, nor preach not as abstinence to longing women, 'twill purdge the bottom of their consciences: I would give the Church new Organs, but I prophesy the churchwardens would quickly pipe 'em out o'th' parish, two hundred Ducats more to mend the Chancel, and to paint true Orthography as many, They write Sunt with a C which is abominable, pray you set that down to poor maids Marriages.  Parson. 
I that's well thought of, what's your will in that point? A merritorious thing.  Sexton. 
I give per annum two hundred els of Lockram that there be no straight dealings in their Linens, but the sails cut according to their burdens; to all Bellringers, I bequeath new Ropes, and let them use them at their own discretions.  Gentlemen. 
You may remember us Sir.  Sexton. 
I do, good Gentlemen, and I bequeath you both good careful Surgeons a legacy, you have need of more than Money, I know you want good diets and good lotions▪ and in your pleasures good take heed.  Parson. 
He raves now, but 'twill be quickly off.  Sexton. 
I do bequeath ye commodities of thy pins: brown papers: Pack-threads, roast Pork and puddings: Gingerbread and jews trumps of penny pipes, and mouldy pepper: take 'em e'en where you please and be cozened with 'em, I should bequeath my Executours also, but those I'll leave to the Law.  Parson. 
Now he grows temperate.  Lawyer. 
You'll give no more.  Sexton. 
I am loath to give more from ye, because I know you will have a care to execute, only to pious uses, Sir a little.  Lawyer. 
If he be worth all these, I am made for ever.  Sexton. 
I give to fatal Dames that spin men's thredsout, and poor distressed Damsels that are militant, as members of our own afflictions, a hundred crowns to buy warm Tubs to work in, I give five hundred pounds to buy a Church yard, a spacious Church yard, to lay thieves and knaves in, rich men and honest men take all the room up.  Parson. 
Are you not weary?  Sexton. 
Never of well doing.  Lawyer. 
These are mad Legacies.  Sexton. 
They were got as madly, my sheep and oxen, and my moveables, my Plate and Jewels and five hundred acres; I have no heirs.  Lawyer. 
This cannot be, 'tis monstrous.  Sexton. 
Three Ships at Sea too.  Lawyer. 
You have made me full Executor?  Sexton. 
Full, full, and total, would I had more to give ye, but these may serve an honest mind.  Lawyer. 
You say true, a very honest mind, and make him rich too; But where shall I raise these moneys, where shall I find these sums?  Sexton. 
Even where ye please Sir, you are wise and provident, and know business, even raise 'em where you shall think good, I am reasonable.  Lawyer. 
Think good? will that raise thousands?  Sexton. 
You have sworn to see it done that's all my comfort.  Lawyer. 
Where I please? this is packed sure to disgrace me.  Sexton. 
Ye are just and honest, and I know ye will do it, e'en where you please, for you know where the wealth is.  Lawyer. 
I am abused, ●…baffl'd and bore it seems.  Gentlemen. 
No, ye are fooled.  Parson. 
Most finely fooled.  Sexton. 
Ha, ha, ha, some more drink, for my heart, Gentlemen this merry Lawyer— Ha, ha, ha this Scholar— I think this fit will cure me: this Executor— I shall laugh out my lungs.  Lawyer. 
This is derision above sufferance.  Gentlemen. 
Did you think, had this Man been rich, he would have chosen a Wolf, a Cancer, a Maggot-pate to be his whole Executor?  Parson. 
A Lawyer that entangles all men's honesties, and lives like a Spider in a cobweb, lurking, and catching at all flies, that pass his Pit falls? Puts powder to all States, to make 'em caper? would he trust you?  Sexton. 
Do you deserve? I find Gentlemen this Cataplasm of a well cozened Lawyer laid to my Stomach lenifies my fever, Methink I could eat now & walk a little.  Lawyer. 
I am ashamed to see how flat I am cheated, how grossly, and maliciously made a May-game:  2. Gentleman. 
This 'tis to covet all the gains, to have a stirring Oar in all men's actions.  Parson. 
We did this but to vex your fine officiousies.  Lawyer. 
I thank ye, I am fooled Gentlemen; the Lawyer is an Ass, I do confess it, a weak, dull, shallow Ass, good even to your Worships: Vicar, remember Vicar, Rascal remember, thou notable rich Rascal.  Sexton. 
I do remember Sir, pray ye stay a little, I have even two Legacies more to make your mouth up, Sir.  Lawyer. 
Remember Varlets, quake and remember Rogues, I have brine for your Buttocks.  Parson. 
Oh, how he frets and fumes now like a dunghill.  Exit. Sexton. 
His Gall contains fine stuff now to make poisons, rare damned stuff.  Gentlemen. 
Go, let's us crucify him.  Exeunt.  

A PRINCE in Conceit.  
ARGUMENT.  
Two Gentlemen Travellers resolving to see the fashions of the Court, leave their servants in an Inn with some Riches, they not returning at their appointed time, makes him conclude they are— and so run into extravagancies.  

ACTORS NAMES.  
Pimponio, the Prince in conceit,  
Host and his Son,  
Aurelio by the name of Borgia,  
Pisauro,  
Duchess, and  
Courtiers.   Enter Prince in Contemplation. PRINCE. 
Dead, dead, they are no doubt on't, and I Heir apparent to the portmanteau, an aglet hole or two in their hearts has done the business, the portmanteau, I say bring forth the portmanteau.  Enter Boy and his Father. Boy. 
'Tis here Sir.  Prince. 
And thy Father too Boy?  Father. 
What would you have, 'tis very late?  Prince. 
Never too late to tell Money, fetch me a brace of Gennets, I will mount 'em, a Covey of Courtesans, dost here?  Father. 
What does the fellow mean?  Prince. 
No fellows friend on thy allegiance, 'tis time to show ourself, where is thy Boy?  Boy. 
Here Signior.  Prince. 
Kneel down, and ask me blessing.  Boy. 
This does look like a blessing, shall I ask another?  prince. 
Ask any thing but what I am, I must be still disguised, my Men are absent.  Father. 
Your men?—  Prince. 
Thou art wise, thine ear, I am a Prince, the reason of my shape thou shalt know hereafter, thus jove has been disguised.  Boy. 
Is not your name Pimponio.  Prince. 
It was my pleasure they should call me so, I have not found 'em trusty, how fares the Duchess? Boy thou shalt wait on me, I'll have you all.  Father. 
Whether?  Prince. 
To Spain, when thou hast got a chapman for this tub thou liv'st in, let me know it.  Enter Pisauro. Pisauro. 
Where's Pimponio?  Prince. 
A pox pimp you, they are alive again, now am I a dead man.  Pisauro. 
There is a certain movable, eccliped a portmanteau.  Prince. 
Would your tongue had been clipped.  Father. 
With your pardon Sir, is not this Signior a Prince disguised, and came hither to Court the Duchess? he has promised us at his return from Spain to make us grandees.  Pisauro. 
Has he betrayed himself? nay than my duty; if please your excellence.  Prince. 
Away, away.  Pisauro. 
A Prince cannot be hid▪ though under Mountains, but my dear Prince the bags must go with me, while you keep State i'th' Inn.  Prince. 
Who shall maintain.  Pis. 
If I did think thou wouldst carry it handsomely— well I'll excuse thee to thy Master, when thou hast domineered away this Bag, thou mayst hear more, and so I take leave of your excellence.  Exit. Prince. 
Ha, am not I a Prince indeed? Grutti, Boy, I entertain you both my Groom, and Page, and say unto you, Snakes go cast your coats, here's earnest for new skins, when things are ripe we will to Court.  Father. 
What thinks your Grace of going to bed.  Prince. 
I am too sober, let the whole house be drunk first, let me have fifty Strumpets.  Father. 
Fifty Trumpets.  Prince. 
Strumpets I say, they'll make the greater noise, this room's too narrow, beat down the walls on both sides, advance your light, and call the country in, if there be a Tailor amongst 'em, he shall first take measure of my highness, for I must not longer walk in Querpo  Both. 
We attend your Highness.  Exeunt. Enter Father and Son again. Father. 
Why I shall hardly take thee for my own natural child.  Boy. 
Let me alone with my Don, he is gone to fit himself with clothes, and if I do not fit him, let me never find the way into my own breeches, see he has had a nimble Tailor, some Suit prepared to his hand, I know my cue to enter, and pursue his Princely humour out of breath.  Exit. Prince. 
And how, and how do things become? We were in clouds but now.  Enter Prince like a Don & servants. Father. 
Your Highness is broken out.  Prince. 
Broken out, where?  Father. 
Out of the clouds and please you.  Prince. 
There is no Infidel among you then, you all believe I am a Prince, there are no Traitors I hope amongst ye.  Father. 
Traitors we will cut off any man's neck, that dares but think so.  Prince. 
Do and I will justify it, hang necks among friends, let us be merry, reach me a Chair and a bottle of Wine, every one take his charge.  Father. 
Will not your Highness have the dance first.  Prince. 
They will dance the better when they are three quarters drunk, music and give fire at once— so, but methings it were necessary there were some difference in our drinking; all are not Princes, reach me a bigger bottle, I will preserve my state, This is a Princely draught— so— why have we not a concubine?  Music. Sound a health. Servant. 
Brave Prince with what a Majesty he drinks.  Prince. 
Now let 'em frisk the dance you have prepared, we are ready to accept it.  Father. 
And it shall please your Grace there is a high German desires to speak with you.  2. Seru. 
I fear you are betrayed Sir, and that the Duchess has sent for you.  Prince. 
For me, I won not come yet,  1. Servant. 
Do not affront him Sir for your own sake, this high German has beaten all the Fencers in Europe.  Prince. 
Let him beat all the World, what's that to me? shall he make a Prize of me?  Father. 
But if he come Ambassador from the Duchess.  Prince. 
That's an other matter, give me the t'other bottle— now let all the Cantons of Scorss come— which is the high German? let me see him.  Enter Boy. Father. 
That Sir.  Prince. 
He's one of the lowest high Germans that e'er I looked on.  Boy. 
I kiss thy highness hand.  Prince. 
And we embrace thy Lownes: d'ye hear Sir, are you a high German?  Boy. 
I was so at the beginning of the wars, what we are beaten to you may discern.  Prince. 
Are you beaten to this? you'll be a very little Nation if the wars continue.  Boy. 
I have a message to deliver you, the fair Duchess of Urbino, whom I wait on, hearing a person of your blood and quality, so meanly lodged, by me, desires you would accept an entertainment in her Court.  Prince. 
We give the Duchess thanks: But what High German in thy little judgement, dost think the Duchess will do with me there.  Boy. 
'Twere sin to say she'll honour you, for you are above all addition, but her love, 'tis probable you may be affronted.  Prince. 
No matter, I have been affronted a hundred times, but by whom?  Boy. 
Questionless by some great ones, and perhaps beaten.  Prince. 
I have been beaten too upon good occasion, and will again to save my Honour, beaten? I can take the strappado, beside in this part I am insensible, a Kick is cast away.  Boy. 
If you be valiant and endure, it will engage her love the more, go on boldly, my council shall attend.  Prince. 
I will go on, and fear no beating; well I cannot Knight thee, yet prove but a witch, I'll make thee one of my privy Councillors.  Exeunt. Enter Prince, and Boy with a Trumpet. Boy. 
Tara, Ramires ra ra, room for the Duke of Ferrara.  Exeunt. Enter Prince again, and two Courtiers. Prince. 
what's the matter.  1. Courtier. 
You have fooled finely, you must be whipped, and stripped, my scurvy Don.  Prince. 
Whip a Prince? what d'ye mean?  2. Courtier. 
You must be Duke of Ferrara▪  Prince. 
Duke of a Fiddlestick, are you in earnest Gentlemen? do you intent I shall catch an Ague Gentlemen?  1. Courtier. 
The lash, when the fit comes, will keep you warm, stay but a little, and we'll send you a whip to comfort you.  Prince. 
'Twill be but cold comfort, make the best on't; how am I transformed? where's my low high German now? Duke of Ferrara quoth of:— would I were any thing, I know not what I am, as they have handled me.  Enter Duchess and Courtier. Duchess. 
Is the Duke gone?  Courtier. 
Yes Madam.  Duchess. 
I'll have the fool hanged then.  Prince. 
That's I  Duchess. 
Alas poor fellow, Ha, ha, ha, what art thou?  Prince. 
Nothing, I hope she does not know me again, I must deny myself.  Duchess. 
Come hither sirrah, whose device was it to bid you say you were Duke of Ferrara?  Prince. 
Alas not I Madam, he is gone.  Duchess. 
Who is gone?  Prince. 
The insolent fellow that made a fool of your Highness.  Duchess. 
Whether is he gone?  Prince. 
To obey your Grace, and be whipped.  Dutch. 
Why do you shake so?  Prince. 
I'm very warm and please your Grace.  Dutch. 
where's your Clothiers.  Prince. 
My Clothes? I never wore any more in my life, I sweat with these.  Dutch. 
Alas poor fellow, he has punishment enough, who waits there.  Prin. 
Now to be sent to whipping cheer.  Enter a servant Dutch. 
Bid Borgia attend us.  Exit. Servant. 
I shall Madam.  Exit. Enter Borgia or Aurelio his Master. Borgia. 
How now sirrah, what are you?  Prince. 
A tumbler; do you not know me?  Borgia. 
I know thee?  Prince. 
What not Pimponio honest Pimponio.  Servant. 
Signior Borgia her Grace calls for you.  Exit. Borgia. 
I attend.  Prince. 
How Signior Borgia? then I am not I And there is no staying here to find myself, as I remember some back friends of mine did promise a clean whipped, I'll rather endure the foulness of the weather then stay for't, I must be dukified, be persuaded into Kicks— they'll return I won not tempt my destiny, she promised to hang me, and I can do that for myself when I have a mind to't.  Enter Courtiers. 1. Courtier. 
Kick that fellow out of the Court.  Prince. 
You are mistaken Sir, he means some body else, I have been kicked already,  

Oh gentle fate rid me out of their clutches:  
And then adieu to our picked-dame Duchess.   Exeunt. Enter Aurelio and Pisauro. 2. Courtier. 
What's the matter▪  Pimponio within. Oh yes, Oh yes. Pisauro. 
A fool has lost his Master, and thus cries him about the Court thy man Aurelio.  Enter Pimponio. Pimp. 
Oh Yes;  

If any Man there be  
In Town or in Country  
Can tell me of a wight,  
Was lost but yester Night:  
His name was I know  
Signior Aurelio,  
Bring word to the Crier  
His desolate Squire,   

By these marks, he is known  
He had a bush of his own,  
Two eyes in their place,  
And a Nose on his face,  
His Beard is very thin,  
But no hair on his Chin,  
And for this fine feat  
Take what you can get;   
And heaven bless Pimponio, for no body knows me and I know no body else to pray for.  Pisauro. 
Here, here's thy Master.  Pimp. 
No, no, that's Signior Borgia, not a word of whipping if you love me, do not deceive yourself.  Borgia. 
We have been both deceived, Pimponio I am thy master.  Pimponio. 
Why then I'll wander through an other World with you, a World that hath more charity in't, then to uncase a man for doing his master Honour.  Exeunt.  

An Equal Match.  
ARGUMENT.  
A loose Officer, and a wanton waiting Woman, marry in hope of either's Riches, and cozen one another.  

ACTORS NAMES.  
Perez,  
Estifania,  
an odl Woman and  
her Daughter, or  
Maid servant.   Enter Perez. PErez. 
Shall I never return to my own house again? we are lodged here in the miserablest Doghole, a conjurer's circle gives content above it, a Hawks mew is a Princely palace to't we have a bed no bigger than a basket, and there we lie like Butter clapped together, and sweat ourselves to sauce immediately, the fumes are infinite inhabit here too; and to that so thick they cut like Marmalet, so various too, they'll pose a Gold finder. Never return to mine own paradise? why wife I say, why Estifania?  Estif. 
Within. I am coming presently.  Per. 
Make haste good Jewel; I am like the people that live in the sweet Islands: I die, I die, if I stay but one day more here, my lungs are rotten with the damps that rise, and I cough nothing now but stinks of all sorts; the Inhabitants we have, are two starved Rats, for they are not able to maintain a Cat here, and those appear as fearful as two Devils, they have eat a map of the whole World up already, and if we stay a night longer we are gone for company, There's an old woman that's now grown to Marble, dried in this Brick hill, she sits i'th' Chimneys, which is but three tiles raised like a house of Cards, the true proportion of an old smoked hovel, there is a young thing too, that's nature meant for a Maid servant, but 'tis now a monster, she has a husk about her like a Chestnut, with laziness, and living under the line here, and these two make a hollow sound together, like Frogs or winds between two Doors that murmurs, mercy deliver me, O are you come wife! Shall we be free again?  Enter Estif. Estif. 
I am now going, and you shall presently to your own house Sir, by that time you have said your Orisons, and broke your fast, I shall be back and ready to usher you to your old content, your freedom.  Perez. 
Break my neck rather, is there any thing here to eat but one another like a race of Cannibals, a piece of buttered wall you think is excellent, let's have our house again, immediately, and pray ye take heed unto the Furniture, none be embezzled?  Estifania. 
Not a pin I warrant you.  Perez. 
And let 'em instantly depart.  Estif. 
They shall both, for by this time she has acquainted him, and will give over gratefully unto you.  Perez. 
I'll walk i'th' churchyard, the dead cannot offend me more than these living, an hour hence I'll expect you.  Estifania. 
I'll not fail Sir.  Perez. 
And do ye hear, le's have a handsome dinner, and let me have a strong Bath to restore me, I stink like a stall-fish-shambles, or an Oyle-shop.  Estifania. 
You shall have all; which some interpret nothing.  Exeunt. Enter again Perez, with an old Woman and Maid. Perez. 
Nay, pray ye come out, and let me understand ye, and tune your Pipe a little higher Lady, I'll hold ye fast:  Old Wo. 
Ha, what would you have?  Perez. 
My goods again, how came my trunks all open.  Old Wo. 
Are your Trunks gone?  Perez. 
Yes, and clothes gone, and Chains, and Jewels, how she smells like hung Beef, the palsy and picklocks, fie how she belches the spirit of Garlic.  Old Wo. 
Where's your Gentlewoman? the young fair Woman?  Perez. 
What's that to my question? she is my Wife, and gone about my business.  Old Wo. 
Is she your Wife Sir?  Perez. 
Yes Sir, Is that wonder, is the name of Wife unknown here.  Old Wo. 
Is she truly, truly your Wife?  Perez. 
I think so, for I married her, it was no vision sure.  Old Wo. 
If you be married to that Gentlewoman you are a wretched man, she has twenty husbands.  Maid. 
She tells you true.  Old Wo. 
And she has cozened all Sir.  Perez. 
The devil she has, I had a fair house with her that stands hard by, and furnished Royally.  Old Wo. 
You are cozened too, 'tis none of hers, good Gentleman, It is a Ladies, what's the Lady's name wench?  Maid. 
The Lady Margarita, she was her servant, and kept the house, but going from her Sir, for some lewd tricks she played.  Perez. 
Plague a'the devil, Am I i'th' Meridian of my wisdom cheated by a stale Quean? what kind of Lady is that, that owes the house?  Old Wo. 
A young sweet Lady.  Perez. 
Of a low stature?  Old Wo. 
She is indeed of a low stature, but wondrous fair.  Perez. 
I feel I am cozened, sensible I am undone, was she her Mistress say you?  Old Wo. 
Her own Mistress, her very Mistress Sir, and all you saw about that house was hers.  Perez. 
No plate, no Jewels, nor no hangings? No Money?  Old Wo. 
She is a poor shifting thing, but for one Gown her Lady gave her.  Perez. 
I am mad now, I think I am as poor as she, I am wild else, one civil suit I have left, and that's all, if she steal that she must flay me for it, where does she use?  Old Wo. 
You may find truth as soon, alas a thousand concealed corners Sir she lurks in, and here she gets a fleece, and there another, and lives in mists and smokes where none can find her.  Perez. 
Is she a whore too?  Old Wo. 
Little better Gentleman, I dare not say she is so, she is yours.  Perez. 
A Whore and a Thief too, two excellent moral virtue, in one she's Saint, I hope to see her legend, well here's a Royal left yet, there's for your lodging and your meat for this week; a Silkworm lives at a more plentiful ordinary, and sleeps in a sweeter Box, Farewell great Grandmother, if I do find you were an accessary, 'tis but cutting off two smoky minutes, I'll hang you presently.  Exeunt. Enter again at one end, and his Wife at the other. Estif. 
'Tis he, I am caught, I must stand to it stoutly.  Perez. 
It is my evil Angel, let me bless me; my worthy wife?  Estif. 
My most noble Husband.  Perez. 
I have been in bawdy houses.  Estif. 
I believe you, and very lately too.  Perez. 
To seek your Ladyship, in Cellars too, in private Cellars where the thirsty bawds hear your confessions, I was among the Nuns because you sing well, but they say yours are bawdy songs, they mourn for ye, and last I went to Church to seek you out, 'tis so long since you were there, they have forgot you.  Estif. 
You have had a merry progress, I'll tell nine now, I went to twenty Taverns.  Perez. 
And are you sober.  Estif. 
Yes, I reel not yet sir, where I saw twenty drunk, most of them Soldiers, from thence toth' Diceing-house, there I found quarrels needless, and senseless, Swords, and Pots, and Candlesticks, Tables, and Stools, and all in one confusion; then to the Chirurgeons went, who learnedly told me, if you tippled hard twenty to one you whored too, and then he should hear of you; last to your Confessor I came who told me you were too proud to pray, and here I have found ye.  Perez. 
She bears up bravely, and the Rogue is witty, why am I cozened, why am I abused? Thou most vile, base, abominable.  Estif. 
Captain.  Perez. 
Thou stinking, overstewed, poor, pocky.  Estif. 
Captain.  Perez. 
D'you echo me.  Estif. 
Yes sir, and go before you too, you had best now draw your Sword Captain, draw it, upon a Woman, do brave Captain, upon your Wife, oh most renowned Captain.  Perez. 
A plague upon thee, why didst thou marry me?  Estif. 
To be my Husband.  Perez. 
Why didst thou flatter me, and show me wonders, a House and riches? when they are but shadows, shadows to me.  Estif. 
Why did you work on me with your strong Soldier's wit, and swore you would bring me so much in Chains? so much in Jewels Husband, and here's your Treasure, sell it to a Tinker to mend old Nettles; is this noble usage?  Perez. 
A Fire subtle you, are ye so crafty?  Estif. 
Here's a goodly Jewel, did not you win this at Golletta Captain, or took it in the Field from some brave Bashaw? how it sparkles like an old Lady's eyes? and fills each Room with Light like a Darklanthorn, this would do rarely in an Abbey Window, to cozen Pilgrims.  Perez. 
Prithee leave prating.  Estif. 
And here's a Chain of Whitings-eyes for Pearls, a Mussel-monger would have made a better.  Perez. 
Nay, prithee Wife, my clothes, my clothes.  Estif. 
I'll tell ye, your clothes are parallels to these all counterfeit, put these and them on, you are a Man of Copper, a kind of Candlestick, these you thought, my Husband to have cozened me withal, but I am quit with you.  Perez. 
Is there no House then, nor no ground about it, no Plate, nor Hangings.  Estif. 
There are none sweet Husband; shadow for shadow is an equal; justice, can you rail now? pray put your fury up sir, and speak great words, you are a Soldier, Thunder.  Perez. 
I will speak little, I have played the fool, and so I am rewarded.  Estif. 
You have spoken well sir.  Exeunt.  

The STALLION.  
ARGUMENT.  
A Gentleman falls into the hands of Officers, to whom be must either pay a sum of money, or be constrained to serve in the Galleys for some years, a Matrona to a Brothel, taking a liking to him, pays the imposed sum, and takes him to her House, where he serves the womens' unsatiate importunities; being drained and wearied, is by a happy accident released.  

ACTORS NAMES.  
Ruttillio,  
Officers,  
Bawd,  
Pimp,  
three or four sick Persons belonging to the Brothel,  
a Gentleman.   Enter Bawd, and Pimp. Bawd. 
Shall I never see a lusty Man again.  Pimp. 
Faith Mistress, you do so overlabour 'em, and so dry-founder 'em, they cannot last.  Baud. 
Where's the Frenchman?  Pimp. 
Alas, he's all to fitters, and lies taking the height of his fortune with a Sirrenger, he's chined, he's chined good Man, he is a mourner.  Baud. 
what's become of the Don?  Pimp. 
Who? gold Locks? he's foul i'th' Touchhole: and recoils again, the main Springs weakened that holds up his Cock, he lies at the sign of the Sun to be new breeched.  Baud. 
The Rutter too is gone.  Pimp. 
Oh, that was a brave Rascal, he would labour like a Thresher; but alas what thing can ever last? he has been ill-mewed, and drawn too soon; I have seen him in the Hospital.  Baud. 
There was an Englishman.—  Pimp. 
ay, there was an Englishman; you'll scant find any now to make that name good. There was those Englishmen, that were Men indeed, but they are vanished: They are so taken up in their own Country, and so beaten off their speed by their own Women, when they come here they draw their Legs like Hackneys, drink, and their own devices have undone 'em.  Baud. 
I must have one that's strong, no life in Lisbon else, perfect and young; my custom with young Ladies and high fed City-dames will fall and break else, I want myself too in my age to nourish me; They are all sunk I maintained, now what's this business? what goodly fellows that?  Enter Ruttillio, and Officers. Ruttillio. 
Why do you drag me? Pox on your Justice, let me lose, cannot a Man fall into one of your drunken Cellars, and venture the breaking on's Neck, but he must be used thus rascally.  1 Officer. 
What made you wandering so late i'th' night? you know that is imprisonment.  Ruttillio. 
May be I walk in my sleep.  Officer. 
What made you wandering sir, into that Vault where all the City store and the Ammunition lay?  Ruttillio. 
I fell into't by chance, I broke my shins for't, your Worships feel not that; I knocked my Head against a hundred Posts, would you had had it, cannot I break my Neck in my own defence?  Officer. 
Your coming thither was to play the Villain, to fire the Powder and blow up that part o'th' City.  Ruttillio. 
Yes, with my Nose.  Officer. 
We have told you what's the Law, he that is taken there, unless a Magistrate, and have command in that place, presently if there be nothing found apparent, near him worthy his Torture, or his present death, must either pay his Fine for his presumption, (which is six hundred Ducats) or for six years tug at an Oak i'th' Galleys; may be you were drunk, you'll be kept sober there.  Ruttillio. 
Tug at an Oar, you are not errand Rascals to catch me in a Pit fall and betray me?  Baud. 
A lusty-minded Man.  Pimp. 
O, wondrous able.  Baud. 
Pray Gentlemen allow me but that liberty to speak a few words with your Prisoner, and I shall thank you.  Officer. 
Take your pleasure Lady.  Baud. 
What would you give that Woman should redeem you, redeem you from this slavery.  Ruttillio. 
Besides my service, I would give her my whole self, I would be her Vassal.  Baud. 
She has great reason to expect as much, considering the great sum she pays for't, yet take comfort, what you shall do to merit this, is easy, and I will be the Woman shall befriend you, 'Tis but to entertain some handsome Ladies, and young fair Gentlewomen; you guess the way; but— giving of your mind—  Ruttillio. 
I am excellent at it, you cannot pick out such another living; I understand you, is't not thus?▪—  Baud. 
Ye have it.  Rutt. 
Bring me a hundred of 'em, I'll dispatch 'em, I will be none but yours; should another offer another way to redeem me, I should scorn it, what Women you shall please; I am monstrous lusty, not to be taken down; would you have Children? I'll get you those as fast, and thick as fly-blows.  Baud. 
I admire him, wonder at him.  Ruttillio. 
Hark you Lady, you may require some times.—  Baud. 
I by my faith.  Ruttillio. 
And you have it by my faith and handsomely; this old Cat will suck shrewdly; you have no Daughter? I fly at all; now I am in my Kingdom, Tug at an Oar? no, tug in a Featherbed with good warm Caudles; hang your bred and water, I'll make you young again, believe that Lady; I will so furbish you.  Baud. 
Come fellow Officers, this Gentleman is free; I'll pay the Ducats.  Ruttillio. 
And when you catch me in your Citty-powdering Tub again, boil me with Cabbage.  Officer. 
You are borh warned and armed Sir.  Exeunt. Enter Ruttillio with a Nightcap, as in the Brothell-house. Ruttillio. 
Now do I look as if I were Crow-trodden, fie, how my hams shrink under me; O me, I am broken-winded too; Is this a life? Is this the recreation I have aimed at? I had a body once, a handsome body, and wholesome too; now I appear like a Rascal that had been hung a year or two in Gibbets, fie, how I faint; Women? keep me from Women; Place me before a Cannon, 'tis a pleasure; stretch me upon a Rack, a recreation; but Women? Women? O the Devil Women? courteous Gulf was never half so dangerous; Is there no way to fall into the Cellar again, and be taken? no lucky fortune to direct me that way? no Galleys to be got, nor yet no Gallows? for I fear nothing now, no Earthly thing but these unsatisfied Men-leeches, Women: how divelishly my bones ache: oh the old Lady! I have a kind of waiting-woman lies cross my back too, oh how she stinks! no treason to deliver me? now what are you? do you mock me?  Enter 3. or 4. with Nightcaps very faintly. 1 
No sir no, we were your predecessors in this place.  2 
And come to see how you bear up.  Ruttillio. 
Good Gentlemen, you seem to have a snuffing in your head sir, a perilous snuffing, but this same dampish air—  2 
A dampish air indeed.  Ruttillio. 
Blow your face tenderly, your nose will ne'er endure it; mercy on me, what are men changed to here? is my nose fast yet? methinks it shakes i'th' hilts; pray tell me Gentlemen, how long is't since you flourished here?  3 
Not long since.  Ruttillio. 
Move yourself easily, I see you are tender, nor long endured.  2 
The labour was so much sir, and so few to perform it—  Ruttillio. 
Must I come to this? and draw my legs after me like a lame dog? I cannot run away, I am too feeble; will you sue for this place again Gentlemen?  1 
No truly sir, the place has been too warm for our Complexions.  2 
We have enough on't, rest you merry sir, we came but to congratulate your fortune, you have abundance.  3 
Bear your fortune soberly, and so we leave you to the next fair Lady.  Exit the three. Ruttillio. 
Stay but a little, and I'll meet you Gentlemen, at the next Hospital, there's no living thus, nor am I able to endure it longer, with all the helps and heats that can be given me, I am at my trot already; they are fair and young most of these Women that repair to me, but they stick on like burrs, shake me like feathers, more Women yet?  Enter Baud. 
Would I were honestly married, to any thing that had but half a face, and not a great to keep her, nor a smock, that I might be civilly merry when I pleased, rather than labouring in these fulling Mills.  Baud. 
I see you bear up bravely yet.  Ruttillio. 
Do ye hear Lady, do not make a Game-bear of me, to play me hourly, and fling on all your Whelps; it will not hold; play me with some discretion, to day one course, and two days hence another.  Baud. 
If you be angry, pay back the money I redeemed you at, and take your course; I can have Men enough: you have cost me an hundred Crowns since you came hither, in broths and strengthening Caudles; till you do pay me, if you will eat and live, you shall endeavour, I'll chain you to't else.  Ruttillio. 
Make me a Dog-kennel, I'll keep your House and bark, and feed on bare bones, and be whipped out of doors, do ye mark me Lady? whipped, I'll eat old shoes.  Enter a Gentleman. Baud. 
Your business sir, if it be for a Woman, ye are cozened, I keep none here.  Gent. 
Certain this is the Gentleman, the very same.  Rutt. 
Death, if I had but money, or any friend to bring me from this bondage, I would thrash, set up a Cobbler's stall, keep Hogs, and feed with 'em, sell Tinderboxes, and knights of Gingerbread, that's for three half pence a day, and think it Lordly, from this base Stallion trade: why does he eye me, eye me so narrowly?  Gent. 
It seems you are troubled Sir, I heard you speak of want.  Rutt. 
'Tis better hearing far then relieving Sir:  Gent. 
I do not think so, you know me not.  Rutt. 
Not yet that I remember.  Gent. 
You shall, and for your friend, be confident I love you, by this you shall perceive it, 'tis Gold, & no small sum, a thousand ducats supply your want.  Rutt. 
But do you do this faithfully.  Gent. 
If I mean ill, spit in my face, and kick me; in what else I may serve you Sir, command.  Rutt. 
I thank you, this is as strange to me as Knight's adventure? where are you white broth? now lusty blood come in and tell your money: 'tis ready here, no threats, nor no Orations, nor prayers now.  Baud. 
You do not mean to leave me.  Rutt. 
I'll live in Hell sooner than here, and cooler, come quickly come, dispatch, this airs unwholesome: quickly good Lady quickly to't.  Baud. 
Well since it must be, the next I'll fetter faster sure, and closer.  Rutt. 
And pick his bones, as you've done mine, pox take ye.  Gentle. 
At my Lodging for a while, you shall be quartered, and there take Physic for your health.  Rutt. 
I think I have found my good Angel now, if I can keep him.  Exeunt.  

The GRAVE-MAKERS.  
ARGUMENT.  
While▪ he is making the Grave, for a Lady that drowned herself, Hamlet and his friend interrupt him with several Questions.  

ACTORS NAMES.  
Grave-maker, and  
his Man,  
Hamlet, and  
his Friend.   Enter two to dig the Grave. 
IS she to be buried in Christian burial, when she wilfully seeks her own Salvation?  Man. 
I tell thee she is, therefore make her Grave straight; the Crowner hath sat on her, and finds it Christian burial.  Grav. 
How can that be, unless she drowned herself, in her▪ own defence?  Man. 
Why 'tis found so.  Grav. 
It must be so offended, it cannot be else; for here lies the point, if I drown myself willingly it argues an act, and an act hath three branches, it is to act, to do, to perform, or all; she drowned herself wittingly.  Man. 
Nay, but hear you good man Delver.  Grav. 
Give me leave, here lies the water, good, here stands the man, good, if the man go to this water and drown himself, it is nill he, will he; he goes, mark you that: but if the water come to him and drowns him, he drowns not himself; argall, he that is not guilty of his own death, shortens not his own life.  Man. 
But is this Law?  Grav. 
I marry is't, Crowner's quest law.  Man. 
Will you have the truth on't, if this had not been a Gentlewoman, she should have been buried out of Christian burial.  Grave. 
Why there thou sayst, and the more pity that great folk should have countenance in this World to drown or hang themselves, more than meaner christians: come my spade, there is no ancient Gentlemen but Gardeners, ditchers and Grave-makers, they hold up Adam's profession.  Man. 
Was he a Gentleman?  Grave. 
He was the first that ever bore Arms. I'll put another question to thee, if thou answerest me not to the purpose, confess thyself.  Man. 
Go to.  Grave. 
What is he that builds stronger than either the Mason, the Shipwright or the Carpenter?  Man 
The Gallowes-maker, for that outlives a thousand Tenants.  Grave. 
I like thy wit well in good faith, the Gallows does well, but how does it well? it does well to those that do ill, now thou dostill to say the Gallows is built strongerthen the Church, Argall the Gallows may do well to thee, to't again, come.  Man. 
Who builds stronger than a Mason, a Shipwright or a Carpenter?  Grave. 
ay, tell me that and unyoke.  Man. 
Marry now I can tell.  Grave. 
To't.  Man▪ 
Mass I cannot tell.  Grave. 
Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull Ass will not mend his pace with beating, and when you are asked this question next, say a Grave-maker, the houses he makes last till Doomsday, go get thee in and fetch me a soup of liquour.  Sings. 

In youth when I did love, did love  
Methought it was very sweet,  
To contract, O the time for a my behoof,  
O methought there was nothing a meet.   Enter two Gentlemen. 1. Gent. 
Has this fellow no feeling of his business? a sings in Grave-making.  Sings. 1. Grave. 

But age with his stealing steps  
Hath clawed me in his clutch,  
And hath shiped me into the Land,  
As if I had never been such.   Ham. 
That skull had a tongue in it, & could sing once, how the knave jowles it to the ground, as if 'twere Cain's Jawbone, that did the first murder: this might be the pate of a politician which this Ass now o'erreaches, one that would circumvent God, might it not?  2. Gent. 
It might Sir.  Ham. 
Or of a Courtier, which could say, good morrow my Lord, how dost thou sweet Lord? this might be my Lord such a one, that praised my Lord such a ones Horse when he meant to beg it, might it not?  2. Gent. 
I Sir.  Hamlet. 
Why e'en so, and now my Lady Worms choples, and knocks about the mazer with a Sexton's spade, here's fine revolution, and we had the trick to see't, did these bones cost no more the breeding but to play at loggits with 'em? mine ache to think on't.  Grave. 

A Pickaxe and a Spade a spade,  
For and a shrouding sheet,  
O a pit of Clay for to be made  
For such a Guest is meet.   Ham. 
There's another, why may not that be the Scull of a Lawyer? where be his quiddities now? his quillities, his cases, his terms, and his tricks? why does he suffer this mad knave now to knock him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his actions of battery? hum: this fellow might be in's time a great buyer of Land, with his statutes, his rogguizance, his fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries, to have his fine pate full of fine dirt; will vouchers vouch him no more of his purchases and doubles, than the length and breadth of a pair of Indentures? the very conveyances of his land will scarcely lie in this Box, and must the Inheritor himself have no more? Ha?  Friend. 
Not a jot more Sir.  Ham. 
Is not parchment made of Sheep skins?  Friend. 
I Sir, and of Calf's skins too.  Ham. 
They are Sheep and Calves which seek out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow: whose Grave's this firrah?  Gravemaker. 
Mine Sir, or a pit of Clay for to be made.  Ham. 
I think it's thine indeed, for thou liest in't.  Gravem. 
You lie out on't Sir, and therefore 'tis not yours: for my part I do not lie in't, yet it is mine.  Ham. 
Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say it is thine, 'tis for the dead, not for the quick, therefore thou liest.  Gravem. 
'Tis a quick lie Sir, 'twill again from me to you.  Ham. 
What man dost thou dig it for?  Gravem. 
For no man Sir.  Ham. 
What Woman then?  Gravem. 
For none neither.  Ham. 
Who is to be buried in't?  Gravem. 
One that was a Woman Sir, but rest her soul, she's dead.  Ham. 
How long hast thou been a Grave-maker.  Gravem, 
Of the days i'th' year I came to't, that day that our last King Hamlet overcame Fortinbrass.  Ham. 
How long is that since?  Gravem. 
Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that; it was that very day that young Hamlet was born, he that is mad, and sent into England.  Ham. 
I marry, why was he sent into England?  Gravem. 
Why, because he was mad, a shall recover his wits there, or if he do not, 'tis no great matter there.  Friend. 
Why?  Gravem. 
'T will not been seen in him there, there are Men as mad as he.  Friend. 
How came he mad?  Gravem. 
Very strangely they say.  Ham. 
How strangely?  Gravem. 
Faith e'en with losing his wits.  Ham. 
Upon what ground?  Gravem. 
Why here in Denmark: I have been Sexton here man and boy thirty years.  Ham. 
How long will a man lie i'th' earth ere he rot?  Gravem. 
Faith if he be not rotten before he die, as we have many pocky courses that will scarce hold the laying in, a will last you some eight year or nine year; a Tanner will last you nine year.  Friend. 
Why he more than another?  Gravem. 
Why Sir his Hide is so tanned with his Trade, that a will keep out water a great while, and your water is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body: here's a scull now hath lain you i'th' earth twenty three years.  Ham. 
Whose was it?  Gravem. 
A whoreson mad fellow it was, whose do ye think it was?  Ham. 
Nay I know not.  Gravem. 
A pestilence on him for a mad Rogue, a poured a Flagon of Rhenish on my head once; this same scull Sir, was Sir Yoricks' the King's Jester.  Ham. 
This?  Gravem. 
‛ E'en that.  Ham. 
Alas poor Yorick, I knew him friend, a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy, but where be your Gibes now▪ your Gambols, your Songs of merriment? quite chop fall'n? prithee friend tell me one thing.  Friend. 
What's that Sir?  Ham. 
Dost thou think Alexander looked a this fashion i'th' earth?  Friend. 
‛ E'en so.  Ham. 
And smelled so? pah.  Friend. 
E'en so Sir.  Ham. 
To what base uses may we return? why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till a find it stopping a Bunghole.  Friend. 
'Twere to consider, too curiously to consider so.  Ham. 
No faith not a jot, but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returned to dust, the dust is Earth, of Earth we make Lome, and why of that Loam whereto he was converted, might they not stop a Beer-barrel?  

Imperial Caesar dead, and turned to clay,  
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away;  
Oh that that Earth which kept the World in awe,  
Should patch a Wall t'expel the Water flaw.    

The Loyal Citizens.  
ARGUMENT.  
Who rescue their Prince condemned to die, by the plots and designs of his Stepmother.  

ACTORS NAMES.  
Four Citizens, and  
a Boy.   Enter Citizen, and his Boy. CItizen. 
Sirrah, go fetch my Fox from the Cutlers; there's money for the scouring, tell him, I stop a groat since the last great Muster he had in store pitch for the bruise he took with the recoiling of his Gun.  Boy. 
Yes sir.  Citiz. 
And do you hear? when you come, take down my Buckler, and sweep the Cobwebs off, and grind the Pick on't, and fetch a Nail or too, and tack on the Bracers; your Mistress made a Potlet on't, I thank her, at her Maid's wedding, and burnt off the handle.  Boy. 
I will sir.  Citiz. 
Whose within here, ho, neighbour, not stirring yet?  Enter 2. Citizen. 2 Citizen. 
Oh good morrow, good morrow: what news, what news?  1 Citiz. 
It holds, he dies this morning.  2 Citiz. 
Then happy Man be his fortune; I am resolved.  1 Citiz. 
And so am I, and forty more good fellows, that will not give their heads for the washing, I take it.  2 Citiz. 
'Sfoot Man, who would not hang in such good Company? and such a Cause? A fire, a Wife, and Children, 'tis such a jest that Men should look behind 'em to the World; and let their honours, their honour's neighbourship.—  1 Citiz. 
I'll give thee a pint of Bastard, and a Role for that bare word.  2 Citiz. 
They say that we Tailors are things that lay one another, and our Geese hatch us; I'll make some of 'em feel they are Geese o'th' Game then, jack take down my Bill, 'tis ten to one I use it; take a good heart Man, all the low Ward is ours with a wet finger: and lay my cut-fingered Ganlet ready for me, that, that I used to work in when the Gentlemen were up against us, and beaten out of Town, and almost out of debt too; for a plague on 'em, they never paid well since: and take heed sirrah, your Mistress hears not of this business, she's near her time; yet if she do, I care not, she may long for Rebellion, for she has a devilish spirit.  1 Citiz. 
Come le's call up the new Ironmunger, he's as tough as steel, and has a fine wit in these resurrections, are you stirring Neighbour.  3 Citizen within. 
Oh good morrow  knocks. 
Neighbours, I'll come to you presently.  2 Citiz. 
Go to, this is his Mother's doing; she's a Ponlcat.  1 Citiz. 
As any is in the World.  2. Citiz. 
Then say I have hit it, and a vengeance on her Let he●… be what she will.  1. Citiz. 
Amen say I, she has brought things to a fine pass with her wisdom: do you mark it?  2. Citiz. 
One thing I am sure she has, the good old Duke she gives him Pap again they say, and dandles him, and hangs a Coral and Bells about his Neck, and makes him believe his teeth will come again, which if they did, and I he, I would weary her as never Cur was wearied: I would Neighbour, till my teeth meet, I know where— but that's council.  Enter the 3. Citizen. 3. Citiz. 
Good morrow neighbours: hear you the sad news?  1. Citiz. 
Yes, would we knew as well how to prevent it.  3. Citiz. 
I cannot tell, methinks 'twere no great matter, if men were men: But.—  2. Citiz. 
You do not twit me with my calling neighbour?  3. Citiz. 
No surely: for I know your spirit to be tall, pray be not vexed.  2. Citiz. 
Pray forward with your council: I am what I am: And they that prove me, shall find me to their cost: do you mark me neighbour? to their cost I say.  1. Citiz. 
Nay look how soon you are angry.  2. Citiz. 
They shall neighbour: Yes, I say they shall.  3. Citiz. 
I do believe they shall.  1. Citiz. 
I know they shall.  2. Citiz. 
Whether you do or no, I care not two pence, I am no beast, I know mine own strength Neighbours; God bless the King, your companies is fair.  1. Citiz. 
Nay now you err, Neighbour I must tell you so, were ye twenty neighbours.  3. Citiz. 
You had best go Peach, do peach.  2. Citiz. 
Peach, I scorn the motion.  3. Citiz. 
Do and see what follows: I'll spend an hundred pounds, and it be two I care not, but I'll undo thee.  2. Citiz. 
Peach, Oh disgrace! Peach in thy face, and do the worst thou canst I am a true man, and a free man, peach.  1. Citiz. 
Nay, look, you will spoil all.  2. Citiz. 
Peach.  1. Citiz. 
Whilst you two brawl together, the Prince will lose his life.  3. Citiz 
Come give me your Hand, I love you well, are you for the action?  2. Citiz. 
Yes, but Peach provokes me, 'tis a cold fruit, I feel it cold in my stomach still.  3. Citiz. 
No more, I'll give you Cake to digest it.  Enter the 4th Citizen. 4. Citiz. 
Shut up my Shop, and be ready at a call boys, and one of you run over my old Tuck with a few ashes, 'tis grown odious with toasting Cheese! and burn a little Gunpowder in my murrain, the maid made it her chamber pot, an hour hence I'll come again; and as you hear from me, send me a clean Shirt.  3. Citiz. 
The chandler by the Wharfe, and it be thy will.  2. Citiz. 
Gossip, good morrow.  4. Citiz. 
O good morrow Gossip: good morrow all, I see you of one mind ye cleave so close together: Come 'tis time, I have prepared a hundred if they stand.  1. Citiz. 
'Tis well done: shall we sever, and about it?  4. Citiz. 
If my Tuck hold, I'll spit the Guard like Larks with Sage in th'be●…y o'um.  2. Citiz. 
I have a foolish Bill to reckon with 'em, will make some of their hearts ache, and I'll lay it on: now shall I fight, 'twill do ye good to see me.  3. Citiz. 
Come I'll do something for the Town to talk of when I am rotten: pray God there be enough to kill, that's all.   

invisible Smirk, or the Pen Combatants.  
ARGUMENT.  
A day of juble is appointed by the Duke, wherein every one to express his duty endeavours something of Mirth, to Crown that day.  

ACTORS NAMES.  
Duke,  
Duchess,  
Frederick,  
Smirk,  
a Conjurer,  
a Spirit,  
a Page, and  
Lord Shallow.   Enter Smirk. SMIRK. 
Thanks my dear Gem, I've found thy virtue now, I had not passed 'em else, a man may have an invisible Ring I see and not know of it, what is this all the divices sports and delights the Duke shall have for his money? the Proclamation promiseth reward for him, shall show any varieties, and will it all come to a dull Masque? I'll show his Grace some sport myself with help of my good friend here, which now must off again, by your Majesty's leave.  Duke. 
How now what's he?  Smirk. 
What's he? the wonder of your Kingdom.  Duke. 
How, the wonder▪  Smirk. 
ay, and can do the greatest,— now you see me you know me.  Fred. 
Yes Sir, I do know you.  Smirk. 
And you all see me, you say.  Omnes. 
We do.  Smirk. 
And I do see all you, but what's that to the purpose?  Duke. 
Very little I confess.  Smirk. 
Shall I demonstrate matter of Art, and have nothing for my pains.  Omnes. 
No, no, the Proclamation speaks the contrary.  Smirk. 
Well, because Royalty shall have no wrong in suspecting your Bounty— you see me you say.  Duke. 
Yes, we do.  Smirk. 
But who sees me now?  Puts it on his finger. Duke. 
Trust me he's invisible to me.  Omnes. 
And to us all.  Smirk. 
I should be very sorry else; for, and my invisible Ring should not keep his old virtue, I would hang myself directly.  Fred. 
Prithee appear again.  Smirk. 
I will have Majesty call me first.  Fred. 
Why, the Duke does call you.  Smirk. 
Let me hear him Viva Voce, Smirk is my name, a well-beloved Subject, once a Painter, but now Squire of the invisible Ring.  Duke. 
Smirk, and our well-beloved Subject, once a Painter, but now Esquire of the invisible Ring I conjure thee to appear again.  Smirk. 
See here I am, what wilt thou mighty Monarch?  Duke. 
I do command thee let me see the Ring by which thou walkest invisible.  Smirk. 
I do command thee not to command me that, for from my invisible Ring I will not part.  Duke. 
Lay hands upon him for a Sorcerer.  Smirk. 
Assist me my dear Ring, no hands upon me, for being invisible I am a Prince, no hands is to be laid on me, Treason doth never prosper.  Conjurer. 
Nay, then, what hoh.  Enter Spirit. Spirit. 
Thy will?  Whisper. Conjurer. 
Seize it, and fly.  Smirk within Oh, Oh, Oh. Spirit. 
I am gone.  Fred. 
How? whose that exclaims?  Enter Smirk. Smirk. 
The cramps in my Finger.  Conjurer. 
The cramp?  Smirk. 
I the Cramp; the Ring that cured it is gone, the devil go with it, for on my conscience he fetched it.  Duke. 
What's become of the Ring?  Conjurer. 
Pardon me my liege, the virtue that it held came from my Art, the Duchess found the worth on't when time was.  Duke. 
Thy knowledge in good Arts is warranted by us, since all thy actions have been just and loyal—- what means this.  a Trumpet. Enter a Page. Page. 

Thus was I bidden to my Sovereign,  
Fall on my face, now rise I up again,  
To render to the Lady's fair salutes,  
And give them all their worthy Attributes,  
Wonder not that I resolutly come  
Boldly, thus daring press into this room,  
For from a Lord'tis said of eminent note,  
I bring this challenge such as can read may know't.   Fred. 
Very succinct and peremptory.  Duke. 
What is't?  Fred. 
A Challenge.  Duke. 
Read it.  Conju. 
For this day I am Master of the Revels.  reads. 
Be it known unto all Men that I, Visconnt Shallew doth Challenge all Courtiers whatsoever at the true compendious form of compiling Epistles, Alias love letters to Ladies, or Mistresses▪ either in prose or verse ex tempore or not, ex tempore according as it shall please the challenged  Fred. 
Here's unexped sport, Smirk thou shalt take him up, I'll wager on thy side.  Smirk. 
Say you so Sir, shall I be the man, 'twill recompense my loss of the Ring for I know I shall beat him out o'th' Pit with Oratry and Poetry.  Enter Shallow Shallow. 
Which is my Antagonist?  Smirk. 
Behold the Man with Pen and Ink provided.  Shallow. 
Poor fool thou wilt but make thyself derided.  Smirk. 
So nimble in rhyme, I'll first break your neck in prose, and afterwards whip you in verse, I'll I ambast you in couplets: you challenge all men to compose.  Shallow. 
I do.  Smirk. 
With figures or without figures, with sentences or without sentences.  a Table set forth. Shallow. 
'Tis right.  Smirk. 
Draw out your pen and Inkhorn I am for you.  Shallow. 
With expedition too, I put in that.  Smirk. 
No, expedition belongs to Clerks, and not to Secretaries.  Shallow. 
I Sir, celerity I mean.  Smirk. 
No more but so, a word's enough.  Fred. 
Smirk goes on smoothly without any rub.  Conjurer. 
Yet there he had one.  Fred. 
Hold bias, and a sentence then.  Shallow. 
Scripsi.  Smirk. 
Et Scripsi.  Fred. 
Now lordings lend your Ears.  Shallow. 
I will read it first myself.  Conjurer. 
Good reason  Shallow. 
Fairest in the World, and sweetest upon earth.  Smirk. 
So so, so.  Shallow. 
I remember my duty to you in black and white.  Smirk. 
I would it had been black and blue.  Conjurer. 
Peace.  Shallow. 
For all colours else, wave under the standard of your beauty; you are the Mistress of beauty, all other Women are but your handmaids.  Smirk. 
Oh abominable barren.  Conjurer. 
Nay, Smirk silence, you must not interrupt your adversary.  Shallow. 
I can say nothing, without saying too much, nor say too much without saying nothing.  Smirk. 
I can say nothing, or else I would say something, but here it is shall shame thee and thy Lordly botching.  Shallow. 
Methinks when thou standest in the Sun with thy feather on thy head, and thy Fan in thy hand, thou look'st like the Phoenix of the East Indies, burning in spices, for Cloves, Mace, and Nutmegs are in thy breath.  Smirk. 
She would make an excellent Wassell boale.  Conjurer. 
Again, fie, fie.  Smirk. 
I have done.  Shallow. 
The apples of thy breast are like the Lemons of Arabia which makes the Vessel so sweet, it can never smell of the Cask.  Fred. 
If she should, it might prove the Brewer's fault.  Shallow. 
Being come to your middle I must draw to an end, for my end is at the middle, because of the Proverb, In Medio consistit vertus, and so I conclude: yours while mine own, and afterwards if it were possible.  Smirk. 
Well, now let me run on, judgement I crave.—  Fred. 
Which thou shalt have.  Smirk. 
Illustrious, bright shining, wellspoken, an●… blood stirring Lady.  Fred. 
I marry Sir.  Smirk. 
If the Rope of my capacity could reach to the Belfry of your beauty, these words of mine like Silver Bells might be worthy to hang in the ears of your favour; but the Ladder of my invention is too low to climb up to the Steeple of your understanding.  Omnes. 
Excellent Smirk.  Smirk. 
If it were not, I should ring out my mind to you in a sweet Peal of most savoury conceits. For your face it is like the Sun, no man is able to endure it.  Omnes. 
Very good.  Smirk. 
Your forehead which I will neither compare to Alleblaster nor to the Lily, but it is, as it is, and so are both your Eyes; for your Nose, it is a well arched bridge, which for brevity sake I pass over: Your cheeks are like a good Comedy, worthy to be clapped: your lips and your teeth are incomparable; your tongue like the Instrument of Orpheus, able to tame the furies: to handle ev'ry part of you were too much, but some particular part, no man can sufficient.  Fred. 
Prithee let me give thee a box on the Ear, for that conceit.  Smirk. 
No my good Lord, pray keep your bounties; From top to toe you are a sweet Vessel of delight, I dare not say a Barrel, for often times with much jolting the Brewer beats out the bunghole, and so the good liquour runs out, but you contain yours although not hooped about with the old farthingale after the newest fashion, and so I leave you fairest of a hundred, and wittiest of a thousand, resting in little rest till I rest wholly yours in the Down bed of affection, where ever standing to my utmost I rest all in all yours.  Fred. 
Could any man have said more?  Shallow. 
Spare your censures a while Gentlemen; now Sir I challenge you in verse, in praise of tall Women, and little Women, choose your subject, which you refuse I'll take.  Smirk 
Why then I'll take your little Women.  Shallow. 
And I your lusty, proceed.  Conjurer. 
Some patience will be required from us, for their verse cannot come off so roundly as their prose.  Smirk. 
As roundly as a Runlet of Sake Sir, I'll warrant ye.  Shallow. 
Scripsi.  Smirk. 
Sed non feci, stay a little here are a couple of lines, a Halter on 'em, they won not twist handsomely, go forward I have ended.  Fred. 
Attention.  Shallow. 

Listen you tall, and likewise you low man,  
I sing the praises of a bouncing Woman:  
A full, well set, big-boned, and fairly jointed.  
Fit to bid welcome, Men, are best appointed.   Conjurer. 
Excellent.  Shall. 

To your tall Women, your little one is nothing,  
No more than is a high thing, to a low-thing.   Omnes. 
That's true.  Shall. 

For your small dandiprat, I hope there's no man,  
That thinks her but a hobby-horse to Woman,  
A thing to be forgot, and never known,  
But on a holy day, to the rout shown,  
In Wars the Basilisco is preferred,  
Before the Musket, and is louder heard.   Conjurer. 
There's an Error, little, and loud (my friend.)  Shallow. 

In every Triumph where there is excess,  
The greater always putteth down the less.  
The Lioness is more admired at,  
Then her Epitome, which is a Cat.   Conjurer. 
The fool grows serious: He hath stolen it certainly.  Shallow. 

But to weak understandings now I come,  
Is your small Taber music to your Drum?   Smirk. 
Hum, drum, he has hit within an Inch of a conceit of mine.  Shallow. 

Or in an Instrument of peace, can there that cryal  
Be made upon a Kit, as a base Viol?  
Judge you my Masters, that on both have played,  
It is but my opinion, and I've said.   Fred. 
Come thou hast said well, Smirk look to yourself.  Smirk. 
I warrant you, give me Audience.  Conjurer. 
Silence.  Smirk. 

In praise of little Women I begin,  
And will maintain what I have entered in:  
Is not your Parakeet, or Marmoset,  
In more request than your Baboon or Parrot?  
Give but your little wench freely her liquour,  
And to bed send her, you will find her quicker;  
Perter, nimbler, both to kiss, and cog,  
Then your great wench that will lie like a Log:  
And he that all day at the Drum doth labour,  
Would at night gladly play upon a Taber.  
I hope there's no man but of this belief,  
That Veal's more sweet and nourishing then Beef:  
Small meats are still preferred, for ask your Glutton,  
He'll always say Lambs sweeter than your Mutton,  
Your Smelled then whiting firmer is, and sounder,  
Nor must your Place compare with your neat Flounder.   Fred. 
Well said, now thou art in good victuals thou'lt never out.  Smirk 

In fish or flesh I'll prove it to each wight  
A Larks leg, than the body of a Kite  
Is better far; Our Bakers always make  
The finest flour in the lesser Cake,  
And I'll be judged by those that roots do eat,  
That your small Turnup's better than your great.   Conjurer. 
I am of thy mind too.  Smirk. 

Who list to be resolved, let 'em both try,  
In that belief I live, in that I'll die   Fred. 
Incomparable Smirk, thou'st my voice, judgement.  Omnes. 
A Smirk, a Smirk.  Exeunt.  

The three Merry Boys.  
ARGUMENT.  
The King a Tyrant, employs them to kill his Elder Brother, the Pantler betrays it, but the business being done, they all suffer, etc.  

ACTORS NAMES.  
Yeoman of the Wine Cellar,  
Cook, Butler,  
Pantler,  
Guard, and  
Boys.   Enter the Master Cook, Butler, Pantler, Yeomen of the Cellar with a jack of Beer, etc. COok. 
A hot day, a hot day, vengeance hot day boys, give me some drink, this fire's a plaguy fretter: body of me I am dry still, give me the Jack boy, this wooden skiff holds nothing.  Pant. 
And faith Master, what brave new meats? for here will be old eating.  Cook. 
Old and young boy; let 'em all eat, I have it; I have ballast for their bellies, if they eat a God's name, let them have ten tire of teeth a piece, I care not.  Butler. 
But what new rare munition.  Cook. 
Pish, a thousand; I'll make your Pigs speak French at Table, and a fat Swan come sailing out of England with a Challenge; I'll make you a Dish of Calves-feets dance the Canaries, and a consort of crammed Capons fiddle to 'em; a Calves-head speak an Oracle, and a dozen of Larks rise from the Dish and ●…ing all super time; 'tis nothing boys: I have framed a fortification out of Rye past which is impregnable, and against that, for two long hours together, two dozen of Marrowbones shall play continually; for fish, I'll make you a standing lake of white broth, and Pikes come ploughing up the plums before them; Arion like a Dolphin, playing lachrymo, and brave King Herring with his Oil and Onion crowned with a Lemon pill, his way prepared with his strong Guard of Pilchers.  Pantl. 
I marry Master.  Cook. 
All these are nothing: I'll make you a stubble Goose turn o'th' toe thrice, do a cross point presently, and sit down again, and cry come eat me: These are for mirth: now Sir, for matter of mourning, I'll bring you in the Lady loin of Veal, with the long love she bore the Prince of Orange.  All. 
Thou Boy, thou.  Cook. 
I have a trick for thee too, and a rare trick, and I have done it for thee.  Yeoman. 
What's that good Master?  Cook. 
'Tis a Sacrifice: a full Vine bending like an Arch, and under the blown God Bacchus, sitting on a Hogshead, his Alter-beer: before that plump Vintner kneeling and offering incense to his deity, which shall be only red sprats and pilchers.  Butler. 
This when the Tables drawn, to draw the Wine in.  Cook. 
Thou hast it right, and then comes thy song Butler.  Pantl. 
This will be admirable.  Yeom. 
Oh Sir most admirable.  Cook. 
If you'll have the Pastry speak, 'tis in my power, I have fire enough to work it; what friends hast thou to day? no Citizens?  Pantl. 
Yes father, the old crew.  Cook. 
By the Mass true Wenches: sirrah set by a Chine of Beef, and a hot Pastry, and let the Jowl of sturgeon be corrected: and do you mark Sir, stalk me to a Pheasant, and see if you can shout her in the Cellar.  Pantl. 
God a mercy lad, send me thy roaring bottles, and with such Nectar I will see 'em filled that all thou speak'st shall be pure helicon.  Butler. 
But what was't we did promise to Monsiure Latorche.  Yeoman. 
Do you ask that now?  Pantl. 
I'll tell you It is to be all villains, knaves and Traitors.  Cook. 
Fine wholesome titles.  Butler. 
But if you dare go forward.  Cook. 
May be hanged drawn and quartered.  Pantl. 
Very true Si●….  Cook. 
What a goodly swing I shall give the Gallows? yet I think too, this may be done, and yet we may be rewarded, not with a Rope, but wit●… a Royal Master: and yet we may be hanged too.  Yeoman. 
Say it were done; who is't done for? is it not for alio? and fo●… his right?  Cook. 
And yet we may be hanged too?  Butler. 
Or say he take it, say we be discovered? Is not the same mam found to protect us? are we not his?  Yeom. 
Sure he will never fail us.  Cook. 
If he do, friends, we shall find that will hold us; & yet methinks, this Prologue to our purpose, the Crowns were given, should promise more: 'Tis easily done, as easy as a man would roast an Egg, if that be all; for look you, Gentlemen, here stand my broths, my finger slips a little, down drops a Dosse, I stir him with my Ladle, and there's a Dish for a Duke: Olla podrida, here stands a Baked meat, he wants a little seasoning, a foolish mistake; my Spice-box, Gentlemen, and put in some of this, the matter's ended; dredge you a dish of Plovers, there's the a●…t on't.  Yeoman. 
Or as I fill my Wine.  Cook. 
'Tis very true Sir, blessing it with your hand, thus quick and neatly first, when 'tis past and done once, 'tis as easy for him to thank us for it, and reward us.  Pantl. 
But 'tis a damned sin.  Cook. 
Oh never fear that, the fire's my playfellow, and now I am resolved boys.  Butler. 
Why then have with you.  Yeoman. 
The same for me.  Pantl. 
For me too.  Cook. 
And now no more our worships, but our Lordships.  Pantl. 
Not this year on my knowledge, I'll unlord you.  Exeunt. Enter Guard. Guard. 
Make room before there, room for the Prisoners.  1▪ Boy. 
Are these the Youths?  Cook. 
These are the Youths you look for, and pray my honest friends be not too hasty, there will be nothing done till we come I assure you.  2. Boy. 
Here's a wise hanging, are there no more?  Butler. 
Do you hear, you may come in for your share, if you please.  3. Boy. 
Afore, afore, Boys here's enough to make us sport.  Yeoman. 
Pox take you, do you call this sport? are these your recreations? must we be hanged to make you mirth.  Cook. 
Do you hear Sir? you custard pate, we go to't, for high treason, an Honourable fault: thy foolish father was hanged for stealing sheep.  ●…. Boy. 
Away Boys, away.  Cook. 
Do you see how that sneaking Rogue looks now? you, chip, Pantler, peaching Rogue, that provided us these Necklaces: you poor Rogue, you costive Rogue you.  Pantler. 
Pray, pray, fellows.  Cook. 
Pray for thy crusty Soul? where's your reward now goodman manchet for your fine discovery? I do beseech you Sir, where are your dollars? draw with your fellows and be hanged.  Yeoman. 
You must now, for now he shall be hanged first, that's his comfort, a place too good for thee thou meal-mouthed Rascal.  Cook. 
Hang handsomely, for shame come leave your praying, you peaking knave, and be like a good Courtier; die daringly, and like a man; no preaching, with I beseech you take example by me, I lived a lewd man, good people; pox on't: die me as if thou hadst dined, say grace, and Heaven be with you.  Guard. 
Come will you forward?  Cook. 
Good Mr. Sheriff, your leave to, this hasty work was ne'er done well, give us so much time as but to Sing our own ballads for we'll trust no man, nor no time but our own, 'twas done in Ale too, your penny pot Poets, are such pelting thieves, they ever hang men twice, we have it here Sir, and so must every Merchant of our Voyage, he'll make a sweet return else of his Credit.  Yeo. 
One fit of our mirth, and then we are for you.  Guard. 
Make haste then, dispatch.  Yeo. 
There's day enough Sir.  Cook. 
Come Boys, sing cheerfully, we shall ne'er sing younger; we have chosen a lewd tune too, because it should like well.  Song. Yeo. 

Come, fortune's a Whore I, care not who tells her,  
Would offer to strangle a Page of the Cellar,  
That should by his Oath, to any man's thinking,  
And place, have had a defence for his drinking;  
But thus she does still, when she pleases to palter  
Instead of his wages, she gives him a Halter.   Chorus. 

Three merry boys & three merry boys & three merry boys are we  
As ever did sing in a bempen string, under the Gallow Tree.   2. Butler. 

But I that was so lusty,  
And ever kept my Bottles,  
That neither they were musty,  
And seldom less than Pottles;  
For me to be thus stopped now,  
With 'em instead of Cork Sir,  
And from the Gallows topped now,  
Shows that there is a Fork Sir,  
In death, and this the token  
Man may be two ways killed,  
Or like the Bottle broken,  
Or like the Wine, be spilt.   Chorus. 
And three merry Boys, etc.  3. Cook. 

Oh yet but look on the Master Cook, the glory of the Kitchen,  
In sowing whose fate, at so loftly a rate, no Tailor e'er had stitching,  
For though he makes the man, the Cook he makes the Dishes;  
The which no Tailor can, wherein I have my wishes,  
That I who at so many a feast have pleased so many tasters  
Should now myself come to be dressed a dish for you my Masters.   Chorus. 
And three merry Boys, etc.  Cook. 
There's a few copies for you; now farewell friends: and good Mr. Sheriff let me not be printed with a Brass pot on my head.  Butler. 
March fair, march fair, afore good Captain Pantler.  Pantler. 

Oh man, or beast, or you at least  
That were or brow or Autler,  
Prick up your ears, unto the tears  
Of me poor Paul the Pantler,  
That thus am clipped, because I chipped  
The cursed crust of Treason:  
With loyal knife! Oh doleful strife  
To hang thus without reason.   Exeunt  

The Bubble.  
ARGUMENT.  
The Master becomes a servant, the servant a Master, and the Master a servant again.  

ACTORS NAMES.  
Gervase,  
Bubble,  
Sprinckle,  
Scattergood,  
Gentlewomen,  
Fathers, and  
two Gentlemen.   Enter Master and Man. MAster. 
Hast thou packed up all thy things? nay prithee weep not.  Man. 
Affection Sir will burst out, but Master wherefore should we be parted?  Master. 
Because my fortunes are desperate.  Man. 
But whether do you mean to go Master?  Mast. 
Why to Sea man, to sea.  Man. 
Lord bless us methinks I hear of a tempest already.  Enter Messenger. Mess. 
Where dwells Mr. Bubble?  Man. 
What is your business with Mr. Bubble? I am the Man.  Messeng. 
May I be assured that your name is Mr Bubble?  Man. 
I tell thee honest friend my name is Mr Bubble, Mr Bartholomew Bubble.  Messeng. 
Why then Sir you are Heir to a million; your Uncle the rich Usurer is dead.  Man. 
Hum, hum.  Mast. 
How my little Bubble is blown up with the news.  Enter another. The other. 
Where's the Worshipful Mr. Bubble?  Man. 
The Worshipful, what you do with the Worshipful Mr. Bubble? I am the Man.  Other Messeng. 
Mr. Thong the Beltmaker by me gives you notice that your Uncle is dead, and you are his only Heir.  Bubble. 

Thy news is good & I have looked for't long,  
Thanks unto thee my friend, and good man Thong:  
Come Master now you shall not need to travel,  
Nor feast your Toes with dirt and scurvy Gravel.   Exeunt. Enter in Mourning and a Gentleman. Bubble. 
ay, I, he's gone, he's gone.  Gent. 
What then? 'tis not you can fetch him again, it must be your comfort that he died well.  Bubble. 
Truly so it is, I would to God I had e'en another Uncle that would die no worse, the remembrance of death is sharp Gentlemen, therefore there is a Banquet within to sweeten your conceits.  1. Gent. 
Well, Mr. Bubble we'll go in and taste of your bounty, in the mean time you must be of good cheer.  Bubble. 
If grief take not away my stomach, I will have good cheer.  Bubble. 
If grief take not away my stomach I will have good cheer:— Sprinkle, Had the women puddens to their dole?  Sprinckle. 
Yes Sir.  Bubble. 
And how did they take them?  Sprinckle. 
With their hands Sir.  Bubble. 
O thou Hercules of ignorance, I mean how were they satisfied?  Sprinckle. 
By my troth Sir, but so so, and yet some of them had two.  Bubble. 
O insatiable Women! whom two puddins would not satisfy,  

Off with my mourning Robes, grief to the grave,  
For I have Gold and therefore will be brave: Pulls off his Mourning.  
In Silks I'll rattle it of every colour  
And when I go by water, scorn a skullar:  
In black cornation Velvet I will cloak me,  
And when Men bid God save me, cry Tu Quoque:   
It is needful a Gentleman should speak Latin some times, is't not Gervase?  Gervase. 
O very graceful, your most accomplished Gentlemen are known by it.  Bubble. 
Then I'll use that little I have upon all accasions.  Exeunt. Enter Bubble as to his Courtship▪ with Ladies and their father. Bubble. 
Thanks, and Tu Quo is a word for all, but Gervase how shall I behave myself to the Gentlewomen.  Staines. 
Why advance yourself towards them, and for your discourse your Tu Quoque will bear you out.  Bubble. 
Nay, and that be all I care not, I'll set a good face on't that's flat, and here's a leg? if ever a Baker in England show me a better I'll give him mine for nothing.  Gervase. 
Oh that's a special thing that I must caution you of, never whilst you live commend yourself, the more vilely you speak of your,— the more the Ladies will applaud.  Bubble. 
sayst thou so Gervase, then let me alone to dispraise myself, I'll make myself the a●…antest Coxcomb in a whole Country, is this the eldest sir  Gent. 
Yes marry is she sir.  Bubble. 
I'll kiss the youngest first, because she likes me best, by th' mass they kiss exceeding well, I do not think out they have been brought up to 't,— now to my speech Lady— even a— Drumer or a Pewterer—  Lady. 
Very good sir.  Bubble. 
Do,— do, do.—  Lady. 
What do they do?  Bubble. 
By my troth I do not know; for to say truth I am a kind of an Ass.  Lady. 
How sir, an Ass?  Bubble. 
So God ha' me I am Lady, you never saw an erranter Ass in your life, pray look upon me Lady.  Lady. 
So I do sir.  Bubble. 
But look upon me well, and tell me if ever you saw a Man look so simply as I do, did you ever see a worse timbered Leg, what say you, can you find e'er a good inch about me.  Lady. 
Yes that I can sir.  Bubble. 
Find it and take it Lady; there I think I bobbed her jervase,— come Ladies will you lead the way.  Gervase. 
Ah while you live Men before Women, custom hath played it so.  Bubble. 
Why then custom is not so mannerly as I would be.  Exeunt. Enter with his Mistress. Bubble. 
Pray let me see your hand, the line of your Maidenhead is out, now for your fingers; upon which finger will you wear your Wedding-ring.  Mistress. 
Upon no finger.  Bubble. 
Then I perceive you mean to wear it upon your Thumb, well the time is come sweet joice, the time is come.  joice. 
What to do sir.  Bubble. 
For me to tickle thy Tu Quoque, therefore prepare, provide to morn to meet me as a Bride.  Mistress. 
I'll meet thee like a Ghost first.  Exit. Enter Scattergood, and Bubble as to be married. Scattergood. 
Did I eat my Lettuce to Supper last night that I am so sleepy, thy eyes are close too Brother Bubble.  Bubble. 
As fast as a Kentish Oyster, surely I was begot in a Plumb-Tree, I have such a deal of Gum about my eyes, what's this about my shins?  Scat. 
We have metamorphosed our Stoacking for want of Splendour.  Bubble. 
Pray, what's that Splendour?  Scatt. 
Why, 'tis the Latin word for a Christmas candle.  Enter the Gentlewomen their Father and their Husband. Bubble. 
Tu Quoque to all: What shall we go to Church? I long to be about this gear.  Father. 
You may take out the other nap now, for you are cozened, and made a coxcomb.  Scatt. 
That word coxcomb goes against my Stomach.  Bubble. 
And against mine, a man might have digested a Woodcock better.  Father. 
Do you know that youth in Satin, he's the penner to that Inkhorn.  Bubble. 
Are not you my man Gervase? have you married her?  Gervase. 
The Priest has Sir.  Bubble. 
Then am worse than ten Coxcombs.  Gervase. 
And a beggarly one, your time of pageantry is over, sergeants take him to ye.  Bubble. 
How's this, is my Tu Quoque come to an Et cetera  Gervase. 
If you can put off your former pride and put on this with that humility that you first wore it, I will pay your debts, free you of all encumbrances, and take you again into my service.  Bubble. 
'Tis, but faces about, and be as I was, Tenter-hook let me go, I will take his Worship's offer, rather than be kept in you clutches, a man in a Blue coat may have some colour for his Knavery, when in the Counter he can have none.  Exeunt.  

The CLUBMEN.  
ARGUMENT.  
An old Humorous Captain animates the rout to Rebellion on the behalf of Philaster, they surprise Pharamont, a boasting lamish Prince, but are appeased by Philaster, and Pharamont released.  

ACTORS NAMES.  
An old Captain,  
three or four Citizens,  
Pharamont, and  
Philaster.   Enter Captain. 
COme my brave myrmidons, le's fall on, let our Caps swarm my boys, and your nimble Tongues forget your Mother Gibberish, of what do you lack, and set your mouths up Children, till your Palates fall frighted half a fathom, past the cure of Bay-salt and gross Pepper, and then cry Philaster, brave Philaster, let Philaster be deeper in request, my ding-dongs, my pairs of dear Indentures, King of Clubs, than your cold water chamblets, or your paintings spitted with copper, let not your hasty silks or your branched cloth of bodkin, or your tishnes, dearly beloved of spiced Cake and Custard, your Robinhoods scarlet and Johns, tie your affections in darkness to your shops, no dainty Duckers, up with your three-piled spirits, your wrought valours, and let your uncut collar make the King feel the measure of your mightiness Philaster, cry my Rose-nobles cry.  All. 
Philaster, Philaster.  Captain. 
How do you like this my Lord Prince, these are mad boys▪ I tell you, these are things that will not strike their Topsails to a foarst, and let a Man of War an Argosy bull, and cry Cocks.  Phar. 
Why you rude slave, do you know what you do?  Capt. 
My pretty Prince of Puppets, we do know, and give your greatness warning, that you talk no more such bug-words, or that soldered Crown shall be scratched with a Musket; Dear Prince Pippin, down with your noble blood, or as I live I'll have you coddled; let him lose my spirits, make as a round Ring with your Bills my Hectors, and let us see what this trim Man dares do; now sir have at ye, here I lie, and with this swashing blow, do you sweat Prince; I could hack your Grace, and hang ye up cross-legged, like a Hare at a Poulterers.  Phar. 
You will not see me murdered wicked Villains.  1 Citiz. 
Yes indeed we will sir, we have not seen one foe a great while.  Capt. 
He would have weapons, would he? give him a broadside my brave Boys with your Pikes, branch me his skin in flowers like a Satin, and between every flower a mortal cut, your Royalty shall ravel, jag him Gentlemen, I'll have him cut to the kell, then down the seams, oh for a whip to make him Galoom-laces, I'll have a Coach-whip.  Phar. 
O spare me Gentlemen.  Capt. 
Hold, hold, the Man begins to fear and know himself, he shall for this time only be sealed up with a feather through his nose, that he may only see Heaven, and think whether he's going, nay my beyond Sea sir, we will proclaim you, you would be King; thou tender heir apparent to a Church-ale, thou slight Prince of single scarce●…et; thou Royal ring-taile fit to fly at nothing but poor men's Poultry, and every Boy beat thee from that too with his bread and butter.  Phar. 
Gods keep me from these hellhounds.  2. Citiz. 
Shall's geld him Captain?  Capt. 
No, you shall spare his dowcets my dear Donsells, as you respect the Ladies let them flourish; the curses of a longing woman kills as speedy as a Plague Boys,  1. Citiz. 
I'll have a leg that's certain.  2. Citiz. 
I'll have an arm.  3. Citiz. 
I'll have his nose and at my own charge, build a College and clapped upon the Gate.  4. Citiz. 
I'll have his little Gut to string a fit with, for certainly a royal Gut will sound like Silver.  Phira. 
Would they were in thy belly, and I passed my pain once.  5. Citiz. 
Good Captain let me have his liver to feed Ferrets.  Capt. 
Who will have parcels else? speak.  Phar. 
Good Gods consider me I shall be tortured.  1. Citiz. 
Captain I'll give you the trimming of your Hand-sword; and let me have his s●…in to make false scabbards.  2. Citiz. 
He had no horns Sir had he?  Capt. 
No Sir, he's a palla●…d, what wouldst thou do with horns?  2. Citiz. 
O if he had, I would have made rare Hafts and whistels of 'em, but his vain bones if they be sound shall serve me.  Enter Philaster. All. 
Long long live Philaster, the brave Prince Philaster, I thank ye Gentlemen, but why are these rude weapons brought abroad? to teach your hands uncivil trades?  Capt. 
We are the royal Rosicleeze, we are thy myrmidons thy Guard, thy rourers, and when the Noble body is in durance, thus do we clap our musty murryons on, and trace the streets in terror, ●…is it peace thou Mars of men? is the King sociable, and bids thee i●…e? Art thou above thy foemen and fro as Phoebus? speak, of not, this stand of Royal Blood shall be broach, a tilt and run even to the lees of Honour.  Philast. 
Hold and be satisfied, I am myself, free as my thoughts are: By the Gods I am.  Capt. 
Art thou the dainty Darling of the King? art thou the hylas' to our Hercules? doth the Lords bow, and the regarded Scarlets, kiss their gummed golls and cry we are your servants? Is the Court navigable, and the presence struck with Flags of friendship? if not, we are thy Castle, and this man sleeps.  Philaster. 
I am what I do desire to be your friend; I am what I was born to be your Prince.  Pharo. 
Sir there is some humanity in you, you have a noble Soul forget my name, and know misery, set me safe aboard from these wild camballs, and as I live, I'll quit this Land for ever.  Philast. 
I do pity you: friends discharge your fears, deliver me the Prince.  1. Citiz. 
Good Sir take heed he does not hurt you, he's a fierce man I can tell you Sir.  Capt. 
Prince by your leave, I'll have a surfingle, and make you like a hawk.  Philast. 
Away, away, there is no danger in him, alas he had rather sleep to shake his fit off, good my friends go to your houses and by me have your pardons and my love and for an earnest drink this.  Exit Philast. & Pharomond. All. 
Long may'st thou live brave Prince, brave Prince, brave Prince.  Capt. 
Thou art the King of Courtesies: fall off again my sweet youths, come, and every ne●…ce to his house again, and hang his pewter up, then to the Tavern and bring your wives in muffs, we will have Music, and the red Grape shall make us dance and rise boys.  Exeunt.  

Forced VALOUR.  
ARGUMENT.  
A Fellow that will never fight but when he is in pains with some displease is persuaded into one, and then do, Wonders.  

ACTORS NAMES.  
Demetrius the Prince▪  
Leonttius a Colonel,  
a Lieutenant,  
two Gentlemen,  
2. Physicians.   Enter Leontius, and Leiutenant. LEontius. 
Go get the Drums, beat round Lieutenant.  Leiute. 
Hark ye, Sir, I have a foolish business they call Marriage.  Leon. 
After the Wars are done.  Leiute. 
The Party stays Sir, I have given the Priest his money too: all my friends Sir, my Father, and my Mother.  Leon. 
Will ye go forward.  Leiut. 
She brings a pretty matter with her.  Leon. 
Half a dozen Bastards.  Leiut. 
Some forty Sir.  Leon. 
A goodly competency.  Leiut. 
I mean Sir, pounds a year; I'll dispatch the matter, 'tis but a night or two; I'll overtake ye Sir.  Leon. 
Where lies the horse quarter?  Leiut. 
And if it be a Boy, I'll even make bold Sir.  Leon. 
Away with your whore, a plague o'your whore, damned Rogue, now you are cured and well; must ye be clicketing?  Leiut. 
I have broke my mind to my ancient, in my absence, he's a sufficient Gentleman.  Leon. 
Get forward.  Leiut. 
Only receive her portion.  Leon. 
Get ye forward; else I'll bang ye forward.  Leiut. 
Strange Sir, a Gentleman and an Officer, cannot have the liberty to do the Office of a man.  Leon. 
Shame light on thee, how came this whore into thy head?  Leiut. 
This whore Sir? 'tis strange, a very poor whore.  Leon. 
Do not answer me: Troop, troop away; Do not name this whore again, or think there is a whore.  Leiut. 
That's very hard Sir.  Exeunt. Enter Leontius, and Leiutenant again. Leon. 
Turn but thy face, and do but make Mouths at 'em.  Leiut. 
And have my teeth knocked out; I thank you heartily.  Leon. 
what the devil ails thee? dost long to be hanged?  Leiut. 
Faith sir, I make no suit for't: but rather than I would live thus out of charity, continually in brawling.—  Leon. 
And wilt thou ne'er fight more?  Leiut. 
i'th' mind I am in.  Leon. 
Nor never be sick again?  Leiut. 
I hope I shall not.  Leon. 
Prithee be sick again; prithee, I beseech thee, be just so sick again.  Leiut. 
I'll needest be hanged first.  Leon. 
If all the arts that are can make a colic, therefore look to't; or if imposthums mark me, as big as foot balls.—  Leiut. 
Deliver me.  Leon. 
O●… stones of ten Pound weight i'th' Kidneys, through ease and ugly diets may be gathered; I'll feed ye up myself, I'll prepare ye, you cannot fight, unless the devil fears ye, you shall not want provocations, I'll scratch ye, I'll have thee have the Toothache and the headache.  Leiut. 
Good Colonel, I'll do any thing.  Leon. 
No, no, nothing— then will I have thee blown with a pair of Smith's bellows, because you shall be sure to have a round Gale with ye, filled full of Oil, o'devill, and aquafortis, and let these work, these may provoke.  Leiut. 
Good Colonel.  Leon. 
A coward in full blood prithee be plain with me, will roasting do thee any good?  Leiut. 
Nor basting neither sir.  Leon. 
Marry that goes hard,— do you see that thing there▪  Enter two Gentlemen 1. Gent. 
What thing? I see the brave Lieutenant.  Leon. 
Rogue what a name hast thou lost? be ruled yet, I'll beat thee on; go wink and fight: a plague upon your sheep's heart.  2. Gent. 
What's all this matter?  1. Gent. 
Nay I cannot show ye.  Leon. 
There's twenty Pound, go but smell to 'em.  Leiut. 
Alas sir, I have taken such a cold I can smell nothing.  Leon. 
I can smell a rascal, a rank rascal: fie how he stinks, stinks like a tired jade.  2. Gent. 
What sir?  Leon. 
Why that sir, do not you smell him?  2. Gent. 
Smell him.  Leon. 
Stinks like a dead Dog, carrion— there's no such damnable smell under heaven as the faint sweat of a coward: will ye fight yet?  Leiut. 
Nay, now I defy ye; ye have spoke the worst ye can of me, and if every man should take what you say to the heart—  Leon. 
God a mercy, God a mercy with all my heart; here I forgive thee; and fight, or fight not, do but go along with us and keep my Dog.  Leiut. 
I love a good Dog naturally.  1. Gent. 
What's all this stir Leiutenant?  Leiut. 
Nothing sir, but a sleight matter of argument.  Leon. 
Pox take thee: sure I shall love this Rogue, he's so pretty a Coward; come play fellow, come, prithee come up; come Chicken, I have a way shall fit yet; a tame knave; come, look upon us.  Leiut. 
I'll tell you who does best boys.  Exeunt. Enter Leontius, and the two Gentlemen. 2. Gent. 
That he is sick again.  Leon. 
Extremely sick; his disease grown incurable, never yet found, nor touched at.  2. Gent. 
Well we have it and here he comes.  Leon. 
The Prince has been upon him what a platter face he has now? it takes, believe it; how like an Ass he looks?  Enter Leiutenant Leiut. 
I feel no great pain, at least I think I do not; yet I feel sensibly I grow extremely faint: how cold I sweat now?  Leon. 
So, so, so.  Leiut. 
And now 'tis even too true, I feel a pricking, a pricking, a strange pricking: how it tingles? and as it were a stitch too: the Prince told me, and every one cried out I was a dead man; I had thought I had been as well.  Leon. 
Upon him now boys, and do it most demurely.  2. Gent. 
How now Lieutenant.  Leiut. 
I thank ye Gentlemen.  1. Gent. 
Life, how looks this man? how dost thou good Lieutenant?  2. Gent. 
I ever told ye this man was never cured, I see it too plain now; how do ye feel yourself? you look not perfect, how dull his eye hangs?  1. Gent. 
That may be discontent.  2. Gent. 
Believe me friend I would not suffer now the tithe of those pains this man feels; mark his forehead, what a cloud of cold dew hangs upon't?  Leiut. 
I have it, again I have it; how it grows upon me? a miserable man I am.  Leon. 
Ha, ha, ha, a miserable man thou shalt be, this is the tamest trout I ever tickled.  Enter two Physicians. Phis. 
This way he went.  2. Phis. 
Pray heaven we find him living, he's a brave fellow, 'tis pity he should perish thus.  Phis. 
A strong hearted man, and of a noble sufferance.  Leiut. 
Ho, ho,  1. Gent. 
How now? how is it man.  Leiut. 
Oh Gentlemen, never so full of pain.  2. Gent. 
Did I not tell ye?  Leiut. 
Never so full of pain Gentlemen.  1. Phis. 
He is here; how do ye Sir.  2. Phis. 
Be of good comfort Soldier, the Prince has sent us to you.  Leiut. 
Do you think I may live.  1. Phis. 
Yes you may live; but.—  Leiut▪ 
Finely butted Doctor.  1. Gent. 
Do not discourage him.  2. Gent. 
Here comes the Prince.  Enter Demetrius. Dem. 
How now Gentlemen?  2. Gent. 
bewailing Sir, a soldier, and one I Demetrius think your Grace will grieve to part with, but every living think.—  Dem. 
'Tis true, must perish, our lives are but our marches to our Graves, how dost thou now Lieutenant?  Leiut. 
Faith 'tis true Sir, we are but spans and candles ends.  Leon. 
He's finely mortified.  Dem. 
I see he altars strangely; and that a pace too, I saw it this morning in him, when he poor man I dare swear.—  Leiut. 
No believed sir, I never felt it.  Dem. 
How he swells?  1. Phis. 
The impostume fed with a new malignant humour now will grow to such a bigness, 'tis incredible, the compass of a Bushel will not hold it, and with such a hell of torture it will rise too.—  Dem. 
Can you endure me touch it?  Leiut. 
Oh, I beseech you Sir? I feel you sensibly ere you come near me.  Dem. 
He's finely wrought, he must be cut, no cure else, and suddenly, you see how fast he blows out.  Leiut. 
Good Mr. Doctor, let me be beholding to you, I feel I cannot last.  Phis. 
For what Lieutenant?  Leiut. 
But even for half a dozen cans of good Wine, that I may drink my Will out; I faint hideously.  Dem. 
Fetch him some Wine, and since he must go Gentlemen, why let him take his journey merrily.  Leiut. 
That's even the nearest way.  Dem. 
Here off with that.  Leiut. 
These two I give your Grace, a poor remembrance of a dying man Sir, and I beseech you wear 'em out.  Dem. 
I will soldier, these are five Legacies.  Leiut. 
Among the Gentlemen, even all I have left; I am a poor man, naked, yet something for remembrance; four a piece Gentlemen, and lay my body where you please.  Leon▪ 
It will work.  Leiut. 
I make your Grace my Executor, and I beseech you see my poor will fulfilled; sure I shall walk else.  Dem. 
As full as they can be filled, here's my hand soldier.  Leiut. 
I would hear a Drum beat but to see how I could endure it.  Dem. 
Beat a Drum there.  A Drum is beat within. Leiut. 
Oh Heavenly music, I would hear one sing to't, I am very full of pain.  Dem. 
Sing? 'tis impossible.  Leiut. 
Why, then I would drink a Drum full; where lies the Enemy?  2. Gent. 
Why, here close by.  Leon. 
Now he begins to master.  Leiut. 
And dare ye fight? dare ye fight Gentlemen?  1. Phis. 
You must not cut him: he's gone then in a moment, all the hope left, is to work his weakness into sudden anger, and make him raise his passion above his pain, and so dispose him on the Enemy; his body then being stirred with violence, will purge itself and break the sore.  Dem. 
'Tis true sir.  1. Phis. 
And then my life for his.  Leiut. 
I will not die thus.  Dem. 
But he is too weak to do.—  Leiut. 
Die like a Dog?  1. Phis. 
I he's weak but yet he's heart-hole.  Leiut. 
Hem.  Dem. 
An excellent sign.  Leiut. 
Hem.  Dem. 
Stronger still, and better.  Leiut. 
Hem, hem; Run, tan, run, tan, tan.  Exit Leiut. Phis. 
Now he's i'th' way on't.  Dem. 
Well go thy ways, thou wilt do something certain.  Leon. 
And some brave thing, or let mine Ears be cut off.  Exeunt. Enter Leontius and Gentlemen. Leon. 
Fetch him off, fetch him off; I'm sure he's clouted; did I not tell you how 'twould take?  1. Gent. 
'Tis admirable  Enter Lieutenant with colours in his hand, pursuing 3 or 4. soldiers. Leiut. 
Follow that blow my friend, there's at your Coxcombs, I fight to save me from the surgeon's miseries.  Leon. 
How the knave curryes 'em?  Leiut. 
You cannot Rogues, till you have my diseases, fly my fury, ye bread and butter Rogues, do you run from me? and my side would give me leave, I would so hunt ye, ye porredg-gutted slaves, ye Veal-broth boobies.  Leon. 
Enough, enough Leiutenant, thou hast done bravely.  Enter Demetrius and Physicians. Dem. 
Mirror of man.  Leiut. 
There's a Flag for ye Sir, I took it out o'th' shop, and never paid for't I'll to 'em again, I am not come toth' text yet.  Dem 
No more my soldier: beshrew my heart he is hurt sore.  Leon. 
Hang him he'll lick all those whole.  1. Phis. 
Now will we take him, and cure him a trice.  Dem. 
Be careful of him.  Leiut. 
Let me live but two years, and do what ye will with me: I never had but two hours yet of happiness,; pray ye give me nothing to provoke my Valour, for I am even as weary of this fighting▪—  2. Phis. 
You shall have nothing; come to the Prince's Tent, and there the Surgeons presently shall search ye, then to your rest.  Leiut. Leiut. 
A little handsome Litter to lay me in, and I shall sleep.  Leon. 
Look to him.  Dem. 
I do believe a horse begot this fellow, he never knew his strength yet.  Exeunt.  

The Encounter.  
ARGUMENT.  
A piece of M●…ck-Knight errantry performed between Ralph a Grocer's Prentice and Barbarossa a Barber.  

ACTORS NAMES.  
A Citizen and his Wife,  
Ralph their Prentice,  
Knight of the Burning Pestle,  
a Squire and Dwarf attending upon the Knight,  
Barbarossa the Giant,  
several Knights Errand, and  
distressed Damsels delivered by the Pussiant Knight of the Burning Pestle.   Enter Rafe, Squire, and Dwarf. RAFE. 
Oh faint not heart, Susan my Lady dear: the Cobbler's Maid in Milk-street for whose sake, I take these Arms, O let the thought of thee, carry thy Knight through all the adventurous Deeds, and in the honour of thy beauteous self, may I destroy this monster Barbarosso, knock Squire upon the Basin, till it break with the shrill strokes, or till the Grant speak.  Enter Barbarosso. Wife. 
O George the Giant, the Giant, now Rafe for thy life.  Barbar. 
What fond unknowing wight is this that dares, so rudely knock at Barbarosso's cell, where no man comes, but leaves his fleece behind?  Rafe. 
ay, Traitorous caitiff, who am sent by fate to punish all the sad enormities thou hast committed against Ladies gentle, and errand Knights, Traitor to heaven and men: prepare thyself, this is the dismal hour appointed for thee, to give strict account of all thy beastly treacherous villainies.  Barbar. 
Fool hardy Knight, full soon thou shalt abye this fond reproach thy body will I bang, and lo upon that string shall hang: prepare thyself, for dead soon shalt thou be.  Takes down his Pole. Rafe. 
Saint George for me.  Barbar. 
Gargantua for me.  Wife. 
To him Rafe to him, hold up the Giant, set out thy leg before Rafe.  Fight. Citiz. 
Falsify a blow  Rafe. 
falsify a blow, the Giant lies open on the left side.  Wife. 
Bear't off, bear't off still; there boy, O Rafe's almost down, Rafe's almost down.  Rafe. 
Susan inspire me, now have up again.  Wife. 
Up, up, up, so Rafe, down with him, down with him Rafe.  Citiz. 
Fetch him over the hip boy.  Wife. 
There boy, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill Rafe.  Citiz. 
No Rafe get all out of him first.  Rafe. 
Presumptuous man, see to what desperate end thy treachery hath brought thee, the just Gods, who never prosper those that do despise them, for all the villainies which thou hast done to Knights and Ladies, now have paid thee home by my stiff Arm, a Knight adventurous; but say vile wretch before I send thy soul to sad avernus, whether it must go, what captives holdsed thou thy sable Cave?  Barbar. 
Go in and free them all, thou hast the day.  Rafe. 
Go Squire and Dwarf, search in this dreadful Cave, and free the wretched Prisoners from their bonds.  Barbar. 
I crave for mercy, thou art a Knight, and scornest to spill the blood of those that beg.  Exit Squire and Dwarf. Rafe. 
Thou showest no mercy, nor shalt thou have any, prepare thyself for thou shalt surely die.  Enter Squire leading one winking with a Basin under his Chine. Squire. 
Behold brave Knight here is one prisoner, whom this wild man hath used as you see.  Wife. 
This is the wisest word I heard the Squire speak.  Rafe. 
Speak what thou art, and how thou hast been used, that I may give him condign punishment.  1. Knight. 
I am a Knight that took my journey post northward from London, and in courteous wise, this Giant trained me to his den, under pretence of killing of the Itch, and all my body with a powder strewed, that smarts and stings, and cut away my beard, and my curled locks wherein were Ribbons tied, and with a water washed my tender eyes, whilst up and down about me still he skipped, whose virtue is▪ that till my eyes be wiped with a dry cloth▪ for this my foul disgrace, I shall not dare to look a Dog i'th' face.  Wife. 
Alas poor Knight relief him Rafe, relief poor Knights whilst you live.  Rafe. 
My trusty Squire convey him to the Town where he may find relief, adieu fair Knight.  Ex. Squire & Knight▪ Enter Dwarf leading one with a Patch on his Nose. Dwarf. 
Pussiant Knight of the Burning Pestle hight, see here another wretch, whom this foul beast hath scorched and scored in this unhuman wise.  Rafe. 
Speak me thy name, and eke thy place of birth, and what hath been thy usage in this Cave?  2. Knight. 
I am a Knight Sir Pock-hole is my name, and by my birth I am a Londoner, free by my Copy, but my Ancestors were Frenchmen all, and riding hard this way, upon a trotting horse my bones did ache, and I faint Knight to ease my weary limbs, light at this Cave, when straight this furious fiend, with sharpest Instrument of purest steel, did cut the Gristle of my Nose away, and in the place this velvet plaster stands, relieve me gentle Knight out of his hands.  Wife. 
Good Rafe relieve Sir Pock-hole, and send him away, for in truth his breath stinks.  Rafe. 
Convey him saint aight after the other Knight, Sir Pock-hole fare you well.  2. Knight. 
Kind Sir good night.  Exit. cries within deliver us women 〈◊〉 us women deliver us: Wife. 
Hark George, what a woeful cry there is I think some Women lies in there.  Rafe. 
What ghastly noise is this? speak Barbarossa, or by this blazing steel thy head goes off.  Barbar. 
Prisoners of mine, whom I in diet keep, send lower down into the Cave, and in a Tub that's heated smoking hot, there may they find them and deliver them.  Rafe. 
Run Squire and Dwarf, deliver them with speed.  Exit Scuire and Dwarf. Wife. 
But will not Rafe kill this Giant, surely I am afraid if he let him go he will do as much hurt, as ever he did.  Citiz. 
Not so mouse neither, if he could convert him. I George, if he could convert him; but a Giant is not so soon converted as one of us ordinary people. There's a pretty tale of a Witch, that had the devils mark about her, God bless us, that had a Giant to her son, that was called Lob— lie— by— the fire, didst never hear it George. Citiz. Peace Nell here comes the prisoners.  Enter Squire leading a man with a glass of potion in his hand, and the Dwarf leading a woman with diet-bread and drink. Dwarf. 
Here be these pined wretches manful Knight, that for these six weeks have not seen a wight.  Rafe. 

Deliver what you are, and how you came  
To this sad Cave, and what your usage was.   Man. 

I am an Errant-Knight that followed Arms,  
With Spear and Sheild; and in my tender years,  
I stricken was with Cupid's fiery Shaft,  
And fell in love with this my Lady dear,  
And stole her from her Friends in Turnbal-street,  
And bore her up and down from Town to Town,  
Where we did eat and drink, and Music hear:  
Till at the length, at this unhappy Town  
We did arrive; and coming to this Cave,  
This Beast us caught, and put us in a Tub;  
Where we this two months' sweat, and should have done  
Another month, if you had not relieved us.   Woman. 

This Bread and Water hath our Diet been;  
Together with a Rib cut from a Neck  
Of burned Mutton. Hard hath been our Fare:  
Release us from this ugly Giants Snare.   Man. 

This hath been half the food we have received;  
But only twice a day for novelty,  
He gave a spoonful of his hearty Broth  
To each of us, through this same tender Quill.   Pulls out a Syringe. Rafe. 

From this infernal Monster you shall go,  
That useth Knights and Gentile-Ladies so.  
Convey 'em hence   Exeunt. Barbar. 

Mercy, great Knight: I do recant my ill;  
And henceforth never Gentile-Blood will spill.   Rafe. 

I give thee Mercy: but yet thou shalt swea●…  
Upon my Burning Pestle, to perform  
Thy promise uttered.   Barbár. 
I swear and kiss.  Rafe. 

Depart then, and amend.  
Come, Squire and Dwarf, the Sun grows towards his set;  
And we have many more Adventures yet.   Exeunt. 
The END.   

The Humour of Simple.  
Argument needless,  
It being a Thorough Farce, and very well known.  

Actor's Names.  
Simpleton the Old,  
Simpleton the Young,  
Doll a Wench,  
two Gentlemen-Braves,  
Rivals in her Affection.   Enter Old Simpleton. Old Simpleton. 
SIrrah Simpleton, where are you?  Young Simpleton within. 
Here, here, Father.  O. Simpl. 
Where, where, Sirrah?  Y. Simpl. 
At the Cupboard, Father; at the Cupboard.  O. Simpl. 
I thought as much: but come you hither, Sirrah, or I shall make your Ears sing Pricksong for you.  Enter Young Simpleton with a great piece of Bread and Butter. Y. Simpl. 
'Tis a miserable condition that a man cannot eat a little bit for his After-noons Lunchin, but he must be disturbed in the best of his Stomach.  O. Simpl. 
A bit! dost thou call it? O' my Conscience this devouring Rascal, old as I am, would eat me if he found me in the Cupboard.  Y. Simpl. 
I do not think there is such a genteel Smith in the Town, that hath such an old niggardly Coxcomb to his Father as I: he knows I have no better a stomach then a young Green-sickness Girl, and yet he grudges me every bit I eat.  O. Simpl. 
Leave off your muttering, and lend me an Ear a while.  Y. Simpl. 
Truly I cannot spare one, Father: yet now I think on't, you have great occasion for one ever since the last Pillory-day; but since you are my Father, I will vouchsafe to listen a while.  O. Simpl. 
You know that I am old.  Y. Simpl. 
The more's the pity that you were not hanged while you were young.  O. Simpl. 
Thou hast drunk most of my Means away.  Y. Simpl. 
I' ll eat out the rest.  O. Simpl. 
Leave your ill breeding, and give me sensibly a Reason why you will not work.  Y. Simpl. 
Because I am lazy, Father.  O. Simpl. 
Nay, that's true.  Y. Simpl. 
True? why, do you think I would be so unmannerly to tell you a Lie, Father?  O. Simp. 
How I shall maintain that coming stomach of yours, unless yourself endeavour for it, I know not: but if thou wilt be ruled, I will make thee a Man.  Y. Simpl. 
A Man! why what am I now, a Mouse? what would you make of me?  O. Simpl. 
An Ass, an Ass, a gross Ass.  Y. Simpl. 
You may well make me a gross Ass, you have so good a pattern.  O. Simpl. 
Listen to me: you know the Widow's Daughter at the Corner, sweet Mistress Dorothy; she's both young and handsome, and has money too.  Y. Simpl. 
ay, and that will help to buy victuals.  O. Simpl. 
Go and woo her, and I dare lay my Life thou carriest her.  Y. Simpl. 
I carry her, Father? Alas! I have but a weak back, and besides I am somewhat lazily given, as you say: it were a great deal better that she would carry me.  O. Simpl. 
Thou hast no more wit than my Hammers head has, and no more brains then an Anvil, which every one may strike on, but never move it: Go, take your Fiddle, at that they say you are excellent; and when she thanks thee from her Chamber-window, say thou art my son, and that I sent thee about the thing she wots of.  Y. Simpl. 
O must I bumfiddle her under her Chamber-window? Well, I will go wash my hands, and starch my face, because I may be sure to go cleanly about my business.  Exeunt. Enter Young Simpleton with a Viol. Y. Simpl. 
Now must I go play an Alampadoe under Mistress Dorothy's Chamber-window, and all that time perhaps she is a snorting: for to say the truth, my Music will hardly have the virtue to waken her; and if she should wake, I could not tell what to say to her, unless it were to desire her to go to bed again. And because I will be sure to be acceptable to her, I will join my Nightingale-Voyce thereunto.  Enter the first Gentleman. 1 Gent. 
What Slave is this presumes to court my Mistress? Could I but see him, I would satisfy my anger with the ruin of his limbs; but he is gone, and I loose time in seeking.  Exit. Y. Simpl. 
That was a roaring Rogue, he has made my Heart jump upright into my Mouth; and if I had not held it fast with my Teeth, without doubt it had forsaken my Body; but he is gone, and now I will venture forward.  Enter the second Gentleman. 2 Gent. 
I heard some Music at my Sweethearts window: could I but find him, I would cut him, and slash him till his whole body were anatomised: but he is gone, and it was his wisest course.  Exit. Y. Simpl. 
That roaring Rogue was far worse than the t' other; he has almost frighted my Song out of my head. Oh! we true and faithful Lovers, what perils and dangers must we undergo, to gain the wills and affections of our dearest Dears? But now to my Music; and because she shall take a great pleasure to think on it, I will sing a song of a young Wench that had a great mind to be married before her time.  Sings. 

Oh! Mother let me have a Husband kind, with toitre, loytre, loitre.  
That day and night I may comfort find of a toitre, etc.   

I care not whether honest Man or Knave, so that he keep me fine and brave,  
And that none else but I may have his toitre, etc.   

Oh Daughter you are not old enough for a toitre, etc.  
And Husbands often do prove rough with a toitre, etc.   

Your tender heart no grief can carry, as they must do sometimes that marry:  
You yet may well a twelvemonth tarry for a toitre, etc.   

Oh! Mother I am in my teens, for a toitre, etc.  
And younger Wives are often seen with a toitte, etc.   

I pray let me not so idle stand, for I can do as well as any can,  
I have had a proof with John our Man of his toitre, etc.   
Well, if she does not run mad for me now, it is pity she should have Music under her Window as long as she lives.  Doll. 
Oh is it you? I thought none but a Puppy like yourself, would have disturbed the Neighbours with your Gridiron-musick: a Saw were far more pleasing.  Y. Simpl. 
Forsooth I am very sorry that you have no better skill in Music; in my Opinion I sung most melodiously: but if you will be pleased to look with Eyes of judgement upon me, you will express your love in a better manner to me.  Doll. 
I shall express my love, if you continue here, in a far worser manner than you think for. Do you see this Chamber-pot? it longs to be acquainted with that brainless head of yours: therefore be gone, and save yourself a washing.  Y. Simpl. 
If you should wash me, I think it would be but labour in vain: yet if you please to distil any of your sweet water upon me, I shall desire to be smelled out by you.  Doll. 
You Ass, you Puppy; must you needs force a drowning?  Y. Simpl. 
Is this the beginning of love? It is almost as bad as the Proverb to me: stay, it may be it is Rose-water. Voh, it is as rank Urine as ever any Doctor cast. I'll call this same Old Simpleton my Father that set me about this business. Oh, Father Simpleton, where are you?  O. Simpl. 
Oh my Son, how hast thou sped, Boy?  Y. Simpl. 
O! I have sped most abominably, Father: I got a great deal more than I expected.  O. Simpl. 
Oh my own natural Boy!  Y. Simpl. 
ay, natural, to be sure, I had ne'er come here else.  O. Simpl. 
But how did she relish thee?  Y. Simpl. 
Why she relished me with a whole Chamber-pot full of water.  O. Simpl. 
Why thou Ass, thou Puppy, thou Fool, thou Coxcomb.  Y. Simpl. 
Why? how can I help it? why did you get me so like a Fool?  O Simpl. 
Come, show me to her, and you shall see how I will handle her.  Y. Simpl. 
Nay, Father, I should be loath to marry her, after you have had the handling of her.  O. Simpl. 
This is her Chamber, is it not?  Y. Simpl. 
Yes: I know it by a good token; for here she opened the Sluice, and let the Floodgates out upon me.  O. Simpl. 
Mistress Dorothy, Mistress Dorothy, pray come to the window.  Y. Simpl. 
Pray to the window, Mistress Dorothy.  O. Simpl. 
Sirrah, hold your tongue.  Doll. 
What again? sure this whole morning is nothing but my trouble: what Wiseacre is that now?  Y. Simpl. 
She calls you Wiseacre: speak now.  O. Simpl. 
I am your Neighbour, Old Simpleton the Smith.  Y. Simpl. 
And I Young Simpleton the Smith.  Doll. 
Oh Neighbour, is it you? Here was your Son but now, and he kept a worse noise than a Bear-baiting: but you are civil, I will come down to you.  O. Simpl. 
Look you there, Sirrah; she will come down to me, she says.  Y. Simpl. 
ay, by that time I have been a Courtier as long as you have been, one woman or other may come down to me.  Enter Doll. Doll. 
Good morrow, Neighbour: what is your business, pray?  O. Simpl. 
Why it is this: this is my Son. Nay, it is my Son, I'll assure you.  Y. Simpl. 
Yes, forsooth, he is sure I am his Son; my Mother told him so.  Doll. 
Now I look better on him, he seems to me more handsome than before; your company seasons him with discretion: but what's your business, pray Sir?  O. Simpl. 
Why, if you please, forsooth, I would fain join you two together in the way of Matrimony.  Y. Simpl. 
Yes forsooth, to mock a marriage.  Doll. 
But hold, Sir, two words to a bargain: what profession is your Son of?  Y. Simpl. 
Forsooth I am a Blacksmith: and though I say it, I have as good Working-gear as any Smith in the Parish; all my Neighbours Wives shall be my witness.  O. Simpl. 
Sirrah, hold your tongue.  Y. Simpl. 
Why, shall I come a wooing, and say nothing for myself?  Doll. 
But what Estate, I pray, has your Son in posse?  Y. Simpl. 
Father, what Estate have I in a posset?  O. Simpl. 
Forsooth, two Cows you shall have with him.  Y. Simpl. 
With a Calf, to my knowledge.  O. Simpl. 
Four Ewes and Lambs, and a Horse to ride to market on.  Y. Simpl. 
Yes, and an A—No, now I think on it, you may keep your Ass yourself.  O. Simpl. 
Four Mark in money.  Y. Simpl. 
Do you mark that?  O. Simpl. 
With a Bed and Blankets.  Y. Simpl. 
And then we may dance the shaking of the sheets when we can.  Doll. 
These promises are fair; and if performed, I hope I shall not need repent my bargain.  Y. Simpl. 
Nor I neither: Come, let's to bed presently, and afterwards we'll talk on it.  Doll. 
No, no; first to Church, and then to bed.  Y. Simpl. 
Oh! than you won't follow the fashion of our Country; we commonly go to bed first, and to Church when we can: but come, I am contented.  Exeunt. 1 Gent. 
What should this mean? Doll has a Hat on: she did not use to wear one.  Enter Doll. Doll. 
Oh Gentlemen! though I desire your company, yet now I could heartily wish your absence.  1 Gent. 
Why? what's the matter, Doll?  Doll. 
I am married.  2 Gent. 
To whom?  Doll. 
Do you not know him? Young Simpleton the Smith.  1 Gent. 
That Fool, that Coxcomb: I'll break his Hammer with his own jolt-head.  Doll. 
Stand close, I hear him coming.  Enter Young Simpleton. Y. Simpl. 
Sweetheart, now we are married, things ought to be well carried: and the first thing we should take care for, is, how to get Victuals. what's that?  They whistle. Doll. 
Nothing but the Rats and Mice.  Y. Simpl. 
As sure as I live, I'll lay a trap for those Rats. But what's the matter now?  They hem. Doll. 
Nothing but the Neighbour's Dogs.  Y. Simpl. 
'Tis a thousand pities but such Curs were hanged up presently.  Exit Simpl. Doll. 
Oh Gentlemen, I would you were out of the House; for I am afraid he will return again ere I can handsomely shut the door.  Y. Simpl. within. 
Why Doll, Doll!  Doll. 
Come ye behind me presently; I pray dispatch.  Enter Young Simpleton. Y. Simpl. 
Doll, I have considered, that to set up my Trade is the way to get Victuals; and I want nothing of my Tools, but only a pair of Bellows.  Doll. 
Fear not, Husband, I have a little money that you know not of; and if I can but hear of a good bargain, I will not fail to buy a pair of Bellows.  Y. Simpl. 
Oh thou pretty loving kind Pigsney! but what makes thee wear thy Coats of that fashion?  She spreads her Coats. Doll. 
Do not you know, Husband, it is the fashion 〈◊〉 new-married Wives?  Y. Simpl. 
Is it so? it is an excellent fashion in the Summertime: but I'll go out, and return presently.  Exit Y. Simpl. Doll. 
What will you do? 'tis ten to one he spies you, and then my reputation runs a hazard.  1 Gent. 
Appoint what way you will, we are contented.  Doll. 
I see him coming back; and truth to say, the course I shall advise, will seem a strange one, yet it must be: you know he did appoint that I should buy for him a pair of Bellows; now if you two can beat it lustily, and blow it strongly, this visit may be kept off from his knowledge.  1 Gent. 
Nay, any thing, good Doll; we cannot now be choosers.  Doll. 
So, lie down: I'll fetch a Chafingdish of Charcoal hither, and practise you a while before he come.  Exit Doll. 1 Gent. 
I have played many a mad prank in my Life, yet ne'er till now acted a pair of Bellows.  Enter Doll. She practises them. Doll. 
So, so, blow lustily, and fear not.  Enter Young Simpleton. Y. Simpl. 
Wife, I have considered with myself, that if we lay out all the money in a pair of Bellows, we should have little or nothing left to buy Victuals.  Doll. 
Oh Husband, you are deceived; for I have bought you a pair of Bellows, the whole Town shows not a neater.  Y. Simpl. 
Is this a pair of Bellows? let me see, this is an a-la-moda pair of Bellows. But look you, Doll, when the Bellows-mender comes by, let him stop this hole here; for the wind comes out abominably. I'll call my Father Simpleton to see this pair of Bellows. Father, father, come hither.  Enter Old Simpleton. Y. Simpl. 
Did you ever see such a pair of Bellows as my Wife has bought?  O. Simpl. 
A pair a Bellows, Son! Methinks this would serve better for an Anvil: Let's try how it will bear our strokes.  Y. Simpl. 
Well, a match.  Exeunt.  

The Humour of Bumpkin.  
Argument needless,  
It being a Thorough Farce, very well known.  

Actor's Names.  
Actaeon,  
three Huntsmen,  
Bumpkin,  
three Country Wenches.   Enter first Huntsman and Bumkin. 1 Hunt. 
WHy, what's the matter?  Bumpkin. 
Nay, I know not: but every day my great Guts and my small Guts make such a Combustion in my Belly as passes, and my Puddings (like Lances) run atilt at my heart, and make me as queasie-stomacht as a young Green-sickness Girl newly come to a Big-belly.  1 Hunt. 
Canst thou not guests the reason of this trouble?  Bump. 
Yes, I think I can, and I'll be judged by thee, if my case be not desperate; I have a horrible mind to be in love.  1 Hunt. 
With whom?  Bump. 
With any body; but I cannot find out the way how to be in Love.  1 Hunt. 
Why? I'll instruct thee: Canst thou be melancholy?  Bump. 
Yes, as a Dog, or a Hog-louse: I could even find in my heart to cry presently.  1 Hunt. 
Canst thou sleep well?  Bump. 
I cannot tell, I never saw myself sleep.  1 Hunt. 
Is't possible, that thou who hast so long been an attendant upon my Lord Actaeon, shouldst be to learn the way to be in love?  Bump. 
I would it were not possible, on the condition thou wert hanged and quartered.  1 Hunt. 

I thank you, Sir. But Bumpkin, list to me;  
This day thou know'st the Maids and young men meet  
To sport, and revel it about the Maypole;  
Present thyself there; tell thy cause of grief;  
And I dare warrant thee a Sweetheart presently.   Bump. 
If thou canst do that, I'll marry her first, and learn to love her afterwards.  1 Hunt. 
Haste thither, Bumpkin; I'll go on before.  Exit. Bump. 
And I will follow thee a Dog-trot.  
Is it not pity▪ that a Man of Authority as I am, having been chief Dog-keeper to my Lord Actaeon this five years, being a Man so comely of person, and having such a pure Complexion, that all fair Ladies may be ashamed to look on me, and that I should be distressed for a Sweetheart? Maypole, I come;  

And if the Wenches there increase my pains,  
And scorn to love, I'll beat out all their brains.   Exit. Enter Huntsmen with three Country Wenches. 2 Co. Wench. 
Is it possible, would Bumpkin be in love?  1 Hunt. 

Yes, if he knew but how; and for that sickness  
I have undertaken to become his Doctor:  
For, at the May-pole-meeting 'tis decreed,  
A Sweetheart must be purchased, come what will on't.   3 Co. Wench. 
Nay, if he be distressed, twenty to one he may find charitable Persons there.  
Come, strike up a Farewell to Misfortune.  Enter Bumpkin. Bump. 
That is a Dance that I could never hit of: pray desist a while, and hear my doleful Tale.  1 Co. Wench. 
He'll make us cry sure.  Bump. 
Be it known unto all men by these presents.  2 Co. Wench. 
An Obligation? we will be no witnesses.  Bump. 
Why then I'll hang myself.  3 Co. Wench. 
We will be witness then.  Bump. 
What, to my hanging? O'my Conscience, if I should woo my heart out, I should never be the fatter for it.— where's your promise now?  1 Hunt. 
You have not yet expressed yourself; be plain; tell them your grief, a remedy will follow.  Bump. 
If that be all, 'tis but an easy matter; pray take notice that I am in love— with some body.  2 Co. Wench. 
Would I were she!  Bump. 
Why? so you are, if you have a mind to it.  2 Co. Wench. 
Why then you are my own.  3 Co. Wench. 
Pardon me, Sister, I bespoke him yesterday.  They all hang about him. Goes to her. Bump. 
Yes marry did she.  1 Co. Wench. 
But I was she that won him at the Maypole.  2 Co. Wench. 
Was that the cause you strove so for the Garland?  Bump. 
What's that to you?  Goes to her. 
Would I had any one of them in quietness.  3 Co. Wench. 
But yet I must have share.  1 Co. Wench. 
So must I too.  All pull him. 2 Co. Wench. 
I will not part without the better half.  Bump. 
Then who shall have me whole? what, are you mad?  3 Co. Wench. 
There's reason for a madness in this case.  1 Co. Wench. 
I will not lose my right: Let go, I say.  2 Co. Wench. 
He shall be mine, or else he shall be nothing.  Bumpkin. 

Away you Burrs, why do you stick thus on me?  
Now by this hand, if nothing can persuade you,  
I'll drown myself for spite, that you may perish.   (Horn.) 1 Hunt. 

Hark, hark, my Lord Actaeon's warning-piece;  
That Horn gives us intelligence he does intend  
To spend this day in hunting: Bumpkin, why stay you?  
The hounds will quarrel with you: we'll come after.   1 Co. Wench. 
Will you not stay, my Love?  Bump. 
I'll see you hanged first; and by this hand, ere I will be in love again, I will feed my hounds with my own proper carcase.  Exit. 2 Co. Wench. 
Now he is gone, our dancing may go forward.  2 Hunt. 
My Lord Actaeon stays; be quick, I pray.  3 Co. Wench. 
Quick as you will; the doing of it quick, makes it show the better.  A Country Dance, Then Exeunt. Enter Actaeon and Bumpkin. Actaeon. 
Be nimble, Sirrah.  Bump. 
Nimble? yes, as a Bear that hath been lugged to purpose: if Love be such a troublesome Companion, I will entreat him to keep out of my company.  Actaeon. 
We consume the day.  Bump. 
They have saved me a labour.  Actaeon. 

Fie, what mean you?  
The glory of this day calls us to action.   1 Hunt. 
Sir, you may please to know, that yesternight I lodged a Boar within the neighbouring Forest.  Bump. 
Yes, Sir, and I lodged a Fox at a house hard by.   

The Humours of Simpkin.  
A continued Farce.  

Actor's Names.  
Simpkin, a Clown:  
Bluster,  
a Roarer:  
an old Man:  
his Wife:  
a Servant.   Enter the Wife, Simpkin following. Wife. 

BLind Cupid hath made my heart for to bleed:  
Fa lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, la.   Simp. 

But I know a man can help you at need:  
With a fa lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, la.   Wife. 

My husband he often a hunting goes out:  
Fa lafoy, lafoy, etc.   Simp. 

And brings home a great pair of horns, there's no doubt:  
With a fa lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, etc.   Wife. 

How is't, Monsieur Simpkin? why are you so sad?  
Fa la, lafoy, lafoy, etc.   Simp. 

I am up to the ears in love, and it makes me stark mad:  
With a fa lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, etc.  
I am vexed, I am tortured, and troubled at heart:  
Fa lafoy, lafoy, etc.   Wife. 

But I'll try my skill to take off your smart:  
With a fa lafoy, lafoy, etc.  
And on that condition I give you a kiss:  
Fa lafoy, lafoy, etc.   Simp. 

But what says your husband when he hears of this?  
With a fa lafoy, lafoy, etc.   Wife. 

You know my affections, and no one knows more:  
Fa, lafoy, lafoy, etc.   Knocks within. Simp. 

'Uds niggers noggers who knocks at the door?  
With a fa, lafoy, lafoy, etc.   Enter Servant. The Tune altars. Seru. 

There is a Roister at the Door,  
he seems a Fellow stout.   Simp. 

I do beseech you, worthy Friend,  
which is the backway out?   Seru. 

He swears and tears he will come in,  
and nothing shall him hinder.   Exit Servant▪ Simp. 

I fear he'll strip me out my skin,  
and burn it into Tinder.   Wife. 

I have considered of a way,  
and 'twill be sure the best.   Simp. 
What may it be, my dearest Dear?  Wife. 

Creep into this same Chest A Chest set out.  
And though he roar, speak you no word,  
if you'll preserve my favour.   Simp. 

Shut to the Chest, I pray, with speed;  
for something has some savour.   Enter Bluster. Blust. 

I never shall be quiet if  
she use me in this fashion.   Wife. 

I am here to bid you welcome;  
what mean you by this passion?   Blust. 

With some young sweet-faced Fellow,  
I thought gone out you were.   Simp. in the Chest 

No sooth, the sweet-faced Fellow  
is kept a Prisoner here.   Blust. 

Where is the Fool thy Husband?  
say, whither is he gone?   Wife. 
The Wittol is a hunting.  Blust. 

Then we two are alone.  
But should he come, and find me here, what might the Cuckold think?  
Perhaps he'd call the Neighbours in.   Simp. 
And beat you till you stink.  Blust. 
Yet in the bloody War full oft, my courage I did try.  Wife. 
I know you have killed many a man.  Simp. 
You lie, you Slut, you lie.  Blust. 

I never came before a Foe,  
By night nor yet by day,  
But that I stoutly roused myself.   Simp. 
And nimbly ran away.  Blust. 
Within this Chest I'll hide myself, if it chance he should come.  Wife. 
O no, my Love, that cannot be.  Simp. 
I have bespoke the room.  Wife. 
I have a place behind here, which yet is known to no man.  Simp. 
She has a place before too, but that is all too common.  Old Man within. Old Man. 
Wife, wherefore is the door thus barred? what mean you, pray, by this?  Wife. 
Alas, it is my Husband.  Simp. 
I laugh now till I piss.  Blust. 
Open the Chest, I'll into it, my Life else it may cost.  Wife. 
Alas, I cannot open it.  Simp. 
I believe the Key is lost.  Wife. 
I have bethought myself upon a dainty trick.  Blust. 

What may it be, my dearest Love?  
I prithee now be quick.   Wife. 

You must say that your Enemy into this house is fled;  
And that your heart can take no rest until that he be dead.  
Draw quickly out your furious Blade, and seem to make a strife:  
Swear all th' excuses can be made, shall not preserve his Life.  
Say that the Rogue is fled in here, that stole away your Coin;  
And if I'll not deliver him, you'll have as much of mine.   Blust. 
Here's no man but myself, on whom shall I complain?  Wife. 

This great fool does not understand, this thing you must but seign.  
My husband thus must be deceived, and afterwards we'll laugh.   Enter Old Man. Old Man. 

Wife, since you will not ope the Door,  
I'll break't ope with my staff.   Blust. 
Good woman show me to the Slave, his limbs I straight will tear.  Wife. 
By all the honesty I have, there's no man came in here▪  Blust. 

When I have fought to purchase wealth, and with my blood did win it,  
This Rogue has got my purse by stealth.   Simp. 
But never a penny in it.  Old Man. 
She's big with Child, therefore take heed you do not fright my wife.  Blust. 
But know you who the Father is?  Simp. 
The Roarer, on my Life.  Old Man. 
She knows not of your enemy, then get you gone you were best.  Wife. 

Peace, husband, peace; I tell you true▪  
I have hid him in the Chest   Old Man. 
I am glad on't at my heart, but do not tell him so.  Wife. 
I would not for a thousand pound the Roarer should it know.  Blust. 

When next we meet, his life is gone, no other must he hope;  
I'll kill him whatsoe'er comes on't.   Simp. 
Pray think upon a Rope.  Old Man. 
What kind of person is it then, that in the Chest doth lie?  Wife. 
A goodly handsome sweet young man, as ere was seen with eye.  Old Man. 

Then let us both entreat of him—  
Pray put us not in fear:  
We do beseech you go from hence.   Blust. 
But tomorrow I'll be here.  Exit Blust. Old Man. 

Wife, run with all the speed you can, and quickly shut the door;  
I would not that the roaring Man should come in any more.  
Mean time I will release the youth, and tell him how we have sped—  
Be comforted my honest friend.   Simpkin comes forth. Simp. 

Alas, I'm almost dead.  
My heart is tortured in my breast, with sorrow, fear and pain.   Old Man. 
I'll fetch some Aqua vitae, to comfort you again.  Simp. 

And 'cause I will require you, whose love doth so excel,  
I'll graft a pair of horns on your head▪ that may defend it well.   Wife. 
Good husband, let the man stay here, 'tis dangerous in the street.  Old Man. 

I would not for a Crown of Gold the Roarer should him meet.  
For should he come by any harm, they'd say the fault were mine.   Wife to Simp. 
There's half a crown, pray send him out to fetch a quart of wine.  Simp. 
There's money for you, Sir,— pray fetch a quart of Sack.  Old Man. 

'Tis well, 'tis well, my honest friend,  
I'll see you shall not lack.   Wife. 
But if he should dishonest me, for there are such slippery men.  Old Man. 
Then he gets not of his half crown, one penny back again.  Exit. Simp. 

Thy husband being gone, my Love, we'll sin●… we'll dance and laugh:  
I am sure he's a good fellow, and taketh delight to quaff.   Wife. 
I'll fold thee in my arms, my Love, no matter for his listening.  The old man and his servant listen. Simpl. 
Gentlemen, some forty weeks hence you may come to a Christening.  Old Man. 

O Sirrah, have I caught you? now do the best you can;  
Your Schoolmaster ne'er taught you to wrong an honest man.   Simp. 

Good Sir, I never went to school, then why am I abused?  
The truth is, I am but a Fool, and like a Fool am used.   Old Man. 
Yet Sirrah you had wit enough to think to Cuckold me.  Wife. 
I jested with him, husband, his knavery to see.  Simp. 

But now you talk of knavery,  
I pray where is my sack?   Old Man. 
You shall want it in your belly, Sir, and have it on your back.  They beat him off. Exeunt.  

The Humour of Hobbinal.  
Argument is needless,  
Only the Drollery taken out.  

Actor's Names.  
Hobbinal,  
Dorilas,  
Strephon,  
Oenone, &  
two or three Nymphs.   Enter Dorilas, Strephon spying Hobbinal reading. Dor. 
WHat Paper is that he ruminates upon? Let us observe a little.  Hob. 
'Tis a strange thing I find myself out every day more than other, to be one of the understanding'st, sweetest, neatest, and compleatest Shepherds that ever took hook in hand. Tother day I saw my face in a pail of water, and I had much ado to forbear drowing of myself. 'Tis no wonder then, that the beauteous Nymph Oenone makes much of me, and lets all the other Shepherds shake their Ears like Asses: and the truth is, if I can find never a handsomer, she shall serve the turn. This was her birthday, she being born in the year— one thousand six hundred,— nay hold a little: but on this day of the month it was, Winter or Summer, in the honour of which we all keep holiday: and therefore for the credit of her beauty, and the honour of my own Poetry, I have made such a Copy of Verses on her, as will make her a thousand times handsomer than ever she was in her Life.  
I will peruse them now with the eyes of understanding.  He reads▪ 

OEnone fair, whose beauty does enrich us,  
Tell me the cause why thou dost so bewitch us.  
On this day thou wert born, though not begotten;  
This day I'll think on when thou art dead and rotten.  
And though thy coyness, and thy pretty scorn,  
Makes many wish that thou hadst ne'er been born;  
Yet for my own part, this I'll swear and say,  
I wish thy time of birth were every day.   
If she do not run mad for love of me now, 'tis pity she should have Verses made on her as long as she lives.  Streph. 
Let's interrupt him.— Hobbinal, well met.  Hob. 
It may be so.  Dor. 
But why so strange, man? I hope you will remember we are your fellow-Shepherds.  Hob. 
You were once: but now I command you to know, I am a Master-Shepherd; for the fair Nymph Oenone, that makes all your mouths run over with water, does acknowledge me to be both Master and Mistress.  Streph. 
In part 'tis true: yet if you well consider, she makes you but her sport; no otherwise.  Hob. 
If she make me her sport, 'tis more than ever she can make of thee: for thou art one of the sourest looked fellows that ever crept out of a Vinegar-bottle.  Enter Oenone. Dor. 
Here comes the fairest Idae ever nourished.  Hob. 
Now will I see who is the most deserving Shepherd in all the Vale of Idae.— Little Rogue, how dost thou?  Oenone. 
O Hobbinal, you are welcome; I thought you had forgot me: you are my sport, and should be ever near me.  Hob. 
Look you there, I am her sport, she says: when will she give any of you such an honourable Title? but Sport, I do not think but thou art a Conjurer, or a Witch, or a Devil at least: for thou hast insused such a combustion of Poetry in my head, that I fear I shall never be my own Man again, nor my Master's neither.— There's a Copy of Verses, read 'em: nay, they are my own, as sure as my name 's Hobbinal.  Oenone. 
I thank you, Sport: I'll study a requital.  Dor. 
Honour me with your fair hand, Nymph, that I may lead the way to all those pastimes which will follow.  Oenone. 
The honour is to me, and I accept it.  Hob. 
I'd laugh at that: no, Sport, I'll dance with thee myself.  Oenone. 
Some other time by chance I may be at leisure.  Hob. 
Will you not? Well, by this hand then I'll stand out, and laugh at every thing you do, right or wrong.  A Dance. 

Pshaw waw, this dancing is like my Mother's Mares trot:  
Sport, shall I show thee a Dance of my own fashion?   Oenone. 
It cannot but content.  Hob. 
Nay, I know that: hark hither, Lads.  Ex. Hob. Str. Hobbinal and the shepherds dance a Morris. Hob. 
How like you this Sport?  Oenone. 
Beyond Expression, Sport: I see your Virtues were concealed too long.  Hob. 
ay, so they were; but I mean to show them every day as fast as I can. But Sirrah, Sport, yonder's god Pan with a company of the bravest Satyrs that ever wore horns on their heads: come, Shepherds, let's go make them drunk, and saw off all their horns.  Exeunt.  

The Humour of john Swabber.  
Argument needless,  
It being an ancient Farce, and generally known.  

Actor's Names.  
Francisco and Gerard,  
john Swabber,  
Cutbeard a Barber,  
Parnel,  
Swabber's wife, and  
two or three Neighbours wives.   Enter Francisco and Gerard. Fran. 
HEreabout I am to meet this Hercules; and see, he's come.  Enter John Swabber armed with several ridiculous Weapons. 
Well, john, I see you are prepared for murder: have mercy on the Barber, I say.  Swab. 
No, I scorn it; I will have no mercy: he has made a whore of a wondrous honest woman; and a Cuckold of one, that for aught I know, might have been a Courtier. For which abominable deed, I scorn to show myself a Christian; for I do mean to use him worse than a Jew would.  Fran. 
Nay, but consider, he's a man however, and you can boast yourself to be no more, although you have the spirit of a Giant: you have brought weapons here, as if you meant to kill him twenty times. Troth 'tis too much.  Swab. 
If I bate him an Ace of forty, call me Coxcomb: I will draw his teeth one by one, with an instrument called a pair of Tongues, then let him blood in the right vein, and bid the Devil take him at his own peril.  Fran. 
Let me prevail with thee to calm thy rage, and take acquaintance of this Gentleman, a worthy friend of mine.  Swab. 
Do you long to be acquainted with me, Sir?  Ger. 
By any means, Sir.  Swab. 
'Tis granted then: I'll toss a Can or a Pot with you as soon as I have dispatched this bawdy Barber; would he were dead, that my business might be over.  Ger. 
What's your profession, Sir? and how may I call you?  Swab. 
I am a Seaman, Sir; my name's john Swabber:— an Officer of the Ship, Sir.  Ger. 
I cry you mercy, Sir.  Swab. 
Nay, never cry for the matter.— But I had forgot this Barber all this while. Barber, come forth; or by the beard of my great Grandfather, I swear, I will so shashado, mashado, pashado, and carbinado thee, that thou shalt look like a Gallimafry all the days of thy Life. Come forth, I say.  Cutbeard within. 
Why Neighbour Swabber, who provokes you thus? what do you mean? who has offended you?  Swab. 
O Slave of all Slaves! who has offended me? why thou base, beastly, boisterous, Babylonian, bawdy-faced Barber, thou hast: thou hast made me fit to chew the cud with Oxen, climb the mountains with wild Goats, and keep company with none but Ram-headed people: for which I will tie thee up on the next Signpost, and there thou shalt hang a twelvemonth and a day alive, for an example to all such notable shavers; but if thou comest and submittest to my mercy, I will do thee the favour to let thee hang till thou be dead.  Ger. 
Francisco, hark:— I'll pawn my Life this fellow is a rank Coward: keep you his fury up, and I'll persuade the Barber to a greater vein of roaring then ere was practised by a suburb-Blade: I'll make him at the least seem valiant; fear not.  Exit. Fran. 
Do, if it be possible; I'll hold him in discourse.— But, Mr. Swabber, what think you if he does compound with you? will you be won to take an arm or two, or both his legs, and save his other members?  Swab. 
Pish, tell not me, 'tis neither his arms nor his legs that I stand upon; he has caused me to go in danger of my Life: for the other day I had an occasion to pass by a worshipful Gentleman's pack of Hounds, they no sooner looked upon my forehead, but they came at me in full cry; and I for fear left such a sent behind me, that they came after me as perfectly by it, as if I had been a Stagg; and if I had not got shelter of a house, without doubt I had been presented to some great man for Venison, and my Haunches had been baked by this time.  Fran. 
You were in danger there, I must confess.  Swab. 
And the Butcher's Dogs still take me for a Bull, and fetch such courses at me; and all this the Barber is the cause of.  Fran. 
I would revenge it: were I as you, he should not have a tool left him to work with.  Swab. 
No, nor to play with neither: I will have an inch of every tool he has.— Barber, come forth, and let me kill thee upon fair terms; or else I mill enter thy house by force, pitch thee down the stairs, and send thee of an Errand headlong: and if thou dost submit to my mercy, I will shave thee to death with thy own Razor: therefore take heed.— So, now let him come if he dare.  Enter Gerard. Ger. 
Well, now I see there is no hope to appease him: blood must ensue, and death will take its course.  Swab. 
With whom? what's the matter?  Ger. 
The Barber is preparing for the combat: he has took his pole to serve him for a lance, and one of his basons for a buckler, and vows to make you the windmill, whilst he plays Don Quixot against you furiously.  Swab. 
A windmill!— I'll be gone.  Fran. 
You will not offer that, sure. What afraid?  Swab. 
Would it not make any one tremble with the thought on't, first to be made a Cuckold, than a windmill? No, I will be gone, and come again to kill him when I can find him in a better humour.  Fran. 
Consider what you do; he'll call you Coward, proclaim you Cuckold still in every Alehouse; and what disgrace will that be?  Swab. 
I care not: 'tis better to be a Cuckold then a windmill. If he had meant to make a Fool, a Puppy, or an Ass of me, or any such Christianlike Creature, 'twere another matter: but to be made a windmill of, and never to be respected but when the wind blows, is not to be endured: therefore let him make windmills of my weapons, if he will; for my own part, I will defend myself with my heels.  Throws down his weapons. Ger. 
Come, I have brought him to a better temper: he will come armed with nothing but a Razor; with which if he does suit your wezand-pipe, it will not be amiss to take it patiently.  Swab. 
Let him not spoil my drinking, and I care not: but hark you, if you should let him hurt me, I should be as angry as a Tiger.  Enter Cutbeard with a Razor. Cut. 
Where is this Slave that has provoked my rage to his destruction? I will swinge this Boor, then hang him up for Bacon in my chimney, and send him to be broiled for Pluto's breakfast.  Swab. 
Why this is worse than to be made a windmill. Do you hear, Sir? if ever you had the fit of an Ague upon you, or ever knew the trembling of a Man troubled in Conscience, that would be loath to die till he had made even with all the world, consider me. Alas, Sir, I have my Rent to pay yet; and if I should be sent to Hell of an Errand, they'll like my company so well, I should never come back again: pray persuade him to send me to jerusalem, jericho, or any of those places nearer hand.  Fran. 
Why, canst not thou excuse thyself? where's thy brains?  Swab. 
Alas, my brains are fallen into my breeches; but if you'll stand between me and harm, I'll venture to reconcile myself to him.— Cut.— honest Cutbeard, didst not thou think I was in earnest all this while?  Cut. 
Whate'er thou wert, thou shalt be nothing presently: Death waits for thee: come quickly, I command thee.  Swab. 
Sir, pray persuade Mr. Death to have patience for a matter of 40 or 50 years more: for I have a great deal of business to do in this world yet.  Cut. 
Shall I be dallied with? let me approach him: for all the entreaties of the world shall not preserve him past six minutes.  Swab. 
One minute is passed already,— and there's two.  Fran. 
Nay, prithee Cutbeard be more merciful.  Swab. 
Three— four— five.  Ger. 
Will no entreaty serve? Then take your course.  Swab. 
Six. O now I am gone.  Cut. 
If he submit, he may live: let him know it.— Dost thou acknowledge thy own Cowardice, and my heroic Valour?  Swab. 
O mighty Hercules, I confess myself a Pigmy, and I will never think otherwise while I live, these Gentlemen be my witnesses.  Ger. 
Why then all is well a gen..— Remember, Cutbeard.  Cut. 
I'll spice him, fear not.— Give me thy hand,  jack: 
Thus do I grasp thy friendship.  Swab. 
He grasps my hand devilish hard tho.  Cut. 
I here pronounce thy wife to be a Venus.  Swab. 
O rare! is my wife a Venus? That's more than ever I knew before: why then I will be her husband Cupid.  Fran. 
No, Cupid was her Son.  Swab. 
'Tis no matter for that, he shall be her husband for once; and we two will get such abundance of young Cupids, that we'll make all the world in love with one another.  Cut. 
Since we are reconciled, know, honest Swabber, that I will make the whole world dote on thee: I'll wash thy face, and powder thee to the purpose, and shave thee if thou wilt too.  Swab. 
No, by no means: I dare not venture my throat under thy Fingers: but for washing and powdering, that all the world may be in love with me, I am content.  Cut. 
Sit down then in this Chair, look on this powder, the snow is nothing to it; 'twill create such a complexion on thee, that no Art did ever set upon the proudest Lady.  Swab. 
But hark you, Cutbeard, how shall I do to satisfy all the women that will follow me for kisses? if you make me too beautiful, my lips will be worn threadbare before I can get home; and than Parnel my own dear wife, will have the least share of her own sweet husband.  Cut. 
For that we'll take a course— wink, wink, good jack; my Ball will search your eyes else.  Swab. 
My eyes are honest, and fear no searching.  Changes the Powder, and blacks his face all over. Cut. 
Now I begin to sprucifie thy phisnomy:— This powder was extracted from the Phoenix, when she last burnt herself, and is indeed the quintessence of odours.  Swab. 
Nay, 'tis as odious as ever I smelled, that is certain: good Cutbeard, let me have enough, I prithee.  Cut. 
Nay, I will spare no cost:— Judge, Gentlemen, is he not strangely altered?  Ger. 
Past belief: I would not that my Mistress saw him now, my hopes would soon be cooled then.  Swab. 
I think so: but I would have you to take notice, I will have nothing to do but with great personages; for I must not make myself common.  Fran. 
What this fellow will come to, no man knows yet; his fame no doubt will travel over all Countries, and I am fully resolved in my Opinion, the Queen of Mauritania will run mad for him.  Swab. 
If she run as mad as a March-Hare, she gets not a bit: no, Parnel and my Neighbours shall have all.  Cut. 
Now if the Painters will draw Adonis our, let them come here for Copies. So, I have done.  Swab. 
Prithee Cutbeard, lend me a Looking-glass.  Cut. 
By no means: what, did you never hear of one Narcissus, how he pined away for love of his own shadow? No, go home, your house is hard by; let Parnel see you, and bless herself with wonder.  Swab. 
Honest Cutbeard, this Gentleman is a worthy friend of mine; prithee bestow some of the same powder upon his face.  Fran. 
No, no, you shall be beautiful alone; 'tis best.  Swab. 

Parnel, I come; and if thou be'st not stupid,  
Thou thou ●…t say jack Swabber is a kin to Cupid.   Exit. Ger. 
Well, Cutbeard, thou hast dressed him handsomely: I would give a Crown that I were by when first he finds what beauty he is adorned withal.  Cut. 
This day I am to meet with pretty Parnel; pray Heaven the Fool be absent when I come: some two hours hence, if you will meet me, Gentlemen, I will tell you how he takes his transmigration.  Fran. 
We will not fail. Farewell.  Exeunt. Enter Parnel. Parn. 
I wonder that my Barber stays thus long: can he neglect me thus? Well, I will fit him; for if he use me once again thus basely, I will cashier him, and bestow my love upon some one more constant: forty to one but Swabber comes before him, and spoils all.  Enter Swabber very stately. 
Who's this, in the name of blackness? the clothes and walk of my dear husband, and I will lay my life he has got a Vizard on.— Nay pray now, indeed you'll fright me presently; take heed.  Swab. 
She does not know me, that's excellent.— Parnel, believe it, I am flesh and blood; I would not have thee take me for a Goddess.  Parn. 
A Goddess, quotha! a black one, if you be one: what hast thou got upon thy face, I prithee?  Swab. 
Do not look too wistfully upon me, Parnel; my beauty will put your eyes out if you do, and then I must be at the charge of a Dog and a Bell for you.  Parn. 
A Dog and a fools head! pull off your Vizard.  Swab. 
Do not touch me, unless you make forty curtsies first. Come, kiss me, and thou wilt be out of thy wits presently.  Parn. 
Nay, than I see 'tis a trick put upon him; I'll fetch you a glass, you shall behold your beauty.  Exit. Swab. 
Do, and I will venture to be in love with myself for once. How shall I require honest Cutbeard? By this hand he shall have the honour to be Barber to all my Wenches.  Enter Parnel with a Glass. Parn. 
Are you not wondrous fair? Look and admire yourself.  Swab. 
O Parnel, Parnel, I am gulled most basely; I have not half so much beauty as a Chimney-sweeper: I will kill the Barber the first thing I do.  Parn. 
Was it the Barber used thee thus?  Swab. 
ay▪ Parnel, 'twas he: I'll go fetch a company of my Fellow-saylors, drag him out, and hang him up at the main-Yard presently. Parnel, farewell: if I be apprehended for the death of Cutbeard, whatever thou dost, send me a clean shirt; for I shall have need on't.  Exit. Parn. 
Well, Cutbeard, I commend thee for this project; thou hast dressed him handsomely: would thou wert here, I would kiss thee for the Jests sake.  Enter Cutbeard. 
Oh are you come, Sir?  Cut. 
I watch●… the time, my Parnel, and have found it: how does the Gull become his feathers? Ha!  Parn. 
As I would have him: Oh Cutbeard, this Kiss, and this, for the device.  Cut. 
Where is he, Parnel?  Parn. 
Why gone abroad in his new-fashioned face, to fetch a gang of Saylors, who he vows shall hang thee up at the main-Yard, and shall use thee worse than the Prentices a Suburb-bawd on a Shrove-tuesday.  Cut. 
And those same Water-rats are devilish things: what a Slave was I to use him so?  Parn. 
What canst thou fear when I am in thy presence? Away, you Milksop, hence from me, ●…ayant.  Cut. 
Nay, gentle Parnel, by this hand I will fight with a whole Army, if thou sayst the word: prithee be reconciled.  Swab. within. 
Why Parnel, Parnel! here's thy own sweet husband; open the door, dear Wife.  Parn. 
O me, my husband's come; what shall I do?  Cut. 
Let me into the Well, if thou thinkest good; or hang me in the Chimney 'stead of Bacon.  Parn. 
Alas, that's full of hazard:— No device!  Swab. within. 
Why huswife, huswife, must I wait half a day?  Parn. 
My Peticoat's fallen off; but I come presently.— Oh I have thought, come hither, put on this Biggin, I made it for my Child that is at Nurse, and cram thyself into this Cradle here: there is no other way, therefore dispatch.  Cut. 
O me! thou never thinkest upon my beard; that will betray all presently.  A cradle set forth. Parn. 
Take you no care, I'll make him to believe you were born with it; be quick, I say.  Cut. 
Necessity compels me: send me off of this brunt once, I'll hunt the smock no more.— Cover me close, good Parnel.  Parn. 
So, keep you close; and when he prattles to you, sneeze in his face, and call him Dad; do you hear?  Parnel lets him in. Enter Swabber? Swab. 
Why you proud, peevish, petty, paltry Parnel, why did you make me stay so long?  Parn. 
I made what haste I could, but the Child cried so.  Swab. 
The Child! what Child? Have you got Bastards here?  Parn. 
Bastards? they are your own then: Simon's come home, the Boy I had a twelvemonth since by you: he was born when you were at Sea.  Swab. 
Is he brought home? As I am an honest man I am glad on't. Let me see him, Parnel.  Parn. 
Look here he is; the goodliest Boy, and even as like thee, john, as if thou hadst begot him all thyself.  Swab. 
Whoop! here's a Boy of a twelvemonth old: if he grow but thus much this next year, he'll be able to fight with a Giant presently. But Parnel, he has got a great beard too, how comes that?  Parn. 
Why he was born with it: many children are so; and 'tis a sign he will be a man betimes, a wise discreet one too.  Cut. 
Dad, dad, dad!  Swab. 
Nay, 'tis a wise Child, I perceive that; for he calls me Dad at first sight. Good Parnel, fetch me some Milk for him; I will see him eat.  Parn. 
He had Milk but just now: prithee, john, be patient.  Swab. 
You are a Fool, he has been starved at Nurse, and we must make him fat. Fetch some, I say.  Parn. 
I will not, truly john, you will spoil the Child.  Swab. 
I saw some stand in the next room, I will fetch it myself, so I will.  Exit. Parn. 
What will you do? you must endure with patience; I mingled batter but just now for pancakes, and that he'll bring, as certain as I live.  Cut. 
I shall be crammed to death: mercy upon me.  Parn. 
He comes, lie close again.  Enter Swabber with a great Bowl of Batter, and a Ladle. Cut. 
Dad, dad, dad!  Swab. 
ay, mine own Boy, here's Milk for thee, Simon.  Throws it in by Ladles f●…ll. 
Look, Parnel, look how greedily he eats it.  Parn. 
Now fie upon you, john, you will choke the Child.  Swab. 
I mean to make him grow as high as Paul's▪ and show him for a wonder in Bartholomew Fair. Fetch me some Milk, this is all gone.  Parn. 
What, do you think I will murder the poor Infant?  Swab. 
By this hand I will go to the Milk-woman and fetch him a whole gallon.  Exit. Parn. 
Up quickly, and be gone; for when he comes, he will choke you without fail.  Cut. 
A pox upon him, never was Child fed thus. But what will you do now?  Parn. 
Do not you fear; I'll fetch my own Child; 'tis at a Neighbour's house, and say the Fairies have exchanged it.  Cut. 
Send thee good luck: Farewell, sweet Parnel.  Exit. Parnel fetches a little child, and lays it in the cradle. Parn. 
So, if this Child will serve him for a Simon, all will be well again.  Enter Swabber with more Milk. 
He comes.— Oh john.  Swab. 
Come, give me Simon on my Lap; I will feed him till his Guts crack again.  Parn. 
Alas, I went but in the next room, and in the mean time the Fairies have exchanged him; look what a little thing they have left in his place.  Swab. 
I will have none on't: go, fetch me Simon; and tell the Fairies I will indite them at the Sessions for this. Oh Simon, Simon, what is become of thee?  Parn. 
Nay, prithee take not on so.  Swab. 
The goodliest Boy of his age that ever man saw. Pshaw, this has ne'er a beard: I will have none on't.  Enter Francisco, Gerard, Cutbeard, Neighbours Wives. Fran. 
Why how now, jack? what, in a passion? Ha, 'twas I that blacked thy face to day for mirth sake, and thou didst think it was Cutbeard.  Swab. 
I care not for my face; Simon is gone, that had a beard as big as Cutbeard's here: the Fairies have exchanged him, and look what a Chitty-face they have left in his room; a thing of nothing for him.  Ger. 
Come, you must use this they have left with courtesy, for they will whip Simon every day in the week else: I know the nature of them.  Swab. 
Will they so? Nay, than I must make much on't.  Fran. 
And now you must be friends with Cutbeard too.  Swab. 
With all my heart; for I am angry with none but the Fairies now.  Ger. 
We have brought Music, and some Neighbours with us, and mean to have a Dance. Come, john.  Swab. 
I can dance nothing but a melancholy Dance: for I am in a grievous dump for Simon still.  Ger. 
I warrant thee. Strike up there.  A Dance. Fran. 
Why that's well done: no time is counted lost,  
Where civil Mirth is gained with such small cost.  Exeunt.  

The Humours of Monsieur Galliard.  
ARGUMENT.  
He undertakes with the Foot, to correct State-matters, and teach the Subjects Reverence and Obedience to their King.  

Persons Names.  
Galliard,  
Sir William,  
Mr. Newman,  
Manly, Lady,  
Mrs. Luce.   Enter Sir William, Mr. Newman, Monsieur Galliard. Gall. 
ME be content to have the little patience, and be my trot, me tell you, vat me have seen a to day, the fine sport in de Varle: me come into de Great Man to day, me make de reverence Alamode, come ill fault, and he make me the strange a Sir-reverence de tird time, dat ever you saw.  Newm. 
Oh Monsieur, every Man has not the activity of your feet.  Gall. 
By my fat, 'tis very estrange a ding, dat they vil suffer a des Men to be near a the King, a the Queen, the Prince, or the Princess, they vil marra de understanding very much.  Sir Will. 
Why Monsieur, that lies at the other end.  Gall. 
Be gar you shall excuse a me, for de Conrtier Alamode dere de vit lie in the foot; be gar dear is no body can be Eiseman, dat does not make a de most excellent reverence, dat is most certain, dat is the best ting in de hole Varle.  Newm. 
But do you think Caesar, or most of the Emperors or Worthies of the world, studied the Liberal Science of the Foot, or puissant Toe?  Gar. 
No; but be gar dat make dem die all unfortunate: for if they had think but de reverence, they might a live a great a vile.  Newm. 
I confess the wisdom of it, Sir; but for the wit, do you think that lies there?  Gall. 
Dat be de best vit can be possible: for your vit, vat is your vit? Your vit is to break a the jest; vel, look you now a me, me vil break a the jest: Dat is like dat a me Lor, dat is like a the Knight, dat is like dat a de Jentilman: Ha, ha, ha! dear is now one, two, tre very good jest datmake a me sick wide laugh; and be gar me vil make a de Page, the Lackey, and all the fool in the Court, break ades very good jest, very quickly, dat is nothing.  Shows several mimical postures. Sir Will. 
To any purpose.  Gall. 
Be my trot me speak a to de King, and to the Queen to give me a Patten, dat none shall teach a the Aldermen to make a de Reverence but myself; and me vil undertake dat vit in one 12 a mont: but den they must do noting else, they shall make a de Reverence, vit de Aldermen in de Paris, and dance a Coranto, a Cerebran, a Montague, and dat vil be very brave.  Newm. 
But what shall business do in the mean time, Monsieur?  Gall. 
Is not does very great a business? Nay be gar, me vil undertake to the King, and to the Queen, to make a my Lord More, the Sheriff and the Aldermen very fine a mask.  Sir Will. 
And to write it, Monsieur.  Gall. 
Aw, de write? dat is nothing alamode, your speesh two, tre yard long, pshaw? Give a me de quick a Spirit, the Fancy, the brave Scene, de variety of the Antimask, the nimble a Foot, no matter de sense, begar it vole be de brave ting in de Christian varle.  Sir Will. 
There is no question to be made.  Gall. 
And be my trot, if me have another Patten for the Council learned in the Law, for to teash dem de reverence, dat vil be very great work; but my diligence and skill in dat matre, have no despair to effect in time dis great benefit, and dat vil make a de Law flourish, and England a brave England begar.  Sir Will. 
But what will you look for now for your pains, Monsieur? that is considerable.  Gall. 
Begar me look for very much; for 'tis much pain, and 'tis brave ting: beside, me look for a Statur of the brass in the Palace-yard, ven me go out of dis varle.  Sir Will. 
You will deserve it as a rare Patriot. But what manner of Reverence would you have the Lawyers to imitate? you must consider their Gravity.  Gall. 
Observe a me.  Newman. 
Such a Reverence under your favour would not become.  Gall. 
Begar you no understand a de matre, vere is your brain? dear is noting in de varle like a dat motion, for the Jentilman, and for the Jentilvoman.  Shows them the Reverence. Sir Will. 
Yes, by your leave, Sir, there is something else that is as good for them.  Gall. 
I vil tell you now, begar, here is a de Kinsman dat is a me, and he live here very much time, before he come, they vent in vid deire Toes, and hold deire Cloak in Stadere, and the Hat so. Fie, a la diable! and now they valk vid deire Toes out for brave Genty, you call dat a de splay-foot: but me vonder dat de Lady no come, begar me no use to does patience, and de vait: pray tell you Madam dat me have autre business vid de Lor, and de autre Lady have de use of my foot begar.  Newm. 
Oh Monsieur, by no means: Sir William, let us prevail.  Gall. 
'Tis no good you hold a me begar: me no stay two minutes to save a your soul, dat is de resolution of the Cavalier de France  Exit. Sir Will. 
Would any man believe there should be so much folly in this Cubit-square?  Newm. 
Do you think he is a French Dancer? Let that answer you.  Exeunt. Enter Mrs. Lucy, Galliard, and Simpleton. Mrs. Lucy. 
Monsieur Galliard, my Lady expects you.  Galliard. 
Begar me no like adat reverence, me vill change a that.  Luce. 
'Tis the French Fashion, as you taught me, Monsieur.  Gall. 
Ouy, 'tis the French Fashion, but the French Fashion is always to change, and does reverence displease a me very much, because you go back, back vid your buttock, as if some vod take you by dat, to vat me vill give a no name.  Simpl. 
Sweet Mrs. Lucy.  Gall. 
Dat de reverence is no good of the man, me must change dat too: be me trot me doubt dat dis great business vill almost break a my brain, does great work, and before a Masque of the King and the Queen. Me can eat a no meat, no drink, no sleep, and me grow so very a lean vid de Contemplation, a so much be my trot the Privy Council is no so much troubled as me be vid dis: Oh te Diable! deirs is noting, they fit all the vile they do deir business: me bissey boat head and the foot cap a pie, in the French tune, and dat is great master begar.  Mrs. Lucy. 
You esteem it highly, Monsieur.  Gall. 
Me tell you, and me tell you no tale, 'Tis great master to make a de Lor, to make a de  Enter Sir William. 
Lady, to make a de Jentilman, to make a de Jentilwoman, and de autre man to dance, and to make a de boon reverence, for begar dat vil make a de King de great King in de Varle.  Sir Will. 
How can that be, Sir?  Gall. 
Me tell you, ven they are so bissey to learn a de dance, they vill never tinke of de Rebellion, and den de reverence is obedience to Monarchy, and begar obedience is ale de ting in de Varle.  Sir Will. 
But what Music would you govern the people by?  Gall. 
Begar by de best French Fiddles can be got.  Sir Will. 
What think you of an Irish Harp, a State-Organ, or a Passionate voice to a Lover's Lute?  Gall. 
Des dull tings make a de men melancholic, and den they tinke on de Devil, and the Treason, and do any ting dat is no good; but begar des French Fiddles do fiddle all des tings out of deit head, vid such a jerk as ma ●…oy make a dem so fantastical, and make a dem as good subject as any is in de France, begar. Here be one of my Colliers, Monsieur Simpleton, Say you no dat the French Fiddle make a de brave Government in a de Varle?  Simpleton. 
I say any thing becomes a Gentleman.  Gall. 
Observe you dat? he have been but two tree mont, and he say any ting dat is brave. He have de grand understanding in the foot. Tell a me ven you hear a de little fiddel vat is your tink? is your head no free from the Treason, and de plot of the Rebel as your leg? begar you no stand upon de ground for joy of the Coranto, de Cerebran, de Marquis, de Montague, ha! Me be your humble servant Madam.  Enter Lady and Lucy. 
and stay one two tree hours.  Lady. 
I am now ready for you Monsieur. Come Lucy, the practice of the last he taught us.  Gall. 
Wat Antique be dis?  Dance, Monsteur singing. Enter Manley. Simpleton. 
Monsieur, ask that Maypole and he can dance.  Gall. 
Plait il Monsieur, a la Galliard de Coran, lafoy Princess, le Buckingham, heigh?  Manley. 
Put up your rosin and your Catguts presently, and be gone, or I shall find a grave for you in the pocket of my sleeve, and this shall be your winding sheet.  Gall. 
Me no play dat lesson: Pocket the sleeve? dat is no tune de France: pocket, le grand pock— Pardonne moy Monsieur: Me put up my offers to strike him Fiddel and be gone. Adieu Madam, Serviteur jentilhommes. Pocket de sleeve?  Exit.  

The LANDLADY.  
ARGUMENT.  
A Gentleman by accident takes a child and brings it to his Lodging; his friend afterward happens to meet with a Lady, the mother of the child (unknown) and brings her to the Lodging, etc.  

Persons names.  
Don John,  
Anthony,  
Frederick,  
Duke,  
Peter,  
Landlady,  
the Lady.   Enter Don john and his Landlady with a child. Landl. 
NAy son,  
If this be your regard.  joh. 
Good Mother.  Landl. 
Good me no goods; your Cousin and yourself are welcome to me whilst you bear yourselves like honest and true Gentlemen. Bring hither to my house, that hath ever been reputed a Gentlewoman of a decent and fair carriage, and so have behaved myself?  joh. 
I know ye have.  Landl. 
Bring hither, as I say, to make my house stink in my neighbour's nostrils, your devices, your Brats got out of Alicante and broken Oaths? your linsey work, your hasty puddings? I foster up your filched iniquities? you're deceived in me, for I am none of those receivers.  joh. 
Have I not sworn unto you 'tis none of mine, and showed you how I found it?  Landl. 
Ye found an easy fool that let you get it: she had better have worn Posterons.  joh. 
Will ye hear me?  Landl. 
Oaths? what do you care for oaths to gain your ends, when you are high and pampered? what Saint know ye? or what Religion, but your purposed lewdness, is to be looked for of ye? Nay, I will tell ye, ye will then swear like accused Cutpurses? as far off truth too: and lie beyond all Falconers. I'm sick to see this dealing.  joh. 
Heaven forbid, Mother.  Landl. 
Nay, I am very sick.  joh. 
Who waits there?  Enter Anthony with wine. Anthony. 
Sir?  joh. 
Bring down the bottle of Canary wine.  Landl. 
Exceeding sick, Heaven help me.  joh. 
I must even make her drunk. Nay, gentle mother.  Landl. 
Now fie upon ye.  joh. 
Here mother, take a good round draught, 'twill purge spleen from your spirits: deeper, mother.  Landl. 
ay, I, son; you imagine this will mend all.  joh. 
All i'faith, mother.  Landl. 
I confess this wine will do his part.  joh. 
I'll pledge you.  Landl. 
But son john, I know your meaning.  joh. 
Mother, touch it once more, alas you look not well; take a round draught, it warms the blood well, and restores the colour, and then we'll talk at large.  Landl. 
A civil Gentleman! a stranger! one that should weigh his fair name! Oh, a stitch.  joh. 
There's nothing better for a stitch: good mother make no spare of it, as you love your health: Mince not the matter.  Landl. 
As I said, a Gentleman lodge in my house! now heaven my comfort.  joh. 
I looked for this.  Landl. 
Where's the infant? come, let's see your workmanship.  joh. 
None of mine, mother; but there 'tis, and a lusty one.  Landl. 
Heaven bless thee, thou hadst a hasty making; but the best is, 'tis many a good man's fortune. As I live, your own eyes, Signior, and the nether lip as like ye, as if ye had spit it.  joh. 
I am glad on't.  Landl. 
Bless me, what things are these!  joh. 
I thought my labour was not all lost; 'tis gold, and these are jewels, both rich, and right I hope.  Landl. 
Well, well, son john, I see you are a woodman, and can choose your Deer though it be i'th' dark; all your discretion is not yet loft, this was well clapped aboard here: I am with you now, when, as they say, your pleasure comes with profit, when you must needs do where ye may be done to; 'tis a wisdom becomes a young man well. Be sure of one thing, lose not your labour and your time together, it seasons of a fool. Son, time is precious, work wary whilst ye have it. Since ye must traffic sometimes this slippery way, take sure hold, Signior, trade with no broken Merchants: make your lading as you would make your rest, adventurously, and with advantage ever.  joh. 
All this time, mother, the child wants looking to, meat and Nurse.  Landl. 
Now blessing o'thy care, it shall have all, and instantly; I'll seek a Nurse myself, son; 'tis a sweet child: Ah my young Spaniard, take you no farther care sir.  joh. 
Yes, of these jewels I must, by your leave mother: these are yours, to make your care the stronger; for the rest I'll find a master; the gold for bringing up on't, I freely render to your charge.  Landl. 
No more words, nor no more children (good son) as you love me, this may do well.  joh. 
I shall observe your Morals.  Exeunt. Enter Peter and Landlady. Landl. 
Come, ye do know—  Pet. 
I do not, by this hand Mistress, but I suspect.  Landl. 
What?  Pet. 
That if eggs continue at this price, women will ne'er be saved by their good works.  Landl. 
I will know.  Pet. 
Ye shall, any thing lies in my power. The Duke of Lorraine is now 7000 strong: I heard it of a Fishwife, a woman of fine knowledge.  Landl. 
Sirrah, sirrah.  Pet. 
The Pope's Bulls are broken loose too, and 'tis suspected they shall be baited in England.  Landl. 
Very well, Sir.  Pet. 
No, 'tis not so well neither.  Landl. 
But I say to you, Who is it keeps your Master company?  Pet. 
I say to you, Don john.  Landl. 
I say to you, what woman?  Pet. 
I say so too.  Landl. 
I say again, I will know.  Pet. 
I say 'tis fit you should.  Landl. 
And I tell thee he has a woman here.  Pet. 
And I tell thee, 'tis then the better for him.  Landl. 
You are no Bawd now?  Pet. 
Would I were able to be called unto it. A worshipful Vocation for my Elders; for as I understand, i●… is a place fitting my betters far.  Landl. 
Was ever Gentlewoman so frumped off with a Fool? Well, saucy sirrah, I will know who it is, and for what purpose. I pay the rent, and I will know how my house comes by these inflammations. If this gear hold, best hang a signpost up, to tell the Signors, here you may have Lewdness at liberty.  Pet. 
'Twould be a great ease to your age.  Enter Frederick. Fred. 
How now? why what's the matter Landlady?  Landl. 
What's the matter? ye use me decently among ye, Gentlemen.  Fred. 
Who has abused her? you sir?  Landl. 
Odds my witness, I will not be thus treated, that I will not.  Pet. 
I gave her no ill language.  Landl. 
Thou liest lewdly, thou tookst me up at every word I spoke, as I had been a Malkin, a Flutt-Gillian: And thou thinkst, because thonv canst write and read, our noses must be under thee.  Fred. 
Dare you, sirrah?  Pet. 
She raves of Wenches, and I know not what, Sir.  Landl. 
Go to, thou knowest too-well, thou wicked Varlet.  Pet. 
As I live Sir, she is ever thus till dinner.  Fred. 
Get you in.  Pet. 
By this hand I'll break your posset-pan.  Exit Pet. Landl. 
Then by this hood I'll lock the meat up.  Fred. 
Now your grief, what is't? for I can guess.  Landl. 
Ye may with shame enough, if there were shame amongst ye; nothing thought on but how you may abuse my house: not satisfied with bringing home your Bastards to undo me, but you must drill your Whores here too? My patience (because I beat and bear, and carry all, and as they say am willing to groan under) must be your Makesport now.  Fred. 
No more of these words, nor no more murmurings, Lady: for you know that I know something. I did suspect your anger; but turn it presently, and handsomely, and bear yourself discreet to this woman, for such a one there is indeed.  Landl. 
'Tis well, son.  Fred. 
Leaving your Devils Matins, and your Melancholies, or we shall leave our lodgings.  Landl. 
You have much need to use these vagrant ways, and to much profit: ye had that might content you (at home, within yourselves too) right good, Gentlemen, wholesome, and ye said handsome. But you gallants, boast that I was to believe you.  Fred. 
Leave your suspicion: for as I live, there's no such thing.  Landl. 
Mine honour; and 'twere not for mine honour.  Fred. 
Come, your honour, your house, and you too, if you dare believe me, are well enough. Sleek up yourself, leave crying.  Enter Don john. Don john. 
Worshipful Lady, how does thy velvet scabbard? by this hand thou look'st most amiably; now could I willingly, and 'twere not for abusing thy Geneva-Print there, venture my body with thee.  Landl. 
You will leave this roguery when you come to my years.  Don joh. 
By this light, thou art not above fifteen yet, a mere girl; thou hast not half thy teeth—  Fred. 
Prithee john let her alone, she has been vexed already: she'll grow stark mad.  joh. 
I would see her mad. An old mad woman is like a Miller's Mare troubled with toothache. She'll make the rarest faces!  Landl. 
Well Don john, there will be times again, when O good mother, what's good for a carnosity in the Bladder? O the green water, mother.  joh. 
Doting take ye, do you remember that?  Fred. 
She has paid you now, Sir.  Landl. 
Clarie, sweet mother, Clarie.  Fred. 
Are ye satisfied?  Landl. 
I'll never whore again, never give Petticoats and Waistcoats at five pounds apiece; good mother, quickly mother. Now mock on, son.  Exit. joh. 
A devil grind your old chaps.  Fred. 
By this hand, Wench, I'll give thee a new hood for this. Has she met with your Lordship?  Joh. 
Touchwood take her, she's a rare costly mother.  Exeunt. Enter Landlady and Lady. Lady. 
I have told you all I can; to me you seem a worthy woman, one of those are seldom found in our sex, Wise, and Virtuous. Direct me, I beseech you.  Landl. 
Ye say well, Lady, and hold to that point; for in these businesses a woman's counsel that conceives the matter, Do ye mark me, that conceives the matter, Lady, is worth ten men's engagements: she knows something, and out of that, can work like wax; when men are giddyheaded, either out of wine, or a more drunkenness, vain ostentation, discovering all: there is no more keep in 'em, then hold upon an Eels tail; nay, 'tis held fashion to defame now all they can.  Lady. 
ay, but these Gentlemen—  Landl. 
Do not you trust to that: these Gentlemen are as all other Gentlemen, of the same Barrel; I, and the selfsame Pickle. Be it granted they have used ye with respect and fair behaviour yet since ye came: do you know what must follow? They are Spaniards, Lady, Gennets of high mettle: Things that will thrash the Devil or his Dam, let 'em appear but cloven.  Lady. 
Now Heaven bless me!  Landl. 
Mad Colts will court the Wind: I know 'em, Lady, to the least hair they have; and I tell you, old as I am, let but the pint-pot bless'em, they'll offer to my years.  Lady. 
How!—  Landl. 
Such rude Gambols—  Lady. 
To you?—  Landl. 
ay, and so handle me, that oft I am forced to fight of all four for my safety: There's the younger, Don John, the arrantest Jack in all this City. The other, Time has blasted, yet he will stoop, if not ore-flown, and freely on the Quarry: Has been a Dragon in his days. But Tarmont, Don Jenkin is the Devil himself; the Dog-days the most incomprehensible Whoremaster, twenty a night is nothing; Beggars, Broom-women, and those so miserable, they look like famine, are all sweet Ladies in his drink.  Lady. 
He's a handsome Gentleman, pity he should be master of such follies.  Landl. 
He's ne'er without a noise of Syrrenges in's pocket, those proclaim him, Birding-pills, Waters to cool his Conscience, in small Viols; with thousand such sufficient emblems. The truth is, whose Chastity he chaps upon, he cares not. He flies at all; Bastards upon my Conscience he has in making, multitudes; The last night he brought home one, I pity her that bore it, but we are all weak Vessels: some rich woman, (for Wise I dare not call her) was the mother, for it was hung with jewels, the bearing-cloth no less than crimson-Velvet.  Lady. 
How!  Landl. 
'Tis true, Lady.  Lady. 
Was it a boy too?  Landl. 
A brave boy, deliberation and judgement showed in's begetting; as I'll say for him, he's as well paced for that sport.  Lady. 
May I see it?  Landl. 
You shall see it: but what do ye think of these men now you know 'em, and of the cause I told ye of? I but tell you for your own good, and as you will find it, Lady.  Lady. 
I am advised.  Landl. 
No more words then; do that, and instantly.  Don Joh. 
I'll fit you for your frumps: she that's wise leaps at occasion first; the rest pay for it.  Exeunt.  

The TESTY LORD.  
ARGUMENT.  
He is employed near the King, in which office he exerciseth his Passion, and is as crossly dealt withal by another Lord.  

Persons Names.  
Calianax,  
Melantius,  
Diagoras,  
Amintor,  
Aspasia,  
two Gentlewomen,  
the King,  
Diphisus.   Enter Diagoras and Calianax. Cal. 
DIagoras, look to the doors better for shame, you let in all the world, and anon the King will rail at me: by Jove, the King will have the Show th'th ' Court.  Diagoras. 
Why do you swear so, my Lord? you know he'll have it here.  Cal. 
By this light, if he be wise he will not.  Diagoras. 
And if he will not be wise, you are forsworn.  Cal. 
One may sweat his heart out with swearing, and get thanks on no side; I'll be gone, look to't who will.  Diagoras. 
My Lord, I will never keep 'em out: pray stay, your looks will terrify 'em.  Cal. 
My looks terrify 'em, you Coxcombly Ass you? I'll be judged by all the company whether thou hast not a worse face than I.—  Diagoras. 
I mean, because they know you and your office.  Cal. 
Office? I would I could put it off. I am sure I sweat quite through my office: serve that will.  Exit. Diagoras. 
He's so humorous,— hark, hark; there, there, so, so, cuds, cuds, what now?  Cal. 
Let him not in.  Diagoras 
O my Lord, he must: is your  Enter Calianax, Melantius. 
Lady placed?  Melan. 
Yes Sir, I thank you. My Lord Calianax, well met; your causeless hate to me I hope is buried.  Cal. 
Who placed the Lady there, so near the presence of the King?  Melan. 
I did.  Cal. 
My Lord, she must not sit there.  Melan. 
Why?  Cal. 
The place is kept for a woman of more worth.  Melan. 
More worth than she? it misbecomes your age and place to be so womanish; forbear: what you have spoke, I am content to think the Palsy shook your tongue to.  Cal. 
Why 'tis well if I stand here to place men's Wenches?  Melan. 
I shall forget this place, thy age, and through all, cut that poor sickly Week thou hast to live, away from thee.  Cal. 
Nay, I know you can fight for your Whore.  Mel. 
Bate the King, and he be flesh and blood, he lies that says it: thy mother at fifteen was black and sinful to her.  Cal. 
ay, you may say your pleasure.  Enter Amintor. Am. 
What vild injury has stirred my worthy friend, who is as slow to fight with words as he is quick of hand?  Mel. 
That heap of age which I should reverence if it were temperate; but testy years are most contemptible.  Am. 
Good Sir forbear.  Cal. 
There is just such another as yourself.  Am. 
He will wrong you or me, or any man, and talk as if he had no life to lose.  Exeunt. Enter Calianax to Aspasia, and two Gentlewomen. Cal. 
How now huswives? what, at your ease? is this a time to sit still? Up, you young lazy whores, up, or I'll swinge you.  1 Gent. 
Nay, good my Lord.  Cal. 
You'll lie down shortly; Get you in and work: what, are you grown so resty? you want ears; we shall have some of the Court-boys do that office.  2 Gent. 
My Lord, we do no more than we are charged; it is the Lady's pleasure we be thus in grief: she is forsaken.  Cal. 
There's a rogue too, a young dissembling slave; well, get you in, I'll have a bout with that boy, 'tis high time now to be valiant. I confess my youth was never prone that way: what, made an Ass? a Court-Stale? Well, I will be valiant, and beat some dozen of these whelps, I will: and there's another of 'em, a trim cheating Soldier, I'll mawl that Rascal; has out▪ braved me twice, but now I thank the gods I am valiant: Go, get you in, I'll take a course with all.  Exeunt. Enter Calianax to Melantius. Cal. 
O Melantius, my daughter will die.  Mel. 
Trust me, I am sorry; would thou hadst ta'en her room.  Cal. 
Thou art a Slave, a Cutthroat Slave, a bloody treacherous Slave.  Mel. 
Take heed, old Man, thou wilt be heard to rave, and lose thine offices.  Cal. 
I am valiant grown at all these years, and thou art but a Slave.  Mel. 
Leave: some company will come, and I respect thy years, not thee so much, that I could wish to laugh at thee alone.  Cal. 
I'll spoil your mirth, I mean to fight with thee; there lie my Cloak, this was my father's sword, and he durst fight; are you prepared?  Mel. 
Why? wilt thou dote thyself out of thy life? hence, get thee to bed, have careful looking to, and eat warm things, and trouble not me; my head is full of thoughts more weighty than thy life or death can be.  Cal. 
You have a name in War, when you stand safe amongst a multitude; but I will try what you dare do unto a weak old Man in single fight; you'll ground I fear. Come, draw.  Mel. 
I will not draw, unless thou pullest thy death upon thee with a stroke: there's no one blow that thou canst give, hath strength enough to kill me. Tempt me not so far then; the power of earth shall not redeem thee.  Cal. 
I must let him alone, he's stout and able; and to say the truth, however I may set a face and talk, I am not valiant. When I was a youth, I kept my credit with a testy trick I had amongst Cowards, but durst never fight.  Mel. 
I will not promise you to preserve your life if you do stay.  Cal. 
I would give half my land that I durst fight with that proud man a little: if I had men to hold, I would beat him till he ask me mercy.  Mel. 
Sir, will you be gone?  Cal. 
I dare not stay, but I will go home and beat my servants all over for this.  Exit. Mel. 
This old Man haunts me; but the distracted carriage of mine Amintor takes deeply on me, I will find the cause: I fear his Conscience cries, he wronged Aspasia.  Exit. Enter Calianax, to him Melantius. Mel. 
Good my Lord, forget your spleen to me; I never wronged you, but would have peace with every man.  Cal. 
'Tis well: if I durst fight, your tongue would lie at quiet.  Mel. 
You're touchy without cause.  Cal. 
Do, mock me.  Mel. 
By mine honour.  Cal. 
Honour? where is't?  Mel. 
See what stairs you make into your hatred, to my love and freedom to you.— I come with resolution to obtain a suit of you.  Cal. 
A suit of me? 'tis very like it should be granted, Sir.  Mel. 
Nay, go not hence: 'Tis this, You have the keeping of the Fort, and I would wish you, by the love you ought to bear unto me, to deliver it into my hands.  Cal. 
I am in hope that thou art mad, to talk to me thus.  Mel. 
But there is a reason to move you to it. I would kill the King, that wronged you and your daughter.  Cal. 
Out Traitor!  Mel. 
Nay, but stay; I cannot scape, the deed once done, without I have this Fort.  Cal. 
And should I help thee? Now thy treacherous mind betrays itself.  Mel. 
Come, delay me not, give me a sudden answer, or already thy last is spoke: refuse not offered love when it comes clad in secrets.  Cal. 
If I say I will not, he will kill me; I do see it writ in his looks: and should I say I will, he'll run and tell the King. I do not shun your friendship, dear Melantius, but this cause is weighty, give me but an hour to think.  Mel. 
Take it,— I know this goes unto the King, but I am armed.  Exit Mel. Cal. 
Methinks I feel myself but twenty again, this fighting Fool wants policy. I shall revenge my Girl, and make her red again. I pray my legs will last that pace that I will carry, I shall want breath before I find the King.  Exit. The King and Calianax. King. 
It sounds incredible.  Cal. 
Yes, so does every thing I say, of late.  King. 
Not so, Calianax.  Cal. 
Yes, I should sit mute, whilst a rogue with strong arms cuts your throat.  King. 
Well, I will try him.  Cal. 
Why, if it be alley, mine ears are false, for I'll be sworn I heard it. Old men are good for nothing; you were best to put me to death for hearing, and free him for meaning of it; you would have trusted me once, but the time is altered.  King. 
And will still, where I may do it with Justice to the world. You have no witness?  Cal. 
Yes, myself.  King. 
No more, I mean, there were that heard it.  Cal. 
How, no more? why am not I enough to hang a thousand Rogues?  King. 
But so you may hang honest men too, if you please.  Cal. 
I may, 'tis like I will do so; there are a hundred will swear it for a need too, if I say it.  King. 
Such witnesses we need not.  Cal. 
And 'tis hard if my word cannot hang a boisterous Knave.  King. 
Enough: if he should desire the Combat of you, 'tis not in the power of all our Laws to hinder it.  Cal. 
Why, if you do think 'tis fit an old Man and a Counsellor to fight for what he says, than you may grant it.  Enter Melantius, Amintor, etc. King. 
Give me a bowl of wine: Melantius, I am now considering how easy 'twere for any man to trust to poison one of us in such a bowl.  Mel. 
I think it were not hard, Sir, for a Knave.  Cal. 
Such as you are.  Mel. 
Have you thought of this, Calianax?  Cal. 
Yes marry have I.  Mel. 
And what's your resolution?  Cal. 
Ye shall have it soundly.  King. 
Yet I wonder much of the strange desperation of these men; he could not escape that did it.  Mel. 
Were he known, impossible.  King. 
It would be known, Melantius; I should think no man could kill me and scape clear, but that old Man.  Cal. 
But I! Heaven bless me, I? should I, my Liege?  King. 
I do not think thou wouldst, but yet thou mightst, for thou hast in thy hands the means to scape, by keeping of the Fort; he has, Melantius, and he has kept it well.  Mel. 
From Cobwebs, Sir, 'tis clean swept.  Cal. 
I shall be sure of your good word; but I have kept it safe from such as you.  King. 
Melantius, to show you my ears are every where, You meant to kill me, and get the Fort to scape.  Mel. 
You preserve a race of idle people here about you, Eaters, and Talkers, to defame men's worths; Give me a pardon (for you ought to do't) to kill him that spoke this.  Cal. 
ay, that will be th'end of all; then I am fairly paid for all my care and service.  Mel. 
That old Man that calls me enemy, and of whom I (thought I will never match my hate so low) have no good thought, would yet I think excuse me, and swear he thought me wronged in this.  Cal. 
Who I? thou shameless fellow, didst thou not speak to me of it thyself?  Mel. 
O, than it came from him.  Cal. 
From me? who should it come from, but from me?  Mel. 
Nay, I believe your malice is enough, but I ha▪ lost my anger. Sir, I hope you are well satisfied.  King. 
Melantius, I held it great injustice to believe thine enemy, and did not; if I did, I do not: let that satisfy.  Cal. 
A few fine words have overcome my truth. Ah, thouart a Villain.  Mel. 
Why thou wilt let me have the Fort, Dotard; I will disgrace thee thus for ever: there shall no credit lie upon thy words: think better, and believe it.  Cal. 
My Liege, he's at me now again to do it; speak, deny it if thou canst? Example him whilst he's hot, for he'll cool again, he will forswear it.  King. 
This is Lunacy I hope, Melantius?  Mel. 
He has lost himself much: and though he call me Foe, I pity him; for it becomes both you and me too, to forgive distraction: Pardon him as I do.  Cal. 
I'll not speak for thee, for all thy cunning; if you will be safe, chop off his head, for there was never known so impudent a Rascal.  King. 
Some that love him, get him to bed.  Mel. 
Calianax, the King believes you; come, you shall go home and rest, you ha' done well; you'll give it up when I have used you thus a Month I hope.  Cal. 
Now, now, 'tis plain Sir, he does move me still; he says, he knows I will give him up the Fort, when he has used me thus this Month; I am mad, am I not still?  Omnes. 
Ha, ha, ha!  Cal. 
I shall be mad indeed, if you do thus; why would you trust a sturdy fellow there, (that has no virtue in him, all's in's sword) before me? do but take his weapons away from him, and he's an Ass, and I am a very Fool, both with him and without him, as you use me.  Omnes. 
Ha, ha, ha!  King. 
'Tis well, Calianax; but if you use this once again, I shall entreat some other to see your offices be well discharged. Good Calianax sleep soundly, it will bring thee to thyself.  Exeunt omnes. Manent Mel. and Cal. Cal. 
Sleep soundly! I sleep soundly now, I hope, I could not be thus else! How dar'st thou stay alone with me, knowing how thou hast used me?  Mel. 
You cannot blast me with your tongue, and that's the strongest part you have about you.  Cal. 
I do look for some great punishment for this, for I begin to forget all my hate, and take't unkindly that mine enemy should use me so extraordinarily scurvily.  Mel. 
I shall melt too, if you begin to take unkindness; I never meant you hurt.  Cal. 
Thou'lt anger me again; thou wretched rogue, meant me no hurt? disgrace me with the King, lose all my offices? this is no hurt, is it? I prithee what dost thou call hurt?  Mel. 
To poison me because they love me not; to call the credit of men's wives in question, to murder children betwixt me and land; this is all hurt.  Cal. 
All this thou thinkst is sport, for mine is worse; but use thy will with me, for betwixt grief and anger I could cry.  Mel. 
Be wise then, and be safe; thou mayest revenge.  Cal. 
I o'th' King? I would revenge o'thee.  Mel. 
That you must plot yourself.  Cal. 
I am a fine Plotter.  Mel. 
The short is, I will hold thee with the King in this perplexity, till peevishness, and thy disgrace hath laid thee in the grave. But if thou wilt deliver up the Fort, I'll take thy trembling body in my arms, and bear thee over dangers; thou shalt hold thy wonted state.  Cal. 
If I should tell the King, canst thou deny't again?  Mel. 
Try and believe.  Cal. 
Nay, than thou canst bring any thing about; thou shalt have the Fort.  Mel. 
Why well, here let our hate be buried.  Cal. 
Nay, I do not love thee yet; I cannot well endure to look on thee. And if I thought it were a courtesy, thou shouldst not have it; but I am disgraced, my offices are to be ta'en away. And if I did but hold this Fort a day, I do believe the King would take it from me, and give it thee, things are so strangely carried; Ne'er thank me for't: but yet the King shall know there was some such thing in't I told him of, and that I was an honest man.  Mel. 
He'll buy that knowledge very dearly. What news with thee?  Enter Diphilus. Diph. 
This were a night indeed to do it in.  Mel. 
Go, Diphilus, and take from this good man, my worthy friend, the Fort, he'll give it thee.  Diph. 
Ha'you got that too?  Cal. 
Art thou of the same breed? canst thou deny this to the King too?  Diph. 
With a confidence as great as his.  Cal. 
Faith like enough.  Mel. 
Away, and use him kindly.  Cal. 
Touch not me, I hate the whole strain: if thou follow me a great way off, I'll give thee up the Fort, and hang yourselves.  Mel. 
Be gone.  Diphil. 
He's finely wrought.  Exeunt.  

The IMPERICK.  
ARGUMENT.  
Under the notion of his knowledge in Chemistry, he cheats a Grocer and a Precisian.  

Persons Names.  
Subtle,  
Drugger,  
Face.   Subtle. 
COme in, What is your name, say you, Abel Drugger?  Drug. 
Yes Sir.  Subt. 
Umh. Free of the Grocers?  Drug. 
ay, an't please you.  Subt. 
Well,— Your business, Abel?  Drug. 
This, an't please your worship; I am a young beginner, and am building of a new Shop, an't please your Worship, just at corner of a street, (here's the plat on't) and I would know by Art, Sir, of your Worship, which way I should make my door, by Necromancy, and where my Shelves, and which should be for Boxes, and which for Pots. I would be glad to thrive, Sir: and I was wished to your Worship, by a Gentleman, one Captain Face, that says you know men's Planets, and their good Angels and their bad.  Subt. 
I do, if I do see 'em.—  Face. 
What! my honest Abel? thou art well met here.  Drug. 
Troth Sir, I was speaking just as your Worship came here, of your Worship: I pray you speak for me to Master Doctor.  Face. 
He shall do any thing. Doctor, do you hear? this is my friend, Abel, an honest fellow; he lets me have good Tobacco, and he does not sophisticate it with Sack-lees, or Oil, nor washes it in Muscadel, and Grains, nor buries it in Gravel, under ground, wrapped up in greasy leather, or pissed clouts, but keeps it in fine Lilie-pots, that opened, smell like Conserve of Roses, or French Beans. He has his Maple block, his silver tongs, Winchester pipes, and fire of Juniper. A neat, spruce-honest fellow, and no Goldsmith.  Subt. 
He is a fortunate fellow, that I am sure on.  Face. 
Already Sir, Ha you found it? Lo thee Abel.  Subt. 
And in right way toward riches.—  Face. 
Sir?  Subt. 
This Summer, he will be of the clothing of his Company: and next Spring called to the Scarlet, spend what he can.  Face. 
What, and so little beard!  Subt. 
Sir, you must think he may have a receipt to make hair come: But he'll be wise, preserve his youth, and fine for't: his fortune looks for him another way.  Face. 
'Slid Doctor, how canst thou know this so soon? I am amused at that!  Subt. 
By a rule, Captain, in Metaposcopy, which I do work by, a certain Star i'th' forehead, which you see not. Your Chest-nut, or your Olive-coloured face does never fail; and your long ear doth promise. I knew't by certain spots too, in his teeth, and on the nail of his Mercurial finger.  Face. 
Which finger's that?  Subt. 
This little finger. Look, you were born upon a Wednesday?  Drug. 
Yes indeed, Sir.  Subt. 
The thumb, in chiromancy, we give Venus, the forefinger to jove, the midst to Saturn, the ring to Sol, the least to Mercury, who was the Lord, Sir, of this Horoscope; his House of Life being Libra, which foreshowed he should be a Merchant, and should trade with balance.  Face. 
Why this is strange, is't not, honest Nab?  Subt. 
There is a Ship now coming from Ormus, that shall yield him such a commodity of Drugs.— This is the West, and this the South?  Drug. 
Yes, Sir.  Subt. 
And those are your two sides?  Looking upon the Plate. Drug. 
ay, Sir.  Subt. 
Make me your Door then South, your broadside West. And on the East-side of your Shop, aloft, write Mathlai, Tarmiel, and Baraborat; upon the North part, Rael, Velel, Thiel: they are the names of those Mercurial Spirits that do fright Flies from Boxes.  Drug. 
Yes, Sir.  Subt. 
And beneath your threshold, bury me a Loadstone to draw in Gallants that wear Spurs: the rest they'll seem to follow.  Face. 
That's a Secret, Nab!  Subt. 
And on your Stall, a Puppet with a Vice, and a Court-fucus to call Citie-Dames. You shall deal much with Minerals.  Drug. 
Sir, I have, at home, already—  Subt. 
ay, I know you have Arsnike, Vitriol, Saltartre, Argaile, Alkaly, Cinoper; I know all. This fellow, Captain, will come, in time, to be a great Distiller, and give a say, (I will not say directly, but very fair) at the Philosopher's Stone.  Face. 
Why how now, Abel? is this true?  Drug. 
Good Captain, what must I give him?  Face. 
Nay, I'll not counsel thee; thou hear'st what wealth (he says, Spend what thou canst) thouart like to come to.  Drug. 
I would give him a Crown.  Face. 
A Crown! and toward such a Fortune! Hear, thou shalt rather give him thy Shop. No gold about thee?  Drug. 
Yes, I have a Portague, I have kept this half year.  Face. 
Out on thee, Nab! 'Slight, there was such an offer— Shalt keep't no longer, I'll give't him for thee. Doctor, Nab prays your Worship to drink this, and he will appear more grateful, as your skill does raise him in this World.  Drug. 
I would entreat another favour of his Worship.  Face. 
What is't, Nab?  Drug. 
But to look over, Sir, my Almanac, and cross out my ill days; that I may neither bargain, nor trust upon them.  Face. 
That he shall, Nab.  Subt. 
And a direction for his Shelves.  Drug. 
And one thing more, Sir.  Face. 
What is it, Nab?  Drug. 
A Sign, Sir.  Face. 
ay, a good lucky one, a thriving Sign, Doctor.  Subt. 
I was devising now.  Face. 
('Slight, Do not say so, he must give you more.) What say you to his Constellation, Doctor, the Balance?  Subt. 
No, that way is stale, and common. A Townsman born in Taurus, giveth the Bull, or the Bull's head; in Aries, the Ram. A poor device: No, I will have his Name formed in some mystic Character; whose radii striking the senses of the Passers-by, shall, by a virtual influence, breed affections that may result upon the party owns it. As thus,—  Face. 
Nab, hast no more gold?  Drug. 
Not here, Sir, I protest.  Subt. 
He first shall have A Bell, that's Abel; and one standing by, whose name is Dee, in a rug Gown; there's D and Rugg, that's Drugg; and right anent him, a Dog snarling Ere, there's Drugger, Abel Drugger; that's his Sign. And here's now Mystery and Hieroglyphic.  Face. 
Abel, thou art made.  Drug. 
Sir, I do thank his Worship.  Face. 
Six o'thy legs more will not do it, Nab. He has brought you a pipe of Tobacco, Doctor.  Drug. 
Yes, Sir.  Subt. 
It seems to be good Tobacco; what is't an ounce?  Face. 
He'll send you a pound or two, Doctor.  Subt. 
O no!  Face. 
He will do't. It is the goodest soul! Abel, about it; thou shalt know more anon: away, be gone.  Subt. 
Keep aloof off, yonder's another Chapman: observe my call.  Exit Drug. Enter Ananias. 
Where is my drudge?—  Face. 
Sir.  Subt. 
Take away the Recipient, and rectify the Menstrue from the Phlegma; then pour it o'the Sol, in the Cucurbite, and let 'em macerate together.  Face. 
Yes Sir. And save the ground?  Subt. 
No, Terra damnata must not have entrance in the work. Who are you?  Ananias. 
A faithful Brother, if it please you.  Subt. 
What's that? a Lullianist? a Ripley? filius artis? Can you sublime, and dulcify? calcine? Know you the Sapor pontic? Sapor styptic? or what is homogene, or heterogene?  Anan. 
I understand no heathen language, truly.  Subt. 
Heathen, you Knipperdoling? is ars sacra, or Chrysopoeia, or Spagyrica, or the Pamphysic, or Panarchic knowledge, a Heathen language?  Anan. 
Heathen Greek, I take it.  Subt. 
How! Heathen Greek?  Anan. 
All's Heathen but the Hebrew.  Sub. 
Sirrah, my Varlet, Stand you forth, and speak to him like a Philosopher: Answer i'th' language: Name the Vexations, and the Martyrizations of Metals in the Work.  Face. 
Sir, Putrefaction, Solution, Ablution, Sublimation, Cohobation, Calcination, Ceration, and Fixation.  Sub. 
This is Heathen Greek to you now? And when comes Vivification?  Face. 
After Mortification.  Anan. 
What's Cohobation?  Face. 
'Tis the pouring on your aqua regis, and then drawing him off, to the trine circle of the seven spheres.  Subt. 
what's the proper passion of Metals?  Face. 
Malleation.  Subt. 
what's your Ultimum supplicium auri?  Face. 
Antimonium.  Subt. 
This is Heathen Greek to you? And what's your Mercury?  Face. 
A very fugitive, he will be gone, Sir.  Subt. 
How know you him?  Face. 
By his viscosity, his Oleositie, and his Suscitabilitie.  Subt. 
How do you sublime him?  Face. 
With the Calce of Eggshells, white Marble, halk.  Subt. 
Your Magisterium, now, what's that?  Face. 
Shifting, Sir, your elements, dry into cold, cold into moist, moist into hot, hot into dry.  Subt. 
This is Heathen Greek to you still? Your Lapis Philosophicus?  Face. 
'Tis a Stone, and not a Stone; a spirit, a soul, and body: which if you do dissolve, it is dissolved; if you coagulate, it is coagulated; if you make it to fly, it flieth.  Subt. 
Enough: this is Heathen Greek to you? what are you, Sir?  Anan. 
Please you, a servant of the exile Brethren, that deal with Widows and with Orphan's goods, and make a just account unto the Saints; a Deacon.  Subt. 
O you are sent from Mr. Wholesome your Teacher?  Anan. 
From Tribulation Wholesome, our very zealous Pastor.  Subt. 
Good. I have some Orphan's goods to come here.  Anan. 
Of what kind, Sir?  Subt. 
Pewter, and Brass, and Irons, and Kitchinware; Metals that we must use ou●… Medicine on: wherein the Brethren may have a pennyworth for ready money.  Anan. 
Were the Orphan's Parents sincere Professors?  Subt. 
Why do you ask?  Anan. 
Because we then are to deal justly, and give (in truth) their utmost value.  Subt. 
'Slid you'd cozen else, and if their Parents were not of the faithful? I will not trust you, now I think on't, till I ha' talked with your Pastor. Ha' you brought money to buy more Coals?  Anan. 
No surely.  Subt. 
No? how so?  Anan. 
The Brethren bid me say unto you, Sir, Surely they, they will not venture any more till they may see Projection.  Subt. 
How?  Anan. 
You've had for the instruments, as Bricks, and Lome, and Glasses, already, thirty pound; and for Materials, they say, some ninety more: and they have heard since, that one at Heidelberg made it of an Egg, and a small paper of Pin-dust.  Subt. 
What's your name?  Anan. 
My name is Ananias.  Subt. 
Out, the Varlet that cozened the Apostles! Hence, away, fly Mischief. Had your holy Consistory no name to send me of another sound, then wicked Ananias? Send your Elders hither to make atonement for you, quickly, and give me satisfaction, or out goes the fire, and down th'alembics, and the Furnace. Piger Henricus, or what not? Thou wretch, both Senicon and Bufo shall be lost, tell 'em. All hope of rooting out the Bishops, or th'Antichristian Hierarchy, shall perish, if they stay threescore minutes. The Aqueitie, Terreitie, and Sulphureitie, shall run together again, and all be annulled, thou wicked Ananias.  Exit Ananias. 
This will fetch 'em, and make 'em haste toward their gulling more.  
A man must deal like a rough Nurse, and fright those that are froward, to an appetite.  Exeunt.  

The SURPRISE.  
ARGUMENT.  
He prepares a Countrey-Interlude against the julian Feast, at the Presentment whereof, his foster-sister is stolen away, etc.  

Number of Actors.  
The Miller,  
his Wife,  
their Son,  
- their Foster-Daughter,  
a Lord, who steals her away;  
julio, in whose house the Scene is presented;  
Orante, who marries the Foster-Sister, found to be Julio's Daughter:  
two Gentlemen, Friends, Philip the King, etc.   Enter julio, and two or three Gentlemen, as to the Entertainment. julio. 

COme, come, the Sports are coming on us;  
Seat, seat yourselves, Gentlemen.   Enter a Boy presenting Cupid. Boy. 

Love is little, and therefore I present him:  
Love is a fire, therefore you may lament him.   2 Gent. 
Alas poor Love, who are they that can quench him?  Boy. 

Love shoots, therefore I bear his Bow about:  
And Love is blind, therefore my eyes are ou●….   1 Gent. 
I never heard Love give reason for what he did, before.  Enter Miller's son for Paris. Boy. 

Let such as can see, see such as cannot: behold,  
Our Goddesses all three strive for the Ball of Gold;  
And here fair Paris comes, the hopeful youth of Troy,  
Queen Hecubs darling-son, King Priam's only joy.   2 Gent. 
Is this Paris? I should have taken him for Hector rather.  Son. 
Paris, at this time pray you hold your prating.  1 Gent. 
Paris can be angry, I see.  julio. 
At this time he comes as a Judge.  2 Gent. 
Mercy on all that looks upon him, say I.  Son. 

The thundering Seas whose watery fires  
Washes the Whiting Mops.  
The gentle Whale, whose feet so fell,  
Flies o'er the Mountain tops.  
No roars so fierce, no throats so deep,  
No howls can bring such fears  
As Paris can, if Garden from  
He calls his Dogs and Bears.   2 Gent. 
ay, those they were that I feared all this while.  Son. 
Yes, Jack-an-Apes.  2 Gent. 
I thank you, Sir Parish.  Son. 

You may hold your peace, and stand farther out  
o'th' way then: the lines will fall where they light.  
Yes, Jack-an-Apes, he hath to sports,  
And faces make like Mirth;  
Whilst bellowing Bulls, the horned Beasts  
Do toss from Ground to Earth.  
Blood Bear there is, as Cupid blind.   2 Gent. 
That Bear would be whipped for losing of his eyes.  Son. 

Be whipped man may see,  
But we present no such content, but Nymphs such as they be.   Enter a Shepherd singing with three Nymphs, as juno, Pallas, Venus; Venus presented by his sister. Son. 

Go Cupid blind, conduct the dumb,  
For Ladies must not speak here;  
Let Shepherds sing with dancing feet,  
And cords of Music break here.   Song ended. 

Now Ladies fight, with heels so light,  
By lot your luck must fall,  
Where Paris please, to do you ease,  
And give the golden Ball.   A Dance. Boy. 
The Dance is ended; now to Judgement, Paris.  Son. 

Here, juno, here: but stay, I do espy  
A pretty glance coming from Pallas eye:  
Here, Pallas, here; yet stay again, methinks  
I see the eye of Love, by Venus winks.  
Oh close them both! Shut in those golden eyen,  
And I will kiss those sweet blind cheeks of thine.  
juno is angry; yes, and Pallas frowns:  
Would Paris now were gone from Ida's Downs.  
They both are fair; but Venus has the Mole,  
The fairest hair and sweetest dimple hole.  
To her, or her, or her, or her, or neither;  
Can one man please three Ladies altogether?  
No, take it, Venus, toss it at thy pleasure,  
Thou art the Lover's friend, beyond his measure.   1 Gent. 
Paris has done what Man can do, pleased me, who can do more?  Enter a Lord (as Mars.) 2 Gent. 
Stay, here's another person.  Lord. 

Come, lovely Venus, leave this lower Orb,  
And mount with Mars up to his glorious sphere.   Miller's son. 
How now! what's he?  Miller's daughter. 
I'm ignorant what to do, Sir.  Lord. 

Thy silver yoke of Doves are in the Team,  
And thou shalt fly thorough Apollo's beam:  
I'll see thee seated in thy golden Throne,  
And hold with Mars a sweet Conjunction.   Takes her away. Mill. son. 
Ha! what fellow's this? he has carried away my sister Venus: he never rehearsed his part with me before.  1 Gent. 
What follows now, Prince Paris?  She cries within, Help, help! Mill. son. 
Hue and cry: I think Sir, this is Venus' voice, my own and only sister.  2 Gent. 
What, is there some Tragic-act behind?  Son. 
No, no, altogether Comical; Mars and Venus are in the old Conjunction, it seems.  2 Gent. 
'Tis very improper then; for Venus never cries out when she conjoins with Mars.  Son. 
That's true indeed, they are out of their parts sure. It may be 'tis the Book-holders fault: I'll go see.  Exit. 1 Gent. 
How like you our Country-Revels, Gentlemen?  2 Gent. 
Oh, they commend themselves, Sir.  3 Gent. 
Methinks now juno and Minerva should take revenge on Paris: it cannot end without it.  1 Gent. 
It may follow; let's not premeditate the history.  Enter Mill. son crying. Mill. son. 
Oh, oh, oh, oh!  1 Gent. 
So, here's a Passion towards.  Mill. son. 
Help, help, if you be Gentlemen; my sister, my Venus is stolen away.  2 Gent. 
The Story changes from our expectation.  Mill. son. 
Help, my father the Miller will hang me else: God Mars is a bawdy Villain; he said she should ride upon Doves: she's horsed, she's horsed whether she will or no.  1 Gent. 
Sure I think he's serious.  Mill. son. 
She's horsed upon a double Gelding, and a Stone-horse in the breech of her: the poor Wench cries help, and I cry help, and none of you will help.  1 Gent. 
Speak, is it the Show, or dost thou bawl?  Mill. son. 
A pox on the Ball; my sister bawls, and I bawl. Either bridle a horse and follow me, or give me a halter to hang myself: I cannot run so fast as a hog.  julio. 
I'll fill the Country with pursuit, but I will find the Thief. My house thus abused?  Mill. son. 
'Tis my house that's abused, the sister of my flesh and blood: oh, oh, oh!  Exeunt. Enter two Gentlemen with the Miller's son. 1 Gent. 
By all means discharge your follower.  2 Gent. 
If we can gethim off. Sirrah, thou must needs run back.  Mill. son. 
But I must not, unless you send a Bier, or a Licter at my back. I do not use to run from my friends.  2 Gent. 
Well, Go will serve turn: I have forgot.  Mill. son. 
What, Sir?  2 Gent. 
See if I can think on't now.  Son. 
I know what 'tis now.  2 Gent. 
A Pistolet of that.  Son. 
Done; you have forgot a device to send me away. You are going a smocking perhaps.  1 Gent. 
His own, due, due i'faith Antonio: the Pistolet's his own.  2 Gent. 
I confess it, there 'tis.  
Now if you could afford out of it a reasonable excuse to my Uncle.  Mill. son. 
Yes, I can: but an excuse will not serve your turn: it must be a lie, a full lie, a downright lie, 'twill do no good else: if you'll go to the price of that.  2 Gent. 
Is a lie dearer than an excuse?  Son. 
Oh, treble: this is the price of an Excuse; but a Lie is two more. Look how many foils goes to a fair fall, so many Excuses go to a full Lie; and less cannot serve your turn, let any Tailor i'th' Town make it.  1 Gent. 
'Tis but reasonable; give him his price: let it be large enough now.  Mill. son. 
I'll warrant you cover him all over.  2 Gent. 
I would have proof of one now.  Mill. son. 
What? scale my Invention beforehand? you shall pardon me for that: Well, I'll commend you to your Uncle, and tell him you'll be at home at Supper with him.  1 Gent. 
By no means, I cannot come to night (man.)  Mill. son. 
I know that too; you do not know a lie when you see it: remember it must stretch for all night.  Mill. son. 
I shall want stuff; I doubt 'twill come to the other Pistolet.  2 Gent. 
Well, lay out, you shall be no loser, Sir.  Mill. son. 
It must be faced; you know there will be a yard of Dissimulation at least, (City-measure) and cut upon an untruth or two, lined with fables, that must needs be, cold weather coming; if it had a gallon of hypocrisy, 'twould do well; and hooked together with a couple of Conceits, that's necessity: Well, I'll bring in my Bill: I'll warrant you as fair a Lie, by that time I have done with it, as any Gentleman i'th' Town can swear too, if he would betray his Lord and Master.  Exit. 2 Gent. 
So, so, this necessary trouble's over.  1 Gent. 
I would you had bought an excuse of him before he went: you'll want one for your Lady.  Enter again. Mill. son. 
Oh Gentlemen, look to yourselves, ye are men of another world else; your enemies are upon you: the old house of the Bellides will fall upon your heads: Signior Lisauro!  2 Gent. 
Lisauro?  Mill. son. 
And Don what call you him? he's a Gentleman: yet he has but a yeoman's name, Don Tarse, Tarso, and a dozen at their heels.  2 Gent. 
Lisauro, Tarso, nor a dozen more, shall fright me from my ground, nor shun my path, let 'em come on in their ablest fury.  1 Gent. 
'Tis worthily resolved: I'll stand by you, Sir; this way I am thy true friend.  Mill. son. 
I'll be gone, Sir, that one may live to tell what's become of you.— Put up, put up; will you never learn to know a Lie from an Aesop's Fable? there's a taste for you now.  Exit. 2 Gent. 
'Tis very well, adieu Trojan.  Exeunt. Enter julio. julio. 

My mind's unquiet; while Antonio  
My Nephew is abroad, my heart is not at home,  
Only my fears stay with me; bad Company;  
But I cannot shift 'em off. This hatred  
Betwixt the house o'th' Bellides and Us,  
Is not fair War: 'tis civil, but uncivil.  
It has lasted too many Sunsets.  
Man should not lose so many days of Peace,  
To satisfy the Anger of one minute.  
I could repent it heartily. I sent  
The Knave to attend my Antonio too,  
Yet he returns no comfort to me neither.   Enter Miller's son. Mill. son. 
No, I must not.  julio. 
Ha! he's come.  Mill. son. 
I must not; 'twill break his heart to hear it.  julio. 
How! he will not tell me for breaking of my heart: 'tis half split already, I must obscure and hear it.  Mill. son. 
I have spied him: Now to knock down a Don with a Lie, a silly harmless Lie; 'twill be valiantly done, and nobly perhaps.  julio. 
I cannot hear him now.  Mill. son. 
Oh the bloody days that we live in! the envious, malicious, deadly days that we draw breath in!  julio. 
Now I hear too loud.  Mill. son. 
The children that ever shall be born, may rue it; for men that are slain now, might have lived to have got children, that might have cursed their fathers.  julio. 
Oh my posterity is ruined!  Mill. son. 
Oh sweet Antonio!  julio. 
Oh dear Antonio!  Mill. son. 
Yet it was nobly done on both parts, when he and Lisauro met.  julio. 
Oh, Death has parted'em.  Mill. son. 
Welcome my mortal Foe (says one,) welcome my deadly Enemy (says the other): off go their doublets, they in their shirts, and their swords, stark naked; here lies Antonio, here lies Lisauro: he comes upon him with an Embroccado, that he puts by with a puncta reversa: Lisauro recoils me two paces and some six inches back, takes his Career, and then, oh!  julio. 
Oh!  Mill. son. 
Runs Antonio quite thorough.  julio. 
Oh Villain!  Mill. son. 
Quite thorough, between the arm and the body; so he had no hurt at that bout.  julio. 
Goodness be praised.  Mill. son. 
But then at th'next Encounter, he fetches me up Lisauro▪ Lisauro makes out a Long at him, which he thinking to be a Passada, Antonio's foot sliping: down, oh, down.  julio. 
Oh now thou art lost.  Mill. son. 
Oh but the quality of the thing: both Gentlemen, both Spanish Christians, yet one man to shed—  julio. 
Say his Enemy's blood.  Mill. son. 
His hair may come by divers Casualties, though he never go into the Field with his Foe: but a man to lose nine ounces and two drams of blood at one wound, thirteen and a scruple at another, and to live till he die in cold blood: yet the Chirurgeon (that cured him) said, if Pia-mater had not been perished, he had been a lives man to this day.  julio. 
There he concludes he is gone.  Mill. son. 
But all this is nothing: now I come to the point.  julio. 
ay, the point, that's deadly: the ancient blow over the buckler ne'er went half so deep.  Mill. son. 
Yet Pity bids me keep in my Charity: for me to pull an old Man's ears from his head with telling of a Tale: Oh foul Tale! Furthermore, there is the charge of Burial; every one will cry blacks, blacks, that had but the least finger in his blood, though ten degrees removed when 'twas done. Moreover, the Chirurgeon (that made an end of him) will be paid: Sugar-plums, and Sweetbreads; yet it may be the Man may recover again, and die in his bed.  julio. 
What motley stuff is this? Sirrah, speak truth what hath befallen my dear Antonio; what thou keep'it back from truth, thou shalt speak in pain: do not look to find a Limb in his right place, a Bone unbroke, nor so much flesh unbroiled of all that Mountain, as a Worm might sup on; dispatch, or be dispatched.  Mill. son. 
Alas Sir, I know nothing, but that Antonio is a man of Gods making to this hour; 'tis not two since I left him so.  julio. 
When didst thou leave him?  Mill. son. 
In the same clothes he had on when he went from you.  julio. 
Does he live?  Mill. son. 
I saw him drink.  julio. 
Is he wounded?  Mill. son. 
He may have a cut in the leg by this time: for Don Martin and he were at whole slashes.  julio. 
Met he not with Lysauro?  Mill. son. 
I do not know her.  julio. 
Her? Lysauro is a man as he is.  Mill. son. 
I saw ne'er a man like him.  julio. 
Didst not thou discourse a fight betwixt Antonio and Lysauro?  Mill. son. 
ay, to myself: I hope a man may give himself the Lie, if it please him?  julio. 
Didst thou lie then?  Mill. son. 
As sure as you live now.  Julio. 
I live the happier by it: when will he return?  Mill. son. 
That he sent me to tell you, within these ten days, at farthest.  Julio. 
Ten days? he was not wont to be absent two.  Mill. son. 
Nor I think he will not.  
He said he would be at home to morrow; but I love to speak within my compass.  Julio. 
You shall speak within mine, Sir, now. Within there: take this fellow into custody:  Enter servants. 
keep him safe, I charge you.  Mill. son. 
Safe! do you hear? take notice what plight you find me in: if there want but a Collop, or a Steak o'me, look to't.  Julio. 
If my Nephew return not in his health to morrow, thou goest to the Rack.  Mill. son. 

Let me go to th'manger first;  
I had rather eat Oats then Hay.   Exeunt. Enter Philip, Orante, Miller, Julio, Miller's son, severally. Mill. son. 
So-hoh, Miller, Miller,  
Look out, Miller: Is there ne'er a Miller amongst you here, Gentlemen?  Miller. 
Yes, here is a Miller amongst Gentlemen, a Gentleman-Miller.  Son. 
I should not be far off then; there went but a pair of Shears and a Bodkin between us. Will you to work, Miller? here's a Maid has a Sack full of News for you: Shall your Stones walk? will you grind, Miller?  Phil. 
This your son, Franio?  Mill. 
My ungracious, my disobedient, my unnatural, my Rebel-son, (my lord)  Son. 
Fie, your hopper runs over, Miller.  Mill. 
This Villain (of my own flesh and blood) was accessary to the stealing of my daughter.  Son. 
Oh Mountain!  
Shalt thou call a Molehill a scab upon the face of the earth? though a Man be a Thief, shall a Miller call him so? Oh egregious!  Julio. 
Remember, sirrah, who you speak before.  Son. 
I speak before a Miller, a Thief in grain; for he steals Corn. He that steals a Wench, is a true Man, to him.  Phil. 
Can you prove that?  Son. 
I'll prove it strongly.  
He that steals Corn, steals the Bread of the Commonwealth: he that steals a Wench, steals but the flesh.  Phil. 
And how is their Bread-stealing more criminal than the flesh?  Son. 
He that steals bread, steals that which is lawful every day: he that steals flesh, steals nothing from the fasting day: Ergo, to steal the bread is the arranter Thief.  Phil. 
This is to some purpose.  Son. 
Again, he that steals flesh, steals for his own belly full: he that steals bread, robs the Guts of others: Ergo, the arranter Thief the Bread-stealer. Again, he that steals flesh, steals once and gives over; yes, and often pays for it; the other steals every day without satisfaction. To conclude, Bread-stealing is the more Capital Crime: for what he steals, he puts it in at the head; he that steals flesh (as the Dutch Author says) puts it in at the foot (the lower Member.) Will you go as you are now, Miller?  Enter Gillian the Miller's wife. Mill. wife. 

I can no longer own  
What is not mine with a free Conscience.  
My Liege, your pardon.   Phil. 
For what? who knows this woman?  Miller. 
ay, best (my lord)  
I have been acquainted with her these forty Summers, and as many Winters, were it Spring again; she's like the Gout, I—  Phil. 
Oh, your wife.  Mill. 
'Tis oh my wife indeed (my Lord) a painful stitch to my side; would it were picked out.  Phil. 
Well, Sir, your silence.  Son. 
Will you be older and older every day than other? the longer you live, the older still? Must his Majesty command your silence, ere you'll hold your tongue?  Phil. 
Your reprehension runs into the same fault: Pray Sir, will you be silent.  Son. 
I have told him this before now (my Liege) but Age will have his course, and his weaknesses.  Phil. 
Good Sir, your forbearance.  Son. 
And his frailties, and his follies (as I may say) that cannot hold his tongue ere he be bidden.  Phil. 
Why sirrah, ha?  Son. 
But I believe your Majesty will not be long troubled with him: I hope that woman has something to confess, will hang 'em both.  Phil. 
Sirrah, you'll pull your Destiny upon you, If you cease not the sooner.  Son. 
Nay, I have done; yet it grieves me that I should call that man father, that should be so shameless, that being commanded to hold his tongue—  Phil. 
To th'Porters Lodge with him.  Son. 
I thank your Grace, I have a friend there.  Julio. 
It hardly will get passage, it is a sorrow of that greatness grown, 'less it dissolve in tears, and come by parcels.  Miller's wife. 
I'll help you, Sir, in the delivery, and bring you forth a joy: you lost a daughter.  julio. 
'Twas that recounted thought brought forth these sorrows.  Mill. wife. 
She's found again; Know you this Mantle, Sir?  Julio. 
Ha!  Mill. wife 
This did enwrap your child, now the Count's wife, etc.  Julio. 
Oh thou hast ta'en so many years from me, and made me young as was her birthday to me.  Phil. 
You knew this before.  Son. 
Oh, oh; Item for you Miller.  Miller. 
I did, my Liege, I must confess I did; We poor ones love, and would have comfort, Sir, as well as great.  Son. 
I beseech you, (my Liege) let this Woman be a little farther examined; let the words of her Conscience be searched. I would know how she came by me; I am a lost child, if I be theirs: though I have been brought up in a Mill, yet I had ever a mind (methought) to be a greater man.  Mill. Wife. 
Thou art mine own flesh and blood, born of mine own body.  Son. 
'Tis very unlikely that such a body should bear me; there's no trust in these Millers. Woman, tell the truth, my father shall forgive thee, whatsoever he was; were he Knight, Esquire, or Captain; less he could not be.  Mill. Wife. 
Thou art mine own child, Boy.  Son. 
And was the Miller my father?  Mill. Wife. 
Wouldst thou make thy mother a whore, Knave?  Son. 
ay, if she make me a Bastard. The Rack must make her confess, I shall never come to know who I am else. I have a worshipful mind in me sure: methinks I do scorn poor folks.  Julio. 
You both shall be rewarded bountifully. We'll be a kin too, Brother and Sister shall be changed with us ever.  To the Miller and his wife. Son. 
Thank you (Uncle) my Sister is my Cousin yet at the last cast: farewell Sister-foster. If I had known the Civil Law would have allowed it, thou hadst had another manner of husband than thou hast: but much good do thee; I'll dance at thy Wedding, kiss the Bride, and so.  Julio. 
Why how now, Sirrah?  Mill. Son. 
'Tis lawful now, she's none of my sister.  

It was a Miller and a Lord  
That had a Scabbard and a Sword,  
He put it up in the Country word,  
The Miller and his Daughter.  
She has a face, and she can sing,  
She has a grace, and she can spring;  
She has a place, with another thing,  
Tradoodle.   
I would I were acquainted with your Tailor (noble Brother.)  Orante. 
You may, there he is.  Taylor. 
If you have any work for me, I can fit you. Sir, I fitted the Lady.  Son. 
My sister (Tailor)? What fits her, will hardly fit me: you have a true Yard (Tailor)?  Taylor. 
Ne'er a whit too long, I warrant you.  Son. 

Then (Tailor) march with me away;  
I scorn these Robes, I must be gay,  
My Noble Brother he shall pay  
Tom Taylor.   Exeunt.  

The DOCTORS of Dull-head College.  
ARGUMENT.  
A Love-sick Gentleman, by the overcurious care of his kindred, is perplexed with unnecessary Physicians, who are by some of his merry Visitants and Companions baffled, and he released from their vexation.  Enter Doctors with an Urinal▪ 1 Ph. 
A Pleurisy, I see it.  2 Ph. 
I rather hold for tremor cordis.  3 Ph. 
Do you mark the Feceses?  2 Ph. 
'Tis a most pestilent contagious Fever, a Surfeit, a plaguy Surfeit: he must bleed.  1 Ph. 
By no means.  3 Ph. 
I say, bleed.  1 Ph. 
I say 'tis dangerous, the person being spent so much beforehand, and nature drawn so low: Clysters, cool Clysters.  2 Ph. 
Now, with your favour, I should think a Vomit; for take away the Cause, the Effect must follow: the stomach's foul and fured, the pot's inflamed yet.  Enter servant. Seru. 
Will it please you draw near? the sick Gentleman grows worse and worse still.  1 Ph. 
We will attend him.  2 Ph. 
He shall do well, my friend.  Seru. 
My Master's love, Sir.  3 Ph. 
There's no doubt in him, none at all, never fear him.  Exeunt. Enter Frank sick, Physicians, an Apothecary. 1 Ph. 
Clap on the Cataplasm.  Fr. 
Good Gentlemen, good learned Gentlemen.  2 Ph. 
And see those broths there ready within this hour: pray keep your arms in; the air is raw, and ministers much evil.  Fr. 
Pray leave me, I beseech you leave me, Gentlemen, I have no other sickness but your presence; convey your Cataplasms to those that need 'em, your Vomits and your Clysters.  3 Ph. 
Pray be ruled, Sir.  1 Ph. 
Bring in the lettuce Cap; you must be shaved, Sir, and then how suddenly we'll make you sleep!  Fr. 
Till Doomsday: What unnecessary nothings are these about a wounded mind?  2 Ph. 
How do ye?  Fr. 
What questions they propound too! How do you, Sir? I am glad to see you well.  3 Ph. 
A great distemper, it grows hotter still.  1 Ph. 
Open your mouth, I pray, Sir.  Fr. 
Can you tell me how old I am then? there's my hand, pray show me how many broken shins within this two year. Who would be thus in fetters? Good Master Doctor, and you dear Doctor, and the third sweet Doctor, and as precious Master Apothecary, I do pray you to give me leave to live a little longer: ye stand before me like my blacks.  Enter his Comrades. Thomas. 
How dost thou Frank? bear up, boy; what, shrink i'th' sinews for a little sickness?  Fr. 
Thou art a mad Companion, never stayed, Tom?  Thom. 
Let Rogues be stayed, that have no habitation, a Gentleman may wander: sit thee down, Frank, and see what I have brought thee: Come, discover, open the Scene, and let the work appear: a friend at need, you Rogue, is worth a Million.  Fr. 
What hast thou there, a Julip?  Hylas. 
He must not touch it, 'tis present death.  Tom. 
Ye are an▪ Ass, a Twir-pipe, a Jeffery-John-bopeep: thou minister? thou mend a lefthanded packsaddle; out Puppy. My friend Frank, but a very foolish fellow: dost thou see that bottle? view it well.  Fr. 
I do, Tom.  Thom. 
There be as many lives in't as a Cat carries, 'tis everlasting liquour.  Fr. 
What?  Thom. 
Old Sack, boy, old reverend Sack.  Fr. 
I see no harm, Tom, drink with moderation.  Tom. 
Drink't with Sugar, which I have ready here; and here's a glass, boy, fill it: hang up your Julips, and your Portugal-possets, your Barley-broths, and Sorrel sops; they are mangy, and breed the Scratches only: give me Sack: have at thee.  Fr. 
Do: I'll pledge thee.  Tho. 
Take it off thrice, and then cry, Heigh! like a Huntsman, with a clear heart, and no more fits I'll warrant thee; the only Cordial, Frank.  1 Ph. 
Are the things ready?  Seru. 
Long since, Sir.  1 Ph. 
Bring out the oils then.  Fr. 
Now or never, Gentlemen, do me a kindness, and deliver me.  Thom. 
From whom, boy?  Fr. 
From those things that talk there, Physicians, Tom, Physicians, Scouring-sticks; they mean to read upon me.  Thom. 
And be thou confident we will deliver thee: for look ye, Doctors, say the Devil were sick now, his horns sawed off, and his head bound with a biggin, sick of a Calenture, taken by a surfeit of stinking souls, at his Nephews and S. Dunstan's, what would you minister upon the sudden? your Judgement, short and sound.  1 Ph. 
A fools head.  Thom. 
No Sir, it must be a Physicians, for three causes; the first, because it is a bald-head likely, which will down easily without apple-pap.  3 Ph. 
A main cause.  Thom. 
So it is, and well considered. The second, for 'tis filled with broken Greek, Sir, which so tumbles in his stomach, Doctor, and works upon the Crudities, conceive me, the fears and the fiddle-strings within it, that those damned souls must disembogue again.  Hylas. 
Or meeting with the Stygian humour.  Thom. 
Right, Sir.  Hylas. 
Forced with a Cataplasm of Crackers.  Thom. 
Ever.  Hylas. 
Scour all before him like a Scavinger.  Thom. 
Satisfecisti Domine. My last cause, my last is, and not least, most learned Doctors, because in most Physicians heads (I mean those that are most excellent, and old withal, and angry, though a Patient say his prayers, and Paracelsians that do trade with poisons, we have it by tradition of great Writers) there is a kind of Toadstone bred, whose virtue the Doctor, being dried.  I Ph. 
We are abused, Sirs.  Hyl. 
I take it so, or shall be: for say, the Belly-ach caused by an inundation of Peas-porridge, are we therefore to open the Port-vein, or the Port-Esquiline?  Sam. 
A learned question: or grant the Diaphragma by a rupture, the Sign being then in the head of Capricorn—  Thom. 
Meet with the passion Hypercondriaca, and so cause a carnosity in the Kidneys, must not the brains being buttered with this humour? answer me that.  Sam. 
Most excellently argued.  2 Ph. 
The next fit you will have, my most fine Scholar, Bedlam shall find a salve for. Fare you well, Sir: we came to do you good, but these young Doctors, it seems, have bored our Noses.  3 Ph. 
Drink hard, Gentlemen, and get unwholesome Drabs; 'tis ten to one then we shall hear farther from ye, your Note altered.  Exit Phys. Sing. Thom. 
And wilt thou be gone, says one.  Hyl. 
And wilt thou be gone, says t'other.  Thom. 

Then take, take the odd Crown,  
To mend thy old Gown,   Sam. 
And we'll be gone all together.  Fr. 
My learned Tom, gramercy.  Exeunt.  
The End.  

Courteous Reader, these Books following are sold by Henry Marsh at the Prince's Arms in Chancery-Lane.  

Who for your Pleasure hath produced his Store;  
And as you like, he'll furnish you with more.   

Various Histories, with curious Discourses in Humane Learning.  
1. ACompendious Chronicle of Portugal, from Alfonso the first King, to Alfonso the sixth now Reigning: together with a Cosmographical Description of the Dominions of Portugal, by I. D. Gent. 8.  
2. That useful Book for Gentlemen and Travellers, being an Exact Description of the several Countries and Shires of England: by Edw. Leigh Esq. 8.  
3. Sage Senator, or the qualifications of a perfect Politician: by I. G. Gent. 8  
4. Blood for Blood, or Murder revenged: in 35 Tragical Histories: some whereof have been the sad Product of our Times. 8.  
5. Venus' undressed, or the Practical part of Love, extracted out of the extravagant and lascivious Life of a fair but subtle Female. 8.  
6. An Historical and Geographical Description of the great County and River of the Amazons in America. 8.  
7. Royal History Completed, in the Life of his Sacred Majesty Char●…s●… ●…. james Duke of York, and Henry Duke of Gloucester; with their Restauration happily concluded by his Grace the Duke of Albemarle. 8.  
8. The most Notable Antiquity of Great Britain, vulgarly called Stone 〈◊〉, on Salisbury-Plain: by I. jones Esq. Architect-Gen. to the late King. Fol.  
9 A Compl●… at History of the Wars of the Greeks, Written by the learned 〈◊〉, and Translated by Edw. Grimstone Esq, Serjean●… at Arms to his 〈◊〉 Majesty. Fol.  
10 Rumps Looking-Glass, or a Collection of such Pieces of Drollery as were 〈◊〉 by several Wits to purge the Rump. 4.  
11. A New Discovery of Highway Thiefs: by a Gentleman lately converted. 4.  
12. Blood washed away by the tears of Repentance, or the Relation of Butlers murdering of Knight in Milk-street. 40.  
13. The Faithful Lapidary, being a History of all precious Stones: very useful for Gentlemen, Merchants and others. 40.  
14. A short view of the Life and Actions of the Illustrious Prince, james D. of York, with his Character. 4.  
15. The Rogue, or the Life of Gusman de Alfarache the witty Spaniard: the fifth and last Edition. 8.  
16 The Statesman, or Modern Policy: the second Part. 8.  
17. The Complete Attorney: fifth and last Edition. 8.  
18. Advice to Balaam's Ass, or Momus catechised, in answer to a certain Scribbler I. H●…yden, Author of Advice to a Daughter. 8.  
19 The Royal Buckler, or Salmasius in English. 8.  
20. The Devil's Cabinet-Council discovered, or the Plots and Contrivances of O. Cromwell and the Long▪ Parliament in order to the taking away the Life of his Sacred Majesty of blessed memory. 8.  
21. The Crafty Whore, or the Mystery and Iniquity of Bawdy-houses: with Dehortations from Lust. Published for the benefit of all; but especially for the younger sort: by R. H. Esq. 8.  
22. Montelions' Comical Almanacs for 1661., 1662., and 1663. 8.  
23. Montelions' Introduction to Astrology, after a new but more easy way then ever yet published. 8.  
24. Whites Peripatetical Institutions: in the way of S. Kel. Digby. 12.  
25. Reynolds Word of Caution to the Atheists and Errouri●…s of our Times. 12.  
26. Lucius Florus. 24.  
27. Sallust. 24.  
28. Hanam's Exploits. 4.  
29. leonard's Reports. Fol.  
30. Gusmans' Comical Almanac for 1662.  
31. The Sovereign's Prerogative, and the Subjects Privilege: Comprised in several Speeches, Cases, and Arguments of Law, discussed between the Kings most Sacred Majesty, and the most eminent Persons of both Houses of Parliament: Collected by Dr. Tho. Fuller. Fol.  
32. Index Poeticus. 12.  
33. Synonimons. 12.  
34. Father's Blessing, or a Legacy to his son, fitting him to carry himself through the various Encounters of this world. 12.  
35. Rebels no Saints. 8.  
36. Letters of Monsieur Balzac: translated into English, by Sir R. Baker and others. 1.  
37. Monuments of the Kirk. 4.  
38. The Life of that reverend Divine and learned Historian Dr. Tho. Fuller. 8.  
39 The History of the affairs of Scotland, under the conduct of the Illustrious and truly valiant james Marquis of Montross. 8.  
40. A short View of the Lives of those excellent Princes Henry D. of Gloucester, and Mary Princess of Orange, deceased. 8.  
41. Public Good without private Interest, or a Relation of the present condition of Virginia. 4.  
42. Lessius of health, with Cornaro's Treatise of Temperance. 24.  
43. A new English Grammar, prescribing certain Rules for foreigners to learn English: with a Grammar of the Spanish or Castilian Tongue, with special Remarks upon the Portugees Dialect, etc. to which is annexed, a Perambulation of Spain and Portugal, which may serve for Direction to travel through both Countries, for the Service of Her Majesty, whom God preserve. 8.  
44. Advice to a Son, by a Marquis lately deceased. 12.  
45. The blood of the Grape: the second Edition, enlarged, by Dr. Tho. Whiker Physician to His Majesty. 12.  
46. The Learners Help, by which he may presently find out the Root of any Hebrew word in the Bible. 8.  
47. Man in Paradise: a Philosophical Discourse.  
48. The Differences of the Ages of Man's Life, together with the Original Causes, Progress, and End thereof. 8.  
49. The Rarities of Turkey. 8.  
50. Overbury Revived, or a Satirical Description of the Vices of our late Times, in Essays and Characters, by L. G. 12.  
51. Nature's chief Rarities. 12.  
52. Twelve Treatises of Mr. I. Howel Esq. 8.  
53. The true Portraiture of Her most excellent Majesty Donna Catherino Queen of Great Britain. Fol.  
54. The Fanatic in his Colours, or the Rise, Height, and Fall of Faction and Rebellion, from 1648, unto 1661. with an Appendix concerning Allegiance, Government, and Order, by T. F. 8.  
55. Summum Bonum, or a Plain Pathway to Happiness, conducting the Soul to its Haven of Rest, through the stormy passage of Worldly troubles: to which is added a short Dialogue of that excellent Virtue of the Submission of Man's Will to the Will of God. 8  
56. Mr. Shirley's Rudiments of Grammar. 8.  
57 A transparent Reet for the Catholic Planisphere. 4.  
58. Tabulae ad Grammatica Graeca introductoriae. 4.  
59 The Doctrine of the Ass: whereunto is added, the ass's complaint, Balaams Reply, and the Author's Apology, never before published, by Lewis Griffin. 4.  
60. The History of Independency complete; being the first, second, third, fourth and last Part, which may be had single by such as have bought the other. 4.   

Excellent Tracts in Divinity, Controversy, Sermons and Devotions, written by eminent Divines.  
61. Considerations upon the Act of Uniformity, with an Expedient for the satisfaction of the Clergy in the Province of Canterbury: by a servant of the God of Peace. 4.  
62. Christian Diary, by N. Causin. 12.  
63. The Doctrines Trial, with a Present for Caesar: in three Sermons, by S. H. 12.  
64. The Society of the Saints, in 14 choice Sermons: by I. B. M. A. 4.  
65. The Christian Soldier his Combat, Conquest, and Crown; against the three Arch-enemies of Mankind, the World, the Flesh, and the Devil. 12.  
66. The Subject's Sorrow, or Lamentations upon the Death of Britain's josiah, K Ch. expressed in a Sermon upon Lam. 4. 20. 12.  
67. The unspotted High-Court of Justice erected and discovered: in three Sermons, by Th. Baker, a sequestered Divine. 12.  
68 Bishop jewels Apology, Greek and Latin. 12. and 8.  
69. The pious Prentice, wherein is declared how they that intent to be Prentices may 

1 Rightly enter into the Calling.  
2 Faithfully abide in it.  
3 Discreetly accomplish it. 12.    
70. Toward the Vindication of the second Commandment: by Edm. Gurney, B. D. 12.  
71. The free and honourable Servant: wherein is showed, that to be a Servant of the Lord, is a Title of the greatest honour, and a Place of the best Preferment: by I Fowler, M. A. etc. 8.  
72 Three excellent Sermons upon these following Subjects: 

True Repentance the Safety of a Nation: upon joel. 2. 14.  
The Love of Christ to his Church: upon Luke 22. 31, 32.  
The Saint's Encouragement: upon Luke 11 13. 8.    
73. The Fear of God and the King: pressed in a Sermon, by Matth. Griffith, D. D. 8.  
74. Dr. Fuller's triple Reconciler. 8.  
75. The baptised Turk, or the Conversion of a Native Turk to the Christian Religion: by Dr. Warmstrey, Dr. Gunning, etc. 8.  
76. Golden Remains of a Reverend Divine lately deceased. 8.  
77. News from the Pulpit for the present Age and Posterity: by I. jones, D. D. 12.  
78. Dr. Warmestrey on the Sacrament. 24.  
79. Hooks fatal Doom to the Reprobate, or an Excellent Comment on the 1 Cor. 16. 22. 12.  
80. The Presbyterian Bramble, or a short Discourse of Church-Government: by L. G. 4.   

Choice Poems, by eminent Wits of this Age.  
81. Poems enriched with Wit, Mirth, and Eloquence: Written by Sir A. C. Knight. 80.  
82. Select Poems on several occasions: by S. Pordage, Gent. 8.  
83. Mundorum Explicatio, or the explanation of an Hieroglyphical figure, wherein are couched the Mysteries of the External, Internal, and Eternal World: being a sacred Poem, written by S. P. Armig. 8.  
84. cleveland's Poems. 8.  
85. Regale Lectum Miseriae, or a Kingly Bed of Misery: in which is contained a Dream, with other Poems: by I. Quarles, the last Impression. 8.  
86. Heroical Lover: by Tho. Buncroft. 8.  
87. Poems of Mr. I. Crouch, Gent. Fol. and 4.   

Incomparable Comedies, and Tragedies, written by several Ingenious Authors.  
88 The World's Idol- Plutus, a Comedy, written in Greek by Aristophanes, translated by H. H. B. O. ●….  
89. Aminta; the famous Pastoral: Originally in Italian, translated by I D. 8.  
90. The Shepherd's Paradise: a Comedy privately acted before the late King Charles, by the Queen's Majesty and Ladies of Honour: written by ●…. Montague, Esq. 8.  
91. Lust's Dominion, or the Lascivious Queen: an excellent Tragedy; by Christ. Manlae, Gent. 12.  
92. Love's Mistress, or the Queen's Masque: by F. Heywood. 4.  
93. Spanish Gipsy: acted with general applause: written by Tho. Middleton and W. Rowley, Gent. 4.  
94. Thracian Wonder; a Comical History: written by I. webster and W. Rowley, 4.  
95. That pleasant and merry Comedy, entitled, Gammer Gurton's Needle, acted 100 years ago at C. C. Cambridge. 4.  
96. A pleasant Comedy, called, The two merry Milkmaids: by I. C. 4.  
97. The Queen of Arragon: a Tragicomedy. Fol.  
98. The obstinate Lady: a new Comedy, the Scene London, by Sir A. Cockain. 4.  
99 The French Schoolmaster, a Comedy. 4.  
100 A Cure for a Cuckold: a Comedy, by I. Webster and W. Rowley. 4.  
101. The Maid's Revenge: a Tragedy, by I. Shirley.  
102. Troades: a Tragedy, written in Latin by Seneca, Englished by S. P. Gent. 8.  
Three new Plays: viz. The  
103. Noble Ingratitude: a Pastoral Tragicomedy. 12.  
104. The enchanted Lovers: a Pastoral. 12.  
105. The Amorous Phantasm: a Tragicomedy, by Sir W. Lower Knight. 12.  
106. The merry conceited Humours of Bottom the Weaver. 4.  
107. A pleasant Dialogue between Band, Cuff, and Ruff: done by an excellent Wit. 4.  
108. Hell's Higher Court of Justice, or the Trial of the three Politic Ghosts, viz. O. Cromwell, K. Sweden, and Card. Mazarine. 4.  
109. The City Nightcap: a Tragicomedy, by R. Davenport. 4.  
110. The Rump: a Comedy, by I. T. Gent. 4.  
111. Tom Tyler and his wife, an excellent old Play, acted about 100 years ago. 4.  
112. A true, perfect, and exact Catalogue of all the Comedies Tragedies, Tragy-Comedies, Pastorals, Masques, and Interludes, that were ever yet printed and published till this present year, 1662. All which you may either buy of, or sell to the above said Henry Marsh.   

Excellent and approved Treatises in Physic and Chirurgery.  
113. Occult Physic, in three Books: 

The first of Beasts, Trees, Herbs, and their Magical Virtues. 8.  
The second containing Rare Medicines for all diseases happening to the bodies of both men and women, never till now made public.  
The third showing how to cure all Diseases with ten medicament●….  
To which is added a Tract how to judge of a Disease by the affliction of the Moon, upon the sight of the Patient's Urine, by W. W. etc. 8.    
114. A Physical Discourse of the cure of Diseases by Signature, by R. Bunworth. 12.  
115. A new discovery of the French Disease, and Running of the Reins, their causes, signs; with plain and easy directions for perfect curing the same: the second Edition, by R. Bunworth Doctor in Physic. 8.   

New and excellent Romances of the most eminent Wits.  
116. Choice Novels, delightful and profitable: written originally by one of the prime Wits of Spain; now made English by a person of quality. Fol.  
117. English Lovers, or a Girl worth Gold: both parts, so often acted with general applause, now newly formed into a Romance, by the accurate pen of I. D. Gent. 8.  
118. Amadis de Gaul, a Romance, sixth and last part, translated out of French into English, by F. K. 4.  
119. Clerio and Lozia their loves and adventures: a Romance, rendered into English by F. K. 8.  
120. Don juan Lamberto, or a Comical History of the late times: in two parts, by Montelion Knight of the Oracle, etc. 4.   

Poetical, with several accurately-ingenious Treatises lately published.  
121. The Rump, or an exact collection of the choicest Poems and Songs relating to the late times, by the most eminent Wits, from Anno 1639. to Anno 1661. 8.  
122. Fragmenta Aulica, or Court and State Jests, in noble Drollery, true and real, ascertained to their times, places, and persons, by T. S. Gent. 12.  
123. Studii Legalis ratio, or directions for the Study of the Law, under these following heads: 

The Qualifications for the Study. by W. P.  
The Nature of the Study. by W. P.  
The Means of the Study. by W. P.  
The Method of the Study. by W. P.  
The Time & of the Study. by W. P.  
The Place of the Study. by W. P.     

Books newly Printed.  
124. The glories and magnificent Triumphs of the blessed Restitution of his Sacred Majesty K Charles II. from his arrival in Holland 1659/60 till this present; comprising all the Honours and Grandeurs done to, and conferred by him; by I. Heath, Gent. 8.  
125. The Wits, or Sport upon Sport. 8.  
126. Four choice Sermons preached in Oxford: 

1 Christian's excellency, upon Mat. 5. 47.  
2 Truth begets Enmity, upon Gal. 4. 16.  
3 A Nations happiness is a good King, Eccles. 10. 17.  
4 The praise of Charity, upon Heb. 13. 16. by I Price. M. A. etc. 8.    
127. The Solicitor: exactly and plainly declaring, both as to Knowledge and Practice, wherein such an Undertaker ought to be qualified: as also, his Parts, Qualities, and fitting Endowments for such a weighty employment. Showing further the particular of suing a person privileged, and how the same may by course of Court sue any Foreigner. In a more special manner than hath ever been heretofore published by any hand whatsoever. Being truly useful for all sorts of persons who have any important business in Law or Equity. By T. M. Esq twelve years a Practitioner, and now of the Middle▪ Temple▪ London.   

Plays newly Printed.  
128. The poor Scholar, a Comedy, by R. N. Fellow of K. C. C. 4.  
129. The birth of Merlin, or the Child hath found his Father: written by W. Shakespeare and W. Rowley.  
130. Any thing for a quiet Life: a Comedy: by Tho. Middleton, Gent. 4.   

Books I purpose to print very speedily.  
131. A good Companion, or serious Meditations on the Miseries of man's Life, and of Death, by W. Winstanly.  
132. The unfortunate Usurper: a Tragedy, the Scene Constantinople.  
133. Profit and Pleasure for Gentlemen and Yeomen: containing a Miscellany of Recreations and Experiments, etc.  
134. Virgil in Droll. by Scurron, Englished by Montelion Knight of the Oracle, etc.  
135. A Discourse concerning the preservation and prolongation of Health: written in French, by F. de Monginot, Chancellor and Physician in Ordinary to the King, and Doctor of Physic in the most famous and ancient University of Mont-Pellier; now Englished by P. Belon, Chemist and Apoth▪ for the benefit of his Countrymen.   
FINIS.