THE HONEST Lawyer.  
ACTED BY The queen's majesties SERVANTS.  
WRITTEN By S. S.  
— levis esse videtur  
Fabula, quae posci vult, & spectata reponi.  
LONDON, Printed by George Purslowe for Richard Woodroffe, and are to be sold at his Shop near the great North-door of Paul's, at the sign of the guilded Key. 1616.   

THE HONEST LAWYER.  

Act. Prim.  Enter Vaster weaponed. 
A Cuckold? why now it is a common name,  
As the she-gossips are that give it us.  
Why doth it not derive, and spread itself.  
To all the generations we produce?  
Why should not every child of mine be called  
Cuckold, as well as Vaster, Woman, woman  
Thou sad undoer of the fairest building,  
That ever earth bragged to be pavement to.  
Man, Man; the pride of heavens creation,  
Abstract of Nature, that in his small volume  
Contains the whole world's Text, and heavens impression:  
His maker's Image, angel's mate, Earth's great wonder,  
Made to guide all, by woman is brought under.  
That harmony, fair Nature made to stand,  
Is forced out of tune by woman's hand.  
A woman hath deformed me. See, I look  
Like any beast has horns: an Ass may boast  
Himself a hornless Gentleman before me.  
Yet let not clouds of passion choke my reason.  
Why? what's a Cuckold? let's see: define him:  
It is a man, whose wife plays the whore. 'zlid, what's that to him? It is all one, as if a proper Gentleman should ride on a halting jade; or a good Musician play on a broken fiddle. Oh but 'twill be said: Woman could not be so light a ship, if her husband could well ballast her. It is his insufficiency. A pox it is. Had she Hercules to her husband, she would enter the lists with some crinkle-hammed tilting Courtier. Well then,  
I see no reason, that a woman's evil,  
Should thus transform man to a horned devil,  
No: 'twas Actaeon's lusts, and not his wife,  
That so bestagged him. Hence sprouts all my shame.  
Fuller of truth than age, this rule hath been:  
"Nothing deforms a man, but his own sin.  Enter Robert Vaster. Rob. 
Sir, my mother prays—  Vast. 
No more of her. Her prayers.  
Are putrid sacrifices: like foul airs,  
Too thick to mount up to yond glorious feeling.  
"When black hands are reared up, heaven has no feeling.  Rob. 
She is your wife, my mother, Sir.  Vast. 
What then Sir?  Rob. 
Nothing, but that you wrong her, o my conscience.  Vast. 
Oh 'tis a brave Puritan-world, when boys talk of conscience! Conscience must lie at the stake, when they play but at blowpoint. Sirrah, as you love your Conscience, hate a wife. Zlid, if I thought thou wouldst marry, I would unbless thee, as I have disinherited thee already: Get bastards, as I would ha' got thee. A woman may serve to lie withal: none good enough to marry.  Rob. 
Oh were you not my father, I would let  
This passion out of your impostumed heart—  
Why should not I forget, that your blood moves  
In any veins of mine; when you forego  
The reason of a father, husband, man?  
And stick degeneration on your name?  
If I sail ill, know your example steered  
My voyage and my vessel. Fathers are more  
Than private men: their lives are the set copies.  
Their children write by; and should there give  
Their imitation patterns how to live.  
Hell's a sad place, they say:— Oh, I'll dare never  
To follow my own father leading thither.  Exit Rob. Vast. 
Sirrah, call your mother. This boy's a Puritan.  
I that had near loved myself to be thought good,  
Am highly pleased to see it in my blood.  
From whom derives this sprig such fruitful juice;  
The father being bad, the mother worse.  
Sure, he did suck this goodness from his Nurse.  
Poor boy, my riot has undone thee: poor  
Thou'rt made by me, I by a wife turned whore.  
My state is mortgaged to the usurous hand  
Of Gripe: my goods are wasted: all my hopes life  
Breathes thus: having sold all, I'll sell my wife.  Enter Vasters wife and Robin. 
You're welcome, Looseness.  Rob. 
Looseness Sir? Oh hell!  
She is my mother; pray you, use her well.  Vast. 
Be gone.  Rob. 
I cannot Sir.  Wife. 
Good son, a way.  
A father gives command.  Rob. 
I must obey.  Exit. Rob. Vast. 
Make much of you? I will, I will. Never man made more of his wife, when he sold her to her smock. I'll sell thy flesh too Gipsy.  Wife. 
Dear husband, I am yet clear; Oh do not you  
Force me to sin, I'll be for over true.  Vast. 
True? true to the brothel, to the spital, to the grave.  
Thou art death's agent: a whore is one of his Beadles.  Wife. 
Heaven pardon your black slanders.  Vast. 
Come, I'm poor.  Wife. 
Who made you?  Vast. 
Thou, my content, turned whore.  Wife. 
I'll work, or beg for you.  Vast. 
No, thou hast wrought  
Too much already. Here, here's thy work.  points to her. 
Wilt thou do one thing?  Wife. 
Any thing.  Vast. 
Then swear.  
And keep thy oath. I'll travel to the wars,  
And turn thee up, as some Captains wont; and try,  
If thou canst live by thy old trade, or die.  Wife. 
Will you forsake me then?  Vast. 
Yes, and am just.  
Since thou forsook'st me, and thine innocence,  
Be thy reward proportioned I must hence.  
Whiles thou wast good, to thee I had free desire.  
Now thou art proved a whore receive thy hire.  Wife. 
Take place, thou tyrant will. Thick woes here hover.  
My state is lower than fate can recover.  
My obedience waits your pleasure.  Vast. 
Hoh, within there.  Enter Mistress Mermaid, Bawd. 
Aunt Mermaid I have brought you the girl  
I promised. Is the money ready?  Marm. 
By that little honesty I have to swear by; a handsome wench. I must pay fifty pound for her: but if she were as young, as fair, I would get five hundred pound by her within this month.  Vast. 
Aunt, pray use her well: she's my own sister.  
Be petulant you whore, sprightly frolic— as a Dutch tannakin.— or— This woman is a Bawd, a very Bawd; you like her the better for that. Come, skip about, quick silver: Dance like a Courtesan, or I'll fiddle ye. You ha' more tricks in private, than a Fencer can teach a Lord, or the devil a Fencer. Life, do you pule? I must have fifty pound for you: Do y' hear? Let your heels caper, and your tongue grow wanton, or by these horns I'll gore you— Aunt, she's somewhat sick of that rare disease, called Modesty. But in private she's more insatiate than a Puritan.  Marm. 
How old are you, fair sister?  Vast. 
Not sixteen.  Wife. 
About some six and forty.  Vast. 
Oh you Witch— Aunt, she lies eight and twenty, at least  
Hark ye sister,—  
Please this old Hag, make her believe you're right,  
And answerable to her Stygian spells:  
Or I will bear thee to an Army, and there  
Ha' thy sod flesh sold, lent; and prostituted,  
And myself Cuckolded forty times a day.  
Leave this forced soberness— Aunt, will you hear her speak?  Wife. 
I can skip lighter than the wanton do,  
And jerk it through the Dale,  
I cannot hold, neither my tongue, nor heels,  
(Nor nails from scratching out a lecher's eyes)  
Sure, I am composed most of the nimbler elements:  
But little water in me, far less earth, some air,  
To keep me humid, mutable, and tender,  
And apt for convolution: but their mixture  
Is scarce discernible, th' are so dispersed.  
For my predominant quality is all fire,  
Pure, radiant, subtle fire.  Vast. 
I have oft seen a couple of light heels  
Carry a sober head: a woman's tongue  
Read lectures of civility; her face  
A printed book, each dimple a sweet line,  
That doth to good the Readers eye incline,  
Never till now a body forced to do,  
What the poor mind loathes to consent unto.  
She danceth weeping, laughs and sighs in pain.  
So I have seen( methinks) Sunshine in rain.  Marm. 
Enough, I long to employ her. Cousin, here's the money. She's mine. What's your name?  Vast. 
Florence.  Marm. 
Florence. I like the name well.  
It's a good lucky name to make a whore on. You'll stay with me, Florence.  Wife. 
Till you are weary of me. I'll but take leave of my brother, and follow you.  Exit Marmaid. Vast. 
What with me?  Wife. 
Am I not worthy of one kiss?  Vast. 
There— now be gone.  Wife. 
Be gone? Death could not speak a word more fatal.  
Yet one more— so now farewell—  
Unjust— unkind— my woe-divining heart.  
By this we first embraced, by this we part.  Exit Wife. Vast. 
I am a villain, but she makes me weep.  
Why do I think she's false? I never saw't.  
Tut, all bells ring that tune. It is too true.  
I told her that this fifty pound should carry me to the wars;  
But I have a battle to fight ere I go.  
Old Gripe that has the mortgage of my lands,  
Lies sick of the Gout, and seldom stirs abroad.  
Some of that race I'll kill, or leave my own life  
In pawn I would have done 't. I ha' challenged  
Benjamin Gripe the son, whom the world calls  
The Honest Lawyer. He comes.  Enter Benjamin Gripe. 
You're the son of a villain.  Ben. 
If I were, I could not help it.  Vast. 
Thyselfe's a villain.  Ben. 
It's a rank lie.  Vast. 
Lie? Thou exasperat'st  
One mad already, that would have hazard heaven  
To make this earth drunk with thy blood.  Ben. 
Its dear, so bought. 'twill not redeem your soul.  
Say, with deep sluices, all these lively springs,  
That run through the soft channels of my veins,  
Should be exhausted by thee, or thine by me,  
And burning malice should be quenched in blood:  
He that speeds best, wins what he should abhor,  
And glories to be cursed a conqueror.  Vast. 
Let Sophisters alone with these distinctions.  
Our moderators are our swords: the question,  
That calls us forth, as warlike disputants  
Beyond decision of the gown-furred peace.  
Draw then thy argument, and let's talk indeed.  
We cannot reason soundly, till we bleed.  Ben. 
Let's think the terms, on which we venture blood.  
Th'effects are weighty, let the cause be good.  Vast. 
Thy father hath undone me, and mine issue.  
The law affords no succour: what remains,  
But only to let him bleed through thy veins?  Ben. 
How have I wronged thee?  Vast. 
Ask no more. The State  
Of our strife is, thou art his Son, I hate.  Ben. 
No help? let fury arbitrate the rest.  
This passion must but centre in one breast.  
Yet let's embrace, and pardon; and even love  
In hate. O suffer not the dying blood  
To prejudice the sad survivors good.  They fight. Enter Curfew the Abbot. Curf. 
What unexpected clangor frights the peace  
Of my delighted solitary walks?  
What sons of mischief in their fury tread  
These unfrequented paths?— stay— hold.  
My sons, hear age but speak; wisdom is old.  Vast. 
Peace, Dotard.  Curf. 
On my knees, which doubling age  
Hath scarce left able to support my corpse:  
By the remaining tears of forty years  
Spent in this penitential order: the last drops,  
The drying hand of age hath left to dew  
This withered garden: I implore— beseech.  Vast. 
Father, you speak to rocks, or the surd waves.  Curf. 
Then on this innocent bosom turn your swords,  
And ease a weak soul of her tedious portage,  
Some hour before her time. O do not fly me.  
Let the few drops of my slow-pacing blood,  
That stands in my cold channels, expiate yours.  
Oh let a falling trunk redeem two plants.  sight still. 
No remedy? let me exclaim for help.  
(The devil part you:) if I should now ha' paid for my charity— well: 'twas this Church-coat that saved me.  Exit crying help. Vast. 
Oh thou hast slain me: hold thy conquering hand.  
heavens, you are too just paymasters. Thy sword,  
With a fate-signed direction, hath cut short  
My hoped fortunes in a longer breath.  
But I forgive thee. Fly— stay.  
I have two Orphans in this hour deprived  
Of a bad Parent. For their mother— nothing.  
She has a trade to live on. O let my dying breath  
Beg this one mercy at thy bloodstained hands:  
Relieve them with now thine, once their own lands.  Ben. 
Forgive my deed, and by that mercy, I  
Depend on for my sins; my mercy shall  
Raise up the children for the father's fall. Farewell.  Vast. 
He's gone. Now up again. My wounds  Exit Ben. 
Are slight, yet through their windows, hear I breathe  
Out all my malice. Noble youth, I love thee.  
How little of thy father hast thou in thee!  
Now for some strange disguise, till time I find,  
To pleasure him that was to me thus kind.  Exit. Enter Valentine. Valen. 
Well, I see there's no living in London, The four winds have conspired to blow all the villainy of the world thither. When I returned from my short travel, I enquired, for the knot of my old companions. But like an old Lady, that has much used painting, how suddenly are they broken! I heard of three or four in Bedlam. Five or six in Bridewell. Half a score i'th' Counter. a whole dozen at Tyburn. But Oh, numbers, numbers, under the hands of barber-surgeons. Some turned Squires to a Brothel. Others walk Newgate lane. Some cheating in Ordinaries. Others prigging in crowds. And the rest, either swam over sea, or drowned upon a hill. Well, I do not like these proceedings; there be so many rubs. I could now beg in Dutch, but it's no speeding language. Now my villainy fails on the sea, I'll try what cheats the land has to work on. I learned some scurvy medicines of our Surgeon of the ship: & had no sooner set up my bills in Bedford here; but a Gouty cure comes halting to me. Fifty pounds I must have to heal him. Five and twenty I have in pawn: for the rest, I'll leave it with the next Quacksalver, that with more skill shall do him as little good.  Enter Gripe halting, Nice and Thirsty. Grip. 
Cousin Nice, and my man Thirsty.  Thirst. 
Shall I fetch you some drink, Sir?  Grip. 
No. Thy mind runs all o'th' pot.  Thirst. 
So 't had need, for you keep me Thirsty, spite o' my teeth.  Gripe. 
Go you two to the under-sheriff; and bid him by virtue of this mortgage, give you possession of Vaster's lands. The beggarly slave has broken with me, and I'll take the forfeit. Go quick, quick. I will not lose an hour.  Nic. 
I'll but go to the Church for a little holy-water—  Grip. 
Be drowned in holy-water.  Nic. 
No, but a little sprinkled Sir. We shall have the better success in our business.  Grip. 
I pray thee good Nice, dispatch, dispatch.  Thir. 
ay, come, come master Nice. There's good liquor it h' house. You may sprinkle your throat with that. Its better than holy-water.  Nic. 
One thing Sir. I do not like going today. Sure 'tis not a lucky time. For the first Crow I heard this morning, cried twice. This Even, Sir, is no good number.  Grip. 
Pox o' Crows and numbers. If thou hadst given her a piece of carrion, she would ha' cried again. Away.  Nic. 
I go, Sir— stay, what if there be a Raven about the ground?  
Shall we then take possession? Oh 'tis an unlucky bird.  Grip. 
Why, let her croak the downfall of his house.  
What's that to me? prithee good Nice make haste.  Nic. 
Nay, too much haste will make one stumble: and that's no good sign.  Grip. 
Now, Valentine, Hast all things ready? how now— again?  Nic. 
A toy comes in my head.  Valen. 
Pox o' that head: more toys yet?  Ni. 
How if a Cat sits on the Buttery hatch? Thou wouldst proceed no further. My Grandam told me that a Cat sitting on the hatch, was an ill sign.  Grip. 
Mew. Beat her off, dash out her brains. Good Nice be not so curious.  Ni. 
Oh Sir, it's good doubting the worst.  Exeunt Nice. Thir. Grip. 
Are all things ready, Valentine? this fool troubles me worse than the gout.  Val. 
Sir, the remedy is very painful. I could give a tedious course of physic, worse than any sickness. Keep you fasting sixteen days together, save the diet I give you. Bind you to the post of patience every day ten hours; and have one still pour scalding water on you: purge your very heart out: send your eyes out of their holes, to see how your feet do: make your guts bark worse, than an hundred dogs at a bearbaiting. But my medicine is sharp and short, but passing sure. Sir, there be four kinds of gout.  Gripe. 
No more of kinds. There's no gout kind to any man, I think, but to Physicians. Your remedy short-short.  Val. 
Sir, nothing: specially of no cost. Do y' see this tenpenny nail?  Gripe. 
Yes: What of that?  Val. 
This nail I must drive through your great toe.  Grip. 
What? through the bone?  Val. 
Yes, bone & flesh too.  Grip. 
Oh-oh-give me my money. This medicine's worse than any gout. Oh good Valentine, your tent's too long— too long.  Val. 
Then sit and rot: be racked still, I'll be gone.  Grip. 
Nay, good Valentine: would not a sixpenny nail serve?  Val. 
You'll be Physician, will you? If you'll sit down and be cured, so: if not, farewell.  Grip. 
Nay, good Valentine:— even do thy will.  Val. 
Endure it manfully. It's but a brunt— so. nails him .You shall sit but a quarter of an hour, till I ha' been at the Apothecaries, and then I'll lose you. Now farewell, gouty fool, Thou took'st no purge, yet hast a most sharp stool. Pray heavens, this kill him not. Well, let him sit. he takes away his purse with his keys And this shall go with me. I pray Sir take your case. This plot has took; try if some new may hit.  Exit Val. Grip. 
Come-come-Valentine. Oh never was man so far in my bonds, as I am in this Physicians. H' has nailed me to him. That every whore in London, were but i' my case now. Why Valentine—  Enter Nice panting. Thirsty. 
Oh he's come. How now? are you returned? where's my mortgage? out Villains, where's my mortgage? Oh my toe— oh my mortgage. I'm undone.  Thirst. 
methinks you are too fast, Sir.  Ni. 
Plague o' you and your mortgage. Oh my heart-it beats so, that it has broke my buttons. I would not be so frighted again to be made your heir. puff.  Grip. 
What's the news Thirsty? what, what, good Thirsty?  Thir. 
Let me undo you Master.  Grip. 
No, not till I hear of my mortgage. What's the matter? oh—  Ni. 
The matter? I would not ha' such another cross, for all the crosses i' your purse.  Grip. 
What? oh— what? Is my mortgage safe? Hath the under-sheriff done a miracle, and played the honest man? what good Thirsty?  Thirst. 
Nothing Sir, but a Hare crossed the way; and he, poor timorous soul, durst go no further for fear of sprights.  Grip. 
Oh rogues, pernicious villains, you conspire to cozen me: get out the nail, Thirsty. Hares, and Ravens, and Devils.  Enter Benjamin. Ben. 
Who has abused you thus Sir? could you be so credulous, to think this a receit good for the Gout? Sir, give me leave to help you.  Grip. 
Do, good Ben but not in this, Ben not in this. Oh my mortgage man, my mortgage— run. I shall lose a days fruits of my mortgage.  Ben. 
Come Sir, respect your health above your gain.  
I would not for your wealth have half your pain.  loseth him. 
Go in Sir, get some broth, look to your wound.  
Your mortgage leave to me, I'll keep that sound.  Grip. 
Take my cousin Nice with you. Come Thirsty, help Thirsty.  Ben. 
Now for some cleanly trick to shift my hands  Exit. 
Of this same shallow superstitious fool.  
Now cozen, I'm sure you are not without an Erra Pater i' your pocket. They say this is like to be a very strange year.  Nice. 
Most strange, and full of preposterous, prodigious, turbulent, dismal, fatal, amazing, terrifying—  Ben. 
Bless us. What?  Nic. 
Wonders. The effects whereof will appear in risings, partly biformed, and partly circular, on men's foreheads, and women's mountains.  Ben. 
Is there no sad mortality to ensue?  Ni. 
Yes, my Almanac speaks of a most fearful pestilence, especially to happen amongst Tailors and Gold-end-men.  
there's a statute-lace shall undo them i'faith. A tailors Bill shall be no more so deadly as the plagues.  Ben. 
Sirrah Nice, I had a dream tonight.  Nic. 
Passion o' my heart! a dream? what? I do not like these dreams.  Ben. 
I'll tell thee what. methought, my troubled fancy  
Led me into a Garden proudly decked  
With Nature's glory, and the sweetest flowers,  
That ere my breath sucked up: where the green grass  
Tempted my sleepy spirits to soft repose.  
There came, methought, a friend (dead now long since)  
And shook me by the hand, and questioned me  
Of many sad events, whose conference  
So vexed me that I woke. Why stand'st amazed?  
Thou wilt not leave me Coz.  Nic. 
Yes, and you were ten Cousins. Dream of a garden, and green rushes, and a dead friend's salutation? Cousin, make your will, be ruled and make your will: you cannot live.  Ben. 
Wilt thou be a fool of fate? who can  
Prevent the destiny decreed for man? I'll on.  Nic. 
So will not I. Good Coz, I leave you to your destiny. The next news I hear, the Lawyer's a dead man. Dreams quoth 'a! and he will not believe a dream, he's an Infidel. One night I dreamt that I found gold at a play. Next day I came thither, flattered with these hopes. Zlid, before the Prologue had done, I had lost my purse.  
Coz if you ha' no faith in dreams, farewell.  
I would not dream of heaven, lest I find hell.  Exit. Ben. 
This charm has cast him off, now to my mortgage.  
Oh Vaster, thou art dead; thy hapless issue,  
Exposed to the bleak air of these cold times.  
I have no means to expiate the wrongs,  
My cruel Father, and myself more bloody,  
Have done thee, but by charity to thine,  
All the poor pieces that remain of thee.  
So with the plasters of our broken good,  
We hide the wounds, first having shed the blood.  
Within there Hoh.  Enter Robert, and Anne Vaster. Rob. 
Thou com'st upon thy death, infectious issue of the world's plague; if thy blood stained foot enter these doors. Our parents are from home. Till their return, I'll keep possession. Or lose it with my life.  Ben. 
Incensed Youth.  
Thou fightest 'gainst power with a sword of straw:  
As good cope with the devil, as with the Law.  Anne. 
methinks, Sir, there should dwell some pity in your look.  
Oh, cast an eye of mercy on the woes,  
Of two most wretched Orphans; doubly lost,  
First in their parents' miseries: but, oh! most  
In their untimely deaths; for we doubt sore,  
We never shall behold their faces more.  Ben. 
My grief requites you both.  
No matter, had it so pleased the high powers,  
If that my Father had excused yours.  Ann. 
Good Sir, forget your strength; and do not triumph over the prostrate fortunes of two wretches,  
Exposed to unresisted tyranny.  
Behold a Maiden begging on her knee—  Ben. 
Rise: that's heavens due. These arms now thee intwine,  
That wish for ever, to be called thine:  
A strange new influence runs through my affections,  
Into my panting heart; and there enthroned,  
Commands my lower faculties to love  
This poor distressed Virgin. I am flamed  
With pity and affection; whether more!  
Yet let my senses some cool reason gather:  
What, love the daughter, and have slain the father?  
(I must: heaven knows I must). See, my loved friends:  
My coming to you is for other ends.  
My Father sent me to invade your lands.  
A while stand free redeemed with my hands.  
There's money to relieve you: that done, you shall have more.  
Despair not: heaven will not forsake the poor.  Rob. 
Right noble son of so professed a foe,  
Heaven be as kind to you, as you t' our woe.  Ben. 
I burst, if I contain my passion. Fairest Virgin,  
If thou dar'st credit me, I love thee.  Rob. 
Hold. Here take your kindness back: Though we are poor,  
My sister was not bred to be a whore.  
Forbear to touch her.  Ben. 
Fond Youth, thy rage is vain.  
thouart young: thy error doth thy virtue stain.  
I love her as a wife.  Anne. 
Oh do not mock me.  
How can I think, you to such fortunes borne.  
Will look upon a Maid, so poor, forlorn?  Ben. 
Alas! that poverty should virtue smother.  
Not in my breast. No, I'll still honest be:  
Virtue in rags are gold's all one to me.  
Censure me both, as you shall find me true,  
I'll be your father, and your brother too.  Enter old Gripe brought in a chair, by Nice and Thirsty. Grip. 
So, let me down, till I have seen my new mortgage.  
How now son Benjamin, ha' you taken possession?  Ben. 
Of that you cannot dispossess me, Sir.  Grip. 
No knave? what wilt thou take my lands before I'm dead?  
You are a brave son indeed. But this is the world. If the father be poor, the son would be rid of him, to save charges. If rich, he must have his lands ere his bones be cold.  Thir. 
They may be cold, for they ha' been rotten these dozen years.  Nic. 
I am very hungry.  Thir. 
I am very thirsty.  Ni. 
But dare not eat, because I was dreamed tonight of choking.  Ann. 
Now brother w' are, undone.  
The damned father will pervert the son.  Rob. 
Gout, dropsy, lameness, rotten legs can hasten  
T'undo the poor. usurers that sit  
Bound to their chairs with charms, & cannot move  
But by their porters, can to ill bestir them.  
He needs make haste, that is at hell before them.  Grip. 
Ha? for 3. months?  Ben. 
Indeed Sir, by that power you put me in,  
In charity to their miserable state,  
Orphaned of Parents, and of means to live,  
I gave them 3. months profit of the lands.  Grip. 
Out Villain, charity's a beggar, as thou wilt be. 3. months! three weeks, 3. days, 3. hours had been more charity, then ever I show'd, or will show to such beggars. Come Nice, Thirsty, list me: I'll take possession myself.  Ben. 
I hope Sir, you'll not nullify my deed.  Exit Thirst. Grip. 
Deed me no deeds: I'll nullify thee from being mine heir. Come, help me I say.  Nic. 
Indeed Sir, I dare not lift you against the poor.  Grip. 
Where's my man Thirsty?  Nic. 
He's gone in to drink Sir.  Grip. 
Oh he's a good knave: he has got possession o'th' house.  Thir. 
Of nothing master but the Buttery, I.  Grip. 
As lame as I am, I'll in myself.  Rob. 
Sit still you lethargy: y' had better drop—  Ben. 
Contain yourself, young friend. He is my father,  
Let not the warm nest of my love to you,  
Hatch up encouragement to my father's wrongs.  Rob. 
You are my stern Sir, at your pleasure guide  
This tempest-beaten vessel.  Ben. 
Good Sir confirm  
This work of piety, which I presumed,  
On faith of your good nature to afford.  Grip. 
Sirrah, your good nature will bring you to th'almshouse. Thou shalt not inherit a doit of mine. And for you two Kitlins, I'll make you mew i'th' jail, and there be any law in England. So this chasing fit hath got me the use of my legs again. Oh excellent Surgeon; would thou wert here again, for the other 25. pounds.  Ben. 
Strange! that same Quacksalver has done him good, against his will. How fare you Sir?  Grip. 
The worse for thee Bastard. Thou'st too much charity in thee to be the son of old Gripe.  Ann. 
Dear brother, yield possession: we'll beg rather,  
Than this our worthy friend should lose his father.  Rob. 
Sir, be not so incensed: resume your son  
Into your former love, and I resign  
All right, that his free promise hath made mine.  Grip. 
Come then, Nice, Thirsty. Oh brave Surgeon, I can go.  
Oh brave mortgage I can enter.  Exit. Nic. 
M. Benjamin, a sober word in private. If this wench want harbour, I care not if I give her a night's lodging.  Ben. 
I have invited her with her brother to supper this night.  
Will you—  Ni. 
Oh it's Friday, and I know you have flesh.  Ben. 
Thou wouldst take her any night. Is she not flesh?  Nic. 
Sweet Cousin, I would not eat her. If you please to commend me to her: let me see, for what— I leave that to you.  Exit. Ben. 
Go in, let me alone. This petulant fool.  
Shall be my scaffold to erect my plots.  
Come, friends, unload your sorrows on my heart.  
Griefs weight is eased; when each one bears his part.   

Act. second  Enter Curfew Abbot. Curf. 
THus am I stolen out from the covent. Abbot,  
Lie there, thou happy warranted case  
Of any Villain. Thou'st been my stalking-horse,  
Now these ten months. So long 'tis since the Abbot  
Went on a solemn pilgrimage and left  
My brother, a good honest friar, his friend  
Deputed for him. But my brother scarce  
Warm in his new vice-honour, walking out  
To visit me one morning, at my house  
Fell dead of an impostume suddenly.  
I buried him in private; but from's blood  
Am purer than the Crystal. Studying now,  
How to turn sorrow into policy,  
I have assumed his shape. Who can deny,  
But that a Dunce may rise to Dignity?  
Blind Ignorance doth not always strut in Satin.  
It often walks a Clergy pace in black,  
And deals the holy Rites with as bold hands,  
As if it grasped jove's thunder: and did judge it  
Enough to stare, look big, and with a brow  
More rugged than is radamanth's, denounce  
Torrors against ill deeds: the whiles their own  
Are not less monstrous, but less broadly shown.  
Thus in myself, how easy't is, I prove,  
To sweat out judgements 'gainst the sins we love.  
As if a garment of world-cozening grace  
Were impudently good, set out by place.  
Well, I get nothing by this borrowed form,  
But countenance to my thefts. This hollow tree  
Keeps all my holiness: Lie there Abbot, till  
My work is done, then do thou hide my ill.  Enter Valentine gallant. 
Mass here's comes one already.  Valent. 
Now have I, like a Parasite, covered my back with brains. Out of my usurers Gouty toe, I have spun a fair suit. I would fain hear, whether the devil be dead or no. Yet I need not be so inquisitive, for I'm sure he has given me nothing in's will. Now am I in quest of some vaulting house. I would fain spend these crowns, as I got them, in coney-catching. I ha'the game in scent, & will follow it with full cry.  Curf. 
Stand— Give the word.  Val. 
Word? what word? am I beleaguered?  Curf. 
Few words are best among friends. Empty your pockets, and you may vault the lighter. Quick.  Val. 
thouart an honest fellow, a very honest fellow. In good faith I had no great need of money; but since thou hast brought me some, I'll not refuse it.  Curf. 
Troth, I ha' but a little.  Val. 
Faith nor I. we'll even draw cuts, who shall ha' both.  Curf. 
Agreed.— Shall we breath?  fight. Val. 
Good fortune grant, you be able to pay me for this pains. In sadness, I deserve double fees.  Curf. 
I'll make you plead harder, ere you sit down to tell your money.  Val. 
Look that your case be good, I shall pick a hole in't else.  Curf. 
Well, let the law pass.  Val. 
Not altogether so: lest we be both hang.— Stand your ground. Zlid, I cannot abide these running Cocks.  fight. Curf. 
I have seen a runner win the battle.— Shall we draw stakes?  Val. 
Ha? a match— Throw by weapons, and let's embrace.  Curf. 
I am a villain, but I fear your clutch worse than a sergeant's  Val. 
As I'm true thief, thou mayst trust me. Ha sirrah! Robin Hood, and the Pindar of Wakefield had not a stiffer bout. Shall we cling, like a couple of eels, not to be dissolved but by Thunder?  Curf. 
Most liberally. Let's set up shop together.  Enter Vaster disguised. Val. 
Done: & to begin our trade, behold a customer. Stand close.  Vast. 
This russet-shape of a plain-dealing yeoman  
Spirits my hopes with boldness. Sharp suspicion  
Like to a winking justicer shall see me,  
And yet not see me. Thus with grief-swollen eyes,  
I'll match my wife, and children's miseries.  
This fifty pound I'll husband like a Badger;  
Buy and sell Barley: and so easily wind  
Into the present passages of Bedford.  
How good a schoolmaster is Poverty!  
I could not live on hundreds, that came in  
By annual rents; now I begin to thrive  
On the small fragments. Thus like Prodigals,  
That once did scorn the meat, now glad of pottage.  
The manor gone, I'll try to live o'th' cottage.  
Bedford, ha' for you.  Curf. 
Stand. Give the word.  Vast. 
The word, you're a thief.  Val. 
You might ha' shot twice, and not hit it righter.  Vast. 
What do you shoot at?  Curf. 
Oh Sir, like your Jesuit, all at the purse.  Val. 
Will you cast out the devil, and save's a conjuring.  Vast. 
Are you so cunning at the black Art? I'll try your skill. What, both at once? that's no fair play.  Curf. 
Fair play is for Fencers. Yet thou seemst a good fellow. Thou shalt have it. Stand aside, partner.  Vast. 
sayst thou me so, boy? than there's money, win't and wear't.  Fight. Val. 
Now could I get in and rob 'em both— Hercules! He lays about him like Orlando Furioso, or a coward turned desperate. Brave boy i'faith. we might ha' robbed two and twenty Taffeta-cloaked roarers, before this freese-jacket. Oh, your surly Boar is like a bloodied Mastiff: when your spruce pantaloon bawls like a whelp in a Tavern: yet at the sight of cold iron runs, as if he had seen a Sergeant.  Curf. 
Hold, hold: Keep your cash.  Vast. 
The money's good money Sir, if it be not too heavy for you  Curf. 
Nay, for the weight I could make shift, but for the scurvy conditions go with it.  Vast. 
have you any gall to't Sir?  Val. 
Not not so much as pigeon. Put up thy cash my brave quintessence of Hobbinolls. Give me thy hand. How many thousand cudgels hast thou broken i' thy days about a Maypole?  Curf. 
I warrant, as many as would make all Bedford chimneys smoke a whole winter.  Vast. 
Jest on. Ha' you any more to say to me.  Curf. 
Nothing my brave Clem o' th' Clough, but I would thou wouldst deal with us. Say, shall we put all our stocks together, and set out a ship of our own?  Vast. 
Ha? first tell me truly what you are.  Curf. 
Agreed. Let's sit down to counsel. I am the Abbot of Newnham.  Vast. 
How? much?  Curf. 
I'll not bate you an Ace on't, till the old Abbot returns from Pilgrimage. My chamber shall be our Rendezvous. The devil himself in the shape of a blurting Constable will not look for us there.  Val. 
I am a soldier, and in this vacation time am forced to do like Lawyers; when suits do not make them, they make suits: because the wars will not maintain me, I maintain the wars. I set up my Bills in Bedford here, for a Physician, and dealt with Gripe for the Gout. I have a project to swell our purses till they burst. Will you second me?  Vast. 
As inseparably, as a condition does an obligation.  Val. 
I have often heard the gripulous Dotard talk of Fairies: and how rich the house proves that they haunt. I have ripened the blister of his imagination to the full. Shall we lance it? I have keys that shall secure our conveyance. Is't a match?  Vast. 
The safest stratagem we could devise,  
By craft, more than by strength, all thieves do rise.  
Of many politic knaves you cannot spy one.  
The Fox will have his prey before the Lion.  Val. 
Two or three nights we'll scatter some small pieces of silver, till opportunity plump our project.  Curf. 
I take it rightly. Oh 'tis quick and sharp.  
So with a Gudgeon lost, we'll catch a carp. A booty.  Enter Griffin, Sager, Bromley. Griff. 
As I was saying, Master Bromley, why should you take th' advantage of your neighbour Sager here? Y' have got the reversion of his Lease. there's is but one life to come in't. we are all mortal. It may come ere you look for't. I love peace, I love peace.  Brom. 
I say, that life is forfeit: and I'll enter on all. The law is on my side. I'll not be bound to th' peace.  Griff. 
Nay Sir, I'll bind no man: but if I could persuade you— to be fleeced both, so I might be kept warm in your wool— How say you neighbour Sager?  Sag. 
Alas Sir, I do but defend my own.  
Nay could be well-contented to sit down  
With some (though unjust) loss. I judge it best.  
Though with some prejudice to buy my rest.  Griff. 
Therein you wrong yourself: the law is impartial, like a Bell, as sound on one side, as on th' other, if the clapper be right. Master Bromley a word— What will you judge me worthy of, If I persuade him to relinquish his right? You know your case—.  Brom. 
Here's twenty angels: work it good Master Griffin, work it; and you shall be my everlasting Attorney. But if you fail, you must return.  Griff. 
Pish, never talk o' that man— Mr. Sager, a word— I love peace, though I cannot live by't. I respect my conscience above my purse— when t' has no money in't.— What will you give me to draw Bromley to a good handsome composition?  Sag. 
Not a penny, till y' have done't.  Griff. 
You know 'twill go against you, but I love peace.  Sag. 
(I never knew't in any of your Tribe.  
Th' event be what it will, I'll give no bribe.)  
Sir, as I like your end— God and my cause,  
Are coat of steel, 'gainst the sharp fangs of laws.  Grif. 
Shall we walk on? our journey's long.  Curf. 
Not so long as you take't. Stand, good Mr. Lawyer, shall I put a case to you now?  Val. 
Come, untruss, we have haste of business?  Curf. 
Quick sirrah, I shall serve an Execution o' your throat else  Grif. 
Indeed Gentlemen, I am sorry that I'm not better stored for you. If you had took me coming from term, I could have served your turns better.  Valen. 
Bind them, hamper the rogues. Serve a Habeas corpus on that fieri fancies.  Curf. 
How happy were this common wealth! how sound!  
If every corrupt lawyer's fingers were thus bound.  Vast. 
Sager, I know thee poor: here take thy purse.  
Though I rob these, no poor man shall me curse.  Val. 
Tarry till I lay the Lawyer in the midst of his clients.  
Are your talons bound Harpy? Thou liest now like a Stallion new gelt, betwixt two Mares. This is a Distringis sirrah.  
Farewell pettifogger.  Secedunt fures. Grif. 
Oh neighbours, I'm undone, undone.  Brom. 
Then help to undo me. I'll have my action against the Rogues.  Sag. 
Stay till you catch them master Bromley.  
Well, somewhat this my falling state relieves:  
That honesty speeds well even amongst thieves  Brom. 
Help, help. Good master Griffin, your breath's strongest, yawl, yawl. Your tongue could never stand your Clients in more stead.  Enter Vasters wife. Wife. 
I heard this way some man's distressed voice,  
Crying for help: some robbery. Oh 'tis no wonder!  
A thief and bawdy house are ne'er far asunder.  Grif. 
Oh good woman help, help to untie us.  Wif. 
I know 'em all. Two knaves, one honest man.  
They know not me in this translation.  
Come Sir, I'll lose you first, help you the rest.  
Do well to all, but to the good do best.  Grif. 
Oh that I had the villains upon an execution now.  Wife. 
Would you turn hangman, Sir?  Grif. 
i'faith sweet wench, I would show 'em the law.  Wife. 
Oh pity them: necessity has no law.  
Perhaps want forced them; though it was not good.  
What Horseleeches are they, that full, suck blood!  
There is an Inn, enter, refresh yourselves.  Exeunt. 
Their loss is money, yet I moan their state.  
Who pities me most, most unfortunate!  
Robbed of a husband's love, now of himself.  
How far is this beyond all loss of pelf!  
He sold me hither; may that sinful price  
Of my deep sorrow never prejudice  
His happiness, what climate ever holds him.  
Be blessed, sweet husband; let my ruin buy  
Thy wished content, though I forsaken die.  
This witch has tired me with her customers,  
Whom I have all sent home with bettered minds.  
Against her vicious will, I force her strive  
By virtue rather, then by lust to thrive.  
I know, I am expected.  Exit. Curf. 
The jacks be now uncaged, and fluttered hence.  Vast. 
(The woman, that released them, I should know.  
She frees them from this bondage to a worse.  
There is no thief, like whore, to pick the purse.)  Val. 
Shall we not shift ground?  Curf. 
By no means. A thieves safest residence is in the same plat he did the robbery. There, of all places, the Cuckoldly hue will never cry after him.  Vast. 
When shall we share the booties, and be proud,  
How liberally our division mounts?  Curf. 
The days work done, we'll cast up the accounts.  Val. 
Where's the pettifoggers Portmanteau?  Curf. 
Here.  Val. 
Lay't there. So, you shall see me catch a fat Pickerel, with this Gudgeon presently. Stand close.  Enter old Gripe, Nice, Thirsty. Nic. 
Uncle, uncle, I had a certain scurvy dream tonight.  Grip. 
Dream? what of dreams? good cousin be not so nice.  Nic. 
I dreamed—  Grip. 
Be hanged.  Ni. 
Be you hanged, Uncle.  Thirst. 
Be hanged both, except I may have some drink.  Nic. 
methought I found a great deal of money.  Gripe. 
I would we had it, cousin, without dreaming.  Thirst. 
Whoop master— no part of my finding.  takes up the Portmanteau Grip. 
No matter for a part: all's mine.  Nic. 
Nay, all's mine for dreaming.  Thirst. 
Nay, all's mine for finding: and I'll keep't.  Val. 
Soft, sirrah: it lies there for a wager.  Nic. 
What wager, Sir?  Val. 
Marry, that whoever finds it, shall lose all the money in's purse.  Nic. 
I'll not meddle with it.  Grip. 
I'll ha' no part in't.  Val. 
judgement, Gentlemen: ha' they not lost the wager?  Curf. 
Vast. Lost, lost; as sure as Virginity; no sooner laid than lost.  Val. 
Come then to pay, to pay. (Sure this is Gripe, my Bedford-Gouty-Ua. Plague o' o' your stilts; what Carpenter set 'em upright? not my wimble, I hope.  Nic. 
Oh I am spoiled, spoiled; this 'tis to dream of finding money— I knew, what 'twould come to.  Thirst. 
Save your labour, good master Thief: for my breeches are i'th' fashion, a great deal of pocket, but no lining.  Vast. 
This is the rock that split me. Oh good fate!  
That thou hadst now about thee half my state.  
Is't sin to rob the Thief? by usurious course,  
He once robbed me, now I rob him by force.  
No difference but this, twixt him and me.  
I ha' not such protection, as had he.  Grip. 
Oh I am a poor man, a very poor man.  Vast. 
Thou art indeed; wealth without use doth free  
No soul from the bleak storms of poverty.  
Who cannot nature's requests satisfy  
Out of his wealth, his coffer's rich, not he.  Val. 
Be they all bound to the good forbearance?  Vast. 
Thus far quits my revenge. The Usurer lies,  
As fast in mine, as I am in his ties.  
Now let me kill him. No, blood shall not die  
My other sins in purple. Lie there. Lo!  
That the wise law would serve all usurers so.  
How few in thy bonds didst thou ere untie?  
Now bound thyself, so without mercy lie.  Curf. 
Come, let's retire to our refuge.  Secedunt. Nic. 
Uncle, uncle. I would this all were but a dream too.  Grip. 
Oh coz, I am damned, damned, my money's gone.  
Elstow mortgage is lost. Wallow to me, Nice.  Nic. 
Oh uncle, it's dangerous tumbling, snakes i' the grass.  Grip. 
Wallow to me, Thirsty.  Thirst. 
Master, I'm so dry, I cannot stir my feet.  Grip. 
Help.—  Enter Vasters wife. Wife. 
More robberies yet? 'tis strange, how villains swarm!  
mischiefs hold close to keep each other warm.  
Three rank corruptions make their near abode.  
An Abbey, bawdy-house, and a Thievish road.  
Where be these men distressed?— how? my Usurer?  
Shall I unbind him, that hath bound my husband  
In merciless fetters? Yes, I'm bidden, still;  
With good deeds to requite my enemies ill.  
Come, devil, I'll unlose thee.  Grip. 
Oh how I'm crossed!  
My money, and my mortgage, all, all lost.  Nic. 
Mass, a pretty wench— If she lay thus bound before me, I would not lose her, but upon some conditions.  Wife. 
Will you go in Sir, and refresh yourself?  Grip. 
I'll follow thee, sweet girl. Would I could cope This mortgage, though my other be past hope.  Thirst. 
Do they brew wine here?  Exeunt Vast. 
See how this woman still me quits, and crosses.  
I rob and bind, and she relieves their losses.  
Why doth she thus? It's but a trick of hers:  
By charity to draw in customers.  
I am now patient, but more Cuckold still.  
I help her to supply, 'gainst my own will.  Curf. 
Shall we retire to my chamber, and share?  Enter Benjamin. Val. 
Tarry. Here comes another jackdaw: let's pluck him, and take his feathers with us— stand.  Ben. 
Thou durst not say so, were we on just terms.  Valen. 
You should be some Lawyer, you stand so on your terms  
Faith, we must change professions with you, you must give's our fees.  Ben. 
You'll earn them first?  Val. 
Brave Sir, so do not Lawyers always.  
But when you're paid yourself, you'll give's our due.  Vast. 
Hold, Gentlemen, this is my friend.  Curf. 
Thine, noble Valois? thou shalt beg his ransom then.  Vast. 
He stands secure. Haste to your chamber. There I'll meet you presently, and then we'll share.  Exeunt. Ben. 
Are thy ends good in this given liberty?  
Or dost it here alone to murder me?  Vast. 
Not with my sword, but with a tale shall wound thy amazed heart— come, let's sit down.  Ben. 
What tale? good friend, be plain and short.  
Woe to a heart, by expectation centuples the smart.  Vast. 
I have commendations to you from one Vaster: For by's description you should be the man.  Ben. 
Lives Vaster then?  Vast. 
'Las Sir, you know he's dead.  
And by your bloody hand was murdered.  Ben. 
By me?  Vast. 
Is not your name Sir Benjamin Gripe!  Ben. 
What then?  Vast. 
You killed him, Sir. Poor man he died  
With penitence to heaven, to you remission.  
Said, that you did it like a man, provoked  
By his intemperate rage. Fate gave that I  
Keeping his walk, came to close up his eye.  Ben. 
Heaven pardon me. What said the dying Vaster?  Vast. 
He charged me seek you out, and gave me gold,  
To bury him in secret; lest his death  
Should hazard yours, and charmed my silent breath.  Ben. 
His love gives fire to my green pile of sorrows.  
May his bones rest in peace: in grief I live;  
Less he and heaven do my black fault forgive.  Vaster. 
He hath forgiven you, only this he begs;  
That to the scattered pieces of himself,  
Left to survive his miseries uncomplete,  
His Widow and his Orphans, you would yield  
Some pity for your own, heavens, and his sake:  
And teach that hand, (from which he hoped some good)  
To succour theirs, that took away his blood.  
He bade me tell you, now all means were gone,  
To expiate that sin, save only one:  
To hold those up, that on the world's sea swim:  
Since he had them undone, you undone him.  
That you would be to them, as he should be:  
This he bequeathed you as a Legacy.  Ben. 
I'll be a just Executor of his will.  
Good friend, great thanks: my purse thouhast spared to seize  
But what is worse, haste robbed me of my peace.  
Vaster, thouart dead: if thy transformed soul,  
Could from the battlements of you high Tower,  
Behold the vowed endeavours of my heart,  
To satisfy thy will and my huge debt,  
In thee, to thine, thou wouldst my merit set  
'Mongst thy best friends: yet narrow are my bounds;  
To give them plasters, that first gave them wounds.  Exit. Vast. 
Farewell Sir, think on Vaster.  Ben. 
Friend adieu. To Vaster and my vow I will be true.  
How thick the sharp pulse of my conscience bears!  
How strangely my distracted Fancy threats!  
Oh unappeased murder, that still keeps  
The sensitive committer from fast sleeps:  
And murmurs in the ears a fatal knell  
Of restless thoughts on earth, of worse in hell,  
How deep thou strik'st me with a silent blow!  
Be patient heart, to thy fate humbly bow.  
Fetch him again I cannot; oh his sown  
Is too too mortal. Why then hurled I down  
My sinking spirits? Let me sly to mirth,  
And burden cares with wine, to make them sink.  
The world's rule is, Who feels the load of conscience let him drink.  
But oh importunate grief! too hard it is,  
To counterfeit a false and forged bliss!  
Yet once I'll force a trial; I have here an Inn,  
I hear and wonder, is turned house of sin.  
I'll see, if the loose sprawls, with their sharp wit,  
Can give my mind a medicine for this fit.  
Whores I abhor, as gardiner's jays: no matter;  
Once for experiment, I'll hear them chatter.  Enter Vasters Wife. 
Prevention! I think here's one of the journey-women come, to proffer me her service. Black prostitution! that any such face should ever wait upon thee. Sister, what seek you?  Wife. 
What is hard to find:  
An honest man, or else my eyes are blind.  Ben. 
Fut, if I say I'm one, I then fall short,  
Of the occasion I intend for sport.  
I'm such a fool in this Priapus-rode.  
methinks, sweetheart, your honestman should be one, that should please your appetite, stir your veins, tickle your blood, and make you laugh delight into your panting spleen.  Wife. 
An honest devil.  
theyare friends to hell, that tempt weak souls to evil.  Ben. 
Come, let me kiss thee— so: this was with ease;  
Words are airy shades, theyare deeds that please.  Wife. 
Sir, do not think to enter my chaste fort,  
Encouraged by this parley. You presume—  Ben. 
Not to unlock thy treasures with such keys.  
Gold only can surprise such holds as these.  
And I have that will do 't.  Wife. 
Then use it well.  
How's wealth abused, when it conducts to hell!  
Sir, I will set no price on your desires.  Bon. 
I'll be the franker Paymaster.  Wife. 
You must: Then pay me for my virtue: so I'll take it.  
What starves lust, is well bought; not what it feeds.  
'Tis folly's dregs, with coin to buy ill deeds.  Ben. 
Come, come; why should you be so quaint, and nice,  
That know what belongs to't?' Dsso, a Virgin  
At thirteen, or perhaps a little under,  
Could not with whewling nay's be so perverse,  
In her beworded Maidenhead.  Wif. 
I must.  Ben. 
Thou dost not rightly of my merits deem.  
I would not know you such, as you now seem.  Ben. 
The golden footed law, that goes or runs,  
Stays, and turns back, as we give motion to it,  
Shall step the pace, which thou wouldst have it. Nay,  
Speak as thy tongue instructs it. I will change  
Thy poverty to gold, rich robes, a Coach,  
And prancing Coursers, that shall whirl thee through  
The popular streets; and when thou sit'st in pride,  
The tamed law shall lackey by thy side.  Wife. 
These are some incitations to a heart  
Tainted with malice, or that thinks a heaven  
In glorious ostentation; or would stand  
Affected with the bane of prurient lust.  
I'm of another temper. Pray you leave me.  Ben. 
Thou shalt Nectar drink:  
Make ebrious waste of the sweet Gnossian wines;  
pheasants shall be course diet: refined marrow,  
Small pounded nuts, and lozenged Amylum,  
Scraped pearl and date-stones sprinkled on each slice,  
And strewed with sugar, like white frost on ice.  
Grant me but love, I'll rain a shower of Gold  
Into thy lap, outshining jove, when he  
Wrapped in his glory courted Danae.  Wife. 
Thy language does affright me. Oh my stars!  Ben. 
O let not tears spoil such a beauty. Tell me; Why spill you water like a crocodile, to captive me; that might have done't with mirth, nimbler than air?  Wife. 
Sir, I have no desire,  
To take your lust, but pity. Some what prompts my credulous heart, there is some goodness in you.  Ben. 
My truth shall quite thy faith, Impart thy mind.  Wife. 
I'll trust you, Sir. I am a wretched woman,  
The widow or the wife, I know not whether, of the distressed or dead Vaster.  Ben. 
How? I faint to tell thee; thou art then a widow:  
The wars have ended his infortunate days.  
Nay, let not grief oppress thy spirits. Oh,  
I have killed the wife and husband with one blow.  
Lift up thy swooning eyes.  Wife. 
Oh let me die. Rather short death, than lingering misery.  Ben. 
Revive thy heart: Vaster yet lives in me:  
I am his son, that hath thy husband's lands.  Wife. 
And can I look for mercy at your hands?  Ben. 
Receive this earnest; all my state is thine.  Wife. 
You cannot with these spells charm me to sin.  Ben. 
I do not: when I taint thy chaster ears  
With motions of black lust, pronounce me Villain.  
Tell me, who brought you to this brothel-inn?  Wife. 
He, to whom heaven (I trust) hath cleared all sin.  
My Vaster sold me hither. I was content.  
Thus to relieve his state, when all was spent.  Ben. 
But couldst thou live infectless in this air?  Wife. 
I have, and will.  Ben. 
Will? This gives strange suspicion.  Wife. 
I made a promise, that without consent  
Of her that bought me, I would not depart.  Enter Mermaid. 
See where th' Enchantress comes.  Marm. 
Now minion, you must be gadding. Cry you mercy, Landlord: if you'll have any sport, walk in, walk in. You shall take out your rent here, Landlord. She shall be your own Vacation and Term too, Landlord.  Ben. 
So, you pernicious Dam of lusts foul litter,  
You that buy beauty and do sell 't again;  
And live by th'occupation. Hear you? Free  
This woman from your brothel slavery.  
Or I shall bring you to the cart and lash.  Marm. 
Oh I am cast away; she cost me fifty pounds, I ne'er got four groats by her yet.  Ben. 
Thou shalt lose more by keeping her. Go cleanse the house from this disorder, or I here discharge thee.  Marm. 
Good Landlord, bestow her where you will. I am content to be rid of her, so I may hold your favour—  
Fox pull your honesty. Is this the dancing maid?  
One more such purchase will undo my trade.  Enter Gripe. Grip. 
Hostess, Ostice, where's your kinswoman?  Marm. 
Yonder Sir, talking with my Landlord, your worship's son.  Gripe. 
Son Benjamin? yea faith, are you so close with a wench? Come hither— she's a whore, Take heed on her.  Exit Mar. 
If she want men's, bring her home: she shall keep my house.  
Faith, I grow old, and cannot now long live:  
Oh such a Wench would be restorative  
Persuade her Ben  Exit Gripe. Ben. 
I'll do my best, Sir. See,  
The pleased fates consent to succour thee.  
My father's house shall shelter thee unknown.  
Please the old man with words, but hold your own.  
If my plot takes, as I can hope no less,  
This lust of his shall thy good fortunes bless.   

Act. Tertius.  Enter Robert Vaster, and Anne. Rob. 
COme, sister to my sorrows, and myself.  
They say, society in woes doth lighten  
Our pressures; but I find the contrary.  
My woes are heavier by thy company  
My grief for thy distress, doubles mine own.  
I should be far less wretched, if alone.  Ann. 
Sweet brother. since we must both suffer, think it some comfort, that we share an equal fortune.  
Grief has less power to work on our sad hearts;  
Where mutual loves contend to bear their parts.  Rob. 
Little once thought thy mother, that thy fate  
Should stoop to service to relieve thy state:  
We are not tried, but in our misery.  
He is a cunning Coachman that can turn  
Well in a narrow room. To manage plenty  
In a right form, commends the state, not person.  
he's blessed, that to be rich can give consent  
With honesty, or rest poor with content.  
I wonder, Benjamin doth not visit us.  
His last relief is done, if that spring dry,  
We faint for succour, and must fainting die.  Enter Bromley. 
See, here comes Bromley, once our father's Steward: Sure, he'll support us. Sister, cry his kindness: thy speech is more pathetical.  Brom. 
thieves, Lawyers, Rogues, Harlots, and Innkeepers, are men's purgations. Griffin has cheated me: took twenty angels from me; thieves took 'em from him. He promised to draw Sager to compound; now the day's gone against me.  
Oh I could wish my nails turned Vultures talons,  
That I might tear their flesh in mammocks, raise  
My losses from their carcases turned Mummy.  Ann. 
Good Sir, a word—  Brom. 
Now Kitlin, what would you have?  Ann. 
Sir, remember we are the miserable children of lost Vaster; whom once you served.  Brom. 
What's that to me?  Ann. 
I hope, Sir, you can spare somewhat to us distressed.  Brom. 
This is plain begging. Minion, fall to work,  
And earn supply to wants with diligent labour.  
For Vaster's sake I will not urge the Statute.  Rob. 
The Statute, judas? w' are no Beggars, though  
We tried thy courtesy. Cursed be thy fate,  
Thou from our father got'st thy whole estate.  
Yet grudgest us some fragments. Hence, out Dog: If thou stayest miscreant—  Brom. 
Boy, I'll smoke you for't.  Rob. 
Do thy worst, devil. An insatiate worm strike deep into thy conscience, sile thy heart strings with rubbing frets: And turn thy derogated name,  
On foggy blastings of eternal shame.  Exit. Enter Gripe. 
Ingratitude is gone; and in his room,  
Extortion and a fiend is hither come.  Grip. 
I'm going to see my mortgage—  Ann. 
Good Sir, show mercy on two wretched Orphans.  Grip. 
Out beggars, mercy? what dost talk to me of mercy? I'm going to let my grounds. I have no leisure for mercy.  Rob. 
Go thou accursed Cain: in misery,  
When thou beg'st mercy, be't as far from thee.  Ann. 
Sir, y' have undone our Parents; pity us.  Grip. 
I cannot stay to hear you, I have business.  Exit. Rob. 
Heaven be as deaf to thee, when thy soul breath  
Shall beg some respite at thy violent death.  Enter Nice. 
This fellow sure will succour us.  Nic. 
june, july, August, September— the first day—  Ann. 
Sir, raise our prostrate fortunes with some help: Some little help, you know us.  Nic. 
Yes, yes, I remember I have seen you. Let's see— The fourteenth day— bad. I must do no deed of charity today; I have precedent for it. 't is lost.  Rob. 
Now I remember, when I went to school,  
I read of one Vespasian a good Emperor,  
That told his Courtiers if a day out-slip him,  
Wherein he did nor good, that day was lost.  
The next he would redeem't with double cost.  
Ill coloured sin, how shameful dost thou look,  
In them that plead thy warrant from their book!  Nic. 
Fourteenth day. A good turn forgotten. Oh here's learning from the stars.  
Though I do little good ere I am rotten,  
Like citizens, I would not ha''t forgotten.  
Yet let me study on't: though a man may not give, he  
May buy, I hope without danger. Fair sister,  
What shall I give you for your maidenhead?  Rob. 
Thus much: a broken head.  Ni. 
Oh— Oh— Forgive me, good calendar— I perceive now, thy counsel's true. It's an evil day indeed: I should neither have bought nor sold on't.  exit Rob. 
Hence, sky-consulting gipsy: men commit  
Sins dark as night, and blame the stars for it.  Enter Sager. 
Another passenger— Oh this is Sager.  
His wife was once a servant to our mother.  
Alas, when these built from our ruinous woe  
Relieve us not, what should this poor man do.  Sag. 
I long to hear from London; how my suit  
Ends, or depends: if lost, I'm lost with it.  
Who would trust any bars this tottering world  
Can plot to fortify our wheeling states!  
When the strong doors of justice may be broke,  
Or lifted from the hinges by the force  
Of politic engines: or the safest lock  
Be picked with a false key.  An. 
Sir, dwells there any mercy in your heart?  Sag. 
Yes: or of mercy, I must hope no part.  
I know you, and your wants. My wife was once your Parents servant.  An. 
True, but that time is past,  
And in her service now I would be placed.  Sag. 
That were too lavish yielding to your woe.  
I am but poor, troubles have made me so,  
Yet of that small lifeblood, which my drenched state  
H'as left it by the laws sharp surgery,  
Embrace a portion, as your needs require;  Enter Benjamin. 
And I may give. Here comes your enemy's Son.  Ben. 
I have been seeking all you three with news.  
Good news; friend Sager, the day's yours.  Sag. 
It's welcome. I have the better means to succour these.  Ben. 
You have prevented my request: I purposed  
To beg that kindness of you. Robin, I would  
Entreat you to accept my service, but  
I mean the name of it: for in deed I'll use thee  
As my most equal and respected friend.  
Nan, in thine arms I throw and lock myself;  
My fortunes be all thine: the key's thy love;  
Let this kiss be the seal. Ye sacred powers  
Make indissoluble this knot of ours.  
Now, master Sager, give her that respect,  
You would my wife: all charges are my debt.  
Robin, you know the house; conduct your sister thither; that done, convey these letters to the widow Sorrow; (that's her borrowed name) she lies at my fathers.  Rob. 
With just hands.  
I'm prouder of thy love, then of thy lands.  Ann. 
Oh pure quintessence of thy profession.  
How many hast thou robbed, thus to make up  
Thy perfect goodness! as if wiser nature  
Had made an extract of ten thousand Lawyers,  
And thrice refined it with immortal fires:  
Then set it like a sanctified Lamp  
On th' Altar of thy soul; to give exemplar light,  
In the dull darkness of this sin-born night.  Exeunt. Ben. 
Bromley's grown mad with rage: I'm jealous of him. You know the hopes of your posterity dwell on your present fortunes: all which burn with the short Taper of your singular life, Say he should quench it.  Sag. 
How Sir? murder me?  Ben. 
I cannot tell, it's but my jealousy.  
'tis not amiss, to keep preventions eye  
Open and wary. Instruments of death  
Stand ready priest to a malicious arm.  
And policy, like a cunning Jesuit,  
Watches behind that Arras for a call.  
The deed once done, help it who can, or shall.  Sag. 
What ground for this suspicion find your thoughts?  Ben. 
The fury of his madness, envies some,  
That surges from the poisoned avarice  
Of his swollen heart: his broken resolutions,  
Wherein his traitor-tongue can scarce forbear  
The protestation. Give me leave to fear.  Sag. 
What will you counsel me?  Ben. 
That must be studied. Thus— Listen— We'll try what mischiefs he can warp: With wooden wasters learn to play at sharp.  Exit Sager. Enter Gripe, Nice, Thirsty. Grip. 
Oh my back, my back—  Ben. 
How do you, Sir?  Grip. 
Oh son, son, worse than ever. The Gout was but a stitch to this. Oh the Colic, the Colic and stone.  Thirst. 
There be two of them master, ask the widow else.  Grip. 
Sure it will rend my bowels out.  Ben. 
It's just: The stone i'th' bladder now should make him smart That has so long been sick of stone i'th' heart.  Grip. 
Oh that I knew where my old Physician lived.  Enter Vaster and Curfew. Vast. 
Keep on your habit. Our walk's turned Paul's, I think.  Curf. 
Zlid, if our third party were here, we would venture on 'em all. theyare but welsh freeze; they would shrink at the sense of iron.  Vast. 
Let's muffle up our villains with the shadow  
Of some great conference: if a cheat be offered,  
We'll not refuse: but now to compass it,  
Must not be done by force of arms, but wit.  Grip. 
Son Benjamin, you must to Goldington,  
To view young Bruster's lands: theyare offered me  
This morn in mortgage. Hark you—  Nic. 
Thirsty, come hither.  Thirst. 
Ha'you any drink there?  Nic. 
No; but come drink thyself drunk with Poetry.  Thirst. 
Faith, Poetry now a days will scarce make a man drink. I had as lief be a pot as a Poet: then I should sometimes be full of good liquor.  Nic. 
Oh, your Poet is too full of that, it makes him thread bare. Sirrah, I ha' made a Sonnet here to my Mistress; she ne'er wrought such a one on her Sampler. Lay thine ear close to my musical tongue, I shall ravish her.  Thirst. 
You shall be hanged for't then.  Ni. 
Open thine ears, like an Oyster a sunning  
Even as the bird, which we Chameleon call, doth live on air for aye:  
So my kind heart, ever like a stock-dove shall feed on thy love all day.  Thirst. 
ay, and all night too.  Nic. 
ay, and all night too: but that night would make the verse too long. Now I talk of night, let me see what time of day it is. I have business, must not be rhymed away.  Curf. 
Pray y' Sir, how speaks your watch? One? mine lies inclining to two You have a pretty interpreter of the time there. Who made it, French or Dutch? You need not doubt me, Sir, I am the new Parson of Saint Peter's in Bedford.  Nic. 
Sir, then as I may say, have joy in your new Benefice, for bellypiece you must ha' none. Pray let's peruse your watch, see you mine.  Vast. 
Fezz 'Sir, y' have a brave wash there. Ihill warrant the king's wash-maker made it. Beseech you master Nice, let me see master Parson wash. Master Parson will you sell your wash, Ihill give you good cash for it.  Curf. 
No, my honest friend, I will not sell it.  Vast. 
Will you run with me for it?  Grif. 
Run? no.  Vast. 
Cheuore ye run for't, you shall near ha''t else.  Excurrit. Curf. 
Oh my watch— Nic. Oh my watch.  Curf. 
Stop the thief, stop the thief.  Vaster runs away with Curfews watch: Curfew with Nices. Nic. 
Stop the Priest, stop the Priest.  Thirst. 
Let him go, he runs for a wager.  Ben. 
How now? is my cousin Nice playing at Base?  
I know one of them well, by his sad tale  
Of Vaster's death: for that I'll not pursue him.  Grip. 
Son, I did rest me, hoping to go forward.  
But so increase my pains, I am not able.  
Survey you Bruster's lands, and speed return.  
All's for your good, for I am now outworn.  Ben. 
I go Sir— All's for me; yet while she lives,  
And his hydropic spirits can look through  
His Body's loop-holes, and convey the pleasure  
Of his contemplate gold, his lusts sole God,  
Through those windows to th' admiring heart:  
Nothing comes from him; not the superfluities  
Of base's things, not being first improved.  
I am his only issue, and on me  
I think he means to settle all his state.  
It's the only way to give me cursed and poor,  
To build my nest on such extorted store.  
Those fathers, that distressed men's ruins use,  
"As scaffolds to build up their racked wealth,  
" Prove in the end, like city-houses, that  
"On small foundations carry spacious roofs:  
" When the incensed heavens in tempests frown,  
"Their own top-heavy weight tumbles them down.  
" The first or second generation spills  
"By riot, what by wrong the father fills.  
In this I'll be a mirror to these times:  
And by the hand of charity return  
To every man, what by his covetous rape  
Their states are ravished of: so work my rest.  
Th'ill gotten gone, that which remains is blessed.  Exit. Grip. 
Oh Thirsty, honest Thirsty. Thy old master is but a dead man. I cannot piss man: my urine's stopped.  Thirst. 
You should drink, hard, master: all this comes with pinching yourself of your liquor. This is the reason, that so few Dutchmen are troubled with the stone. Your miserable Churl dribbles like the pissing Conduit: but his jovial son with a stream like Ware-water-spout. This is the cause, the Usurer falling sick, so seldom rises by the staff of Physic: for he has no water for the Physician to cast.  Enter Nice blowing. Nic. 
Now the Gout, Dropsy, Lethargy take possession of their legs. I ha'lost my wind, and my watch, and I fear, my wench too.  Thirst. 
You have watched fair: sure that Parson was some Irishman.  Nice. 
Some hangman uncase him. I ha' been at the Parsons, and he's no such manner of man.  Enter Mermaid, Constable, with Valentine. Grip. 
What crew's this?  Mar. 
Bless your worship: I am your worship's sons Tenant. I ha' brought a rogue to your worship, to be examined.  Grip. 
What fault hath has he committed? Clarke, to your office: take his examination. Now neighbour Sleepy, are you Constable?  Thirst. 
A good harmless Constable, a thief may take him napping.  Marm. 
An't please your worship, the rude Ragamuffin comes into my house, calls for drink; and when the Tapster came with a reckoning, he broke the pot about's head; because he had not a clean Apron on.  Val. 
No, because he misreckoned me.  Mar. 
Whose fault was it, to wipe out the score?  Val. 
Not mine. Indeed I anointed the score with butter, and the Tapsters own dog licked it out.  Nic. 
Uncle, uncle, as sure as my watch is lost, this is master Valentine the Physician.  Grip. 
Oh Coz, that it were true. Pray Sir, let me move a question.  Val. 
You may command my answer Sir, you're a justice.  Grip. 
Were not you the man, that healed me o' the Gout?  Val. 
Troth Sir, I have done so many cures, that I forget a number of my patients. Th'other day I cured a lunatic Cobbler, pitifully run out at soul, when he was given over by the Physicians. I let him blood, took three Hen-eggs, sucked 'em out, into the shells I put his blood, set them under a brood-Goose. When she had hatched the rest, I gave these three putrefied eggs to a Dog: the Dog grew mad, the Cobbler sober. And now my memory runs back, I call to mind one of Bedford, sick of the Gout, whom I cured.  Grip. 
I am the man, my renowned Paracelsian: thou shalt have the other 25. pound. Constable, I discharge you. Ostice, I'll see you paid: set your reckoning on my score: trouble me no further: leave us, leave us. Now my deep diver into the secrets of nature, I have a cure for thee, more desperate than the former.  Exeunt. Val. 
What is't Sir, that my Art cannot extend to?  Grip. 
The stone, the stone: I am pitifully gripped with the stone, I ha'lost my pissing.  Val. 
Sir, the disease is somewhat dangerous.  
Yet if that your expulsive faculty  
Retain true force, I'll warrant to make you piss.  
I must awhile withdraw to study Sir.—  
Now am I puzzled: blood, what medicine  
Should I devise to do't? It must be violent.  
Give him some Aquafortis; that would speed him.  
Let's see. methinks— a little Gunpowder  
Should have some strange relation to this fit.  
I have seen Gunpowder oft drive out stones  
From Forts and Castle-walls, huger than he  
Has any in his reins or bladder, sure.  
Faith, 'cause I am a soldier, I'll make trial  
Of that same black and vaporous Mineral.  
I'll shoot into his belly: if the gun hold,  
I'll give him charge enough: some Aquavitae  
First brewed together would allay it well.  
I'll swear to try it, if I do not miss,  
By a strange trick I'll make my Usurer piss.  
Sir, I'll go in and prepare for aou.  Grip. 
Do so. Here, Thirsty, there be the Keys of the Buttery: attend upon him good Thirsty: let him lack nothing, as thou lov'st me.  Thirst. 
I love you Master, but here's a good key I love better. Sweet instrument of my joy, let me kiss thee. Alas, that thou and I should be such strangers. we ha' but one barrel: now if that should be in my master's disease, troubled with the strangullion, and could not run— well, if it be not empty, I'll giv't a scouring.  Exit. Grip. 
Now if this rare wonder of leeches can cure me of this griping, that I may have some forty or threescore years more to gather in, by that time I shall gather enough to keep me all the rest of my life. When a man grows up to to six or seven score, it is high time to think of mortality, and to take some ease. These three or four nights I ha' been haunted with Fairies: they dance about my bedside, pop in a piece of gold between the sheets, scatter here and there fragments of silver, in every corner. I keep my chamber swept, clean linen, fire to warm them every night. I was at first afraid, they had been spirits; now I see, they are good harmless Fairies. If I can please them, I shall grow rich, rich.  
Son I have stayed for you.  Enter Benjamin. Ben. 
You have done your health the more wrong, Sir.  Grip. 
How dost like my mortgage?  Ben. 
It's a fair living, Sir; but I would not have you meddle with it.  Grip. 
Why, my wise son?  Ben. 
Oh Sir, good deeds are scant,  
When we advantage take of poor men's want.  
Bruster's an honest man; lend him some money without such sharp security.  Grip. 
Not a doit. If he come to me, and convey the mortgage I have it ready; else I have no money.  
Son come and sup with me.  Ben. 
I follow, Sir. Preposterous transversion of ourselves!  
Th'erection of our faces should instruct  
Our groveling thoughts t' ascend. How do men thwart  
The teaching hand of Nature, and our birth!  
Our heads cut air, and yet our hearts blow earth:  
I look for Sager here. He's come.  Enter Sager. Sag. 
here's my own case and counterfeit; by this dangerless plummet, we may sound the depth of his more close and intricate stratagems.  Ben. 
So wiser masters lay some easy baits,  
At once to tempt and try their servants truth.  
The subject for quack-salving Empirics  
To exercise their inexperience on,  
Should not be men, but malkins.  Sag. 
Do you think, that he would do me violence asleep? would he not wake me to some conference?  Ben. 
No, he's a most rank Coward; and I know,  
Dares not come near thee, though thou wert asleep.  
If he does aught, he'll do't by that long Engine.  
Conceal yourself awhile. How fares my name?  
How does she brook my slow-paced coming to her?  Sag. 
Faith, in your constancy lightens all grief.  
She never hears you mentioned, but she startles:  
As if your name like some celestial fire  
Quickened her slow-paced spirits with new life.  
I never knew virtue and beauty meet  
In a more happy mixture. I remove.  Exit. Ben. 
I love her freely: she's to me as th'air.  
Her beauty is best and blessed, whose soul is fair.  
The Wolf is come.  Enter Bromley with a fowling piece. Brom. 
Good evening to you Sir.  Ben. 
My wish requite you.  
You walk to have a shoot, Sir: I depart.  
I would be loath to prejudice your sport.  Brom. 
Saw you not Mr Sager, Sir, of late? This is his walk: I would fain speak with him.  Ben. 
Why would you speak with him?  Brom. 
Sir, for no harm.  Ben. 
I do not think you mean it; but you know, he's valiant like a Lion: if cross words should stir your bloods to quarrel— Sir, take heed. he'll be too hard for you, and your long weapon. This meadow is his evening walk. Farewell to you Sir.  Exit Ben. Brom. 
Good night M. Benjamin; you need not doubt me.  
If I could meet him at th' advantage now,  
He is the fowl I'd shoot at. His life done,  
The Farm is mine. Oh ye, whose hopes depend,  
Like lingering shadows, on another's end,  
What need you wait with patience nature's leisure,  
When such an engine can soon work your pleasure?  
Tarry: yonder's a man— now by his habit  
It should be Sager. What? and fast asleep?  
Wished opportunity to my revenge.  
I'll kill him ere he wakes. Stay, grant he should  
In this unbeaten meadow lately act  
Some horrid sin, please his adulterous lust:  
I should then with his body strike his soul,  
And sink them both together. Reason no further  
Thou chiding conscience. See, the Fates have placed  
Him sit for vengeance: enemy, sleep thy last.  
he's Planet-struck, fallen down: now to my Farm.  
He that would rise, must thank his wit or arm.  
Oh but my murder! pish, whoever stood  Exit. 
In fortune's height, without some touch of blood?  Enter Benjamin and Sager at several ways. Ben. 
This I divined.  Sag. 
Happy prevention!  Ben. 
Go, thou despairing wretch, and for thy will,  
Ten thousand swords shall thy vexed conscience kill.  
'T was a vain blow to us, and no blood spilled,  
Not less in thy intention is thy guilt.  
This Clergy-habit which you have assumed,  
Make good a while for your supposed death;  
Allow his tyranny free scope: live close:  
Till time shall ripen those events, we strive  
To build on this vile ground. Hold, there's my key:  
Into my chamber; I sup at my fathers.  Exit Sager. 
What, come again?  Enter Bromley. Brom. 
I cannot be at rest: I must needs see,  
If this late murdered corpse removed be.  
Some gold I have put up in this portmanteau:  
If I should be pursued, this may relieve me.  
Ay me! the body's gone: sure it's revealed:  
Murder from heavens eye cannot be concealed.  
What shall I do? sit down: lie there, my gold.  Enter Nice, and Thirsty, on either side, crying So ho. Nic. 
Holla, Cousin Benjamin. So ho ho.  Thir. 
Oh ho ho.  excurrit. Brom. 
Oh me, the country's up, what shall I do?  Ben. 
This fool hath frayed him.  
Oh guilt! how hast thou made  
Cowherd of man to fly at his own shade!  
Now Cousin Nice, what holla you for?  Nic. 
You had need of a bell to ring you in. Your father has stayed supper for you this hour.  Ben. 
Come then, let's walk on— what's here a portmanteau?  Nic. 
Oh, oh, do not touch it: it's venom.  Ben. 
Why my wise Cousin? why are you so timorous?  Nic. 
Oh it lies there for a wager: there be thieves about it. Take heed Cousin; I found a portmanteau once, and lost all the money in my purse. Fly, fly—  Exit. Ben. 
Are you gone? Well, I see now, he that will be wise by calendar, shall be a fool by destiny.  
Sure, this is Bromley's budget, and has gold  
Put up for his escape: 'tis so by th'weight.  
It falls into my hands most luckily:  
For I have need of cash in these occasions.  
Yet I'll repay't again: my honesty  
Shall be his friend, whose fear was friend to me.  
Oh, in this glass my represented soul  
Stands manifest to my impartial eye.  
Ye heavens rain showers of mercy on my sins:  
Lest where my pleasure ends my woe begins.   

Act. Quart.  Enter Vasters Wife. Wife. 
run faster, ye dull legs of motion,  
That time may follow with a swifter pace.  
Let wanton Epicures wish you cripple-limbs,  
Insatiate with the riot of their joys;  
And chide the hasty forwardness of day,  
That will not dance attendance on their play.  
My spirits wrought upon with tedious woes,  
Think that each hour lingering and lazy goes.  
Impartial fates, how you delude our thoughts!  
Guiding events to their determined ends,  
Whether our strength with or against contends.  
Whether the passenger wake, or sleep his fill,  
The wave and wind-moved vessel goes on still.  
Patience then heart! they do not valour know,  
That weary faint, but who can suffer woe.  
Who's this?  Enter Rob. Vaster with the Letter. Rob. 
By your leave, Mistress Sorrow.  Wife. 
Right, thouhast hit my name.  
Yet clear of sin, my sorrow has no shame.  Rob. 
I have letters from Mr. Ben Gripe.  Wife. 
They're welcome. (poor boy how am I undone!  
'tis hard, a mother must not own her son.  Rob. 
Sure I should know that face and language too.  
A chill disquiet troubles my soft peace,  
And runs like a cold fever through my blood.  
I'm very sick of somewhat. Oh 'tis then  
Error, the sickness in all minds of men.  
But that I know her absence gives her dead.  
I' would swear it was my mother. 'las vain thoughts,  
How you would flatter me!  Wife. 
— Your provident friend, Benjamin Gripe.  
Leave out that Gripe: it's an unproper name;  
Cannot denominate thee for such a creature.  
A name can never constitute a nature.  
If blessed mankind have a Phoenix left;  
And vice of that good hath not time bereft;  
In this degenerate world's apostasy;  
The plural number's lost: that one is he,— Son  Rob. 
Zlid she calls me Son.  Wife. 
That word's o'erslipped.  
How easily love is in her language tripped.  
Son— of compelling nature not forbears:  
Passion must vent itself in speech or tears.  
Dost thou not know me?  Rob. 
Yes: this testify.  
I beg your blessing on my humbled knee.  Wife. 
Rise with heaven's benediction.  Rob. 
Lives my Father?  Wife. 
Guess by my grief and silence.  Rob. 
Umh my doubts  
Wrap me in further maze. My father dead?  
My mother living in his enemy's house?  
Let's study. Oft I have heard my father moan,  
That this same woman's lust had him undone.  
This gives strong faith. Why should she else live here,  
But to some such vile end? By heaven 'tis clear.  
Oh that this sap, which my life feeds upon,  
Did not confess a derivation  
From that corrupted trunk! Well, I will force  
Nature run back with a preposterous course.  
I'll fashion a forgetful lunacy,  
That ere I was her soon. But on my soul,  
Not touch her with least hurt.— Woman come hither.  Wife. 
Woman! Dear Robin, not thy mother? bless me.  
Why dost thou gripe me thus? Oh some black storm  
Is rising on thy brow.  Rob. 
Storm? No, 'tis thunder. Can you read this?  Wife. 
Yes, I can spell't too well. It speaks my death, dear son—  Rob. 
Come, come, forget  
These filial rights, and Nature's attributes.  
Prepare yourself to—  Wife. 
What? Oh desperate child.  
Oft have thy bended knees with a just duty  
Kissed the cold earth, to beg my prayers to heaven,  
For thy prosperity: oft desired forgiveness  
Of thy wild infant-errors. Oft have these  
Borne thee with soft indulgence: but now, see,  
A woeful mother bends her humble knee  
To her incensed son; not to conserve  
This flesh from death, but thy black soul from hell:  
Th' unscaped dungeon, where all Parricides dwell.  
Think: if thy spirits be not grown mad and wild,  
Pity a mother kneeling to her child.  Rob. 
I'm deafer than an Usurer to your moans.  
I must, like Nero, see the place I bred in.  
Be brief in answer: did you never wrong my father's nuptial bed.  Wife. 
Never.  Rob. 
Take heed.  
Clog not that breast with more sin, that must bleed.  
Speak truth and save your soul.  
Lie you not here to satiate his lust,  
That robbed my father? speak, or you're but dust.  Wife. 
No on my soul.  Rob. 
Now on thy soul thou liest.  
Confess, be plain, or without pause thou diest.  Wife. 
Help, heavens or men.  Within, break open door. Enter Benia. Valentine, Gripe, Nice, Thirsty. Ben. 
What prodigy's this?  Wife. 
Nothing Sir, alas nothing: 'twas but my fear.  Ben. 
It is my servant Sir; he meant no ill.  Grip. 
Son, son, howsoever he serves you, I'm sure he does not serve God. Without question, he would have ravished her.  Thir. 
He would have refreshed her, Sir.  Grip. 
Speak widow, is 't not true?— away with him.  
Cousin Nice, make his mittimus.  Wife. 
It's not amiss to let him feel some smart.  
His life they cannot touch: what his offence  
Deserves in heavens, strict justice, mercy pardon.  
Parents learn this in tendering Children's state:  
Too much indulgence is not love but hate.  Nic. 
Sure his complexion doth not give it: let me see your hand, Sir.  Rob. 
Will you feel it, Sir?  strikes him. Exeunt. Ben. 
(Son offer violence to the mother?) strange!  
Till I can sound this mystery of ill,  
I'll to the prison and relieve him still.  Exit. Gripe. 
You will be gone Mr. Valentine; but I hope you will visit me shortly again.  Val. 
Before you look for me, Sir,— if all fall right,  
I vow to visit you again this night.  Exit. Grip. 
Ha widow! I am clear of the stone now.  Wife. 
The less able to do a widow pleasure, Sir.  Grip. 
Tut, wench, I mean the disease, the disease.  Wife. 
(No Sir: you have a worse disease behind:)  
The body hath no sickness like the mind.  Gripe. 
Try me, sweet. I'm like a leek, though I have a grey head, I have a green— wilt? wilt be my medicine for the stone? when? when?  Wife. 
When you have married me I will be your wife.  Gripe. 
Pish: first make trial how thou likest me: there is no wit, to marry before experience.  Wife. 
Your house Sir, is too public.  Grip. 
Hold, there's the key of my closet. Be thine own pandar for conveyance. I must receive a little money: profit is above pleasure: about ten—  Wif. 
Good luck direct my hands unto the mortgage.  
That found, if or my wit or strength hold tack,  
I have a medicine Sir, to cool your back.  Exit. Grip. 
'Las poor wench: now she's got into my Closet, she hugs her hopes, as a Politician his airy plot, and cries a prize, a prize. She shall be double coney-catched. Well, it grows Fairy-time. Oh the fine dapper lads, how they frisk about my chamber: when at every step here drops a groat, there a teston. Many drops make a flood. Sure, I'm some wonderful honest man, that they love me thus. I must to bed. Tarry, how then shall I keep touch with the widow? Tha't, I'll sit down in my chair, and feign myself in a slumber. Oh 'twill be a golden waking dream.  Enter Vaster, Valentine, Curfew, like Fairies, dancing antics: pinching Gripe, as they pass by him. 
Oh-oh-thou 'are angry. Would I were rid of 'em. Oh— sweet spirit— oh— do not terrify me thus. What have I done to provoke you?  Vast. 
Confess thy sins. Th' haste some wench in a corner.  Grip. 
I have, I have— oh— but I'll not meddle with her.  Vast. 
Whiles thy house was cleanly swept,  
And thy conscience chastened kept:  
Neat linen, fire and water ready;  
And thy purpose good and steady:  
Whiles thou never sent'st the poor  
Unrewarded from thy door.  
Whiles thou wakendst with the chimes,  
Because thou went'st to bed betimes,  
We brought thee wealth; but 'twas in vain:  
For now we'll fetch it back again.  
Come deliver the keys of your trunks.  Grip. 
Oh thieves, you'll rob me, you'll undo me.  Curf. 
No, Gouty blister, well bind thee, undo thee, who will—.  Val 
Open thy jaws thou yawning sepulchre:  
Here is a morsel for an Usurer.  Gag him, Vast. 
A piece of Cheese of the Low-country Dairies.  
This is the usual diet of the Fairies.  Curf. 
Now we will rip the lining of thy trunks.  
Better the Fairies have it then thy punks.  Val. 
Luck more, than we can carry, hath assigned us.  Curf. 
Each horse his load: we'll leave the rest behind us. Thou greedy Panther.  Val. 
Savage Wolf.  Vast. 
Man-eater. Thou setting Canker.  Val. 
commons' horseleech.  Cur. 
Cheater  Vast. 
Whose belly has just cause to sue an action  
Of trespass, 'gainst thy covetous lust's exaction:  
For destiny of many hundred meals,  
Which it from others, and thyself too; steals.  
The Gout.  Val. 
The Dropsy.  Curf. 
Colic, Lunacy,  
Like Sprites and Fairies haunt thy company.  
And as thou gapest now, let some Bat or Owl  
spit backwards i' thy mouth.  Vast. 
No more. If thou do not  
Repent, restore, turn good, sit till thou rot.  Val. 
What does Usury stick in thy teeth? spit out, Dog, spit out. Now thou gapest for a mortgage. Dost?  Vast. 
Fare-ill. To those that ask how came this evil, Give answer thus: The Fairies robbed the Devil.  Grip. 
Oh— Oh— Oh.  Exeunt. Enter Bromley, Nice, Vasters wife. Bro. 
Ho master Gripe? what, your chamber door open thus early? how now, bound? gagged? what rogues ha' been here?  Nic. 
Speak to me uncle, speak: the gag's out.  Grip. 
Save the gag. I will hang the whole shire, but I'll find 'em. jugglers, Fairies, incarnal sprites! My money, my heart, my guts, my soul— Let me curse myself into the ground, and save a Dirge. Run, cry, ride, charge the Constables with 'em.  Brom. 
Where be they, Sir?  Grip. 
Gone to the Devil. Run to a conjuror, cast me a figure.  Nic. 
Oh, Sir, all the Conjurers are o' their own trade. A mischief on't, I thought there was some scurvy luck towards; the Crickets did so cry i'th' Oven yesterday. And this very hour, as we came in, there was an Owl whoo-whooping in the top of the chimney: and just at the threshold, master Bromley here stumbled Signs, signs.  Grip. 
Pluck down the signs. I'll undo all the Inns in the town: they harbour the thieves.  Brom. 
You said they were Fairies.  Nic. 
Now in sincerity, I heard a great rattling of chains.  Wife. 
(This makes me wonder! such a robbery, and I not hear it?  Brom. 
Come bridle up this fury. What will you say, if I can produce you the plotter, abettor, or at least accessary to this villainy? What if the picklock can open the chest of all this stratagem?  Grip. 
'Las, poor widow, she was fast, I warrant you.  Brom. 
No, she was loose I warrant you: how could we have got in, if she had not opened the door? Your cousin Nice and I came from a hurly burly i'th' jail. Your sons man has broke from his keeper. And as we were coming, we met this woman very suspiciously stealing out.  Wife. 
My heart misgave me thus: this devils tongue  
Would work my misdeemed innocence some wrong.  Grip. 
No more words. Cousin, neighbour, take her to the next justice. I must not deal in my own business. Let her be examined soundly, soundly: sent to the jail, roundly, roundly.  Wife. 
Sir, I beseech you.  Grip. 
No more. Do not you know, I know you for a whore!  
Away with her, I will not hear her speak.  
My gold, my silver— Oh my heart will break.  Exit. Brom. 
Come, will you walk? I'll lead, widow, come you next. Master Nice, you'll follow.  Nic. 
As close, as beggary follows drunkenness.  
Let me see your hand, widow— Oh the case is clear.  
A yellow spot doth on your hand appear.  
Gather up your heels, widow: justice Surly dwells hard by.  Enter Robert Vaster. Rob. 
How now? my mother guarded? with two rogues?  
Sword, thou didst feign to kill her— but— Sirrah— you— deliver me this woman, or I'll make thy yellow starched face serve me for a cutwork band.  Brom. 
Oh Sir, you're well met; you broke from the jail last night. Apprehend him master Nice.  Nic. 
I'm somewhat dainty and shy on him, Sir. He looks vile sharp on't.  Brom. 
Let him look as sharp, as an Apparitors nails, we'll blunt him I warrant ye. Sirrah, I charge you stand.  Rob. 
Sirrah, you see I stand charged already. Will you have me run?  Brom. 
Oh help, help—  Exit. Nic. 
Hold, hold, I ha' not made my will.  Rob. 
No matter for thy prayers; dispatch it quickly then.  Nic. 
You'll give me leave, Sir, to make my will.  Rob. 
Yes.  Nic. 
Then my will is— to run away.  Exit. Wif. 
Thanks, son; but now do you not, like the Lion,  
Save the distressed Lamb from the Wolves paws,  
For sacrifice to his own bloody laws?  Rob. 
Dear mother, pardon; be secure—  Enter Bromley, Nice, Benjamin, Sager disguised, Anne Vaster. Brom. 
This way, this way: here— Oh have we found you?  Ben. 
How do these mischiefs flutter in thick heaps!  
And cloud my understanding from the light,  
I looked the Sun should shine, find it dark night  
I cannot stand t' examine circumstances.  
Now master Bromley, whither are you bound?  Brom. 
Your father gave us charge to have the widow  
To master justice Surly's; he suspects her  
To have some hand i'th' robbery tonight.  
Sir it concerns you; he has lost 300. pound.  Ben. 
Umh. My father robbed? the widow charged with it?  
Her son unjailed himself? these are harsh turns.  
Well, go you two before, prepare the justice.  
You have my word for their appearance. Go.  Exeunt. Br. Nic. 
Widow, and Robin, now here's none but friends:  
You'll give me leave to wonder at these ends.  
Of that anon.  
Mean time I here present you with a gift,  
Dearer to me, then is the Sun to earth.  
So; narrow up your passions for a space:  
Ha'youyou the mortgage-deeds? give them my hands.  
Yet the success on my invention stands.  
Mother, and brother, (so I hope your titles)  
myself, and friend here, whom you do not know,  
Will bail you both. That done, I have an Inn,  
Now void of Tenant; there dwell all together.  
My friendship to the power shall pledge your faith.  
Measure good deeds by what man would, not hath.  Exeunt Enter Griffin. Griff. 
What Damned fortune's this, that I cannot smell out these thieves? I would sweat them to the Gallous, as well as they swore me out of my money. An oath like a strong charm, should conjure their necks into the circle of a rope.  Enter Bromley, Benjamin. 
Oh, here comes my fellow-Patient; we both took Physic together; purged, purged: but I have a cordial for him. Save you, brother Gripe. Mr. Bromley, news, good news. It's reported, that Sager's dead.  Brom. 
Dead? I'll go take possession presently.  Ben. 
Do not with too strict rigour exercise your power on his distressed family.  Brom. 
My time is come, I will not lose an hour.  Grif. 
It's just, that every man should take his own.  Ben. 
Sir, you speak law, not charity. He that will  
Be nothing more than just, is unjust still.  
Woe to that quited soul, to whom from heaven  
All justice, and no mercy shall be given.  
Your mercy to the widow, to the Orphans.  Brom. 
As much as a Puritan has upon a good feast.  Ben. 
Well— let me tell you this— Sager is dead.  
So flies report, borne on presumptions wings.  
But how he died, that aery bird not sings.  
Killed— but by whom— weight deeply— I must hence.  
The mutter's strong— look to your conscience.  Secedit Grif. 
How's this? killed?— muttering? and conscience? Look, his ghastly melancholy points him out for the murderer. As sure, as a hat-brinks pulled down declares a cuckold, this darkness discovers him.  Brom. 
I am a villain.  Grif. 
Tell him, that knows it not.  Brom. 
My narrow heart cannot be capable  
Of this huge bulk of sorrow. It must out.  
Now, to whose bosom better than my friends?  
This hand killed Sager.  Grif. 
How?  Brom. 
Nay, do your worst.  
'twas but chance medley, accidental slaughter.  
Intending with my Piece to strike a fowl,  
Against my will the cock went down, and he  
Stood in death's way. It was his destiny.  
But Griffin, hark you— let not your tongue stir.  
Do not I know you for a forger?  
And more— you wot— let not your tongue be loose.  Ben. 
Thus are two Foxes catched in one poor noose.  Exit Ben, Griff. 
Our guilt shall bind our secrecy; who lives  
An unsuspected villain, winks at others  
Unlawful deeds, to teach their eyelids how  
To wink at his— Shall we go to our new Hostess?  Brom. 
Where? who?  Griff. 
For your where, at the Maidenhead, a good likely place. For your who: the widow that old Gripe suspects for the robbery; but young Gripe hath tenanted to his Inn. Mass, she prevents us. Widow, we were coming.  Enter Wife Wife. 
Pray Gentlemen walk in; you shall have attendance.  Brom. 
Your company, sweet widow.  Wife. 
I'll not be long from you, Sir.  Exeunt. 
Oh, some retiring from this house of sin.  
Fate! I was never bred to keep an Inn.  Enter Curfew, Valentine as themselves, Vaster disguised. 
More customers? that which all Inns would see;  
Great store of guests: this is a plague to me.  Vast. 
Yonder's mine Hostess. Now the water's up, that we cannot get over to the Abbey, it is our securest course to commit the money to her custody. If any search should be made, and these tokens found about us, we are all dead men: there's not so much mercy in Gripe, as in the Plague.  Curf. 
Agreed. Widow, we have some money to pay to a Londoner in Bedford here; and he's not yet come to receive it. Will you lock it up safe for us?  Val. 
But hear you? Deliver it not to any one of us. Except all three demand it together, keep it still.  Vast. 
Help her to bear it in, and see't laid up.  Exeunt 
Zlid, my wife takes degrees; she rises fairly.  
I sold her hither whore some tricks to do.  
Now she's turned whore, and Bawd, and Hostess too.  
Stand close dear wits, and shadow me disguise.  
She cast me down, and by her fall I'll rise.  
Husbands that love your honour as your life;  
Learn now to be revenged, on a false wife.  Enter wife. Wif. 
Your friends expect you Sir.  Vast. 
Sweet, I would go.  
But here's a charming beauty, that says no.  
Will you walk off a little— to the meadow?  
I have a tiny business with you, widow?  Wife. 
What is your will, Sir? I'm in haste: be short.  Vast. 
The thing thou wotst on, half a minute's sport.  Wif. 
Forbear, libidinous Groom.  Vast. 
Groom? I'm a man.  
And can do, Hostess, what another can.  
Come, shall I speak in gold, and action?  Wif. 
Be damned, enchanter, with thy golden spells.  
Thou thinkst, gold can buy lust, when nothing else.  
Yet I do love thy soul. Think, think, how dear,  
A moment's joy is bought with endless fear.  
How ill the flesh steals his unjust delight,  
When the soul suffers an eternal night.  
Flatter thy glowing hopes with heat no more.  
Be not deceived; thy Hostess is no whore.  Vast. 
So: spoke my outside brave; did my rich husk  
Allow me impudent; and my undowned chin  
Promise my blood unsucked out by this sin,  
You would run mad on me.  Wif. 
Sooth, thou much errest.  
I never saw that person (except one,  
Who justly claimed my love, now dead and gone)  
In whose embracements I would sooner lock the treasures of my heart.  Vast. 
Now, now, she's coming.  Wif. 
If you had moved my ears with a chaste suit, I should have listened.  Vast. 
Brave! she's mine already.  Wif. 
I cannot love thee now.  Vast. 
No?  Wif. 
No, I cannot conceive a good thought of thee.  Vast. 
No?  Wif. 
I hate thee.  Vast. 
Heigh? handy, dandy, fast and loose, brave devil.  
I'll conjure you for this. Come, will you love me?  
Or no matter for your love, will you lie with me?  
Do, or lie alone i'th' meadow here. I shall leave your tempting eyes for the Crows to pick out.  Wif. 
Defend me goodness.  Vast. 
Whistle not so loud, lest I cut your pipe, Come on.  Wif. 
Honour or life, how shall I save you both?  
Sir, I shall spoil you. I ha' been long a sinner.  
A common sinner, Sir, and am not sound.  
You cannot scape infection, if you touch me.  Vast. 
Humh! the pox, say you? well, you'll not reveal me.  Exit Wife. 
You need not, Sir, distrust my silence. Wrongs  
That scape heavens hand, need not fear mortal tongues.  
This world's turned Bedlam, raving, desperate-bad.  
It staggered drunk before, now it runs mad.  
More customers?  Enter old Gripe and Benjamin. Ben. 
But, Sir, respect your life, your conscience.  Grip. 
Thou sayst well, for my life. But for my conscience, 'tis like a surgeons, that takes money for letting out blood. Think o' my mortgage.  Ben. 
Upon my life, he'll kill her. O presumption,  
How dost thou dare heavens justice? I must study  
To interpose prevention. Sir, I'm your son:  
This breast you gave me, and I'll still conserve it,  
A faithful closet to lock up your secrets.  
How will you strike? Pistol her?  Grip. 
No: that speaks  
Like an obstreperous Advocate, too loud,  
In th'cares of justice. Murder, like your Jesuit,  
Should whisper death in silence— sleeping silence.  Ben. 
I apprehend it, poison. Sir, I'll buy you  
A speedy potion.  Grip. 
Not too dear, good son.  
I would not ha''t too dear: my money's gone.  
Two pennyworth of Ratsbane, w' have experience,  
we'll do't; do't thoroughly.  Ben. 
I'll provide it, Sir.  
I'll be your Apothecary; but by no means  
Minister it myself. You must do that, Sir:  
I cannot do you better service. Rare!  
Then bring my father to the jailhouse.  
Be petulant, and let your wanton mirth,  
Give you forgetful of all wrong.  Enter. Gripe. 
Come widow, I forgive thee now: I hope thou'lt forgive me too. I'm come to drink down all malice.  Wife. 
Pray Sir, lead the way. I'll follow.  
Look up, dear friend: what thus dejects you?  Exit Grip. Ben. 
Wonders, miracles— I must needs poison thee.  
Be not dismayed, my poison shall not hurt thee:  
I'll tell thee all  Enter Vaster in haste. Vast. 
Hostess, Pray 'help me to the money quickly. I must pay't instantly.  Wife. 
You shall Sir.  Exeunt. Vast. 
So, if my new-born plots hold constant life,  
I'll cheat my thieves, but above all, my wife.  Enter Wife & Rob. with money. 
Thank you, good Widow. Youth, tell the  
Gentlemen I'm gone to tender the money. Bid  Exit Rob. 
'em be merry and continue their healths. I'll take my round, when I come again. Farewell Ostice.  Exit. Wife. 
You're welcome Sir,  Enter Curfew, Valentine, Robin. Val. 
Gone, sayst thou? and with the money? fire and gunpowder! how are we blown up?  Curf. 
Pretty handsome!  Val. 
Ostice—  Rob. 
Good leech, stand further off: your breath's too violent.  Curf. 
Did we not charge you not to deliver the money, but to us all three together?  Rob. 
Mass, 'tis true. How forgetfully are we cheated?  Val. 
You are a cozening woman.  Rob. 
You do lie!  Curf. 
Keep the peace. Ostice, you'll make it good to us, three hundred pound, a pretty competent sum.  Val. 
Furies and Fiends! wits, you do fairly strive.  Curf. 
I thought this fairy money would near thrive.  Exeunt Ben. 
I have heard all this roguery.  Enter Ben. 
Cheer, Widow: let not sorrow make thee sick.  
Perhaps, I'll catch the knaves at their own trick.  Ent. Thir. Thir. 
So ho-my master's turned Reveller. I never lost my name since I came into his service, till now. uck! a miracle, I am not Thirsty.  Enter Nice. Ben. 
Now my wise kindred, why look you so pale?  Nic. 
O, I'll put off my wedding. I will not for all Bedford marry tomorrow.  Ben. 
No? why?  Nic. 
O, my Uncle reaching for a Cup, overthrew the salt towards me— towards me. O 'tis ominous.  Ben. 
The falling of a salt keep thee from marriage! well, I have a strange medicine, of quick cure to this conceited sickness. Robin, fetch me some wine. Coz, how dost feel thyself?  Thir. 
He shakes as if he had the burning ague.  Nic. 
Perplexed Cousin, perplexed. I had rather a good Lordship had fallen toward me.  Ben. 
Tut man, salt seasons all things; fish or flesh.  
And troth, thou needest it: for thy wit's but fresh.  
Here blood, I drink to thee.  Thir. 
Now could I dance like a Dutch Froe: my heels are as light as my head.  Nic. 
Oh I recant. Cousin, I will marry.  Ben. 
What meant you Sir, to spill the wine upon him?  Rob. 
'Twas a mischance Sir.  Nice. 
No: it was good hap.  
'tis a good sign, t' have wine spilled in ones lap:  
This makes amends for the salt, Sir.  Ben. 
I thought this dock would fetch your nettle out.  
I see. small wind turns a fools mill about. Let's go.  Exeunt. Wife. 
Yonder comes my Physician and his potion.  Enter Gripe. Grip. 
I have here two papers: one of sugar, and that's for myself: another of poison, and that's for my Ostice. Let me be right-right. I should make fair work, if I were mistaken now. Ha widow! th' art a churl a— very churl, that wouldst not keep company with thy guests. I ha' brought thee a cup of wine here: health and blood to thee, sweet Widow.  Rob. 
A miracle: An Usurer drunk at's own cost.  Gripe. 
There's a whole cup for thee: pledge me chuck. Nay tarry, tarry: thou must have sugar to 't; women love sweet things, I know. So, off with't bottom and all: the deeper the sweeter. Ha Ostice, my son shall give thee a lease of thine Inn.  Wife. 
I would he could grant me a lease of my life: for I grow sick sir. Robin, look in.  Exit Rob. Gripe. 
(Excellent ratsbane) it works already. Widow, dost remember since thou wast in my study? and i'faith what foundst there?  Wife. 
Nothing, but what I left behind me, Sir. I'm very sick.  Gripe. 
(I'll near trust poison else.) This cottons well yet. No sooner dead, but my son shall cease on all the goods. Search the coffers for my mortgage. If it be lost, yet now she I keep counsel.  Wife. 
This wine hath made me thirsty: I'm not well.  Gripe. 
high thee to bed and sweat. A little posset with twopenny worth of horse-spice. O 'tis excellent to put one into a sweat. Farewell widow.  Exit. Wife. 
So I'm recovered now: thy absence cures me.  
O earth! thou centre of the world and sin;  
Tsty Paradise is lost t'th'art only now  
A larger stable, where all vices dwell.  
Did not the Sun shine, I should think thee hell.  Enter Vaster. 
Lucky! here comes the cheater. Sir, the money is asked for by the Gentlemen, your friends: They threaten to arrest me, but I hope sir, you'll be my quittance.  Vast. 
Yes: on this condition.  
Let me enjoy thy love on this soft ground:  
I'll pay it back, were it three hundred pound.  
Stir not: this chargeth you: are you not content?  
Come, with a silent kiss seal your consent.  Wife. 
Sir, you know my disease. I'm dangerous.  Vast. 
The pox? O I have known London too long to be afraid of the pox. Come, will you unlock? I ha' the golden key. If not, I'll to Virginia, like some cheating bankrupt, and leave my Creditor i'th' suds. You know the jail. ha' you never been hired to yawl for the whole prison? and whule to the passengers?  Wife. 
Sorcerer, thy circle cannot hold me.  Vast. 
No, I would have yours hold me. Come, will you fadge?  Wife. 
Not, if thou killst me: not if thy murderous hand  
Could put me to a death▪ (like jesuits poison)  
Ten years a dying.  Vast. 
No? you will repent.  Wife. 
So wilt thou never: take my carcase, slave:  
Whiles there's a soul within; no lustful hand  
Did or shall ever touch it.  Vast. 
Politic whore!  
What do you ken me now?  Wife. 
My husband? o,  
Into your arms I fly.  Vast. 
Infection, no.  
youare dangerous by your own confession.  discovers himself. Wife. 
Alas! I forged that answer, to avoid  
Sinful embracings. Brothels sick indeed  
Of that contagion, sooth and smother't up,  
To tempt distrustful comers on, at once  
To their own profit, and the other's ruin.  
They speak false, to do false the safer. I  
To save my conscience did my flesh belie.  Vast. 
You cannot tempt me Siren; I am resolute.  
Thou art a cunning Bitch, and I am proud  
Of such expected means to my revenge.  
Hark, how I'll quittance thy abhorred lusts.  
First, thou shalt be arrested for the money,  
Whereof I cheated thee: so be restrained  
From thy old straggling, mewed up like a haggard;  
Till the Assize comes, than thou shalt be hanged.  
I hear thou standst bound over for suspicion  
Of robbing Gripe. I did the villainy.  
I'll ha''t proved thine: so thou shalt hang for me.  Wife. 
Dear husband, do so.  Vast. 
Husband me no more:  
That name was canceled when you first played whore.  
Now garden-pot, you water your sad fears,  
But I am no love-fool, won with woman's tears.  Wife. 
O prosecute your will. Thus on my knees,  
And with a heart more humbled, I entreat,  
And I must have it granted ere I rise;  
Be pleased to make this life a sacrifice,  
To expiate your wrath. I freely yield it,  
For your redemption. For your hate I die;  
That might not live in your loves company.  
If I confess not guilty, to save you,  
Imagine then all your suspicions true.  
But when for your debts I have paid this life,  
Believe but then, you had a faithful wife.  Vast. 
O, thou wouldst melt a rock. My heart's too dead,  
To sprout at this wet April. Fare you well.  Exit. Wife. 
Peace and content attend you: and let still  
Mercy forgive, and rectify your ill.  Enter Ben. Ben. 
What? not dead yet? but weeping? come, come dry  
Up all thy tears: go high thee in, and die.  
Much villainy is now together packed.  
The Scene grows full. Your patience this last act.  Exeunt.  

Act. Quint.  Enter old Brace, the true Abbot. Abbot. 
TO man, how sweet is breath! yet sweetest of all,  
That breath, which from his native air doth fall.  
How many weary paces have I measured!  
How many known and unknown dangers passed,  
Since I commenced my tedious Pilgrimage,  
The last great work of my death-yielding age!  
Yet am I blessed, that my returning bones  
Shall be raked up in England's peaceful earth.  
Oh happy Englishmen, if your sore eyes  
Did not look squint on your felicities!  
How other Countries envy, what you loathe,  
And surfeit on: and would make that their pride,  
Which is by your contempt still vilefied!  
This sickness fullness breeds in most men's blood;  
None less, than the possessors, know what's good.  
Now to my deputy: here his glories end.  
But stay: he comes to meet me. I'll attend.  Enter Curfew. Curf. 
Confound this damned fox: he has cheated me of the best prey, I ever sharked for. Would I could light on him; I have a Constable here should make him stand.  Brac. 
What's this? sharking, foxing, and a pistol?  
Th'emblem of thief, cheater, murderer?  
Sure, this vile Eldern was not of my planting.  
I know him: 'tis his brother, to whose trust I did enfeoff my place.  Enter Messenger. Mess. 
I was directed this way to the Abbot.  
My lord— the judge detained by sickness from tomorrow's Session, desires your lordship's aid to the supply of his own place. Th' assistant justices rest their determining sentence on your lips.  Curf. 
I'll give my old attendance.  Mess. 
Your lordship's leave.  Exeunt Mess. & Curf. Bra. 
I leave your lordship too.  
I must about this mischief to prevent:  
I'll force you both your offices repent.  Exit. Enter jailor, Gripe, Bromley, Griffin. Iay. 
So, so, so. My customers drop in roundly. Welcome, Mr. Gripe, and the rest of my good friends, welcome! I am very glad to see you here. My house was not graced with an Usurer, and under-sheriff, many a day before; though I ha' been pestered with abundance of honester fellows. Speak, shall's be merry? what will you have to dinner?  Gripe. 
A rope. What dost thou tell me of dinner?  Iay. 
No Sir, that shall be kept for your supper.  Brom. 
Give me so me Sack and Aqua vitae. I will be drunk presently.  Grif. 
It's clear. I have twenty cases for't.  
The concealing of murder is but manslaughter. I must ha' my book.  Brom. 
Give 's some Sack, I say: must tut, etc.  Enter Nice. Nice. 
My Uncle committed? justice itself sent to the jail?  Gripe. 
Cousin, sweet Cousin, run, scud, fly— to Sir Bore Notwithstanding: he lies but three miles off; he's in my debt: bid him release me, and I'll release him.  Griff. 
Stay Sir. He's in my debt too: I ha' solicited for Sir Bore these seven years, and have nothing but bare thanks.  Brom. 
Nay then, take me with you. Thus—  Enter Benjamin, Robin, Thirsty; Thirsty climbing up into a tree. Rob. into a bush. Ben. 
ha' you your lesson perfect?  Thirst. 
Yes, yes: as a Midwife her errand to a citizen's wife. There's not an Owl in an Ivy-bush, nor a parrot at a drugster's door, has who whoop, or walk Knave, more perfect.  Ben. 
Robin, do't cunningly. My Dad shall be  
Only to me beholding for his life.  
By that advantage I recall his love.  Grip. 
Cousin, fly every step. Remember, like a juryman, you go upon life and death.  Exit Nice. Brom. 
Happiness grant, that no Hare cross him i'th' way: his superstitious legs will retire, though we hang for't. Come, shall we keep the rule of the place, and drink drunk now?  Exeunt. Enter Nice. Ben. 
Now kindred, whither trot you so fast?  Nic. 
Oh Cousin, about a deed of charity; to save your father, and two or three knaves more from hanging. I am going to Sir Bore Notwithstanding; to save them out of prison: they have saved him often.  Ben. 
Sir Bore Notwithstanding, he's a great man, Cousin.  Nic. 
He had three Lordships fell to him at a clap; the worst worth 400. a year.  Ben. 
Yet he's bare notwithstanding.  Nic. 
He has sold his caroche with four Flanders mares, because he would retire himself and live i'th' Country.  Ben. 
Yet he's Bare Notwithstanding. But to himself Cousin, farewell.  Exit Ben. Nic. 
To him, quoth he? I will to him, were the devil in my way.  Thirst. 
Pork, pork.  Nic. 
The devil pork you. What dismal bird croaks disaster to my journey!  Thir. 
Pork.  Nic. 
Nay, if the destinies have set the Raven against me, I'll return sure— yet let me see. So my Uncle may be hanged, I'll on, come what will.  Thir. 
Pork.  Nic. 
O this black bird toll like a passing-bell,  
My own sad mischief and my uncles knell.  
Yet why am I so timorous; when charity  
Bids me go on, shall a Raven hinder me?  
I'll keep aloof and pass— oh a spirit, a spirit.  Rob. flashes powder. 
The widows Ghost. Bromley, Lawyer, Uncle, hang.  
Take all your fortunes, I'll no further gang.  
It's an unhallowed place, a dismal day.  
Betide what will, I'll back again some way.  Exit. Rob. 
Come down, Raven.  Thirst. 
Come out, Spirit.  Rob. 
Blind, credulous fool! He that shall trust at need  
Such nice and tottering coxcombs, shall thus speed.  
Should his sick father send him for some drugs,  
He would turn back at such imagined bugs.  Enter Benjamin, Sager, Wife, Anne. Ben. 
Come, mother, friend, and wife; take these back places,  
Where you may hear unseen: that when time serves,  
I may produce you. Works and hours are spent  
Then well, when we do good, or ill prevent.  Wif. 
I cannot judge, what is this days success.  
All-ruling powers the doubtful sequel bless.  Enter Curfew with other assistants, Vaster in a priest's habit, Valentine like a Physician, the jailor with Gripe, Bromley, Griffin, etc. Curf. 
My Lord, whose place I personate, being sick,  
Hath thus designed me, both to hear and censure  
The criminal causes, which offend the peace  
Of our dread Sovereign, and his subjects weal.  
Whiles we lance Ulcers, we the body heal.  
The charge I give in short, you of the jury,  
Look to your Oath and conscience: let not favour  
Shut up your eyes, nor malice open them  
Too wide. You understand, our laws are good.  
'tis pity that they should be writ in blood.  
But since connivence at unlawful deeds  
Gives but encouragement, and we cannot strike  
With sword of justice the deserving faults,  
Except you give the persons to our hands:  
All on your vigilant information stands.  
Proceed to the Inditements.  Grip. 
We are all cast away. Sir Bare is not come.  Enter Abbot with guide. Ab. 
Pull down that counterfeit, proud, arrogant, puff:  
Could your intrusion not content itself  
T'usurp my office, but you must abuse  
The king's deputed judge?  All. 
Down with him, down with him.  Abb. 
jailor, receive him to your custody,  
Till our just censure give him punishment.  
fox, I shall hunt you out.  Curf. 
Do't with a pox.  
The goose sometimes must sit and judge the Fox.  Abb. 
Proceed; the day hastens.  Clark. 
Marian Sorrow widow, yield thy body, and save thy bail.  Ben. 
Sir, she is dead: her felony is answered Before a higher Court.  Clarke. 
That is the woman that Gripe is suspected to have poisoned. Godfrey Gripe stand to the Bar. You are indicted for the murder of Marian Sorrow widow: guilty or not?  Grip. 
Not guilty, my Lord: let all the world testify of my honest carriage. I have lived all my days in good name and fame.  Abb. 
Stand not upon your credit and good deeds.  
Your harvest would be small, if like your seeds.  
If all that know thee stood about this place,  
And had free liberty to speak their thoughts,  
Round echoing curses would amaze thy soul,  
And with hell's damned crew thy name enroll.  
But when the Widow, Orphan call for plagues  
On thy black life, thou highest unto thy bags;  
There dost applaud and hug thy wretched self:  
As solace 'gainst all woes lay in thy pelf.  
Thou hast no god but gold: that Deity  
Thou shouldst adore, and would still succour thee,  
Is quite rejected. And that Idol, money,  
Which bears away thy confidence and heart,  
When thou art plagued, aggravates thy smart.  
Thou art the devils Executioner.  
His rankest plague on earth's an Usurer.  
Spirits in hell whip souls: extorting slaves  
Torment poor bodies so before their graves.  
Thou art a gulf, poor men's estates to drink.  
A quagmire; none pass o'er thee, but they sink.  
Unless Strepsiades-like, men could devise  
To pluck the Moon by Sorcery from the skies;  
Thy month and gain will come. Like some at sea,  
(Yet dangerless of shipwreck more than they)  
Thou slumberest in a base lethargic swoon.  
Let others toil, thy journey's done as soon.  Ben. 
Will not this move him?  Abb. 
Nature in all inferior things hath set  
A pitch or term, when they no more shall get  
Increase and offspring. Unrepaired houses  
Fall to decay: old Cattle cease to breed.  
And sapless trees deny more fruit or seed.  
The earth would heartless and infertile be,  
If it should never have a jubilee.  
Only the usurers money genders still:  
The longer, lustier: Age this doth not kill.  
He lives to see his money's moneys money,  
Even to a hundred generations reach.  
He, whiles his interest money in does troll,  
Cares not to lose the principal, his Soul.  
He like a cleanly Alchemist can soak  
And draw much silver, yet waste none in smoke.  
Thou lendest, like water poured on seacoal fire,  
Or on a load of Lime a shower of rain.  
It seems to cool heat, but doth more inflame.  Ben. 
His conscience has deaf ears.  Abb. 
When all is done,  
And thou hast swelled thy heaps; to say no more,  
Thy coffer's only rich, and thou art poor.  
This common plague is on all Usurers shown:  
Th'haue much, yet are not masters of their own.  
One day thy stintless mind shall have enough;  
When the divided pieces of thyself  
Shall in their several doomed mansions dwell:  
Enough of mould in grave, of fire in hell.  
But I spend breath in vain; come, let's proceed.  Gripe. 
No further. You have made my conscience bleed.  
I here confess myself guilty of all,  
Even of this murder too.  Abbot. 
Let mercy fall on thy distressed soul. Now to the rest.  Clark. 
Nicholas Bromley, you are indicted for the murder of William Sager, etc. Guilty or not?  Brom. 
Not guilty? Who testifies against me!  Ab. 
In case of Murder should we never judge  
By circumstantial likelihoods and presumptions,  
No life could be secure.  Enter Nice. Nic. 
Puff! shift for yourselves; Sir Bore Notwithstanding dares not be seen.  Brom. 
O, I am lost.  
My Lord, I'm guilty: so is Griffin too:  
He did conceal the fact, that I did do,  
We shared the Lands together.  Abbot. 
Powerful truth!  
Murder will out, though by the actor's mouth.  Gripe. 
O Benjamin, I have undone  
My life, my state, my credit, and my Son.  
But I'm resolved to die, so Monarchs must:  
Rich men as well as poor, must turn to dust.  Ben. 
methinks I could prevent all this.  Gripe. 
Alas, thou lov'st me; but 'tis not possible.  Ben. 
Sir, I have here a book already drawn,  
Seal to it freely, and I'll save your life.  
You shall confirm me your undoubted heir,  
And then surrender Vasters mortgaged lands.  Grip. 
'tis done.  seals. Ben. 
My Lord and all this bench be witness to it.  
Then thus I quit you, widow, appear in Court.  
In earnest, see, she lives, that died in sport.  Wife. 
Sir, thank your Drugster, else I had died by you.  
And you for me received a murderer's due.  Grip. 
So, I am cozened finely, finely—  Val. 
My Lord, I challenge this widow for cheating me of 300. pounds. This is one of her old tricks.  Abb. 
How's this?  Val. 
My Lord, myself and two entrusted friends  
Came hither to pay money on a bond,  
Whiles the receiver did defer his coming;  
We gave this cozening woman, being Hostess,  
The whole sum to lay up: and straightly charged her,  
Not to deliver't, but to us all together.  
She says one of us three demanded it  
Of her in haste, and ran away: and thus  
We lost our money, and the bond lies forfeit.  Ben. 
Your Lordship's leave. 'tis true, she not denies,  
But they so charged her, and she was so cozened.  
Therefore she yields to payment. Let 'em come  
All three together, they shall have the money.  Grif. 
Upon my faith, a pretty quillet.  Abb. 
Witty and just. How say you? here produce  
The other two, your satisfaction's ready.  Ben. 
The widow's cleared: but master Valentine—  
Nay, man, come nearer, you'd have present pay.  Val. 
No, Sir, let it even go.  Ben. 
So must not you.  
You gave 300. pound to her: 'tis true.  
Which like a subtle Quacksalver, you robbed  
My father of; Sprites, Fairies—  Val. 
I am cobbed.  Grip. 
It's true, my lord: this is one of the Fairies. justice, justice.  Val. 
Well, if there be no remedy, I hope,  
I shall not dance alone upon the rope.  
My lord, here's the other Fairy.  Abb. 
O Sir, have I found you?  
Pull off that borrowed habit from his back.  
O that such foul deeds should be hid in black.  Gripe. 
My Lord, this Widow's accessary too:  
She plotted, she received. justice, justice.  Ab. 
But late thy song was mercy, now all justice?  
Here's all the goodness of an Usurer.  
She saved his life, he would now hang her.  Gripe. 
She has robbed me, undone me.  Val. 
It is most true, my lord, she plotted all.  Curf. 
(Your villainy, Ostice, we shall now retort.  
You cheated us, and we will hang you for't.  Ben. 
How do these mischiefs grow, like Hidra's heads, faster by cutting off!  Vast. 
Prodigious villains! will they thus cast away an innocent woman?  
Yet I most vile of all, that thus stand by,  
And for my fault behold my poor wife die.  Ben. 
My lord, upon my soul this woman's clear:  
And only malice thus accuseth her.  Ab. 
Speak, woman, art thou guilty?  Wife. 
My lord, I beg a word with my Confessor,  
Than I shall answer. Sir, a word in private.  To Vaster. 
Now Vaster, open thy unbelieving eyes:  
Lo, thy devoted wife for thy sin dies.  
Yield but this kindness to my latest breath,  
Thou hat'st me living, love me yet in death.  
Farewell— My lord, I will not say, I'm guilty;  
Do as your evidence and wisdom leads you.  Ab. 
This knot is hard to undo.  Vast. 
My lord, I'll help you.  
Lo, I am that third Fairy, that pronounce  
This woman clear, and those two perjured knaves.  
We three are guilty: let your sentence come.  
I have deserved, will not despair my doom.  Wife. 
My lord, he says not true: he's innocent: I guilty.  Ab. 
Speak on your souls, which of these tongues speak truth.  Val. 
Curf. My lord, the woman's clear.  Ab. 
Pernicious Villains, hopeless to be good:  
That thus have strove to spill the guiltless blood.  
Widow, you're quitted. Sir, wait you your doom.  Vast. 
With patience. Benjamin Gripe, I here accuse you for murdering Richard Vaster.  Ab. 
How?  Vast. 
My lord, I found that Vaster dying, buried him,  
Saw him receiving death by this man's sword.  
Theft's a great sin, but murder most abhorred.  Ab. 
Speak; is this possible?  Ben. 
We met in single combat in the field:  
It seems his life unto my sword did yield.  Ann. 
Ay me, my father slain?  Rob. 
And by his friend?  
Fate, whither will thy projects tend!  Ann. 
My husband's hand my father's life undoes:  
For this fact he must die: thus both I lose.  Ben. 
Forgive me all, by me you all have lost,  
The wife a Husband, children a dear Parent:  
Thus I return you all some recompense.  
Nan thou shalt lose a husband.  An. 
heavens defend.  Ben. 
Mother, you lose a son, brother a friend.  Wife. 
Can nature so degenerate, that a man should live, stand by, and see another suffer for murdering him?  Vast. 
Once again off disguise.  
My lord, thus I prevent this feared disaster  
My second case pulled off, I am plain Vaster.  Rob. 
My father?  Wife. 
My dear husband.  Vast. 
Most, most dear friend.  
My love to you doth beyond bounds extend.  
My Lord, first to this honourable Bench,  
I here present the Kings most gracious pardon  
For us three here: heaven no less pardon us.  
Now to my wife: see wench, I am new borne;  
Wrenched from the plague of a suspected horn.  
Black jaundice of the mind, thou feigned spirit,  
That haunts men's quiet thoughts with troubling shades.  
Pernicious jealousy, that like needless Physic  
Divertest health to voluntary sickness,  
I brush thee off like dust. See, I am now  
New married to my love and to my life.  
Never could man boast a more constant wife.  
Dear Benjamin, now Son, what I have left  
Of all my shipwrecked fortunes, shall be thine.  Ben. 
Resume your former state, my father yields it.  Vast. 
Thanks to your honesty, not his; yet thus,  
Some means of satisfaction I have found;  
I'll pay him back his lost three hundred pound:  
The fairy money, which was just the price  
Of my redeemed lands.  Ben. 
Now master Bromley,  
That universal mercy to our guilt,  
May be afforded, and no blood be spilled:  
Surrender up your lease for the three lives  
To Sager's wife and children, and I'll quit you.  Brom. 
I do most freely yield it.  Sag. 
Sager lives,  
And hearty thanks for your forced kindness gives.  Abb. 
Happy delusions! in such ways of ill,  
I wish men may be thus mistaken still.  Nic. 
ravens, and Sprites, and Fairies, and Hares and diuels-Thus have I lost my wench, lost my money, lost my watch, lost my wits. I do here renounce the faith of all Almanacs, Physiogmoners, Palmists, Fortune-tellers. Erra Pater was an Ass, and so are Prognosticators, his children, from generation to generation.  Grip. 
I have drunk powerful physic, and the Dropsy  
Of my (till now) near quenched avarice,  
Dries up like dew at the ascending Sun.  
Vaster, take back your lands; and for the money,  
Give it my son in portion with your daughter.  
Henceforth I'll study to requite the wrongs,  
Which I have done poor men by usury,  
And vomit up th'extortions, that do lie  
As undigested crudities on my conscience.  
My future life shall be in mercy spent.  
I'm Gripe no more; that name I do repent.  Abb. 
All Chronicles be filled with this; and let it  
Be as a wonder to all ears imparted.  
England had once an Usurer converted.    

epilogue.  Ben. 
THe Session now dissolves: each justice rises:  
No hurt is done; this is the mild Assizes.  
We have scaped fair thus far: yet there remains  
A stronger judgement to pass on our pains.  
Too much to hope or doubt we must not dare.  
We humbly then stand at your censures bar.  
If the worst comes that may be, yet I look  
For this grace, to be saved by my book.  
But if with your applause our merit stands:  
Faith then be friends with us, and give's your hands.  
FINIS.