THE rival FRIENDS.  
A Comedy, As it was Acted before the King and Queen's Majesties, when out of their princely favour they were pleased to visit their University of Cambridge, upon the 19. day of March. 1631.  
Cried down by Boys, Faction, Envy, and confident Ignorance, approved by the judicious, and now exposed to the public censure, by  
The Author, PET. HAVSTED Mr. in Arts of queen's College.  Non tanti est ut placeam insanire. 
LONDON, Printed by Aug. Matthewes for Humphrey Robinson, at the sign of the three Pigeons in Paul's Churchyard. 1632.   

Dramatis Personae.  

Sacrilege Hook, a Simoniacal Patron.  
Pandora, his fair Daughter.  
Mistress Ursely, his supposed Daughter, deformed and foolish.  
Jack Love-all, a Court Page, Nephew to Mr. Hooke.  
Constantina, jack Loveall's sister.  
Lucius. the two Friends, and Rivals in Pandora's love.  
Neander, or Cleopes the two Friends, and Rivals in Pandora's love.  
Luscinio, Lucius his Boy.  
Bully Lively, an old merry fellow, that lives in the impropriate Parsonage.  
Terpander, an old Gentleman.  
Anteros, his son, an humorous mad fellow, that could not endure women.  
Laurentio, an ancient Citizen.  
Endymion, his son, and Page to Lucius.  
Isabella, Laurentio's Daughter, in love with Lucius.  
Stipes, Hooke's Shepherd.  
Placenta, his Wife, a Midwife.  
Merda, their Daughter.  
noddle Empty, an Inns of the Court man.  
William Wiseacres, a quondam attorney's clerk.  
Mr. Mongrel, an elder brother.  
Hammershin, a Bachelor of Arts.  
Zealous Knowlittle, a Boxmaker,— Suitors to Mistress Ursely for the parsonage' sake.  
Tempest All-mouth, a decaied Clothworker Suitors to Mistress Ursely for the parsonage' sake.  
Arthur Armstrong 2. young scholars, robustious football-players. Suitors to Mistress Ursely for the parsonage' sake.  
Stutchell Legg— 2. young scholars, robustious football-players. Suitors to Mistress Ursely for the parsonage' sake.  
Ganymede Fillpot, a pretender to a Scholar, who had once been a Gentleman's Butler. Suitors to Mistress Ursely for the parsonage' sake.  
Hugo Obligation, a precise Scrivener.— Suitors to Mistress Ursely for the parsonage' sake.  
Two Men, two Maids of lively's.  
A Bedlam.  
fiddlers.    

To the right Honourable, right Reverend, right Worshipful, or whatsoever he be or shall be whom I hereafter may call Patron.  
IF thou dost deal with the cracked Chambermaid,  
Or in stale Kinswomen of thine own dost trade,  
With which additions thou dost set to sale  
Thy Gelded Parsonages, or dost prevail  
With thy despairing Chaplain to divide  
That which should be entire, for which beside  
Perhaps he pays thee too, know that from thee  
(Be'st thou Squire, Knight, or Lord, or a degree  
Above all these) nor I, nor yet my book  
Does crave protection, or a gentle Look:  
But if there be a man, (such men be rare!)  
That 'midst so many sacrilegious, dare  
Be good and honest, though he be alone,  
With such a zeal, such a devotion,  
As th'old Athenians were wont to pay  
Unto their unknown God, I here do lay  
My self and book before him, and confess  
That such a Virtue can deserve no less.  
read it (fair Sir) and when thou shalt behold  
The Ulcers of the time by my too bold  
Hand brought to light, and launched, and then shalt see  
Vice to his face branded and told that's he,  
Encircled safe in thine own goodness sit,  
Untouched by any line, and laugh at it.  
'Twas made to please, and had the vicious Age  
Been good enough, it had not left the Stage  
Without its due Applause: But since the times  
Now bring forth men enamoured on their crimes,  
And those the greater number, 'twere disease  
To think that any thing that bites should please.  
Had it been borne a toothless thing, though mean,  
It might have passed, nay might have praised been:  
But being a Satire— no. Such strains of Wit  
Are liked the worse, the better they are writ.  
whoever knew one deep in love, commend  
A Song though ne'er so good, so aptly penned,  
Set to the choicest note Music affords,  
Sung by as choice a Voice, if that the words  
Contained nothing else but a disgrace  
Unto his Mistress and her borrowed face?  
O happy Age! o we are fallen now  
Upon brave times, when my Lords wrinkled brow  
(Who perhaps laboured in some crabbed Look  
How to get farther intoth' silkman's book,  
Not minding what was done, or said) must stand  
A Copy, and his Antic front command  
The censure of the rest, to smile or frown,  
Just as his squeezed face cries up or down:  
When such as can judge right, and know the Laws  
Of Comedy, dare not approve, because  
My Lady's Woman did forget to bring  
Her Sp— and therefore swore't a tedious thing.  
But (knowing Sir) rank not yourself with these  
That judge not as things are, but as they please.  
Peter Hausted.   

THE preface TO THE READER.  
Ingenious and understanding Reader, for if thou be'st not s, I neither regard thee, nor thy censure. In this age of outsides, wherein to be modest, is to be Ignorant, and to be impudent is called Learning wherein to please our walking Things in silk, a man must write dust and cobweb; amongst the rest, though with much difficulty and opposition, yet at the length I have obtained leave for this poor neglected Piece of mine to salute the Light, & in spite of all black-mouthed Calumny (who has endeavoured to crush it into nothing) presented it to the open view. I am not ignorant what base aspersions, & unchristianlike slanders (like a general infection) have spread themselves throughout the Kingdom, nor can I hope that the publishing of it can stop all those wide mouths which are opened against it; yet I must not despair of so much justice from the Candide, (for their own honesty is interested in the Action) as (when they shall behold the innocence of it) to confess, that I suffer most unjustly in these reports. How it was accepted of their Majesties, whom it was intended to please, we know, and had gracious signs: how the rest of the Court were affected, we know too; Such as were fair and intelligent will yet give it sufficient Testimony: As for those which came with starched faces and resolutions to dislike whatsoever they saw or heard, (all due reverence being given to the fair fields they wear upon their backs) they must perforce give me leave to be of that heresy, and think that there is something else required to the composition of a judgement, than a good Suit of taken-up Clothes, a Countenance set in a frame, and some three shakes of the empty Noddle. The difficulties, and disadvantages we went upon were many, and known, neither did we fail in the success we hoped for; for indeed we expected no other thing then to be cried down by many-mouthed Detraction. Alas, we are all but men, and may err; and our offence was the same that was imputed to Cicero, by a great Roman Lady, who told him that it was Sauciness in him amongst so many Patricians of eminent blood, to dare to be Virtuous or Eloquent. I do confess we did not go such quaint ways as we might have done; we had none of those Sea-arts, knew not how, or else scorned to plant our Canvas so advantageously to catch the wayward breath of the Spectators; but freely & ingenuously laboured rather to merit then ravish an Applause from the Theatre. we never yet were so poorly ambitious (nor ever will) to court the Claps of young Ones, who are more delighted to see an Ape play his forced tricks, than to behold the truest and most natural Action in the world. Let such as despair of the approbation of Men, cry, Let in the Boys, we shall have no noise else. I envy not the applause comes from such hands or tongues. As for the Objections made by Envy and Ignorance, such as I have heard, I will answer, and then dare all their Snakes to hiss out more. And first, the Lowness of many of the Persons did displease some; I conversed too much with Shepherds they say.  
It is the misery of Poetry above other sciences, & in Poetry of the Dram especially, that it lies open to be profaned by every adulterate judgement. The Musician dares only judge of Music, the Philosopher in natural causes, the Mathematician of those Arts: But what fly-blown piece of Man is there, whose best of virtues is to cry God damn him, whose top of knowledge the Alphabetical and Greek healths but thinks himself a Doctor of the Chair in what belongs to the Scene? Let them look into Plautus, and they shall find the chiefest person in his Persa to be a Servant; and it is accounted one of the greatest excellencies in Sidney, that he was able so much to humble his fantasy, as truly and naturally to set forth the clownery of Dametas, the indigested and unlicked words and phrases of his wife and daughter. But these squirt-wits, (who are able only to bring forth a paper of verses in a year, it may be of a hair that fell from their Mrs. Peruke, and think this sufficient to style them Laureate) in the Description of a shipwreck (peradventure) would take great delight to see a fair Cypress tree pictured. All that I will say to them is this, if their mouths be out of taste, I am not bound to answer for it. But why this before their Majesties? say they. And I say, why not this before their Majesties, rather than higher things? (although they may perceive that the strain is not continued.) The Court is not acquainted with such grovelling humours; Therefore (my obstinate Heretic) the better. To have shown them nothing but what they see daily, had been but course entertainment, and if that was my error, that the two Changelings spoke no strong lines, but played at Checkstones, when it may be some of our butterfly-judgements expected a set at Maw or Primivista from them, let it lie upon my Conscience.  
Next, whereas my discretion was called in question for making one to rail so bitterly upon Women before the Ladies, whom we should have laboured to please rather. I answer, that the Ladies (as some report) should take offence at Anteros his part, will not yet enter me; for although I know many of that sex weak enough, yet methinks it cannot be that such as they, who are taken out of the Ore, refined and wrought up unto such a degree of purity by the Court, that we may not be afraid to say, that they are more than half men (that is) come not far short of us in that which gives us our denomination, Reason; it cannot be (I say) that these should so much discredit the opinion which the world has of their apprehensions and judgements, as to be offended to see a Woman-hater personated: for then, how shall we hereafter dare to bring upon the Stage a Bawd, an Usurer, an Intemperate man, a Traitor, or one that commits Idolatry to his Mistress, (which is as great a sin as most of these) if only to personate be to approve? No, when we act a vice, it is not because we allow of it, but rather labour to extirp it by showing the odiousness of it to the world. As for that which they object against bringing in of the four Gulls in the third Act, as impertinent to the Plot; I answer, that it was a most natural passage, & although it conduced nothing to the main hinge on which the chief carriage of the Comedy turned, (no more than Lively's drinking of Sack, the Donation of the Living, with the bestowing of the crooked changeling, Anteros turning shepherd, or Stypes being tied to the tree) yet if they please to turn to the latter end of the fift Act, they shall find that they were not all foisted in as mere strangers. Let them show me (if they can) a rule in Poetry, that binds us so strictly not to meddle with any persons but what appertain primarily to the plot. If they can (which I cannot believe) I will show them again that Rule broken by most of the prime Writers in this kind, both of Ages past and present, I mean not only in our own Mother tongue, wherein the Dram but lately is arrived at any perfection, but in Latin, Italian, and others. But this is the bolt of some shallow & narrow capacity, who peradventure was puzzled with the multitude of names, and would have been better contented with three Actors and a half, and some seven or eight papers of verses tied together with cobbler's ends. As for the false and abominable imputations laid upon it by my Tribe with the short hair and long ears, my formal outsides, that look demure, and snuffle; I do not much regard them, because it is their Trade; nor are they only at open defiance with this, but with all kind of learning. Yet I cannot see how any Good man, should be displeased, or think Religion any whit wronged, to see those sores and Biles of the Church brought to open view, (the only way to cure them) to see those (cursed Simoniacal patrons) roused from out their dens, to see such Mock-scholars, nay Mock-christians exposed to public laughter.— A Scrivener, a Boxmaker, a Clothworker, a Fuller, and such mechanical sordid people, must with unwashed hands now adays dare to offer at God's Altar, and yet these men must not be touched, but Religion (forsooth) suffers in it.— Read, and blush at thy credulity.— Reader, not to tire thee with a Preface, thou hast it verbatim, and punctually as it was acted. I confess, I would willingly have altered some things which upon more mature deliberation I have found to be subject to misconstructions, but that I knew the malice of some would upon that take advantage, to make the world believe, that that which hath, or shall be spoken against it, is true.— Read it with Candour and Discretion, and then call me  
Your Friend, PET. HAVSTED.   

Amicissimo suo PETRO HAVSTED invitatio ut Comoediam svam Prelo committat.  
QVid scrinij tenebris cerebri damnas opes,  
Gazasque opulentioris ingenij invides  
Luet? caloris enthet Genio sutis  
Inest tuo quod mille vatum pectora  
Ditet, animosque liberet inopia: jacet  
Supita virtus? evigilet. Calumnia  
Lauro rvinam struxit, ut ubique colubrae  
Convitijs epulentur. En! hóc effluit  
Martyrio Castalidum cruor, rivuli-  
Que sanguinis litantur. Exitium hilaris  
Spectas? nimium crudelis, eripe (dum licet)  
Flammis: oculos vei si beat spectaculum  
Vt opprimi Drams videas, preli ferat  
Tormenta; cruciatus, doloresque petat  
Omnes elegans ars quos habet, poematis  
Manebit illaesum decus, nec criminis  
Fatebitur labem ullius: in lucem hilaris  
Erumpe, laetusque intuere diem: joro  
Spectante, Camaenae Carolus plausum tuae  
Indulsit, invidid manibus torpentibus  
Vulgi: in memoriam hoc revoca, & post haec tibi  
Crimen erit venis tuts  
unquam relegare superbiam.  
Quod si prolexitas fuit  
Error, benigna Caesaris divinitas  
Ignoscat; avara tenaxque nimis Musa metuit  
Haberi epuias datura Regis auribus:  
Amplamque dotem expendere vatis studuit  
Luxurians ingenium: nil Tyria  
Vellera, purpuramque moror: subsellium  
Stipet corona papillionum, & citiùs  
Sitirem ab istis laudem; inanis splendor hic,  
Et inscitia superbiens ostro, dolor  
Ingens theatri est & molestia. Prodigus  
Autem nimis sum fellis, est mihi portia  
Minuta tantum, nec volo monopolium  
Bilis meae, orbi dividam, fixum animo  
Sedet generosè impendere; sed ecce manum  
Destituit charta, & huc usque ut solveret  
Obsequium penna officiosa, jam mihi  
Elapsa fugit. Vatis hoc furtum est pij.  
Agnoscite candorem: mori  
Hostes prohibet; stupiditas  
Nec haec iners vocabitur  
Sed inclyta patientia.  
Ed. Kemp.   

To the Author.  
Wouldst thou have ta'en my counsel (dearest friend)  
Some humble Dedication thou hadst penned  
To foul Detraction, swearing thou dost owe  
Thy work to her; because that she doth show  
By strength of Argument thy Labours be  
Most white, and from all base aspersions free.  
For Envy's virtue's parasite, and feeds  
Upon her trencher, than this work must needs  
be good, which doth at its sole charge maintain  
Envy so well that she doth burst again,  
And split her strutting gorge, she goes before  
Laughter in fatness, and commends thee more.   

To the same upon the Arraignment of his Comedy.  
THe Court once set, straightways a jury went  
Upon thy Comedy, was fully bent  
To find it guilty, though the King did sit  
As judge himself that day, and cleared it.  
If so, then let the foul-mouthed World condemn  
Thy Innocent Piece, show that thou canst contemn  
And slight the false Inditements which they bring  
To cast it, since 'tis quitted by the King,  
And all the Comic Laws; which not transgressed,  
Why shouldst thou be condemned, less to be pressed?  
That th' benefit o'th' Book, which wont to save  
From suffering, thou suffering thus may'st have.  
I. R.   

The Introduction.  Being a Dialogue betwixt Venus, Thetis, and Phoebus, sung by two Trebles, and a Base. Venus (being Phosphorus as well as Vesper) appearing at a window above as risen, calling to Sol, who lay in Thetis lap at the East side of the stage, canopied with an azure curtain: at the first word that Venus sung, the curtain was drawn, and they discovered. Venus. 
Drowsy Phoebus come away,  
And let out the longed for day,  
Leave thy Thetis silver breast,  
And open the casements of the East.  
'tis Venus calls, away, away,  
The waking mortals long for day.  Thetis. 
And let them long, 'tis just and right  
To shut them in eternal night,  
Whose deeds deserve no day; lie still,  
Arise not yet, lie still my Sun,  
My night begins when thou art gone.  Ven. 
He woo thee with a kiss to come away.  Thet. 
And I with forty for to stay.  Venus. 
I'll give to thee the fair Adonis' spear  
So thou wilt rise:  Thet. 
And I to keep thee here  
Will give a wreath of pearl as fair  
As ever Sea-Nymph yet did wear.  
'tis Thetis woos thee stay, O stay, O stay.  Venus. 
'tis Venus woos thee rise, O come away.  Phoebus. 
To which of these shall I mine ear incline?  Venus. 
Unto the upper world repair.  Thet. 
O no, I'll bind him in my flowing hair.  Phoebus. 
But see fond Mortals how they gaze  
On that same petty blaze?  
Thetis adieu, I am no longer thine,  
I must away, For if I stay,  
My Deity's quite undone,  
They will forget t' adore the rising Sun.  Here Phoebus arises from Thetis lap, and speaks. 
But what new spectacle of wonder's this?  
And have I lost my wonted Majesty  
Where with I use to strike a general blindness  
Through all the Stars? unto what height of pride  
Are they aspired, that thus with open eyes  
They dare outface me? Call out a powerful ray  
And make those saucy sparks confess that all  
Their lustre is a debt they owe to me.  Venus sings. 
Gently, gently, God of light,  
Profane not powers that are known  
To be greater than thine own:  
Here is not a fire doth shine  
That is beholding unto thine,  
They are of themselves divine.  Phoebus speaks. 
And bless them all the Gods. But how come I  
To be so blind today? so dull? so heavy?  
I know them now; Hail fairest Albion's King,  
Live still the envy of the world; and thou  
Resplendent Goddess, to view whose glorious face  
I have oft times in my swift course stood still;  
Be all propitious to thy wished delights.  
And since ye have vouchsafed your gracious presence  
Here at the muse's Grove, command their Patron,  
Who here stands pressed to serve ye.  Venus sings. 
Will he obey?  Phoeb. speaks. 
Or else let Daphne frown,  
Or Phaeton resume my Chariot.  Venus sings. 
Then in their names I do command thee here  
Lord of the year,  
To entertain  
This goodly Train,  
Call back that day of mine  
The sprightly Valentine.  Phoeb. speaks. 
Command me kill a Python, or recall  
The Lion or the Crabb: thou art too modest  
In thy requests; 'tis done, and for to add  
A greater honour to this day, behold  
I will recall those few spent minutes too  
Which have run out since I appeared, I'll back,  
And fetch new rays that amorous Valentine,  
This morning may brighter than ever shine.  At Phoebus his going in, the Chorus sing these two last lines. After the Dialogue, enter a Boy. 
Ha ha he, here be fine feats. (I hope we shall have a ballad made o''nt before night) ha ha he, the Sun must lay aside all his business, & be at leisure (forsooth) to fetch back St Valentine's day for them, ha ha he. In faith Gentlemen I pity ye, y'are like to have a goodly Comedy here, Plautus his Captives translated, or some such thing I warrant ye: why your Poet cannot endure a woman; and there are likely to be sweet raptures where the Muse is not amorous and sanguine. But let me see, now I think o''nt, I'll go fetch him out to ye, & ye shall laugh at him most miserably, & the Ladies too; troth do, he deserves it. He has hired me this Valentine's morning, (for so ye must suppose it) to lead him out hoodwinked with a black scarf, into the fields, because he would not see a woman. But Gods me! what have I forgot? I should have had mine ears stretched for it if I had missed it. Ye must suppose the Scene too to be here in England at a country village. Some low homely slight stuff 'twill be, I doubt: pray heavens he does not hear me. And here's another dainty absurdity too (which I care not much if I tell ye) concerning their clothes, which as far transcend the condition of the persons, as the court does the country. But that they hope the Court will excuse, for had it not been here, they had been forced (they say) to keep the true decorum. But to my charge whom I left at the door, till I had discovered whether the coast were clear. Come sir, now you may venture, you have a prospect as barren as an eunuch's chin.— O me! why he's run away. I'll be whipped if he has not smelled out my plot of exposing him to your view.— But here comes the Prologue, he perhaps brings some news of him; I'll leave ye to censure his legs and cringes.  Exit Boy.  

Prologue. Upon occasion of their Majesties coming being deferred.  

MOst sacred Majesties, if ye do wonder,  
To be saluted by an aged Prologue,  
Know that upon these temples I do weave  
An Emblem of our Mother's fate, who since  
She has in expectation of your presence  
Numbered the tedious moments, is grown old:  
For each expecting minute that has passed  
Has seemed an hour, and every hour a year.  
But will ye see what power ye retain? He pulls off his head of hair and beard.  
we by your presence are made young again.    



Actus primus, Scena prima.  Placenta, Constantina as a Boy, Isabella in Constantina's clothes. Pla. 
FOrtune as yet is kind, well done my boy,  
Hold up your head, a little higher, yet,  
And can you weep?  Isa. 
I can, & have some cause,  
O Lucius!  Pla. 
And sigh?  Isab. 
I would I could not.  
Most wretched Isabella.  Pla. 
Constantina. She calls at the window  Isa. 
When shall mine eyes feed on that blessed sight?  
Or when wilt thou with one kind look dissolve  
This cloud which now obscures me? and makes me seem  
Another from myself?  Pla. 
she stirs not yet  
Why Constantina.  Isab. 
O my Lucius!  
Might I but once more see thee, I could go  
Unto the grave methinks with such a look  
As should make death enamoured on me.  Pla. 
Ha?  
Not yet? O what a sleepy girl is this?  Isab. 
But in this house I've learned Pandora lives,  
Who now does reap my harvest: here I hope  
I may enjoy at least a sight of him,  
And that is all that ever I must hope for. Constan. appears at the window  
But I shall be observed.  Pla. 
O now she comes.  Const. 
Placenta.  Pla. 
Not so loud (take heed) for fear  
The Dragon should be waking; have you yet  
Got on your masculine habit?  Con. 
Long ago.  Pla. 
Descend then, if your mind be still the same,  
Before the Sun rise to betray your flight.  Const. 
But have you dressed the Boy in my apparel?  Pla. 
'tis done, and not a creature but myself  
And the dumb night are guilty of it.  Const. 
Well,  
I come.  Pla. 
Introth I do confess I wonder  
What should induce this peevish girl to take  
This strange disguised habit, and forsake  
Her uncle's house, but it is love forsooth:  
Well, be it what it will, I have procured,  
By her entreaty, and the gold she gave me,  
A boy as near her stature as I could,  
Whom I have clothed in her own apparel,  
And veiled in her scarf. Come on my boy.  
You have not yet forgot, I hope, th' instructions  
I read to you within. Come, let me see  
You vent a sigh now. Excellent: but be sure  
You speak not very often.  Isab. 
Doubt not that:  
theyare shallow griefs that make a noise.  Pla. 
Well said.  
But tell me you, sir boy, what was't that made  
You leave the London Players?  Isab. 
Indeed forsooth  
I was abused there; beside, that trade  
Begins to fail of late, most of your Gallants  
Are grown so wise and frugal, that they choose  
Rather to spend their money on a whore  
(Which they call necessary) then on such toys.  Pla. 
Go to, you are a wag. See now she comes. Enter Const.  
But o the Father! what pismire is this?  
Ah, I shall swoon to look upon her legs:  
Surely one blast of wind will break them quite.  
Now out upon her! mine are mill-posts to them.  Const. 
Placenta, you do see how much I trust you,  
That put mine honour thus into your hands.  
Lead you this picture of mine into my chamber,  
And there instruct him how he should behave  
Himself, that no suspicion of my flight  
Be nourished by my Uncle, till I be  
Past his recalling. So farewell good midwife.  Pla. 
How my left eyebrow beats? I do not like it,  
It does presage no good. My Constantina,  
Go back again I pray you, in good sooth  
'tis very dangerous thus discompanied  
To undertake a journey.  Const. 
All in vain:  
I am resolved either to find my Cleopes,  
Or else to sleep with death closed in mine arms. Exit Constan.  Pla. 
If it must needs be so, why then farewell.  
I cannot choose but weep: sweet Constantina—  
Well, 'twas the goodest Gentlewoman— but she's gone—  
Many a dear morsel has she helped me to—  
But we must all depart— I do remember  
When she was but a little one, she ever  
Was fond of me— but I must be content.  
Come on my boy, let not your face so much  
Be seen— when I have shown her lodging to you,  
And left you there— I cannot yet forbear,  
It will not from my heart— I'll go and visit  
The fair Pandora, that kind Gentlewoman,  
And see if that her closet can afford  
Any good thing to hold the heart. Come boy. Exeunt.   

ACT. 1. SCEN. 2.  Anteros solus. Ant. 
I knew there was a woman in the wind.  
I smelled her. Stay.— but now she's gone— I'll forward.  
Why I am not at leisure now to take  
An ounce of Tobacco in a week, they do  
So haunt me up and down. And this forsooth  
Is our Saint Valentine, wherein our lovers  
Do use to imitate jackdaws, and Rooks,  
Do bill and couple. But (my stars be thanked)  
I'm now delivered from those petulant females.  
But stay, and let me recollect myself.  
What part about me is't (I wonder) can  
Be guilty of their sin of loving me?  
Introth methinks I am not very fair;  
A pretty winter countenance I wear  
After a cup: and I have often seen  
A better nose dwell better eyes between.  
As for my legs (not for to flatter them)  
Surely I think under a boot they might  
Become the Court, so I refrained to play  
At Goff— but oh the traitor's apprehended,  
I have him fast. Oh thou pernicious nose,  
Rebellious member, have I so often raised  
Thy dull complexion with the spirits of sack  
Unto that height that thou hast dared t' outface  
The Sun in Cancer, and have I this reward?  
But if I do not humble thee again,  
Reduce thee to thy former state of paleness  
With rotgut, and cuds-nigs— let me be married.  
But whom have we here?  
'tis Lucius one of our loving fools:  
O ho? why then I must be tortured,  
That's all that I can say, I must be tortured.   

ACT. 1. SCEN. 3.  Anteros, Lucius, Endymion. Luc. 
Ah my Endymion, seest thou yond rising Sun?  End. 
I do, but what of that?  Luc. 
Why nothing boy  
But at his presence why do those lesser-fires  
Pluck in their shamefaced heads? dost thou not mark  
Dull heavy Page? I can but meditate  
Upon the wit of Nature, who by objects  
Low and inanimate, as is that Sun—  Ant. 
Now heavens be good unto me, this is called  
Lovers philosophy.  Luc. 
does read unto us  
A lecture of her higher mysteries.  
What dost thou think is meant by that same Sun?  
And those extinguished tapers?— he alas  
Poor aged wretch but coldly imitates  
That which Pandora does unto the life.  
Whilst she is absent thousands of petty beauties  
Do twinkle in the night, let her appear,  
And they all vanish.  Ant. 
Ha brave, is not this dainty? for all this,  
Surely the man would take't unkindly now  
If I should go and tell him he was mad.  Luc. 
Endymion, lend me thine eyes a little;  
Dost thou desire to see a Map, a Model  
Of all the world in brief and in one word?  
View this— why readst thou not? thy happy lips  
Should thirst methinks to have that blessed air  
Divorce them. read.  End. 
Pandora.  Luc. 
Ah Pandora.  
Look here's the Sun, this place does jupiter  
Possess, here Venus, and there Phoebe; mark—  
Here is the Earth, but in her bravery,  
And smiling as when Sol does sleep betwixt  
The twining Gemini.  Ant. 
Thou daring mortal:  
But where in this your Idol of the world  
Is Styx, Cocytus, or the blessed place  
Of the dear Furies? or the three chapped Dog?  
Are they without the verges of the World?  Luc. 
Fortune! how happy were I was this face  
Of thine not counterfeit. Speak Endymion:  
But art thou sure that my Neander drew  
The fair Constantina for his Valentine?  Endy. 
I never said it Sir.  Luc. 
How never said it?  End. 
Only her name, so was Pandora yours.  Luc. 
O too too true presage of both our fortunes.  
But let it be. When I do violate  
That love, that more than mortal bond, wherewith  
My soul is tied unto Neander, may  
I fall unpitied, may no gentle sigh  
Be spent at my last obsequies, may I want  
A man to wish me again, would that prevail.  Ant. 
Without all question this is Magic— oh  
How I do fear a Metamorphosis.  Luc. 
But I do feel a poverty of words  
Begin to cease me. Good Endimyon,  
Where is my boy Luscinio? Call him in,  
That he may touch a string which may dissolve me  
Into a flood of tears— come on my boy, Enter Lusc. with a Lute.  
Oh teach that hollow pensive Instrument  
To give a true relation of my woes  
Whilst I lie here, and with my sighs keep time.  Ant. 
O how I sweat. 300000 fevers  
Are now upon me. O—  

The Song.  
Have pity (Grief) I can not pay  
The tribute which I owe thee, tears;  
Alas those Fountains are grown dry,  
And 'tis in vain to hope supply  
From others eyes, for each man boars  
Enough about him of his own  
To spend his stock of tears upon:   Ant. 
O O O. Will it be ever done?  

Woo then the heavens (gentle Love)  
To melt a Cloud for my relief  
Or woo the Deep or woo the Grave,  
Woo what thou wilt so I may have  
Wherewith to pay my debt, for Grief  
Has vowed, unless I quickly pay  
To take both life and love away.   Ant. 
Gods, and the World! you everlasting Twanger—  
Avoid.  Lusc. 
What means the Gentleman?  Ant. 
I'll tell you.  
The Gentleman does mean for to consult  
With the entrails of your breeches, boy; the Gentleman  
Does mean to whip you boy, unless you straight  
Avoid the place with that seducing Fiddle.  
And you his Squire his Pandar that procures  
This bandy Cockatrice Music for him. fly.   

ACT. 1. SCE. 4.  Anteros. Lucius. Ant. 
How fares it with our Lucius?  Luc. 
As with one  
That is of all men the most miserable.  
Ah my Pandora, when I record thy name,  
(Thy name that's bounded with that sacred number  
As showing all Perfection bides in thee)  
methinks the numerous Orbs dwell in mine ear,  
After which sound all others seem unpleasing,  
Harsh, void of Harmony— Pandora— oh  
How sweet a life had the Chameleon  
Might he but ever feed upon such airs!  Ant. 
Am I not yet transformed? methinks I feel  
myself becoming Wolf— I am half Bear already.  Luc. 
Live happy still, and when thine aged head  
Loaden with years Shall be enveloped  
Within this earth, may a perpetual spring  
Be on thy Grave.  Ant. 
Shall I put forth my Paw,  
And so command him silence?  Luc. 
But when I  
Forget to love thee or thy memory,  
May my white name be stained with the blot  
Of baseness, and I die without one tear  
To wash it out.  Ant. 
Forget to love her?— oh  
Not for a world. And ere't be long we shall  
Have some decayed piece of Arras, that  
Is brought to his last suit, and has no more  
Lands for to sell or mortgage for new plush  
Will beg you for your fair revenues Sir  
— Death Sir I cannot flatter,  
Let me not live a minute if I can.  
You look not like yourself in that same passion;  
It is not manlike; e'er I'd lose a sigh,  
Or set my soul one scruple of a note  
The lower for these scarecrows in clean linen  
These chippings of nature: I'd damn myself  
To a thatched Alehouse, and St. Kitts Tobacco,  
And dabble there eternally:  Luc. 
Ah Anteros, thou art too rough a Surgeon  
To handle my wounds.  Ant. 
Pandora, ah Pandora.  
Does not this sound deliciously from a man?  Luc. 
Do not blaspheme good Anteros; she is  
The model of the world.  Ant. 
Why so am I,  
And you, and every man beside, we all  
Are little worlds.  Luc. 
But my Pandora is  
The abstract of them all; when she was borne,  
The whole house of heaven did meet, and there decreed  
Only in her mortality should reach  
Perfection.  Ant. 
And for heaven's cause why in her?  
Are we not all made of the self same clay?  
And of the same ingredients? by the same workman?  
'Tis madness Lucius this, it is not love.  Luc. 
Sir I must leave you.  Ant. 
Nay but stay a while,  
I have not finished yet. Besides all this,  
If you do love her so, what hinders then  
But you might marry her, since (as I hear)  
The Girl is not composed of adamant  
Or flint, but of a supple and kind nature,  
And loves you too?  Luc. 
O my dear friend Neander,  
Shall I do this to thee? to such a friend?  Ant. 
Oh I am undone. Farewell.   

ACT. 1. SCE. 5.  Lucius in insidiis, Pandoura. Neander. Luc. 
But see Pandora.  
Oh how amazed and sudden is the flight  
Of all the spirits of darkness, when the day  
But shows her face!  Pan. 
What if I take this way?  
It may be I shall find them in the grove,  
Whither they oft resort— but stay, perchance  
They may be in the arbour that doth look  
Into the forest.  Luc. 
Oh ye immortal Gods!  
Why did ye suffer those vain Lunatic Poets  
So much to antedate the works of nature,  
Who living many ages since did write  
I know not what of many Nymphs and Graces,  
Muses and sirens? they are mere fables all;  
With my Pandora they had all their births,  
And when she dies they'll perish with her.  Pan. 
Ah?  
How like unto this Dazy was I once  
Whilst I did live recluse! my innocent heart  
Like to this little Globe of gold, enclosed  
Within the whiteness of my thoughts, was safe  
From all the violence that Love, or shame  
His child could do: but when his warmer beams  
Displayed that Ivory guard, and laid me open  
Unto the tyranny of his assaults,  
I was— but I will sigh out all the rest.  
Ah Lucius.  Luc. 
Oh happy name!  Pan. 
Why Lucius?  
Neander is as dear to me as he.  
Dost thou not blush to speak't* thou shame of woman?  
But here he comes, I will address myself. Enter Nean.  
With all the winning Graces that I have  
To entertain him.  Luc. 
'tis my friend Neander.  Nean. 
Fair Nymph, God save you.  Pan. 
Dearest love Neander.  
The welcom'st man alive.  Nean. 
Nay but sweet Lady  
Forbear th' encounter.  Pan. 
Whether dost thou turn  
So cruelly from her that loves thee more  
Than her own soul? are you not well good Sir?  Nean. 
You see I walk, look fresh, and laugh. (ha, ha, he)  
Symptoms of one that is not very sick.  Pan. 
But am I thus despised?  Nean. 
You're troublesome.  
Ha, ha, he, 'tis pretty, very pretty  
* How scurvily doth sorrow laugh? (ha, ha, he) aside.  
Most excellent, beyond compare (ha ha, he)  
Why do you follow me?  
I do not fell complexion Lady, nor  
Have I the art to cure the tympany,  
I have no great devotion to the tub  
Nor the hot house, as yet, what are you rampant?  Pan. 
But pray thee speak Neander, am I so  
Deformed grown of late, for to deserve  
All this neglect?  Nean. 
What shall I answer? Madam,  
If you have spoke all that you mean to speak  
And have no greater business, I desire  
I may crave pardon, I must take my leave,  
I have affairs expect me. O misery!  
That which I long for most, I fly from farthest.  
Where shall I find my Lucius?   

ACT. 1. SCE. 6.  Lucius. Pandoura. Neander. Luc. 
What is he gone?  Pan. 
Lucius, were you so nigh, and not discovered?  
All hail, but whither in such haste my love?  
If thou dost love me stay a little.  Luc. 
Love you?  
Now all the God's forbid it. I love you?  
My better Angel guard me from such a sin.  
Should I love you, a Thief?  Pan. 
A thief?  Luc. 
A thief  
I and the worst of Thieves—* Villain thou liest. aside.  Pan. 
But why a Thief? Speak.  Nean. 
My divining soul  
Tells me that Lucius is not far from hence. Redit in scenam Neander.  
Ha! it is he, I will observe a little  Luc. 
Lady, I'll tell you, since you do so long  
To hear your praises trumpeted to the world,  
First, thou hast robbed thy Father, thine own Father,  
Of all that little stock of virtue and goodness  
Which nature gave him, and (most covetous)  
Hast poured it to thy greater heap; besides  
Thou hast undone thy Sister, stolen from her  
All that was beautiful and lovely in her;  
That fair majestic straightness which attracts  
The eyes of thousands to admire, Was hers;  
Those rosy buds that open on your cheeks  
Were cropped out of her garden; upon her ruins  
Is that fair edifice of thine erected:  
Last, thou hast stolen from me and from Neander  
(Which are not two that have deserved the worst  
Of thee in all the world) our happiness  
All our content, our joy, our very selves.  
You see how amiable a creature you are,  
How well deserving love. Should I love you?  
I'd first embrace a Succubus, court the plague,  
Or kiss a cloud that's big with lightning— (heavens, Aside.  
Have ye no thunderbolts in store to strike  
This sacrilegious head that thus blasphemes  
One of your dearest pieces?—) I love you?  
Whose face dressed up in that same innocent lawn  
Shows like a dunghill set about with Lilies.  
* (Thou art a perjured wretch)— should I love you! Aside.  
Whose eyes are like two fired barrels set  
Upon a Beacon only to astonish Aside.  
And fright the neighbouring people—* (oh my heart!  
It is a hundred thousand miles betwixt  
Thee and my tongue)— what do you meditate on?  Pan. 
The nearest way unto the grave.  Luc. 
The grave?  
If thou wouldst have the shortest cut to hell,  
To that same receptacle of black souls,  
(Where such as die for love do walk in shades  
As dark as were their thoughts, whilst they lived here)  
Lend me thy hand and I will show it thee.  Pan. 
Let it be speedy then good Lucius.  Luc. 
Why thou art at thy journey's end already.  Pan. 
Where's that?  Luc. 
'Mongst the departed souls, below  
Where the dire furies have their habitation,  
'Tis in this breast.  Pan. 
Why dost not open then  
And let me in?— Oh if they live so here,  
Farewell for ever to the upper world.  Nean. 
Ha? does he embrace her? sure it cannot be.  Luc. 
Away thou prostitute, immodest, go.  Nean. 
Who is't dares say I must not love this man?  Luc. 
Or you, or I must leave this place.  Pan. 
Stay Lucius.  
'Tis I that will be gone, the most unhappy  
Of all, on whom nature hath written woman;  
Forsaken Constantina, thou and I  
Will have a Dialogue in tears anon. Exit.  Luc. 
Neander!  Nean. 
Lucius! They embrace and so go out.   

ACT. 1. SCEN. 7.  lively. His boy. 6 Suitors to Mistress Ursely. Liu. 
ay, ay, love on, ha, ha, he, and see what ye will get  
By that at last, I'll love my self, myself, ha, ha, he,  
This day old Lively thou art just fourscore,  
Quickly some Sack, I have not yet baptised  
Mine eyes this morning as I use to do.  
Why boy? ha, ha. I am as lusty now,  
As full of active spirits, as when I wore  
But twenty on my back, ha ha, he, this laughing  
sure's restorative above your gold,  
Or all your dearer drugs. The very thought  
How quaintly I shall gull my expecting Scholars  
My Neophytes that gape to hear the news  
When I shall nod into the grave, does add  
Such vigour to me, that I do not feel  
Not feel the ground I stand upon. 
* Gan. Filpot passes over into justice Hooks house, after him Tem. All  But see  
More Suitors still— 
* Then Arth. Armest. and Zeal. Know.  Now they begin to flock.  Arth. Arm. 
Sir if I may advise you wade no farther  
Into this business, but desist; I have  
A promise (I'll assure you) from the justice.  Zealous Kn. 
Sir I may use the same words unto you  
I have a promise too, but yesterday  
My Father did present him with a horse  
Of Robin-red-breast's getting— 
* They strive who shall go first into HOO. house.  by your leave.  Art. Ar. 
Nay Sir come on, if you be good at that.—  Liu. 
You have a promise. God-a-mercy horse. ha, ha, he.  
These and some dozen more do daily haunt  
This cormorant's house, and all (good men) pretend  
It is pure love unto his crooked daughter  
That draws them thither, when there's not one of 'em  
That would vouchsafe her a look, nay hardly a thought  
Unless it were for to contemn her; but  
There is a thing they call a Parsonage  
An impropriate Parsonage which th' well given Matrons  
Have rescued from the laity, and returns  
After my death unto the Church, which living  
The justice here has sold them, but reserving  
The first donation for himself, with which  
He intends to put his foolish daughter off.  
'Twas once my brother's land, but this same Hook  
By a golden bait did pluck it from him: well,  
It is no matter, I have my life in it. Ha, ha, he.  
But I will cheat them all, will cozen them.  Enter Boy with a glass of Sack. 
Why Boy.  Boy. 
Here Sir.  Liu. 
Well said my honey, well said.  
Oh how it smiles upon me! (hum hum) give it me  
This is mine Antidote 'gainst the scythe of time.  
He that desires to live, let him do thus— He drinks.  
Drink Sack i'th' morning. Boy, another cup.  
How now? another? see how he prunes himself. Enter Stutch.  Stutch. 
Boy, there's a teston for you, see you look  
Well to my Nag— I must be generous now.  
But let me see, I will accost him thus.  
Sir if it please your worship— (it must be so)  
These Country justices do love a life  
For to be worshipped at every word,  
I come now from my Lady.  Liu. 
(And you may  
Return again unto her Ladyship  
And tell her that old Lively is not yet  
Intended for to die.  Stutch. 
And do desire  
That as you shall approve of my good parts—  
Well 't will do— now I will knock—  
But I will open and enter, 'tis a Solecismo  
For to be modest in such businesses.  The Boy with another glass of Sack. Liu. 
Well done my Squire o'th' bottles, stand you there.  
Sir I do come now from my Lady, ha, ha, he,  
And do desire, that as you shall approve  
Of my good parts— ha, ha, he— He drinks.  
Well take the glass, and get you home, hum, hum, hum.  Hug. 
If I can win the Girl, I'll find a trick Enter Hugo Obligation.  
For to dispatch old Lively presently  
And with much ease; a piece of bread and a pin  
Will do the cure, or else an honest burr  
Leapt up in butter.  Liu. 
Here's a precious rogue,  
Oh it is Hugo Obligation  
The precise Scrivener, that these three years' space  
Has laboured for orders, this same villain  
Sure is the likeliest man to carry her—  Hugo. 
But see where Lively stands, I'll not be seen. Exit.  Liu. 
Being one whom he does use in all his Covenants.  
But I'll out live them all, the Knaves. I'll now  
Go taste a bowl of pure refined air  
Upon yond hill. Exit.   

ACT. 1. SCE. 8.  Anteros. Loveall. Ant. 
Yet stay a little, who is this? he's gone.  
Once more the coast is clear, now I'll adventure  
Towards the Shepherds door: not far from hence  
Hid in a thicket I have provided for me  
A Shepherds robes, these, if I can prevail  
With this same Stipes for to undertake  
A Servant of my commendation,  
Will I straight leap into, and so remain  
Disguised with him, for (as I understand)  
The family doth consist of himself and's dog,  
As for his wife she seldom is at home  
Being a famous Midwife. Blessed house!  
Surely in such a place Hippolytus  
Did hunt away his solitary hours.  
But I forget (tick tock) why Shepherd, Stipes. How?  
Not yet awake?  Lou. 
Is not this Anteros? Enter Love all.  Ant. 
How I was dealt withal by nature when  
She moulded this same lump of clay together,  
And seasoned it with soul, I know not, but  
Let me get out o'th' world with obloquy  
If ever I could find in all the herd  
Of womankind yet so much excellence  
As could procure a sigh, or kindle in me  
The least spark of a desire.  Lou. 
'tis he, his phrase  
Betrays him.  Ant. 
I confess like Whelps or Kitlings  
Whilst they are young, and suck, and do not know  
The use of tongue, they're pretty creatures, and  
They may be looked upon without the danger  
Of either stool or vomit— but—  Lou. 
But— Well Sir Ruffian, I hope to see this Blasphemy of yours against that feathered Deity sent home with a shaft in your bosom for interest ere long.  Ant. 
What my little ubiquitary Love-all? my Page of the Smock? my commodity above stairs? my Court Shuttlecock? tossed from one Lady to another? The Kernel of thy glove sweet lack.  Lou. 
Take shell and all.  Ant. 
Why here's a Parcel of man's flesh of another temper now, that has the art of placing his affections wisely, can love one because she's fair, a second because she's modest, and has his packets of reasons in readiness too; if he meets with a wanton Girl, that property takes him, there is hope of activity, she will not fill a bed like Pygmalion's Image before he sacrificed to Venus: if she be rude, and ignorant, her harmless simplicity catches him; he loves this for the graceful writhing of her neck; another because she can veil her borrowed teeth neatly with her Fan when she venters at laughter: nothing can scape him, every part of woman is full of lime-twigs to him: which though it be an humour contrary to mine, who care for none, yet I like it far above your whining constancy as savouring more of the Man.  Lou. 
True. For why should I confine my love to one Circle? we see that laborious creature the Bee, which is often set before us for a Copy of industry, not always droning upon one flower, but as soon as she has sucked the sweetness from one, throws her little airy body upon a second, and so to a third, till at last she comes home with her thighs laden with that pretty spoil.  An. 
Well said my Love-all, I perceive thou wilt never die for love then.  Lou. 
No, If I do, let me lie when I am dead by that Cynic Philosopher with a staff in my hand, to fright the beast sand fowls from my unburied carcase.—  
But is there any news I pray thee grown  
Up in this country since I went to court?  Ant. 
O tanto e piu.  
First Cleopes your sister's Lover—  Lou. 
What? he is not dead I hope?  Ant. 
I would he were.  
Is gone, has forsook her.  Lou 
How?  Ant. 
And she forsooth  
Since his departure has betook herself  
Unto a veil, silence, and tears; in which  
Monastic habit she does spend her days.  
I do but tell you by tradition Sir,  
Not from myself; but this I can assure you,  
It is with us the Parenthesis of eating.  Lou. 
there's nothing man within me. After such vows?  
Such protestations? but the Gods make Love-all  
No creature, if he does not suffer for't,  
Buy this disloyalty of his, at a dear rate.  Ant. 
Can you be quiet? next your fair Kinswoman  
Sweet Mistress Ursly (who without all question  
Was Kitlin to Nib, o'th' Queen of Faries Kitchen,  
Sent to your Uncle for a Newyear's gift  
Upon exchange by the Elf) has the Parsonage  
Old Lively lives in hung on her crooked back;  
With which fair bait, your good and virtuous Uncle  
Does angle for some young and hungry Scholar,  
And daily expects the taking of the Gudgeon.  
This very hour no less than 6 or 7  
Are nibbling at it, but the hook is seen;  
Your Uncle is not cunning in his fishing,  
And so I pray you tell him—  Lou. 
But stay Anteros.  
I have discovered (unless mine eyes deceive me)  
A stranger thing than is all this you told me,  
What's that i' your hat? 'tis not a Valentine  
I hope?  Ant. 
But I have got a counter hope  
Against that hope of yours; I hope it is.  Lou. 
But art thou turned a Lover? hast thou got  
A Mistress? thou a Mistress? let me see  
That I may worship that great name, that has  
Begot this miracle in thee.  Ant. 
Away,  
Keep back those common eyes, they be profane.  Lou. 
By all the lips of honour I must see't.  Ant. 
Come you have learned such perfumed oaths at Court,  
By all their feathermen and Tire-women,  
Boxes of sucus, cabinets for ceruse—  
Nay look you now— not for a million.  Lou. 
For a far lesser sum sweet Sir nay come  
I must and will.  Ant. 
Death! what a mad man's this?  
Why if you must and will, then see.  Lou. 
What's here?  
Rex et regina magnae Britanniae? what's this? what's this?  
What are the King and Queen thy Valentines? ha, ha, he.  Ant. 
Yes marry are they; why do you laugh so Love-all?  Lou. 
Who can refrain? ha, ha, he.  Ant. 
For whom should I admire,  
Love, or adore more? I tell thee jack, I care not  
For such poor weak Idolaters that lie prostrate  
To every little Star that can but twinkle;  
Those petty votaries of Egypt, which  
Worship this Onion and the Leek— for me  
I will not bend a knee unless it be  
Unto the Sun or Moon.  Lou. 
Thou art mad, stark mad,  
A citizen of Bedlam.  Ant. 
I am mad,  
Yes, Yes, I am. You then that are so wise He pulls him back.  
Enjoy your wisdomness alone— farewell.  Lou. 
Come back i'th' name of goodness— Anteros—  Ant. 
My company may infect you Sir, I am mad.  Lou. 
What is my little boy grown sullen now,  
And will not eat its dinner?  Ant. 
Well, what then?  Lou. 
This day my Anteros I will dedicate  
To thee and laughter, tomorrow I will study  
Some deep revenge for my abused sister  
Upon that villain; but no more, thy hand.  
Shall we be merry and laugh each man his rubber?  Ant. 
I'm for you for a single game or so.  Lou. 
Well, shall I make a motion then? stay you He offers to go out hastily.  
But here a little.  Ant. 
Call you this a motion?  
One word before you travail, whether now?  Lou. 
I will return immediately.  Ant. 
So you shall. He offers again and Anteros pulls him back.  
Speak ere you go.  Lou. 
Well, if I must I will.  
Last night it was my chance to overtake  
Upon the way a brace of fine tame fools,  
Which I have brought along with me, these now He offers to go, Anteros pulls him back.  
Will I go fetch unto thee.  Ant. 
Peradventure.  
Surely the man has Quicksilver in's heels.  
I pray thee tell me, what are they for creatures?  Lou. 
we shall lose time.  Ant. 
Rather shall gain it Sir.  Lou. 
The first of them is a fine spiced gallant,  
One that has been some three years in coddling  
At th' Inns o'th' Court, and (as he tells me) intends  
To lie, and soak a while to make him relish  
In the rose-water of a Knighthood, strewed  
o'er with the Sugar of a yearly rent  
Of some nine hundred— after the old man's death.  
And all this cookery is to please the palate  
Of some nice Minion, who to make her weight  
Drags peradventure some three thousand after her.  
The thing (to do it right) beside the managing of its rapier, and a pretty competency of play parcels, can salute you, and take its leave of you in French, but so miserably harsh that any one may conclude, he never travailed for his language further than Littleton— He—  Ant. 
Is a very ass, no more of him; but what's the other?  Lou. 
His kinsman. What he is now he knows not himself, else he would have told me, but he has been a Lawyer; Clerke in's days, his prattle is altogether about the complexions, and he will read you a lecture of simple bawdry for some two hours in your ear if you'll suffer him, and after all this, he feels you by the nose, and cries Mark the end on 't.  Ant. 
And is this all? give me thy hand, I have a brace of the like creatures at my service. I will play with thee from a Stiver to a Guilder, from a Guilder to a Doller, from a Doller to a French crown, from a French crown to a pound, from a pound, to a hundred (mark what I say) in the way of friendship, with those two grand coxcombs thou hast all to be worded so.  Lou. 
You will, are you so confident?  Ant. 
Yes marry am I. Only I will not cloy you with an inventory of your dishes before hand, take this in brief. One of them is a Scholar newly warm in a lambskin, Nephew to old bully Lively, at whose house they are both now, the other is an elder brother, and an heir, and he shall tell you so as soon as he sees you. But stay where shall our Campus Martius be?  Lou. 
No place Better than this, but speak the hour.  Ant. 
Let me see, [He looks upon his watch ]'tis just eight now, some half an hour after nine I will not fail.  Lou. 
To bring your champions with you.  Ant. 
Or else I'll make good the place myself, which I would be loath to do I tell you. Exit.  Lou. 
My first work now is for to see my Uncle,  
And as I hear my melancholy sister.  
That done through the back door that leads to th' Stables  
(where they are taking order for their horses.)  
I will go visit my two creatures and  
Prepare them for the Combat.  
Finis Actus Primi.    

The Song.  

Cupid if a God thou art,  
Transfix this Monsters stubborn heart.  
But if all thy shafts be flown,  
And thy quiver empty grown,  
Here be Ladies that have eyes  
Can furnish thee with new supplies.  
Yet winged Archer do not shoot at all,  
'Tis pity that he should so nobly fall.    


ACT. 2. SCEN. 1.  Stipes making of himself ready with his Sheephook in his hand. Mistress Ursely, Merda. Sti. 
Heigh hoe—  
'Tis a fine morning this as I have seen,  
And a most early Spring— but daughter Merda,  
Why Merda I say, why daughter Merda, what,  
Have not the Fleas yet made a breakfast of you?  
You'll rise? or do you mean that Mistress Ursely  
Shall take you in your bed? she'll not be long  
Ere she be here— Oh me! she's here already. Mrs. Ursely enters.  
Why Merda, Merda I say, go to,  
ay, I by'r Lady.  Vrs. 
Fa, la, la, la, I have found six Checkstones in my She sings.  
Father's yard, all in my Father's yard, and now I  
Will go see if Merda will play with me—  
Oh Stipes, where is your daughter Merda?  Sti. 
Oh sweet Mistress Ursely, oh that I were a young  
Scholar now for your sake; ha, this is she that  
The beggars fight for: come on i' faith young Mistress,  
Which of all the blackcoats do you love best?  Vrs. 
blackcoats? I care not this for any of them,  
I ne'er will love any but Anteros;  
But pray you Stipes call your daughter Merda,  
Is she not up yet?  Sti, 
Merda, will you come? or do you long until  
I fetch you out— At length forsooth: are Enter Merda.  
You not ashamed of this you great Maukin you?  Vrs. 
Oh Merda, will you play at Checkstones with me?  Sti. 
Where is your answer, and your curtsy Maiden?  
If it please you forsooth, say.  Mer. 
If it please you forsooth say.  Sti. 
Say? thou filthy harlotry, thou;  
Oh here's a Girl brought up most daintily;  
Well was it not for shame I'd take you up— He offers.  Mer. 
Father, good Father, forgive me but this once, I'll never  
Do so any more.  Vrs. 
Stipes, you shall forgive her,  
I'll make my Father take his house from you,  
And the North close, unless—  Sti. 
Thank your young Mistress; young Mistress I  
Do thank you say.  Mer. 
Young Mistress I do thank you say.  Sti. 
Again? but oh the diggers!  
What do I see? My Sheep have quite digressed  
Their bounds, and leapt into the several.  
Whu, whu, why Scab, the last, the last, there scab  
'Tis the best Cur  
That ever mumbled crust.  
How daintily he catched that Sherehog! there,  
So, so, au, au: why so; haup, haup, you rogue  
But I will follow him.   

ACT. 2. SCEN. 2.  Mistress Ursely. Merda. Urs. 
Come Merda, will you play now?  Mer. 
No, I won't unless you'll give me those bracelets.  Vrs. 
Take them.  Mer. 
And your gloves to.  Vrs. 
Here, fa, la, la.  Mer. 
Stay while I put them on though.  Urs. 
What shall we play for?  Mer. 
Two pins a game.  Vrs. 
Stake then: heigh ho Anteros!  Mer. 
How many shall we make up?  Vrs. 
One and thirty.  Mer. 
Will you have Winter, or Summer?  Vrs. 
— Summer— no Winter.  
Mi, Winter, Winter, Winter:  Mer. 
But you said Summer first, I won't play.  Vrs. 
Au, but I said Winter afterward though.  Mer. 
Begin then.  Urs. 
One—  Mer. 
So, so, you touched the other stone, now I must play.  Vrs. 
You lie, I did not touch it.  Mer. 
You lie, you did touch it, and you shall have no pins here.  Urs. 
shan't I so? but I will though; do you scratch hussy?  Mer. 
I that I will scratch, and bite too.  Urs. 
Give me my gloves, and bracelets again.  Mer. 
You may go look 'em, I won't, as long as you gave  
Them me. Give a thing, and take a thing  
That's the Devils gold-ring.  Urs. 
Well if I don't tell my Father of this, you puss you.  Mer. 
You monkey.  Urs. 
You Bastard.  Mer. 
Do you abuse one's friends you jade you?  Vrs. 
And you call me jade you are a Whore.  Mer. 
Do you call Whore?  Urs. 
I that I will call Whore, well, well, the next time  
That you eat any Cheesecakes at our house  
You shall have better luck shall you.  Mer. 
Your Cheesecakes? we have as good of our own.  Vrs. 
Au, hau, you shall ne'er make no dirt pies  
With me in our barn hussy.  Mer. 
Who cares? than you shall gather no more Violets, nor  
Primroses in our Close.  Urs. 
Your Close? I'll gather there in spite of your teeth.  
It is my Father's Close, so it is, so it is.  
Your Father does but hire it— Oh here he comes  
Here he comes, here comes my Father,  
Now you shall see.  Mer. 
Au but I'll run home.   

ACT. 2. SCE. 3.  justice Hook, the six Suitors, Mistress Ursely, lively. Hook. 
Come on, I am not of that rank of Patrons  
Which set to sale the livings of the Church.  
(Oh are you here my daughter? wipe your nose;)  
I take no bonds in secret, sell no horse  
For his price centuple, nor do I send  
The eager suitors up unto my Lady,  
That she might judge which is the better gifted.  
(Sir if your father will be bound to pay He takes Stuc. aside.  
The first years revenues, you are the man shall speed,  
A reservation of mine own tithes too  
Must be concluded on before you have it)  
But as a true lover of virtue, do  
Choose rather to confer a double good  
Then the least damage on the man I deal with.  
Behold my young and tender daughter here;  
I do confess she's not the rarest piece  
That ever nature drew, nor is it fit  
That such as you, who either are, or should be  
Wedded unto your Books, should have a loud  
And clamorous beauty to disturb your studies.  
You need not fear the thought of her perfection.  
Will call you from a piece of Greek to read  
Miracles in her face. Hold up your head, Enter lively.  
And tell me now which of this goodly troop  
You have most mind to, for on him will I  
Bestow old Lively's Parsonage, and thee  
In Marriage.  Liue. 
Excellent, excellent good, ha, ha, ha.  Vrse. 
I will have Anteros, terpander's son.  Hoo. 
Let me not hear another syllable,  
You peevish girl, you; you have Anteros?  
What do you weep? no more: come on your ways,  
And sit you down here by me, while your Suitors  
Explain themselves and their good parts before you.  Vrs. 
Father, huff, huff, I will none of those two men  
With the short hair, do what you can I will not.  Hoo. 
Why so my daughter? peace.  Vrs. 
Huff, huff,— because I know  
As well as can be by their looks, that they  
Cannot contain themselves within an hour,  
And you do know I cannot hold my uva—  Hoo. 
Peace thou most arrant fool, before your wooers  
Thus to proclaim your imperfections?  Live. 
Ha, ha, he: another bout with my conserves for that;  
This box shall add three months unto my life, He eats conserves.  
And this same slice of Quinces seven. ay, ay,  
Begin to plead, do, do.  Zeal. 
My sweetest Mistress, This fellow speaks thorough the nose.  
I will divide this my Oration  
Just into three and thirty parts, all which  
With your vouchsafed patience at this time  
I will run through.  Hoo. 
The candle of the day  
Will burn within the socket, ere thou'st done;  
I pray thee leave.  Zeal. 
No sir, I will not leave,  
I am not yet arrived at the point.  Gan. 
And he doth use to tire all his hearers.  Hoo. 
Oh; he hath done't already, don't already  Zeal. 
Besides all this—  Hoo. 
Now out upon his lungs,  
My dinner will be spoiled, the capon burned,  
The beef as black as mummy; this man's breath  
Will blast them all.  Live. 
Ha, ha, he.  Hoo. 
Hast thou ta'en Orders fellow?  Zea. 
If't please you, no.  Hoo. 
Didst e'er preach?  Zea. 
Only one Sermon sir  
For approbation to a female Audience.  
But I have here letters of commendation  
From seventeen honest men of good report  
Amongst their neighbours.  Hoo. 
Spare your pains good sir.  Tem. 
As for myself, fair Gentlewoman, This is hoarse.  
I cannot but inveigh against these times  
Wherein—  Hoo. 
What says he?  Arth. 
If it please your Worship,  
Has lost his voice with railing against Bishops,  
And the fair discipline of the Church.  Hoo. 
Oh villain,  
Command him silence.  Stuch. 
'Tis a courtesy sir  
You inflict upon him, 'tis not a punishment.  Gan. 
The holy Matrons now will rob their husbands  
To contribute to the afflicted Saint.  Live. 
And think they merit in it. But no more;  
I will go gull them all, and presently.—  
o— o— o— o— oo— ooo—  
The longest day I see will have his evening,  
o— o— o— oo— o— ooo—  Hoo. 
But see old Lively; stand close and observe.  Liu. 
O! now the wished for minute does approach  
Which I so long have waited for, and not I  
Alone— but let them now enjoy their wishes.  
uh— o— oo— ooo—  
I feel my heartstrings crack, and the whole lump  
Groans for a speedy dissolution.  Ho. 
How's this? but yesterday he was in's sack,  
Told me he hoped to live to eat a Goose  
Which grazed upon my grave: so suddenly?  Liu. 
Have I no friends about me? must I go  
Out of the world in private thus? from home?  
Without one friend to take his leave of me?  
Kind justice Hook, O that good man Mr. Hooke.  Hoo. 
Peace, not a word: what does he name me for?  Liue. 
Would thou wast here, but to participate  
Of my last dying breath, I would pronounce thee  
Mine heir in total.  Hoo. 
Bear witness Gentlemen—  
Good Mr. Lively, 'las how fares it with you?  Liue. 
who's that names me?  Hoo. 
He whom you asked for,  
Sacrilege Hook.  Liue. 
Sacrilege Hooke's mine heir, he falls down as if he were dead.  
And so farewell thou false and flattering world.  Arth. 
Alas he 's dead.  Ho. 
Peace, not so loud for fear you call him back.  
Ye all can bear me record I'm his heir.  All. 
we can.  Hoo. 
Why Robert, Oliver,  
Run to the Church immediately, and cause  
The bell be told with speed: old Mr. Lively  
Is newly dead— Alas, I can but weep  
To view this spectacle of mortality,  
And I have cause to spend some tears for him— ha ha he.  Arth. 
I doubt he is not fully dead yet Patron,  
Shall I make sure work with him? give him a knock?  Hoo. 
Offer no violence unto the dead  
I charge you, 'tis as bad as sacrilege,  
Which I have always hated.  Liue. 
So has the Devil.  Gan. 
Sweet Mistress Ursely.  Zeal. 
Fairest Lady.  Temp. 
Stay,  
No haste good sir.  Arth. 
But by your leave sweet sir.  Hu. 
'tis I have right unto her, she's a creature,  
And you are one o'th' wicked.  Stutch. 
Out thou rascal that liv'st upon thy railing;  
Good Mistress Ursely,— They all lay hold on her.  
I have a share therein.  Mrs Vrse. 
Why father, father,  
O me, me, me, they'll pull me into pieces;  
O my hand, O my arm, my arm, O my back.  Liue. 
Ha, ha, he.  Hoo. 
Forbear this rudeness gentlemen, my daughter  
Shall have her choice; these are not ways to gain her,  
They must be gentle, soft behaviours  
That win a woman, not such boisterous rhetoric.—  
But hark, the bell doth toll: I'll presently  
Go seize upon his goods and chattel,  Liu. 
Ha? he rises.  
And will you so? but I do know a trick  
Worth twenty of that.— I pray good M. Hook,  
Whom tolls this bell for?  Hoo. 
Oh! for my hopes,  
What does he live again?  Liu. 
And lives to laugh at thee, and at thy baseness,  
Covetous wretch. Ha, ha, he.  
Sir, as I take it I may change my will. Ha, ha, he.  Hoo. 
Oh what a knave is this? a rank old knave?  
A stinking knave? a knave in grain? fie, fie,  
That I should thus be gulled? follow me daughter,  
And you Gentlemen.  Liue. 
Ha, ha, ha, Away you Ravens,  
I'll make ye all go barefoot ye young villains.  He beats them in with his staff.  

ACT. 2. SCEN. 4.  lively solus. 
But let me now muster my wits together  
Call all my fancies into rank, and place  
Each several quirk of this my working brain  
In its true file.— 'Tis an unheard of love,  
A miracle of Friendship this, for two young men,  
In th' exaltation of their bloods, both Rivals  
In such a beauty, for to plot and sweat  
How to be miserable, that's how to place  
His friend in the fruition of his Love;  
'Tis not within the compass of a faith.  
This morning each of them entreated me  
In private, that I would invent some way  
To win the whole affection of Pandora  
Not for himself, but for his friend: which is  
(Though in another Idiom) as if  
They should have said, get me a comely rope  
My Bully Lively, and hang me up, or else  
Provide me an ounce or two of Mercury,  
Which I will take in posset drink and die.  
But Lucius is the man whom I desire  
To pleasure most, therefore I now have counselled  
Neander for to counterfeit a wedding,  
Which being fancied true by Lucius  
And the indifferent Gentlewoman, might cause  
A speedy marriage twixt his friend and her.  
This does he swallow, and now there nothing wants  
But— ha? what's here to do? what Boy is this  
That Stipes thus drags after him?   

ACT. 2. SCE. 5.  Lively, Stipes, Constantina, Merda. Sti. 
Why quickly Merda, bring me a chair out quickly.—  
O O you villain.— Why when?— So, so, go to, go to,  
Tarry you still my daughter,  
That you may hear some of your Father's wisdom.—  
Come on you Crackrope, what is your business, pray you,  
To lurk thus in my Master's grounds? you are  
A scout? one that discovers are you not?  Liue. 
It is a pretty Lad, and being dressed  
May easily pass for Woman. Well I'll mark  Sti. 
O you're a stubborn gallows, you will answer?  Con. 
O me unfortunate; what shall I say? Merda plays with babes clouts.  Sti. 
Heigh!  
An ill year on you, you great Maukin you,  
Making of Puppets? one of your age and breeding?  
You have an Husband Minion? you a rod.—  
But to return again unto the purpose,  
Where dwell you sirrah? will you not answer me?  
Come on your ways, I'll have you to my Master.—  Con. 
Unhappy wretch! what shall I answer him?  
Nay good Sir stay, I'll tell you: oh how I tremble—  Sti. 
Then quickly Sirrah.  Con. 
Lest this robustious Clown  
Should hale me 'fore my Uncle in this habit.  Sti. 
What's that you mutter on? you have a trick  
To say your prayers backwards? have you not?  Liue. 
This Lad is mine, I'll take him from the Shepherd.  Con. 
Not far from hence I had both friends and parents.  
(Howsoever how I want) but cruel Fates  
Have envied them their lives, and me my friends.  Liue. 
It shall be so, I'll make a contract straight  
Betwixt Neander and this Boy. Now Stipes,  
God save you.  Sti. 
Salve Domine. But why put you your Sickle  
Into my Harvest thus? go to, go to,  
You're troublesome— well Sirrah.  Liue. 
Well Sirrah? Slave,  
Thou unpolished piece of clay, how dar'st thou thus  
Uncivilly use a young Gentleman  
Whose friends and kindred I have known to be  
Worthy of more respect than thou of scorn,  
Which both come near to infinite?  Sti. 
Very good.  
And do you know his friends and kindred then?  Liue. 
Would thou didst know thy betters half so well,  
untutored dunghill.— In what state you sit? He overthrows Stipes, chair & all.  
Stand up, or else I'll make thee lie for ever.  Sti. 
Are you in earnest or in jest?  Liue. 
How think you?  Stip. 
You great Rigs-norton you, do you stand still He strikes her.  
And see your only Father wronged thus? ha?—  
Well, if I do not fit your cap for this  
(If it be made of wool) when you tithe Lambs,  
I'll never go to Church more, if th'whole flock  
Has any worse than other 'tshall go hard  
But some of them shall fall unto your lot.  Con. 
Alas I doubt he knows me  
His eyes so dwell upon me.  Liue. 
Come my boy,  
What will you go with me?  Con. 
Thanks to my stars;  
He knows me not.  Stip. 
Boy will you dwell with me?  
Thou shalt have dumpling Boy, enough, and Bacon  
Shall be so deep in fat, that thou mayst wade  
Up to the chin in lard: Salute your Master.  Mer. 
And kiss your master's daughter that's the next  
Thing you must practise.  Liue. 
You his Master, Hempseed?  Mer. 
Truly methinks I could e'en love this Boy  
'Tis such a pretty thing; Father, I pray you  
Good Father, let him dwell with us.  Sti. 
No more,  
Peace, so he shall.  Liue. 
Hands off you lease of Sheepskins.  Con. 
No, I will dwell with this old Gentleman.  Liue. 
Well said, sweet youth.  Con. 
But on this condition,  
That you will use me like a Gentleman  
Of quality and worth, for I must tell you  
With tears, howe'er my fortunes are dejected  
Now, I do come of no mean house nor blood.  Liue. 
Fear not my boy, thou shalt have cause to thank me:  
Follow; my maids shall presently unpage him,  
And hang woman on his back.  Con. 
But I do hope aside  
That some kind God or other will find out  
Some means for my escape; if not (I've said it)  
This hand shall make a passage for my soul  
To leave this body.  Liue. 
Boy, do you come?  Con. 
I come.  Exeunt lively and Constan. Merda plays with babies clouts again. Sti. 
What is he gone?— hi-day! what again?  
Let me be hanged, my dog and my whole Family,  
My Wife and all, I'll put her in, if I  
Do not so' your buttocks Minion;  
I'll break you of this trade of making children  
Before your time, if I can find a willow  
Within a mile of an Oak. Exit  Mer. 
What shall I do? oh what shall I do? what shall I do?  
My father's gone to get a rod, what shall I do?  
Oh, oh, here comes my mother.—   

ACT. 2. SCE. 6.  Pandoura, Placenta, Merda. Pan. 
Placenta, you have heard my cares, my griefs  
And which hath caused them all, you know my love,  
Now by those tender years, by that first ray  
Of blessed light these infant eyes received  
Upon those vigilant knees, I do conjure thee  
Forsake me not in these my miseries  Mer. 
Mother, Mother, Mother, what shall I do?  Pla. 
What news with you, you fairy brat? you changeling?  
Daughter to Madam puss the kitchen maid,  
Take that and get you in, or I'll— She beats her.  Mer. 
umh 'em, umh.  Pla. 
Will you not stir?  
Carry that chair in with you Milderkin. Exit Merda.  Pla. 
What would you have me do?  Pan. 
Y'ave heard my sickness,  
'Tis the physician must prescribe the medicine  
And not the patient.  Pla. 
Will it suffice  
If ere the Sun does set you do embrace  
One of your Lovers?  Pan. 
By all my vows it will;  
Nor am I much solicitous in the choice,  
So I have one.  Pla. 
But I must have your help,  
You must not merely be a patient  
In this same plot; can you dissemble think you?  Pan. 
I am a woman, and may learn in time.  Pla. 
Well then 'tis thus: you see your pampered Lovers  
(Like two fat Oxen in a Stall) stand blowing  
Upon their meat, are nice forsooth, and squeamish,  
Will not fall to, because they're cloyed with dainties,  
The only way for to procure them stomachs,  
Is to withdraw their fodder; take your love  
Before their eyes, and give it to another,  
Or seem to do at least, 'twill fetch them back;  
And make them lick their lips at you, scratch for you:  
I know not by what Fate, but true it is,  
we never prize aught right till the departure,  
And then our longs multiplied. Can you fain  
A love unto some other Gentleman?  
And seem quite to neglect them and their service?  Pan. 
I fear I cannot, 'tis too hard a Province:  
But what will this advantage me I pray you?  Pla. 
So much, as nothing you can do, will more.  
A lover's like a Hunter, if the game  
Be got with too much ease he cares not for't;  
She that is wise in this our wayward age  
Will keep her lover's sharp, make them to seize  
Upon a firebrand for meat.— What say you?  Pan. 
Why I will try I say.  Pla. 
Try? Oh that I  
Had but that beauty in my managing,  
in faith I would not part with a good look  
Under a brace of Tens.  Pan. 
Indeed Placenta  
As you are now, you'd need to sell them dear,  
It is a rare commodity, your Shop  
Affords not many of them.  Pla. 
For a kiss  
I'd have a Lordship; a whole Patrimony  
For a night's lodging; Come, you Maidens now  
Are grown too kind, too easy in your favours,  
A few smooth, oily, verses now adays  
Bought of some Poet, and so justly called  
The Gallants own that sends them, where your tresses  
Are termed Sunbeams, and your ruby lips  
Congealed Nectar, have more power to win you,  
Then in my days two velvet Petticoats,  
Or an hundred acres turned into taffeties.  
Speak, can you do it?  Pan. 
Sure I think I can,  
If need require.  Pla. 
It is enough, but see,  
What Stripling's this comes here? Ha? 'tis most happily  
This is Endymion Lucius his Page.   

ACT. 2. SCE. 7.  Endymion. Placenta. Pandoura. Endy. 
There's not a solitary walk, nor Grove  
Wherein a Lover may retire himself  
Free from the eyes of the profane people,  
But I have traversed o'er to find my Master;  
I have not left a Spring unquestioned,  
Or any spreading Oak, whose quavering top  
Is but half Phoebus proof, nor can I hear  
Ought of Neander his companion.  Pla. 
Pandora, this same Boy was sent on purpose  
Unto this place by some kind Nymph or other  
Inhabiting these Woods in mere compassion  
Of thee and of thy miseries; we could not  
Have studied for a better Stale than this:  
Prepare yourself to feign a love unto him.  Endym. 
But see Placenta, and my Master's Love,  
I will inquire of them.  Pla. 
Endymion  
All happiness.  Endy. 
As much to you Placenta.  Pan. 
And what to me?  Endy. 
What you deserve fair Lady,  
Which is above my wishes.  Pla. 
But Endymion,  
Prithee sweet Lad, let me entreat a courtesy,  
What Countryman are you?  Endy. 
What Countryman?  
An English man I take it.  Pla. 
An English man?  
I rather think thou art a Russian  
Thou carriest such a Winter in thy breast.  
How canst thou suffer such a winning beauty  
To stand neglected? without a salutation?  
Go to, you shamefaced fool, go kiss her, go.  Endy. 
How kiss her? it does not become a servant  
To be so saucy with his Master's Love.  Pan. 
It rather not becomes Endymion,  
A Youth of that same mould and symmetry  
To be so bashful 'fore a Gentlewoman:  
As for thy Master I disclaim his love  
As one unworthy.  Endy. 
How? disclaim his love?  Pan. 
And with his love, all the whole world of men,  
Except 'be thee my soul: why fliest thou me?  Pla. 
Come on, Come on you little frozen-nothing,  
I think we must be fain to make you take  
Your love potion in a horn, you are so skittish.  Endy. 
Nay but Placenta.— Placenta holds his hands whiles Pandoura kisses him.  Pan. 
O most redolent!  
Aurora's spiced bed is not more sweet,  
Not all the odours of the early East.  Endy. 
You do but mock me.  Pan. 
How? but mock thee sweet?  
By all the Cupids in thy face, I love thee  
Beyond th' expression of a woman's tongue.  Pla. 
This was that simple one that could not counterfeit.  Pan. 
By this same nest of kisses I protest—  
What wouldst thou more?  Endy. 
More of your protestations.  Pan. 
But canst thou love me then?  Endy. 
Indeed fair Lady  
I do not know, I am but newly entered  
Into this loving trade.  Pla. 
You are a Wag:  
Take her by th' hand and strain it gently, so.—  
Now kiss her fan and sigh.— Good, excellent.  
(Well I have seen some Gallants in my days,  
Though 'twas my fortune to be married,  
To that same lob my husband, but no matter;)  
Fie on this modesty, 'tis out of fashion,  
Give her a green gown quickly, she will thank you.  Endy. 
Will not as much satin of the same colour  
To make her one do as well?  Pla. 
Come, you're a fool;  
Down with her, she will discard you else,  
As bashful, and unfit for lady's service.— [Pandoura slips down and pulls him after her.]  Pan. 
Ay me! what mean you Sir?  Pla. 
Why there, why so;—  
Oh for Neander now and Lucius  
To view this spectacle, this would crack that great  
That strong and mighty bond of friendship, and  
Make them both quarrel for her: nay Endymion,  
As she did pluck you down, so 'tis your office  
To take her up, else she'll forget herself  
Good soul, and slumber there eternally.—  Pan. 
Now fie upon you Sir, you've spoiled my linen.  
Pray Heavens nobody saw us: good Placenta  
Re-edify what is amiss.  Pla. 
All's well,  
All's well, save only here does want a pin.  
But stay I'll furnish you.—  
Yes, here's a knot molested too.—  Pan. 
Fair Sir,  
This may seem lightness in me.  Pla. 
Rather gravity  
Who naturally tend downward thus.  Pan. 
But Sir,  
Let me entreat you for to entertain  
A better faith of her that is your servant,  
Give it the right name Sir, and call it Love.  Endy. 
I'll call it what you please fair Gentlewoman.  Pla. 
He never thinks of's Master: well this Boy,  
Must we train farther with us till we meet  
With our two icy Lovers. Come Pandora  
Will you entreat your fairest Paramour  
T'accompany us into the Grove? we may  
Perchance there meet his Master, whom he seeks.  Pan. 
Sweet shall I crave?  Endy. 
Not where you may command  Pla. 
So, so, I'll now go plant this billing couple Exeunt Pan. Endym.  
Under some pleasant tree, which done I'll go  
And range the fields for Lucius and Neander,  
And bring them to behold their close embraces,  
This certainly will make them hungry, and bite,  
Waken their dull and sleepy appetite,  
we never prize aught truly, think it dear,  
Until the time of parting does draw near.— Exit.  
Finis. Actus Secundi.    

The Song.  
To the Ladies, joy, delight,  
And a servant that dares fight;  
No need of painting, but a face  
With perpetuity of grace.  
To the Lords a gracious eye  
If they have a Mistress by.  
To them both, more than all this,  
Their PRINCE's happiness, and bliss.   


ACT. 3. SCEN. 1.  Anteros. M. Mongrel. Hammershin. Loveall. Ant. 
The day's our own, we have the Sun, the wind,  
And all that can be called advantages, bear up.  Mung. 
As I'm a Gentleman, and an elder brother—  Ante. 
St, not a word.  Mung. 
You wrong me Sir, I will swear out my swear, as  
I am a Gentleman I must, and will swear.  Ant. 
Nay sweet Master Mongrel  
Mistake me not, I do not go about,  
For to deprive you of that ornament,  
That fashionable quality: I but entreat you,  
For to be frugal in your language, and,  
To husband your lungs; you have an enemy  
That will require them all, had you more oaths.  Mung. 
How? Do you think I have no more? by my—  Ante. 
Oh, hold, hold, hold.  Mung. 
Nay, you shall hear me, by— Ante. stops his mouth.  Ante. 
O, O, O.  Mung. 
By my— by— my indad la.  Ante. 
By my indad la, you'll spoil all, why you'll spend  
all before the time. But see your adversaries are at hand.  
This is their Captain, their Conductor. Love. Stay. Enter Loveall. and pulls out his watch.  
I've hit the very punto, this same minute,  
does cut the hour into two equal portions.  Ant. 
You that are grown a Time-observer, you  
With that fine pocket Saturn in your hand;  
Look this way.  Lou. 
But are these your Champions?  Ant. 
They are my Conquerors, if you please: but where are your employments?  Lou. 
They'll be here immediately.  Ant. 
No more. Love-all, please you to take notice  
Of these Gentlemen, they are of rank, and my friends.  Lou. 
Sweet Sir, my only wish is that my fortunes were but of growth, to show in what degree of honour, I hold any whom you shall vouchsafe to call a friend.— I thirst to know you Sir.  Ant. 
Do not swear yet.  Mun. 
Why so?  Ant. 
Nay as you please.  Mun. 
Sir I desire you to pardon me, I must not swear yet, my General will give the word when I must vent.  Ante. 
'Tis no great matter, if you throw away Cudnigs,  
Or beswiggers, or some such innocent oath upon him.  Mung. 
Say you so? [The Scholar offers to salute Loveall who regards him not]  Ham. 
When will he come towards me?  Lou. 
Sir may I know your name?  Mung. 
My name Sir? why Sir? I am not ashamed of my name Sir. My name is Sir M. Mung. Sir. A poor elder brother Sir. And yet not very poor neither Sir. Heir to six, or seven hundred a year Sir. My father is a Gentleman Sir. I have an Uncle that is a justice of Peace Sir. I can borrow his white Mare when I please sir. She stood him in thirty pieces sir.  Lou. 
A Mongrel Sir?  Ant. 
Only be sure you be not dashed.  Lou. 
Ashamed of your name, say you? You come of a very great house, I'll assure you; I know many of the mongrels that are able to dispend, yearly, more than I am willing to speak of at this time; and which keep their Sons as Gentlemanlike, at the Inns o'th' Court with as good clothes on their backs, as rich belts, and as fair guilt rapiers, as the best Gentlemen o'the Land Sir— O well said, come lift up bravely now.   

ACT. 3. SCE 2.  Anter. Noddle-Empty. Love. Will Wiseacres. Hamershin. Mr. Mongrel. Anter. 
'tis a hundred to nothing, but these are they, look to your standing, and be sure you suffer him to offer first; you have the more advantage.  Nodd. 
Let me alone, if I do not utterly confound him, let me never wear good suit of clothes more, I have not read the Arcadia for nothing.  Lou. 
Anteros, a couple of friends of mine.  Ante. 
Sir I shall count myself fortunate in their acquaintance; Sweet Sir— worthy Sir.  Nodd. 
Sans compliment monsieur, je suis, vostre tres-humble varlet.  Lou. 
There's one of his parcels gone, he has but three more in all the world.  Ant. 
Signior mio molto honorifico, per testa del mio padre, io non he altro, advffirirui, che me stesso, però fate capital di me, è splendetemi per quel chio vaglio.  Nod. 
does he speak French Sir?  Lou. 
How think you Sir?  Noddle. 
Nay but well I mean?  Lou. 
O admirably, take heed what you do, he's a great Traveller I tell you.  Noddle. 
God's me! is he so? I'll not meddle with him then, I would have tickled him else.  Ante. 
Signior, io mi terrei ricco s' io hanessi solamente le decime de i vostri favori.  Nod. 
Nay Sir I am not so well skilled in the language, as I could wish I were, for your sake, I can speak a little Sir, Un peu, monsieur, tellement quellement.  Ante. 
May I be so bold as to bear your name Sir?  Nod. 
My name is Nodale Empty Sir.  Ant. 
An Inns o'th' Court man Sir?  Nodd. 
I have pissed in some green pots in my day's Sir.  Will. 
Wis. My name is William Wiseacres Sir. I am of a Sanguine complexion.  Ante. 
In good time Sir.  Wise. 
Very melancholy sometimes Sir. He offers to feel him by the nose end.  Ante. 
Like enough Sir  Wise. 
Ha, he, he, he—  Loue. 
Ha, ha, ha, he,— O my sides—  Ant. 
God's my life! I should lose it all were my patrimony laid on't. Come on Sir, brace me your invention to the height, you see your Antagonist.  Loue. 
To him, ferret him, ferret him.  Nodd. 
Noble Sir may I be so ambitious, as to desire my name, to be enroled in the Catalogue of your well wishers.  Ham. 
I do honour the very shadow of your shoe strings.  Loue. 
Your mocked Sir, he wears boots.  Hamm. 
And am wholly yours cap a pea.  Noddle. 
Pox on 't, I made full account, to have had that next myself, how came he by it trow?  Ham. 
What say you Sir?  Noddle. 
I say Sir, that it is your best course, to take heed how you make a deed of gift of yourself, for fear some of your friends suffer for it, for the Physnomy of your boot, tells me, it was never made for you, I do not think but you borrowed them.  Ham. 
And I say Sir, that it is better to borrow then to take upon trust, and never pay, as many such gallants as you do.  Ante. 
Love-all, this heat is done, let's rub, and walk.  Loue. 
Agreed, Master Empty, take some pity on the Scholar, let him breath a little, wilt please you walk? Lovell & Nod walk. Ant. and Ham. walk.  Nod. 
I am your Servant.  Ant. 
Well done, 'twas smartly followed; but let's walk;  Wise. 
Ha, I don't think ne'er go Law, but I have seen you somewhere.  Ant. 
You're beholding to your eyes for that.  Mun. 
It may be so.  Ant. 
Love-all, look, look, look, another heat.  Wise. 
Don't you use sometimes about Stamford side?  Mun. 
Yes Sir, I have hunted, and hawked, thereabouts Sir in my days, and been in Sara's here too Sir, I was at the last horse race, Sir, when Velvet-heels, and Currants run Sir, I have some reason to remember it, I am sure, I was cheated of twenty pieces there, I'll swear unto you Sir as I'm a Gentleman, and an elder Brother, I'm a very fool—  Lou. 
Out you Nullifidian, don't let the Gentleman swear, take't upon his bare word.  Wise. 
Nay Sir, I'll believe you without swearing.  Mun. 
Nay but conceive me Sir. I was a very fool (as I said before) to be drawn in after that manner, I would fain see the best cheater of them all, gull me of so much now.  Wise. 
Well sir, I desire your better acquaintance. I have the best wine in Town for you, please you to accept.  Mun. 
Thank you sir. [They shake hands, he feels him by the nose end.]  Wise. 
I think you & I are much upon a complexion. He, he, he, you have lost your maidenhead. If it please you Sir to come to my lodging Sir, when you come to London, I shall think myself very much bound to you, I have some pretty books there to lend you, I have Aristotle's Problems in English, and Albertus magnus de secretis, ay, as I am a living soul.  Lou. 
Let's take 'em off. [They part, Lou. walks with Wis. Ant. with Mun.]  Nod. 
Troth Sir you have a very neat suit there, I am much taken with the proportion of your hose, 'tis a deep French Sir. I have a Satin suit to make shortly, and I would bestow, some twenty dozen of gold lace upon it, if I could but purchase the knowledge of such a Tailor as yours, I should think myself beholding to my Stars for it.  Ante, 
O your walking faculty, it is the only thing, now adays your Gentlemen practise.  Ham. 
Indeed Sir, I think it be time for you to seek out for a new one, for I think your old one will trust you no longer.  Ante. 
Should you but see them walk in Paul's, or in the Temple, with what a ravishing garb— you would admire.  Wise. 
He, he, you are such a merry man, but indeed I hold that Tobacco is very good for Phlegmatic complexions.  Ant. 
Your hilt a little forwarder; very good, your very rapier speaks French; I protest he shows in the graceful carriage of his leg, as though he had been a man of forty plays, fifteen moutings.  Mun. 
Nay, I shall do well in time.  Nod. 
God's me! you have stained your cloak sir, how will you do? I doubt the Gentleman that lent you it will be angry.  Ham. 
Think you so sir?  Ant. 
Well, there's no remedy, I must go and relieve my Scholar.— Sir, a word in private, do you know that gentleman?  Nod. 
Yes sir, I have read Overbury's Characters; he is a silly fellow in black, I take it.  Ant. 
Well sir, however you disesteem him, I could wish you would take heed of him; I wonder he did not strike you all this while. Go to, I say no more, I hold him to be the stoutest man of his hands in all this side o'th' country.  Nodd. 
Is he so?  Ant. 
Why he is sent for far and near by the valiant of the Parishes, to play matches at football: I tell you he is the only Hammershin this Shire can boast of; not a Servingman can keep a leg or an arm whole for him, he has a pension from all the Surgeons within the compass of forty miles, for breaking of bones.  Nod. 
Nay for my part sir, let him be as tall a man as he will, I do not care a pin for him, (do you see) for I do not mean to quarrel with him, only I make account to jeer him a little.  Ant. 
Well, take heed, say I.  Nod. 
Nay sir, I'll take your counsel, I'll go and fetch my rapier I left within, and then let him do his worst. Ex. Nod.  Ant. 
Follow him, follow him, the exalted mushroom— a whoreson butterfly, he has nothing to jeer you for but your borrowed cloak and boots; and I don't think but they be your own for all his talking.  Ham. 
No indeed, to tell you the truth, I borrowed them of a Bachelor of our house, mine own lie in limbo at a barber's shop for Tobacco.  Ant. 
But why dost not beat him man? God's me! beat him.  Ham. 
Nay, I would have been at him, but that I was afraid— They say many of 'em are very desperate fellows.  Ant. 
Faith, to do them right, there be many of 'em that have run through the discipline of a Bawdy-house, & learned to quarrel there, and have seen the entrails of a Fence-school too, and in one word are sufficiently valiant; but that proves not a generality. There are of them (I'll warrant you) as there are of your scholars, some that wear swords, only to scare fools.  Ham. 
Nay sir, I would have you to know, that I am neither afraid of him, nor his sword: but I would not willingly die yet, if I could help it.  Ant. 
Fear 't not man, thou shalt live I warrant thee, to see thy good name buried before thee. Have you nothing about you to strike him with?  Ham. 
Yes, I have the key of my study door in my pocket.  Ant. 
O nothing better than that, follow him, to him, to him.  Ham. 
Shall I, i' faith? shall I?  Ant. 
Never stand, shall I? shall I? but do 't.  Ham. 
ne'er go, and so I will: I'll teach him to abuse any of our cloth again. Exit Ham. He whispers him.  Ant. 
St, Mr Mongrel.  Mun. 
As I'm a Gentleman, and an elder brother—  He runs after them offering to draw. Loue. 
But how now Anteros? what business is this?  Ant. 
Can you but hold your peace, and follow them  
With your sweet William? nay, but will you go? Ex. Love. & William  
You'll lose the banquet if not presently.   

ACTVS 3. SCENA 3.  Anter. Endym. Pandoura, Placenta. Anter. 
O, O.—  
Would I could lose myself, become a Mouse,  
Or fly, that I might find a cabin here,  
To hide myself from these same women. O,— He climbs the tree.  
But I will climb this tree—  Pla. 
I wonder much  
Where our two loving friends should lie so close;  
There's not a place where they do use, but we  
Have visited this morning. I do long  
To give them this most pleasing spectacle:  
But I will now search the justice his house,  
Perchance they may be there.  Pan. 
Endymion, Exit Pla.  
Another kiss; lo thus I will revenge She kisses Endym.  
myself on those two frozen Lovers; thus,  
And thus, and thus— Revenge, how sweet thou art  
Unto a woman!  Ant. 
O— I am afraid  
They will offend, commit, commit before me.  Pan. 
And canst thou love me, sweet Endymion?  End. 
Behold a taste what I can do.  Pan. 
These kisses He kisses her Redit in scenan Pla.  
Have not that masculine relish yet methinks,  
Which I enjoyed in the manly embraces  
Of Lucius, or Neander.  Plac. 
It is strange,  
Not one about this house that can instruct me  
What should become of them, I wonder at it;  
But I am glad that Constantina's flight  
Is not suspected yet, so well that Boy  
does personate her.  Pand. 
Are they not there Placenta?  Pla. 
St; No. O yes your Uncle is at home.  
It will not yet be dinner time this hour;  
You may embrace another walk.  Pand. 
Content;  
Endymion, wilt please you t' accompany us? Exeunt.   

ACT. 3. SCEN. 4.  Anteros, Hook, Mistress Ursely. Ant. 
Why so then— What again?  Hoo. 
You'll leave your blubbering, Minion, come your ways.  
You set your mind on such a man? yet more?  
You might as well be in love with that same Sun,  
And should as soon enjoy it.  Ant. 
He speaks high,  
Pray heavens he does not look so high, for fear  
He should descry me.  Vrse. 
Father, I cannot last  
Out two days longer without Anteros.  Ant. 
How's that? now all my stars be merciful!  
It is a vision sure, this cannot be.  Hoo. 
Come, you're a foolish girl, he marry you?  
That day that he does marry you, will I  
Bring back to life all that were dead before  
The universal Deluge.  Ant. 
Nay, I'll help  
You with a far better expression, sir,  
That day that he does marry her, shall you  
Become an honest man; a harder Province  
Than to bring all the dead, to life again.  Hoo. 
There are a hundred reasons (daughter) why  
You should not hope it, first he hates all women,  
Next if he did not, you that are deformed,  
Lame, and misshapen, black, beside, ill mannered.—  Ant. 
(He does not see the wallet on her back.)  
Have the lest cause to hope.  Vrs. 
But there are (father)  
six hundred reasons, why I should love him.  
His manly carriage, his full breasts, his hair,  
And his fine clothes, his golden breeches, and—  Ant. 
His traitorous nose: ay, ay, 'tis that I know,  
'Tis like the Ivy-bush unto a Tavern,  
Which tells us there is Wine within; but I  
Will take an order with you Sir e'er long,  
And have you pared.  Vrs. 
Well I will never leave  
My crying (that's resolved) until I see him.  Ant. 
O! Could I commit a crime ere I was made,  
'Gainst nature worthy such a punishment?  
It is decreed, I will unman myself, immediately.  Hoo. 
What shall I do? 'tis strange—  
Well, 't must be so: I will go seek Terpander,  
And move him to this match: most of his lands  
I have in mortgage, nay indeed they are  
Forfeited to me, for the day is passed  
Wherein he was bound to pay in the money,  
The advantage of this forfeiture, will I  
Threaten to take, unless he does compel,  
His son to take my daughter, to his wife.  
Nay, rather than I will be disappointed,  
He for a portion, shall have in his bonds,  
Come daughter, be of comfort, we will go  
Directly to Terpander, where I'll use  
Such arguments, as shall enforce him make  
His son both love, and marry you. Exeunt.  Ant. 
Like enough.  
'Tis very likely Sir, but that this tree  
Does not afford any such fruit, I'd throw He comes down.  
An old shoe after you,— such arguments  
As shall enforce him make his son, both love,  
And marry you— well how his pills may work  
Which the old man, I know not: for myself  
I will provide a quick deliverance.  
Why shepherd? Stipes? [tic toc: ]now I must, and will  
Go forward in this plot, of my disguise.   

ACT. 3. SCE. 5.  Anteros. Loveall. Love. 
What make you there?  Ant. 
Why nothing jack.  Love. 
Come on, you are a fine fellow, to go and set them together by the ears thus, are you not?  Ant. 
But have they done it finely?  Love. 
Finely do you call it? why your Scholar has so mauled Mr. Noddle with the key of his study door, made such a breach in his Pericranium, that without question all his French ends have taken their flight, through that passage; as for my x Mr. William, he's crept into an old hole, behind the hangings, that in the days of old, h'as been the Asylum, for decayed boots, and shoes out of date, and there lies he, all alone, very melancholy.  Ant. 
Ha, ha, he, but how was my Gentleman, and my elder brother employed all this while?  Love. 
As Gentlemen use now adays, in swearing; when he saw that he could not draw his sword, he ran up and down the room, and measured out the time of the combat with oaths.  Ant. 
Death! that I had but seen this.  Love. 
Would thou hadst: for I have e'en taken a surfer of them. I pray thee let's invent some way, or other  
For to be rid of them, canst thou not think?  
Think, think, man— think— which I'll effect, unless  
All that is called Fortune, doth forsake me.  
Seest thou that brace of Cabins, on each side  
My Uncle's house?  Ante. 
They're Dog-kennels I take it.  Lov. 
They are, no more, but see they come, I'll slip  
Aside lest I be seen.  Ant. 
I wonder what  
His brain is now so hot in travail with.   

ACT. 3. SCE. 6.  Ant. Love. Wise. Noddle Empty, with his head, and face all bloody. Ant. 
How now?  Nod. 
Lend me your hankercher, if you have one about you x, mine has not a dry place in it.  Ant. 
What do you bleed Mr. Noddle?  Nod. 
Yes Sir a little wild blood, hold that x, un peu monsieur.  Ant. 
Did not you tell me, all his French ends were gone? un peu will not forsake him.  Love. 
Not a word.  Nod. 
A whoreson cowardly slave, to strike a man e'er one was aware of him, and to give one no time, to draw his rapier—  Ant. 
'Sme, 'tis somewhat deep I doubt.  Nod. 
Nothing by Hercules' Sir, a scratch, a scratch, well I'll say nothing, but by this good blood, that runs—  Ant. 
Faith if you had done as that good blood does, Mr. Noddle, it had been better for you.  Nod. 
No Sir, I scorn it, I am not of that strain i'faith, and that he shall know, the sempiternal rascal.  Ant. 
Come on Mr. Wiseacres, I believe you and your Kinsman are much of a complexion.  Wise. 
I am very melancholy at this time.  Ant. 
ay but you must take heed of these fits, they'll spoil you, I heard say, that you crept into a private, retired room e'en now, and there conversed with spiders and crickets, fie upon it, you must labour against that humour; but indeed methinks your x is of a very deep sanguine.  Wise. 
Ha, he, you are such a witty man.  Nodd. 
x? Yes I am much beholding to my x; I might have been killed for him.  Ant. 
Come, come, I like him well for it, the Gentleman does weigh how much the Republ. might be impeached, by the loss of a man.  Nodd. 
Republic? Repuddingpy. By this light, a man is little better than mad, that will keep company with such snow-heaps, such white-livered, counterfied jackdaws— but all's one.  Ant. 
ay, I betwixt friends, and kinsmen; ye two are all one I know. Your x is very choleric now.  Wise. 
ay but I am very seldom so, for Albertus Magnus' faith— [Loveall as though he came from his uncles.]  Lov. 
Now the good Gods! where shall I find these most unfortunate Gentlemen?  Ant. 
Why how now Jack? what inauspicious wind  
Has raised this cloudy weather in thy face?  Love. 
O Anteros, we are undone, undone;  
I'll have this day wear black i'th' Calendar,  
That after ages may beware of it,  
It is so full of Omen—  Ant. 
What's the matter? I pray thee speak. He feigns to hear somebody coming.  Lov. 
O they be here,— who's there?  
Pray heavens it be not the Constable's officious industry: how will you do Sir? You have slain the Scholar.  Nodd. 
I would I had else.  Love. 
Nay Sir, this is neither time nor place for such idle wishes, here has been a Surgeon already, that lives hard by, and his sentence is, that he cannot live above two hours, he swooned six times since you left him, it seems you bruised him so with falling on him, with the hilt of your rapier, that he bleeds inward— I know not what to say to it— I was bewitched I think, nay think, think, think what course you will take, you must be sudden, the officers are sent for to apprehend you.  Ant. 
Is this in jest (I wonder) or in earnest?  Nodd. 
Is he so indeed? I pray you tell me true Sir.  Lov. 
Why, what do you take me to be Sir? have I this for my love, and care of your safety? as you sowed, so reap for me; I hope you will believe your own senses, I think I see the officers coming.  Nodd. 
'Sme! what shall I do? Mr. Loveall, nay good Sir, I do believe you, I know not which way to take.  Love. 
Nay there's no stirring that way, you'll meet them in the teeth.  Nodd. 
What if I go through the back door, and take horse?  Love. 
They'll meet you that way too.  Nod. 
Any thing, good Sir, I beseech you, look the door goes, I protest twenty Sergeants could not have struck such a fear into me.  Love. 
Well, will you trust your fortunes into my hands?  Nod. 
And lives sweet Sir.  Loue. 
Quickly then enter here, I'll shut you in until the search be passed: nay will you in? who's there? immediately, good Master William. He shuts Nod. into one of them.  Wise. 
Nay sir, I'll go to my horse if there were twenty Constables, they have nothing to do with me, for I am sure I did not strike a blow, no as I'm a living soul.—  Loue. 
God's me, what will you do? were not you in the company with him? that makes you accessary; have you read so much law, and know not that? nay, will you in?— Ha, ha, he.  He puts him into the other.  

ACT. 3. SCEN. 7.  Anteros, Loveall. Loue. 
What sayst thou now my Anteros?  Ant. 
What say I?  
I say thou art an arch-dissembler,  
A workman in the trade: By all that's good,  
I should have been thus gulled myself, thou didst  
So smoothly act it, with such passion,  
And anger at their incredulity.  
I was afraid thou wouldst have beat the fool,  
Because he would not let himself be gulled  
So soon as thou wouldst have him, but stay now—  
How shall we dress our other brace?  Lou. 
That province  
Is yours; as for mine own, you see I have  
Provided for them, and conveniently:  
Yet if you will embrace my counsel, write  
After the copy I have set you, do,  
Behold a pattern, and see (happily)  
A chest where Stipes in the days of old  
Has kept tame coneys, now uninhabited.  Ant. 
Right, but I fear, 'tis not capacious  
Enough for both.  Lou. 
'Tis nothing, look you here,  
See you that fine spruce new erected hogsty  
On the other side of Stipes house?  Ant. 
I do.  Loue. 
And do you see it may be pinned without?  
Hist, easily, softly, I'll fill up the time They enter.  
With some discourse, till you have framed your countenance.   

ACT. 3. SCEN. 8.  Love. Ante Mr. Mr. Mung. Sir Hammer. Ham. 
would I might ne'er stir Mr. Mongrel, if I care a pin for a hundred such, an Inns o'th' Court man quoth 'a? ne'er go, I think they learn nothing there, but how to swagger, and be proud.  Love. 
Nay Sir, now I must chide you, will you accuse all, for the default of some particulars? by the same reason, I'll conclude, that all ye Scholars, are coxcombs, because I see one that is so.  Ham. 
Meaning me Sir?  Lov. 
Meaning you Sir? pardon me 'tis mere injustice in you, I'll assure you Sir, this whole realm, yields not better qualified Gentlemen, and more gentilely parted, than many of them are, and to whom, the common weal is more indebted.  Ham. 
Because he has got a good suit of clothes upon his back (I'll be hanged if they be paid for yet) and a ring in 's band string, to play withal when he wants discourse, he thinks he may carry the ball on 's toe before him, and that no man must dare to meet him.  Love. 
No more Scholar, you have met with him sufficiently, why Anteros, when? and here's a brave Pylades too, that would not see his Orestes oppressed by multitude. [He claps him on the back.]  Mun. 
Arrest me Sir? soft, and easily Sir, more words to a bargain; s'duds! I think my sword be mortised into a snail, [He flies back and offers to draw ]I cannot entreat him out of his shell. Arrest me Sir? As I'm a Gentleman, and an elder brother, I owe no man a farthing that I mean to pay him. Nay come Sir, I am fleshed now i'faith.  Love. 
You will not quarrel with your friend's Sir, will you?  Mun. 
friend's Sir? I know not whether you be my friend, or no; I am sure you use no friendly language.  Love. 
Prithee Scholar, tail off Mr. Mongrel a little, he'll never leave now he has drawn blood once.  Ham. 
Come, you're a fool; the Gentleman's of worth, and our friend.  Mung. 
Nay I have done now, I did but try how I could quarrel a little.  Lov. 
Faith Sir, this would have made a fair show in a Country Alehouse.  Mun. 
Nay Sir, as soon as my father dies, (which will not be long I hope, for he lies sick now) I'll go to London, and learn to quarrel there, for a year or two, and then come down again, and practise amongst my Tenants.  Love. 
Why Anteros; pray thee relieve me.  Ant. 
St, not a word, for a million of worlds. Hark you Scholar. [He whispers with the Scholar.]  Mun. 
I hope you are not angry?  Love. 
Angry old Bully? he had a hard heart, that would be angry with thee.  Ant. 
'Tis as I tell you, his wound has been searched by a very skilful Surgeon, and his Pia matter is found to be perished, and when that's gone, you know there is small hope.  Ham. 
None at all Sir, I've read it in Magirus, Cousin Mongrel, come hither quickly—  Love. 
Now, now, how greedily the Scholar sucks it in.  Mun. 
What's the matter? but is this true?  Ant. 
As true as you're a Gentleman.  Love. 
He never emptied a buttery pot after a match at football, with greater appetite, than he devours this gullery.  Ant. 
Take heed what you do, the least protraction is full of danger.  Ham. 
O the Lord! what will become of us?  Ant. 
Loveall stir the door a little— passion O me! there's somebody at the door, look, look, creep into this chest, I'll shut you in. He shuts up the Scholar.  Ham. 
anywhere good Sir.  Mu. 
Where will you hide me sir? I'll go into the chest too.  Ham. 
Here's hardly room enough for myself.  Ante. 
Stay, stay, stay. In good sooth Mr. Constable here's no such men this way— what say you, you threepenny crack crown? I tell you, they have already taken horse. Here, here, here, creep in, stoop man, stoop. [He shuts Mun. into the hogsty.]  Love. 
Ha, ha, he.  
Why so, we're now at Liberty, farewell.  
My sister's wrongs, and sorrows call for me,  
And shall be answered.  Ant. 
Well adieu sweet Sir. Exit.  
I must be sudden, or I'm lost for ever. [tic. toc.]  
By this time sure my father melts (why shepherd.)  
The ample benefit, that shall accrue  
Unto him by this worthy match, this instant  
Arrives at 's weather-beaten apprehension;  
(I do but know it, am but sure of it)  
O, what a dainty pleasant thing it is  
For to be free from care! to sleep a night,  
Without the dreaming of a Creditor,  
Or the disturbance of that gobbling Forfeit!  
It cannot but be so, upon my soul,  
He trades in this same cogitation,  
This very minute— Stipes. che ti venga l' cancro.  
Well, if he be above ground, I will find him,  
Or lose myself, I'll seek him in the pastures. Exit.  
Finis Actus tertij.    

The Song, sung by two Trebles.  1. Treb. 
But why  
Do the winged minutes fly  
so fast away?  
Stop your course ye hasty hours,  
And solicit all the powers  
to let you stay.  
For the earth could ne'er show forth  
An object of a greater worth.  2. Treb. 
But why  
Do the winged minutes fly  
so fast away?  1. Treb. 
It is because that they which follow,  
Crowd on to have a sight as well as they;  2. Treb. 
Hark how the ghosts of passed moments groan,  
'cause they are gone:  
And rail at Fate,  
And curse the date  
Of their short lives expired so soon.  Chor. 
Then stop your course, you hasty hours,  
And solicit all the powers  
to let you stay,  
For the earth could ne'er show forth  
An object of a greater worth.   


ACTVS 4. SCENA 1.  lively solus. 
Ha, ha, he,  
I have discovered more than e'er Columbus,  
Or our own waterfowl, Drake: my pretty stripling,  
Which I did take away from Stipes even now,  
Is proved a woman, proved an errant Lady,  
That is in quest after her errant Knight,  
Who is enchanted. 'Tis the Niece (forsooth)  
Of our good virtuous justice, Mr. Hook,  
Who has put on this habit for to follow  
Her lover Cleopes, who has forsook her.  
All this did she confess to me in private,  
'Soon as she saw I had descried her sex  
And name; but I have stayed her pilgrimage,  
she's fast enough, I warrant her, i'th' noose  
Of wedlock now, to stir in haste. No sooner  
Did I read woman in her looks, but straight  
I did command my maids for to unpage her,  
And cook her in her kind, in her own sauce;  
she's pickled now in some three yards of lawn:  
Here she has it, and there she has it, fie, fie.  
Was I a young man now again, and should  
Venture on such a dish to carve, by'r Lady,  
I should not know which side for to begin on:  
Hardly distinguish breast from back. Well, well,—  
Beshrew my heart the queans, where'er they had them,  
Have hung good rags about her; sure they borrowed them.  
This being done, I went unto Neander,  
Told him, that I had got a Boy, and dressed him  
Fit for his palate: he rejoiced, made haste  
Unto the contract, and (as kind Fortune would)  
That very time a good old merry Vicar  
Of my acquaintance came to visit me.  
I craved his aid, and (in one word) I brought her  
Veiled, but first softened by a thousand threatenings,  
If she but moved towards a discovery.  
The good kind Gentleman thinking her boy,  
And therefore in his power when ere he please  
For to untie the knot, is before witness,  
Contracted to her by the Vicar.— Oh for Lucius now.   

ACT. 4. SCEN. 2.  lively, Lucius. Liue. 
See where he comes; but yet how heavily!  
How full of earth methinks his paces be!  
He looks as though his teeth had played this fortnight,  
Kept Holiday. But I'll accost him.— Lucius.  Luc. 
The Gods befriend thee, whosoever thou art,  
That I am thought worth naming yet, not lost  
Unto all mankind quite, though to myself!  Liue. 
These words do savour of too much distraction.  
You must take comfort sir.  Luc. 
Who 's that dares talk  
Of comfort to me? But once name the word  
That is exiled whole Nature? good Mr. Lively  
Wast you that spoke?  Liue. 
It was, and I must have you  
Remove this same December from your looks:  
I come to make you happy.  Luc, 
Thou art come  
To lose thy labour then; I am below  
Both all the love, and all the spite of Fortune,  
She will not make me happy, and she cannot  
Make me more wretched than I am. I lie,  
She may do both. But speak thou reverend head,  
Has aught that 's good befallen my Neander,  
That thou dar'st venture out that name of happy  
So confidently upon me?— say.  Liue. 
There has,  
But more to you.  Luc. 
What's that?  Liu. 
Good, happiness.  Luc. 
How? happiness to me? thou shouldst have put  
The space of fifteen ages twixt those words,  
They are so far from reconciliation;  
Thou hast no Grammar in thee, know'st no concord.  Liue. 
But I have Music in me, and that's better.  
I'll make thee dance my solitary one.  
Pandora shall be thine today.  Luc. 
How? mine today?  Liue. 
Thy wife, thy self, but in another character.  Luc. 
Vnspeak't again, it must not be.  Liue. 
It must.  Luc. 
Dost thou intend to buy me to thee? and  
To break me and my fortunes with a courtesy,  
Which I shall ne'er be able to repay?  
Employ thy art then, all thy quicker plots  
To further my Neander in his love:  
Who by how much the more his virtues be  
Greater than mine (who hardly have so much  
As will redeem me from the name of vicious)  
So much the more will apprehend the benefit,  
So much the more reward thee.  Liu. 
Speak no further,  
Pandora's thine, she's thine, thine own, believe't.  
He is already married to another.  Luci. 
I do confess that I am something fallen  
Oft from that height of reason which before,  
While I had liberty, I did enjoy:  
But thou dost wrong me much, if thou dost think  
That Love has eaten up all man in me.  
I tell you, I do know your plots, your drifts,  
And all your consultations, as well  
As if I had had a cabin in your bosom,  
And had from thence betrayed them; did not I  
Hear when Neander did solicit thee  
For to procure a Masculine Bride for him?  
Did not I hear thee promise him to do it?  
Hast thou not now performed it? are not they  
By thy procurement now contracted? speak;  
'Tis not so easy to deceive the eyes  
Of Love, howe'er our frantic Poets say  
He feeds on nought but Lolium.  Liue. 
Lucius,  
As I do hope to live, as I do prize  
My lungs, my breath, laughter, and sack, (believe me)  
I have Neander fast, he 's married  
To one that is as truly woman, as  
Was she that did produce thee, and because  
You shall be certain of 't, 'tis Constantina.  Luc. 
But canst thou utter this (without a blush?)  
Or hath thy many years  
Blocked up those channels of thy blood, that now  
They are not able to afford that face,  
(That starved face of thine, bankrupt of virtue)  
The least relief? but I'll undo your plots.  
Since you do force me, I'll confess a secret,  
Which hitherto I've hardly whispered  
Unto my privat'st thoughts. I am no husband,  
No husband (mark you) for Pandora, nor  
For any woman living; for kind Nature  
Has stamped Eunuch on me from my cradle.  Liu. 
What do I hear?  Luc. 
That which is true.  Li. 
An Eunuch!   

ACT. 4. SCEN. 3.  lively, Neander, Constantina velat â fancy, Lucius. Liue. 
But see Neander comes with his new Bride.  Nean. 
Why do you weep and sigh so boy? no more.  Luc. 
Do you hear that?  Nean. 
But see my Lucius.  
I must quite alter my discourse, my garb,  
And all my actions. Hence dull melancholy,  
I now must find a face that must out-smile  
A morn in june. Lucius, a thousand hails.  Constan. 
Unhappy Constantina! to whom Fate  
Neither permits to live, nor yet to die.  Liu. 
Break off those sighs you peevish girl, or I'll— not yet?  Nean. 
What means this strange and ponderous eye?  
As though you were to take our Altitudes  
Lucius? what? and do you smile? faith speak.  
How dost thou like my Choice? perhaps you wonder  
At this so sudden match; but (Friend) you see  
What Love and a fair Gentlewoman can do.  Liue. 
I am the boldest wretch alive. It cannot,  
Cannot be long before he needs must know her.  
What will become of thee then Lively? ha?  
You must be sure not to unveil him Sir,  
The boy would not be known.  Nean. 
What muse you on  
So deeply Lucius? does your first son's name  
You shall beget on the most fair Pandora  
Perplex you now? come on, I'll answer for you,  
He shall be called Fortunate.  Luc. 
Not so,  
Rather that name belongs to you Neander,  
That shall have no such care to trouble you:  
For if my art deceives me not (fair creature  
Your hand) this wife of yours is never likely  
For to bear children, but on her back, or arms.  Nean. 
Why pray thee sweet?  Luc. 
'Cause in this little vale  
That lies at the foot of Venus' mountain, here,  
I do discover something too much for mother.  
Come, come, Neander, these are poor devices,  
Tricks of the Scene, and stale, they will not take.  
And you grey hairs, methinks that thou shouldst owe  
A greater and more filial reverence  
To the fair Ceremonies of the Church, then thus  
To stalk with them, to make them stales unto  
Such base ridiculous—  Liue. 
Lucius, do but hear.  Luc. 
I will not hear thee.  Liue. 
Here's a benefit  
Placed most deservingly! I do not like it.  Nean. 
I do not apprehend him.  Luc. 
A fair gown  
Indeed, and soap, and starch enough, to dazzle  
The eyes of some young country heir, that has  
Never been drilled through Drury lane, or Bloomsbury.  
But pray thee (friend) whose daughter hast thou married?  
What may she have to name?  Nean. 
What shall I answer?  
I am i'th' briers.  Liue. 
Tell him 'tis Constantina  
Our justice's Niece.  Nean. 
Most excellent dissembler!  
As though you know not Constantina sir.  Luc. 
But is this Constantina?  Nea. 
True.  Liu. 
'Tis truer;  
Somewhat than you do believe it is.  Luc. 
Is this  
Jack Loveall's sister?  Nean. 
'Tis.  Luc. 
But is this she  
Whom Cleopes once loved, and has forsaken?  Const. 
O me! why do I live and hear that name?  Liue. 
Did you not mark that sigh? how smartly't came?  
No, no, I have not fitted you, I have not.  
'Tis a young Roscius I tell you. No sooner  
Was Cleopes named, but the arch-villain sighed,  
As if it had been truly Constantina.  
I do not like this business yet.  Luc. 
Is this  
That cried up wonder? that Fidelia?  
A sudden change.   

ACT. 4. SCE. 4.  Placenta, lively, Lucius, Neander, Constantina. Pla. 
Yet at the last? 'tis well, I'll give the word  
Unto Pandora: but with special care  
That the boy knows not of his Master's presence.  Liu. 
What business is't that this same Midwives face  
Does fetch and carry thus about I wonder?  
high, she appears again.  Plac. 
All health old man.  Liu. 
Old? and how old? but what's the news that you  
Are rigged with now? and whither bound I pray you?  Plac. 
Next to that loving pair of friends, whose sorrows  
I have lamented oft, and amongst which  
I judge it not the least, that while ye two  
Discourse in sighs, and tears, that wanton maid  
That is the cause of all your heaviness,  
Lasciviously does sport herself, and melts  
In the embraces of another.  Amb. 
How?  Plac. 
Regardless of your woes, or her own honour.  Nean. 
Now all the Gods! where is he?  Luc. 
Woman speak,  
What is he for a man?  Plac. 
I know him not,  
So far as to his name; but this mine eyes  
Dare witness, 'tis a composition  
Of blood and spirits not to be despised.  
A feature able enough to tempt; beside—  Luc. 
Neander, whilst we strive about the shadow  
we have the substance ravished from us.  Nean. 
Ha?  
It cannot be, 'thas no affinity  
With truth; It must not be believed good Lucius.  Plac. 
Can ye retire yourselves under this tree  
A little, and expect? but ere I go,  
Ye shall both promise as ye're Gentlemen  
To endure the sight with patience.  Amb. 
we will.  Plac. 
It is enough.  Luc. 
But does this woman gull us? Exit Plac.  
Or is it real think'st thou?  Liu. 
Hark.  Luc. 
No more.   

ACT. 4. SCE 5.  Placenta. Lucius. Pandoura. Neander, Endymion. lively. Constantina Plac. 
Can ye believe it yet? are your eyes yet  
Instructed?  Luc. 
'tis my boy Endymion,  
Now hell and tortures!  Pan. 
Were all odours lost,  
And beggared Nature had not sweets enough  
T' embalm the dying Phoenix left, from hence  
From this same lip, She might restore herself.  Nean. 
Ah Lucius! must he not die?  Luc. 
Neander,  
It is a sacrilege unpardonable  
To pluck him from that Altar.  Pan. 
Once more sweet—  
Two pendant Cherries when some gentle gale  
Makes them to kiss, meet not with such a touch!  [They both draw, and run at him, he saves himself behind Pandoura.] Luc. 
Villain, and Traitor die.  End. 
O me! my Master.—  Plac. 
What do you mean? ah.  Pan. 
Alas.— Sweet Gentlemen.— She lays hold on neander's arm.  Luc. 
Did all mankind inhabit in that breast,  
I'd put the Gods unto a second trouble  
For to create that species a new.  Nean. 
Woman forbear.  Liu. 
I do not like these tumults.  
I'll get me home and drink a cup of Sack.  Paud. 
Neander,—  
Lucius,—  
Ah by that Monster of my love, your friendship,  
Lucius, by these eyes of mine, which thou  
A thousand times and more haste dared to liken  
Unto the brighter star of Venus, which  
Is both the Prologue and the Epilogue  
Unto the glorious Sun: By thine own eyes  
Which are two clearer stars, I do conjure thee  
Forbear to prosecute such a revenge  
Upon this innocent Boy: for here I swear  
By all those blessed powers, which know our thoughts,  
I never loved him.  Nean. 
Most impudent woman,  
Did not our eyes behold it?  Luc. 
O Neander,  
Why do we stand thus coldly here? and not  
How out a passage through this prostitute  
To travail to the just destruction  
Of her base Lover, and my baser vassal?  Pan. 
Rather let all your fury end in me,  
See here my naked breast employ your valours:  
Why do you stand and gaze one on another?  
What is the naked bosom of a Virgin  
A spectacle of such terror? if it be,  
And that the fight of it hath cooled your bloods,  
Then hear me speak: you Lucius may remember  
That ancient stock of love, those many vows,  
Those many tears, those many longings, which  
Have passed betwixt us: nor can you justly style it  
A fault of mine, that Time is now so old  
And yet does see us two; but partly yours  
Partly my father's nearness (for I must not  
Give it the name it merits, Covetousness)  
Who seeing your so fervent love unto me,  
Did strive to thrust me out with nothing, or  
At least with such a portion, as you liked not;  
Whilst thus I wavered, betwixt hope, and fear,  
It fortuned, that this Gentleman Neander  
Became your Rival: who had not long been here,  
Not long solicited, but I (shame of women)  
Began to love ye both, and which is more  
I loved ye with an equal flame, (but see  
What Pageants Cupid can play!) it chanced  
(Contrary to all men's expectations)  
That by degrees such a strong tie of friendship  
Did grow betwixt ye, that each of ye refused  
(For his friend's sake) what then was proffered you,  
My love; whilst I bewailed my miseries  
Unto this Midwife here, my friend, and grieved  
At this my harder fortune— Good Placenta She weeps.  
Give them the rest.  Plac. 
Then take it in a word.  
Supposing it the only way to win  
One of you to her, I counselled her to feign  
A love unto some other Gentleman.  
Whilst we were busy in these Consultations,  
As fortune would, your Page Endymion  
Came hither (Lucius) to seek his Master.  
We lay the train for him, she courts the Boy,  
And he (poor Lad) thinking her serious  
Was caught immediately.  Luc. 
But is this true?  Pan. 
Would I could call it false— But otherwise  
than was expected hath it prospered. she weeps.  Con. 
Placenta, ah Placenta.  Pla. 
Who's that calls me?  Con. 
Shall I disclose myself? I am ashamed. [They put up their swords.]  Nean. 
If it be so, Pandora, we crave pardon.  
And do restore him life; but now (fair soul)  
If thou dost aim to reach a life so happy  
So full of all content, that thou may'st fit  
Within thy Sphere (like Venus) and look down  
On all thy Sex, and pity them; love this man.  Nean. 
Love this man. For as for myself I am  
Already furnished with a Mistress, see  
My wife here— Sweetest wife.  Pand. 
Is this your wife?  
I judge her happy who so e'er she is,  Luc. 
Believe him not, this is Boy, a villain  
(Whom I, but that—)  Nean. 
Lucius forbear.  Luc. 
Dressed up  
In woman's Clothes by that same dotard Lively.  
Sweetest Neander leave.  Nean. 
It is a woman.  Luc. 
By all the gods, it is a boy, 'tis false.  
But for to rob you of all hope of me  
Give me but care, I am an Eunuch, if  
You can endure to have a frozen statue,  
Sleep by your side, whilst you awake, recount  
The tedious minutes of your widowed nights  
And sigh, and think, and think, and sigh again,  
Behold an husband for you, I am he. she swoons.  Pan. 
O me! an Eunuch?  Plac. 
Hold the Gentlewoman  
Ay me! she swoons, sweetest Pandora, ah.  Luc. 
What is the matter?  Plac. 
Ah good Lucius help,  
she's gone— alas good heart. What shall I do?  Nean. 
But see she breathes again.  Plac. 
Ah honey sweet  
Pandora speak.  Pan. 
Ah!  
Hands off thou outside of a man; and thou  
Uxorious creature, I do crave no aid  
From you, forbear.  Plac. 
How does my sweetest honey?  Pan. 
I am not well Placenta, let us go  
Into your house a while.  Luc. 
Please you fair Lady  
To use my service?  Pan. 
How? Your service sir?  
You can do nothing, nor do I expect it.  
But if your love towards me be worthy, lend me  
Your Page, but for an hour.  Luc. 
He is yours.  Pan. 
Then sir adieu.  Nean. 
Shall I be vanquished thus Plac.  
In friendship? But I will once more to Lively. Plac.  
And see what further counsel he will give me, Endym.  
Fair wife let's go— Rise up you villain boy;  
Lucius' farewell.  Luc. 
What is he gone? so soon? Exit.  
To's Engineer I know, to his contriver;  
But I will follow them so fast, that not  
A syllable shall pass without my Knowledge.  

* Stipes runs against Lucius . How now you Rascal? where are your eyes I wonder?  Exit.  

ACT. 4. SCE. 6.  Stipes solus. Stip. 
In as a good a headpiece as yours, I warrant you that, for all your fine clothes, Sands, I think my penny as good silver as yours, every day i'th' week, I'll tell you but so.  
A Maid of eighteen, to play with babes-clouts, well, 'tis no matter, Let that pass though, go to, go to, 'tis an ill wind that blows nobody good, cry I, sure I rose o'th' right side today, I shall have a servant by and by, and a lusty Knave too, and here's the chincke, the chincke; as I was getting this rod even now, for my wise daughter, comes me terpander's son, the angry boy, the smoker of Tobacco, the whoreson which could not endure his mother, Sdnds I was afraid at first to see myself alone with him, he did so stare with'is rolling eyes, and 'twas no force by'r Lady, for I had five good shillings in my purse; But he to put me out of doubt salutes me most lovingly, as thus, Stipes God save you, Save you Stipes— no, Stipes God save you— Stipes be hanged— a blockhead, Sdnds I doubt I should make but a scurvy Gentleman, I want the trick on't.— But let that pass though, I have the money here, and presently, my man will come, which Anteros will send me, whom, if I have not paid me every morning my forty brace of legs and caps— no more.   

ACT. 4. SCE. 7.  Anteros disguised. Stipes. Ant. 
Why so, I me fairly accoutred, as becomes a shepherd's servant— But swig for see my Master. Here must I quite disrobe myself of all my former manners, garb, behaviour, and put the plod o'th' Country on.—  Stip. 
How now? He whistles and dances:  
What jolly whistler have we got here trow?  
Hi, hi, a dancer too? ay, ay, by'r Lady  
For ought I know, this is the man I spoke of,  
Or else if not, here's one could wish he were.  
A sturdy knave, a lusty proper knave.  
I like him well, he has a back for burdens.  
You Sirrah, you;  Ant. 
What say you, you?  Stip. 
I say whom do you seek here you?  Ant. 
I seek a Shepherd you.  Stip. 
I am a Shepherd.  Ant. 
But I seek a Shepherd, whose name is Stipes.  Stip. 
I am the man you knave, you come from Anteros?  Ant. 
Yea.  Stip. 
To serve me?  Ant. 
Yea.  Stip. 
In good time, how now saucy Jack? how now proud, prodigal knave? where are your twenty legs unto your Master? Go to, Go to, to work, begin, well said. Anteros makes legs. 1.2.3.4 5 6. So, so, enough, I do forgive the rest. Turn you about, umh, umh, a good squat fellow, a well quartered man, By'r Lady, and if he had but moans would make a pretty husband for my daughter Merda.  Ant. 
Has he a daughter? and are there women here? uh uh uh— O I am fallen from heaven into a coal-pit!  Stip. 
Why Merda, I say, my daughter Merda I say, the foolish girl's afraid I know, go to, go to, I will forgive her. Merda I say. But you Sir Squire o'th' o'th' dog, what is your name? high, which way look you?  Ant. 
My name is jeoffry.  Stip. 
ay, ay, how now? how jeoffry? a hard name by'r Lady. why when?  Ant. 
O I could creep into a catskin purse,  
Endure the scent of a court-farthingale  
For a concealment now.   

ACT. 4. SCE. 8.  Merda. Stipes. Anteros. Merd. 
Good-honey-sweet-sugarcandy Father, forgive me but this time, and if ever I do so any more, I'll never be seen neither bide, or hair again.  Stip. 
Ho, ho, oho, ho a great lob, stand up.  
I do forgive you, but on this condition, that for your penance you shall wear this rod, stuck at your back till night.  Mer. 
With all my heart good Father stick it on.  Stip. 
So: how dost thou like my man Chuckin? go to, look on him well.  Merd. 
Does he come a-wooing Father? if he does, I'll run away, and make him believe I'm coy.— [She offers to run into the house. He pulls her back with his hook.]  Stip. 
Whither now you great baggage? You'll come again? But stay am not I an old fool? an old dotardly fool, that have not enquired what my man can do yet? jeoffry.—  Mer. 
Is his name jeoffry? Father, good father do, pray you father let him dwell with us, you know you promised me, that you would hire a man, and buy him a Cloak, that he might go before me as they do before Gentlefolks daughters, when my new gown was made, I that you did, so marry did you.  Ant. 
What have we now to do?  Stip. 
Peace and catch a mouse.  Mer. 
There's claglocks●now i'th' house to make him a cloak Sweet— honey— sugar— comfit father let him.  Stip. 
No more. jeoffry, how now you slouch? how do you stand? Come hither, go to, go to, did you ever wear a cloak in your life? answer me roundly.  Ant. 
No not I, I can't tell how.  Stip. 
Ah beggars brat! how now? but I must have you learn, that you may man your young Mistress there sometimes. Come on let me see how finely you can do the feat, walk before her, follow him daughter. [He walks, Merda stays behind, tying her shoe.]  Ant 
Here's a sweet office!  Stip. 
You great lobcock you. [He beats him.]  
I'll teach you to look behind you, to see whether your charge follows, or no, what? would you be gadding without your charge?  Ant. 
ay, am I arrived at this?— whoffer did you strike one?  Stip. 
Do you prate too? look you here, mark but me, I have seen the day, when I could have stinged it before my sweet heart.— short and thick citizen like, you mankin, what? two acres breadth at a stride? ay, I by'r Lady; I'll cut you short in smock-timber, for this minion; is your smock so wide, with a murrain to you? short and thick citizen like: how now?   

ACT. 4. SCE. 9.  Stipes. Anteros. Merda. 2 Rustical Servants. two Maids. fiddlers. 1. Rust. 
high, strike up brave boys, hy, for our town.  Stip. 
high, for your town say you? you are a company of lazy, lubberly knaves, there's the short and the long on't, ho, ho, boys, ho, ho boys? what drabs too? girls too? doxies too? ye are a company of slowbackly Queans, there's sauce for your eels.  2. Rust. 
Come Kate, crowd on.  Ant. 
O, O, the whole torrent of all woman kind is broke in upon me, what shall I do?  Mer. 
Cuds, cuds, these are Mr. Lively's men and maids, that are come to dance upon the green. Pray you Father let me dance with them.  Stip. 
You dance with them? you are a great princockly puplady; there's mustard for your beef too, since you will needs have it; 'sounds I have been a wit in my days, there's some relics left yet, go to, go to.  1. Maid. 
Oh Stipes! I pray you let your daughter dance with us a little.  Stip. 
Dance with you? pray you upsolve me this question, what holy day is this? Latter Lammas? or St. Ginny's Even?  Rust. 1. 
Come on brave Shepherd, our Master has given us leave to trip it for an hour, or two, I'faith we have had a wedding at our house today.  Stip. 
A wedding? a wedding? what wedding? upsolve me that question.  1. Rust. 
Between a gentleman and a gentlewoman, but what care we what they be.  2. Maid. 
Come on old Grummelseedes, what must we stand thrumming of caps all day, waiting on your grave ignorance? by the faith of my body, either let your daughter dance with us, or I'll make your old bones rattle in your skin, I'll lead you a Coranto I'faith.  Ant. 
An Amazon, by heavens an Amazon, a Penthiseleia.  Stip. 
ay, I by'r Lady? are you advised of that?  Mer. 
Pray you forsooth, good-hony-sweete-plumpudding father, we'll have but one spir't I'faith la; Sellenger's round in sippits, or put on thy smock on Monday.  1 Rust. 
But what flap-mouthed fellow's that behind the tree there?  Ant. 
Now comes my Cue.  Stip. 
Who he? another gates fellow than you take him for, go to, go to, it is my man I tell you.  2. Rust. 
But can be dance?  Stip. 
Oh in print, he trips it like a fairy.  Jeffrey. 
high, hy, how now? what? tricks? how now?  2. Maid. 
How now young man? what so modest? come on, take me by th' hand.  Mer. 
Take me jeoffry. I'll dance with our jeoffry, or else I won't dance at all, no I won't, law you now.  Ant. 
I can't dance.  Stip. 
he's a lying knave, I saw him myself; to him, to to him, frolic it nimbly whilst I come back; because 'tis his first day he shall have leave, my daughter too, for half an hour, no more. Go to, go to. Exit Stipes.   

ACT. 4. SCEN. 10.  Anteros, Merda, two Rustical Servants, 2. Ancilla, Fiddlers. 2 Rust. 
But strike it out, we burn daylight.  Merd. 
Ah the Lord! but where's our jeoffrey?  1 Anc. 
Cuds me! I doubt the great clown's run away.  2 Anc. 
Who! he's got up into the tree there.  1 Rust. 
Where? where? oh cuds wowkers & swowkers, I have him by the leg: Robin, help here Robin.  Ant. 
What a murrain ails you? can't you let one alone?  2 Rust. 
Come, come, you must needs dance, we want one.  Ant. 
Can't dance.  2 Anc. 
Can't you dance, my little shamefaced one?  
Can you kiss a pretty wench in a corner?  Ant. 
Let one alone, I can't I tell you, I won't dance.  1 Rust. 
ay but you shall sirrah, in spite of your teeth.  Ant. 
Pish, 'won't dance.  1 Anc. 
Come Merda, you must entreat him, he'll dance with you I know.  Mer. 
Prithee now jeoffrey do, prithee now good jeoffrey do, would I might ne'er stir law, if I don't make you a bisning posset, with a great lump of honey in't, when my father and mother be gone to bed, if you will.  Ant. 
Pish I can't dance.  1 Rust. 
Come let the great fool alone, we'll dance ourselves.  Mer. 
Prithee now jeoffrey.  Ant. 
What shall I say? you'll laugh at one.  Mer. 
would I was whipped if I do.  1 Anc. 
be sworn I won't.  2 Anc. 
Nor I on my maidenhead.  Ant. 
Come on then, since there is no remedy. they dance  2 Rust. 
Hi, now every one kiss his marrow.  Ant. 
I ne'er was miserable till now Merda wipes her mouth, and expects  Mer. 
jeoffrey, jeoffrey.  2 Anc. 
Why don't you kiss your marrow?  Ant. 
I won't, I can't kiss.  1 Rust. 
No can't? we'll try that: Robin, hold his other arm fast: so, so, now Merda, now, well said, again, again; why so then. They all laugh.  Ant. 
They live in Paradise that thrash.  1 Anc. 
Tihy.  2 Anc. 
Tihy, Robin, come hither.  Ante. 
Those happy Paracelsians are in heaven,  
That trade by night i'th' minerals of the city.  2 Anc. 
What do you mean to fight Merda?  Merd. 
ay— I forgot the rod. They laugh.  1 Anc. 
Fie, why do you blush so Merda? she throws it away.  Merd. 
I done't blush, you are a liar.  1 Russ. 
Fie upon you Merda, a great maiden, and blush.  Merd. 
Awe, but you lie though, I did not blush, I won't dance no more with you.  2 Rust. 
O by any means do not forsake us yet, one dance more; who was it that said she blushed? she did not blush, I know she scorns to blush; come take your jeoffrey by the hand again.  Ant. 
I'm weary, I can't dance no more.  1 Rust. 
Weary? faith I'd squiffe it; weary? about with it I say. They dance again.   

ACT. 4. SCE. 11.  Stipes, with two dead lambs upon his hook, & caeteri. Sti. 
O lazy varlets! is this a time to dance? you idle persons; What will you leave I say? look here I pray; does this same spectacle agree with turning on the toe, or capering? go to, go to, fie, fie, ah my sweet lambs, I dare be sworn for you, ye think nobody hurt at this instant. Come hither you my nimble skipper, upsolve me this question, what's your 'pinion must be done with these?  1 Rust. 
Pish let's away, strike up, Stipes adieu.  1 Anc. 
Farewell Merda.  2 Anc. 
And you my ninny pease-straw-wisp that cannot kiss.  2 Rust. 
Stipes farewell, heigh. Exeunt.  Stip. 
Stipes farewell? but Stipes cannot farewell, if his affairs go thus quite arsy-varsy; you whoreson crab-faced lizard, you left-legged rogue, what is there nothing else belongs unto this gear, think you, but only to stare on them with your two saucers of mustard? s'duds, either take them up quickly, and to work about them, or I'll— Stipes strikes him.  Ant. 
This is the second time; this once I'll suffer:  
But by yond palace of the Gods I swear,  
Let him but once more touch me with the top  
Of his least finger, and I'll ram his trunk  
Into the centre: I have said it.  Stip. 
Are you muttering? you'll in with them, and dispatch them; go you home too, my daughter Merda.  Merd. 
umh, umh, umh, you might have let one dance a little longer, so you might, so you might; I am not yet hot in my gears. Exeunt Ant. Merda.  Stip. 
Are you mumbling too? what my whole family turned rebels? s'duds— I promise you, I promise you, 'tis not my best course I see to beat my man thus often; a surly knave by'r Lady, a surly knave, a strong knave too, I do not like his looks, he has a vinegar countenance: but peace and catch a mouse, cry I.   

ACTVS 4. SCENA 12.  Laurentio, Stipes. Laur. 
But see, I will inquire; honest man, a word.  Stip. 
Honest man in your face, whosoever owes you; 'sduds, have I nothing to do, but to prittle, prattle, with every one I meet, think you? Exit.  Lau. 
What an unheard of rudeness have we here?  
Are these the manners of the country? well.  
This is the place, as I am told, wherein  
That Lucius lives, who not long since prevailed  
With his fair flattering speeches, for to have  
My son Endymion to be his Page.  
But oh ye awful powers!  
I had no father in me should I suffer  
Mine only son to lead a servile life  
With one that is mine enemy, nay more,  
The ruin and subversion of my family.  
O daughter Isabella!  
Whilst thy false Lover melts within the arms  
Of his new purchased Mistress, thou (poor girl)  
Embracest scorn and poverty, or else  
(Which I do rather wish were true) could death.  
But I do hear,  
Since my arrival, of some Country people,  
That they have seen, some fortnight since or more,  
A pretty boy, lingering about this village  
Much about her stature, and complexion,  
Which did inquire for a Gentleman  
That was without a Page; this may be she,  
Who for the love of Lucius, has put on  
Some strange disguise. Whom cannot love transform?   

ACTVS 4. SCENA 13.  Placenta, Laurentio, Pandoura, Endymion. Plac. 
Ha, ha, he.  
Whilst the poor fly does sport herself too long  
About the amorous flame, she burns her wings.  
Her counterfeiting of a Love, is now  
Turned into earnest. Endymion's now the man  
She swears she loves; as for the other two  
She has forgot their very names already.  Lau. 
Does not this woman name my son?  
Let me see, is not this Endymion? it is he, Enter Pand. Endymion.  
And with him a fair gentlewoman. Ha?  Pand. 
But tell me dearest, did thy Master Lucius.  
Once love thy sister Isabella so,  
Whom now he has forsaken?  End. 
Yes.  Pan. 
Behold  
That treachery repaid him.  Lau. 
See, they kiss.  Pla. 
But what old Gentleman is this?  La. 
I'll show myself.  
All health to this fair loving couple.  End. 
O,—  Lau. 
Why dost thou fly me?  End. 
'Tis my father,— father  
God save you.  Lau. 
Dearest son, my best of blessings.  End. 
How have you done sir, since I saw you last?  Laur. 
As well as one can do that has departed  
With's only daughter.  End. 
Why, is my sister dead?  Laur. 
I know not that. But I am sure her credit,  
The candour of her name is perished.  End. 
Good sir, as how? Instruct me.  Lau. 
Ah Endymion,  
Since that most treacherous Lucius left the City  
I have not seen her, only I hear of her,  
But little to my comfort.— But no more,  
I have forgot her, and her folly both.  
Prepare thyself (my son) immediately,  
To leave this place and service; for thy fortunes  
(How ere they were before, slender and poor)  
Must not now see thee hold a trencher for  
A better man than Lucius. Thy old uncle  
As he lived well, in a seasonable age  
Is gone into the grave, and by his will  
Hath given to thee eight thousand pound, and three  
Unto thy sister, (though unworthy) what  
Else he was worth in lands and goods, is mine.  Pla. 
Pandora, kiss me girl, kiss me I say,  
I have deserved it, 'twas my invention,  
My plot this (girl) thouart happy wench, thouart happy.  Pan. 
Is this your father sweet?  End. 
It is fair Mistress.  
Sir, I congratulate our fortunes with you;  
But if you do desire to have my joys  
Full and o'erflow their banks, grant me your leave  
To marry this fair Gentlewoman.  Laur. 
Alas,  
This is not in my power Endymion:  
But if thou canst procure her friend's consent—  Pan. 
Sir fear not that, I will entreat my father.  Laur. 
As for a portion, 'tis not thought upon  
My son, if you be pleased.  End. 
Sir, I am pleased,  
She is to me most dear.  Pan. 
Placenta, run,  
See if my father be within,— I know Ex. Pla.  
(Most worthy sir) that I shall win him to it.  Laur. 
But canst thou tell no news of Isabella,  
Sweet son?  End. 
No, none at all sir.  Lau. 
Ah poor heart!  
But 'tis no matter, I'll forget her quite. Redit in scenam Plac.  
Where is thy Mr Lucius?  End. 
I know not.  Pla. 
Your father's walked abroad with Mis. Ursely  
Your sister, but whither, there's none can tell me.  
As yet the plot concerning Constantina to herself.  
Is not descried.  Pan. 
Most reverend sir, wilt please you  
To walk into the pastures, peradventure  
There we shall meet my father.  Lau. 
But I had rather  
That I could compass that same villain Lucius,  
That he might hear what he deserves. lively runs in, Nean. following with his sword drawn.  Nean. 
Villain.  Live. 
I am undone.  Pla. 
Ah me! Neander with his naked sword!  
I'll run in here.  Pan. 
Ah!  End. 
Let's away good father, Exeunt.   

ACT. 4. SCEN. 14.  Neander, lively. Nean. 
O that thou hadst  
As many lives as hairs, that I might be  
An age in killing thee, that I might score up  
Each passing minute with a life:— But speak,  
How durst thou thus abuse me?  Liu. 
I did not know  
She was a woman.  Nean. 
No, didst thou not know it?  
But thou shalt know thyself to be a man,  
One that can die.  Liu. 
— O— O—  Nean. 
How poor is this revenge? hast thou any children,  
Or kinsfolks (speak) that I may kill them too?  
Ha? wilt thou not answer? how durst thou offer this?  Liu. 
Because I loved your friend Lucius  
Better than you.  Nean. 
Better then I? that word  
Does merit death though thou hadst been preserved  
White from thy cradle to this hour.—  
Dost thou love Lucius? ha?  Liu. 
Yes.  Nean. 
Live; no, no thou must not;  
Thou might'st have killed my father, broke the urn  
Wherein my mother's ashes sleep, far cheaper.  
But for his sake, thus much I'll grant thee, choose  
The manner of thy death— shall I take off thy head?  
Or hadst thou rather die upon the point?  
Think quickly, nay be instant.  Liu. 
Worthy Sir:  
Let me entreat some little space to pause  
I have not yet determined.  Nean. 
Well thou hast it. But see that it be speedy.   

ACT. 4. SCEN. 15.  Laurentio, Lucius, Neander, lively. Lau. 
Most perfidious. Contemner of all goodness.—  Luc. 
Excellent.  
Nay forward, on, we know you have a tongue.  Nean. 
Ha? is this Lucius?  Lau. 
Where is my Isabella,  
Whom thou hast loaden with disgrace? restore me  
Her honour (villain) her good name.  Nean. 
I must  
Defer my just revenge I see a little.  
He must not know that I am angry, not  
How I am gulled.  Laur. 
Thou base unworthy man.  Luc. 
Would you could raise your voice a little sir,  
You are not heard.  Laur. 
Thou stain of all mankind.  Nean. 
Thou owest thy life unto my Lucius.  
I am not now at leisure for to kill thee.  Liu. 
Nor I for to be killed for a trick I know. Ex. lively.  Luc. 
Are you drawn dry so quickly, Mr lickthumb?  
Have you no more good names in pickle for me?  
Nay come i'faith, let's have another bout.  Nea. 
But is he gone? he must not so escape me. Ex. Nean.  Lau. 
Where is my daughter? where is my daughter, rascal?  
Ah Isabella.  Luc. 
So: but Sir resolve me,  
Have ye no Empirics? no Physicians  
I'th' City, that you thus do send your mad men  
Into the country to be cured? but Sir  
I'll leave you.  Laur. 
But I will not so leave you.  Luc. 
You will not?  Lau. 
No, I'll be a torment to thee.  Luc. 
You will? but yet take heed that your ill language  
Procures not me to turn Physician.  
This sword of mine opens a vein but harshly,  
Do you hear.  
Finis Actus quarti.    

The Song.  

Have you a desire to see  
The glorious heaven's Epitome?  
Or an abstract of the Spring?  
Adonis garden? or a thing  
Fuller of wonder, Nature's shop displayed,  
Hung with the choicest pieces she has made?  
Here behold it open laid.   

Or else would you bless your eyes  
With a type of paradise?  
Or behold how Poets feign  
jove to sit amidst his train?  
Or see (what made Actaeon rue)  
Diana 'mongst her Virgin crew?  
Lift up your eyes and view.    


ACT. 5. SCEN. 1.  Stipes solus. 
Why so then, now we are all alone. We? you great near,  
What have you pigs in your belly? by'r Lady, If I wist  
I had, I would not unkennel this secret yet, well if there  
Were hog's in my belly too, I see that it will out;  
This mouth of mine was not cut out for secrets—  
O wicked servant! lewd daughter!  
O Merda, Merda, thou hast lost thyself  
For ever, thou hast defiled my house, my good name, my family. As I even now came from my sheep, I found my daughter, at her nooning forsooth, fast asleep upon her bed, and there was she (as she uses often) campering to herself alone in her sleep, 'scoursing to herself, but what was her discourse think you? Not about her housewifery; not how many hens were with egg, but fie upon you jeoffry are you not ashamed? O! Ah! fie upon you jeoffry are you not ashamed to touch one by the skin? I'll tell my father (never move) if you will not be quiet. ay, I by'r Lady, worse than this, worse stuff than this, what shall I say? without all doubt this left legged-rascal has dubbed me Grandfather without Matrimony. But peace and catch a mouse cry I, some wiser than some, old birds will not be catched with shaffe. I have a trick in store if it will take, to be revenged sufficiently— no more. jeoffry, Why jeoffry.   

ACT. 5. SCEN. 2.  Anteros, Stipes. Ant. 
What gaping knave is that?  Stip. 
How now jeoffry? know you not me jeoffry? know you not me? But let that pass though— I'll be with you anon i'faith for all this gear. Come hither Left-legs, come hither. Peace and catch a mouse cry I. Did you ever when you were at your old Masters, learn to set a trap, jeoffry?  Ant. 
Yes a mouse trap.  Stip. 
O sirrah, sirrah; but we must have to do with other gates kind of cattle, I mean a fox trap Left-legs, come hither, come hither, look you here, and learn, for this same night must I send you into the Pastures to invite my fine Reynold tomorrow to breakfast, go too, go too, he is something too familiar with my Lambs, mark you that left-legs? A little nigher I pray you. Help me to twist this Cord— Well said, be a faithful servant jeoffry. You know I have a daughter jeoffry. Peace and catch a Mouse jeoffry. You great dunder nose— 'Zounds— You'll lay both hands to work— A bots on you; you hang on my back to see you. Your other hand in, and draw behind thus, thus look you here. [He gets his hands into the cords, and on a sudden ties him too a tree. ]Ha, ha, he, foh. How rank he smells? but 'tis no matter, I begin to grow old, and 'tis good (they say) Against the Palsy. Ha, ha, he, he, ho. You villain, He loves 
Mutton well, that dips his bread inth' wool.  
No less than your Master's daughter Left-legs?  
Come on in troth, upsolve me this question is she not tender?  is she not delicate? a pretty morsel? does she not relish well? a pretty morsel? but I'll teach you sirrah to play the Mason, and lay your chips o'th' rock where you're desired Left-legs, where you're desired. But I am something feeble through my age, 
And cannot longer hold out discourse with you,  
Without my staff, without my supporter, sir,  
I pray you do not stir till my return,  
But let me find you here, I have some business,  
Go to, go to, I have some business with you. Exit Stipes.    

ACT. 5. SCE. 3.  Anteros, Loveall. Ant. 
Nay 'tis no matter I deserve it all,  
Troth I do hope that he will baste me soundly.  
Beshrew his fingers if he does not, soundly.  
I must be in my tricks, forsooth, my tricks:  
Have my devices, and my turns, my changes. Enter Loveall.  
But torment of all torments! here comes Love-all.  
Why this is worse than five and twenty beatings;  
O that some greedy undertaker of lives  
Would give me but a double Stiver now  
For mine, that I might cozen him. As sure  
As Death, or justice Hooks devouring paws,  
I shall be jeered to death, immediately.  Loue. 
It is a strange dark melancholy this  
That thus torments my Sister, I have been  
An hour with her, and in all that time  
Cannot persuade her troubled soul to form  
The least air she breathes, into articulate language.  
But stay what have we here?  Ant. 
Now it begins.  Lou. 
A man tied to a tree?  Ant. 
I would your tongue  
Was tied as fast; then there was hope I might  
Escape with life.  Lou. 
What are you fellow, speak?  Ant. 
You may go look, go meddle with your own.  Lou. 
So angry pray thee? how came thy hands in mortgage?  
Shall I redeem them?  Ant. 
Redeem your own lands I pray you,  
Let me alone or else I'll spurn you— yet  
He knows me not.  Lou. 
Sure I have seen that face.  Ant. 
O, O, O—  Lou. 
Is 't he or not, ha? Anteros.  Ant. 
No more.  
Death not a word.  Lou. 
But heaven and earth man! how  
Comes this to pass? What has begot this change?  Ant. 
Wilt thou untie me? I will tell thee all.  Lou. 
But pray thee Anteros.—  Ant. 
But pray thee jack  
Thou wilt undo me quite by thy delays,  
Wilt thou undo me?  Lou. 
'Tis not a friendly part.  Ant. 
Pox o' that jest, as common as a woman,  
Or her Synonomy; wilt thou untie me? He unties him.  Lou. 
'Tis done.  Ant. 
Thou art my Patron Love-all, So.  
But stay a while, I must desire your aid  
A little further.  Lou. 
What has he now in hand?  [He pulls off his Shepherd's robes which were above his own, plucks Garters, Pumps, Roses, a Band out of his Pocket.] Ant. 
Can you become a peaceable man?  Lou. 
How now?  
A Snake, a Snake; he's young again, ha, ha, he.  
What? Pinks and Roses too? Why so, he plucks  
june out of 's pocket.  Ant. 
Can you be quiet yet?  Lou. 
And Garters too?  Ant. 
That slippery tongue of yours  
I doubt will spoil all.  Lou. 
What? and a band? so, so;  
The veil of Tempe's not so fresh, the picture,  
The very picture of the Spring, when th' earth  
Lays by her freeze-coat, and turns Forester.  Ant. 
Thus far it prospers, once more your help sweet jack,  
Nay come, and take me that same rope again,  
And bind me as I was before, directly  
In the same garb you found me— Do not stand  
Gazing, but do 't.  Lou. 
Thou art not mad I hope?  Ant. 
If I be mad, I will not trouble you  
For counsel, nor for Physic; nay wilt thou come?  
But hold a little, I must first borrow of you  
Your Hat, and Sword. [He lends him his hat and sword.]  Lou. 
Which way this plot will look  
I know not— there— come let me see your hand's  
Since you will needs.  Ant. 
Why now thou'rt right, thou'rt right,  Lou. 
What will you have me do beside? come on,  
Your legs too if you will.  Ant. 
No more, St. hark.  
The Shepherds door. Trouble us not good Love-all.  
Only stand close and hear.  Lou. 
What should this mean?   

ACT. 5. SCEN. 4.  Stipes with a cudgel in his hand. Anteros. Loveall. Stip. 
Fie jeoffry, are you not ashamed, to touch one by the skin? My daughter denies all this most stiffly but I will Ferret-claw my Lobcock i'faith. So, now I am armed. Go to, go to, come you knave, where are you?  Lou. 
Ha, ha, he.  Stip. 
Ha? ha? ha? How now by'r Lady? How now? ay, I by'r Lady? what's this? What's this? gaudy? gaudy? Fine clothes? fine clothes? Ha? has nobody stole my eyes? let me be sure of that in the first place. Am I Stipes or not? ha? ha? ha? Is this our jeoffry or not?  Ant. 
Stipes, Stipes I say.  Stip. 
This is another voice another face  
Without all question this is Fairy Ground;  
My man is changed.  Lou. 
ha, ha, he.  Ant. 
St. Stip. hi, hi, hi. A sword too? a sword too? a whiniard too?  Ant. 
Stipes.  Stip 
Well I will venture to speak whate'er come on 't, but stay, I'll first say o'er the charm my Mother learned me.  
Be'st thou devil gentle, or be'st thou devil cursed,  
In the name of Saint Swithin do thy worst.  
There's sauce for your eels whate'er you are. Now see if I cannot shape you an answer.  Ant. 
Come nearer to me.  Stip. 
Are you advised of that? older and wiser, Soft fire makes sweet Malt, No haste to hang true men; come nearer quoth you? I am near enough already for the good you'll do me I doubt, Come nearer say you? No good M. Devil I am very well I thank you, go to, come nearer when you have a Sword, a Twybill?  Ant. 
My hands are bound man.  Lou. 
What will become of this?  Ant. 
St'. Stip. If your feet were bound too, I'll not trust you As long as you have a Sword by your side, a Whiniard.  Ant. 
Do but hear me. Had not you a man today called jeoffry?  Stip. 
Yes marry had I; what say you to that now? Nay I'll keep myself out of your clutches I warrant you.  Ant. 
But what's become of that same jeoffry?  Stip. 
Become? become? 'suppose I spurred you an answer, and said I know not, what can you make of that now? make me a horse-nail of that.  Ant. 
Do you desire to know?  Stip. 
Yes marry do I. Crack me that nut now if you be a Gentleman Devil.—  Ant. 
I am that jeoffry, but no servant now  
Of yours, but mine own man: and am become  
Since your departure, noble, rich, valiant,  
Am formed a new out of the Mint,— behold me.  
And this great miracle Obron the Fairy King  
Has wrought upon me.  Stip. 
Oberum? Oberum? you tell me strange things.  Ant. 
But shall I tell thee stranger things than these?  Stip. 
'suppose you did.  Ant. 
And such as shall be for thy benefit?—  Stip. 
Would you would else. Nay stare on with your goggles till Barley comes to six pence a bushel. You know your wages, some wiser than some, cry I: I'll keep far enough off you: I'll tell you but so. Go to, go to, I am a crafty colt.  Ant. 
You know I was your servant today.  Stip. 
Well put the case.  Ant. 
Poor, ill apparelled.  Stip. 
Put the case the second time.  Ant. 
But now you see how strangely altered.  Stip. 
Well put the case again.  Ant. 
What will you say now to the man that shall  
Pet you into the same condition?  
Recover you from rags and Russet, and  
Die you in scarlet: lick that rude lump your body  
Into the shape, and garb o'th' court? or (once)  
Make you a gentleman as I am now?  
Would you not thank him Stipes? ha? would you not thank him?  Stip. 
Thank him Mr. jeoffry? ay, with all my heart.  Ant. 
Set him at liberty then that will perform it. Quickly unloose me? [He unties him.]  Stip. 
ay, I by'r Lady? will you so Mr. jeoffry? will you so? go to, go to, a gentleman? said you me so? I con you thank Mr. jeoffry.  Ant. 
So, now will I unfold the mystery.  
But first you here shall promise me that you  
Will take no prentices to learn your trade,  
When I have taught you the art; you will impoverish  
The herald's office, and forestall his market.  Stip. 
No truly Mr. jeoffry.  Ant. 
I am satisfied;  
Seest thou that tree? 'twas made for thy advancement.  
Give me thy hands that I may tie them quickly.  Stip. 
Are you advised o' that?  Ant. 
What do you mean?  
You'll be prevented by another— death!  
Yonder comes one will be before you— quickly  
There's such a virtue (man) in this same tree,  
That whosoe'er is bound unto it, shall  
be turned immediately to a gentleman.  
Nay come.  Stip. 
but is this true?  Ant. 
believe your eyes.  
Heart of my father, man! you'll be prevented.  Stip. 
A gentleman? said you me so? go to, go to, [He ties Stipes to the tree. ]Good Master jeoffry quickly— so but stay. When I'm a gentleman may I not use, my old trade of shepherd still? I would not leave it.  Ant. 
O, and enclose; 'tis all in fashion.  Stip. 
ay, ay, by'r Lady? that's well, but stay again.  Ant. 
Nay you are like to stay now, I have you fast enough  Stip. 
'Sduds, if thou be'st a good conjurer make me a knight to. I have a pestilent itch after a knighthood.  Ant. 
You must take gentleman first i'th' way.  Stip. 
Let me skip gentleman good Mr. jeoffry, 'duds  
I know knights in this country that never were  
Gentlemen— but upsolve me this question? can you make  
My daughter Merda a gentleman too?  Ant. 
A gentlewoman  
Stipes I can.  Stip. 
ay, ay, so I meant it— Merda, Merda,  
A bots on you, Merda, are you dreaming again?  Ant. 
O for some nimble pated fellow now  
To make an Ob'ron of.  Lou. 
I'll furnish thee.  
There is a notable witty bedlam begging  
At our back gate just now. I'll fetch him to thee.  Ant. 
If thou dost love me, do.— Exit Loveall.  Stip. 
Why Merda, you'll come when your noun father calls?   

ACT. 5. SCE. 5.  Merda. Stipes. Anteros. Loveall. A Bedlam. Merda. 
What do you say Father forsooth?  Stip. 
That 's a good girl. Nay she 's towardly enough, she'll quickly learn. Why do you stare so on Mr. jeoffry?  Merd. 
What man is this Father?  Stip. 
Come you're a fool, let that man alone. we shall be gentlefolks ourselves my chucken, give him your hands to tie I say, be obedient.  
Thou presently shalt see thine own sweet father,  
As fine as he, and thou my little Sweet-lips  
Shalt be a gentlewoman too, go to, good jeoffry tie her hands.  Ant. 
How jeoffry?  Sti. 
Good Mr. jeoffry.  Ant. 
That's another thing.  Mer. 
Father forsooth shall I have as fine clothes on as Mistress Ursly forsooth?  Stip. 
O! she's half turned already: forsooth and a curtsy at every word; Mrs. Ursely? thou shalt put Mrs. Ursly into a pint pot.  Merd. 
O the Lord! pray you forsooth Sir whosoe'er you are do me quickly forsooth.  Ant. 
But here 's not rope enough.  Stip. 
Take off your garter quickly you Maukin you.  Mer. 
Here forsooth. And father, must I take place of my mother when I'm a Gentlewoman?  Ant. 
Good.  Stip. 
Marry shalt thou goldy locks, and be a Lady, and contemn her.  
Call her the good old country woman too.  Ant. 
Stipes, but one word more and then I'll leave you  
Unto your new creation— have you nothing  
Within your house to cover you? the crows  
Perhaps may be too impudent and saucy  
With you, and now you can not help yourself you know.  Stip. 
ay, I by'r Lady? 'twas well thought upon,  
Good Mr. jeoffry step into my house, He goes out and returns presently with a long grey cloak.  
You there shall find my cloak, use that.  Ant. 
'Tis of a swooping cut, but new be sure  
You do not speak a word what noise soe'er  
You chance to hear, perhaps the fairy King  
Will take some pause, study a while, consult  
With his Queen Mab about you how to polish  
And frame you of a purer shape then ordinary.  
Do you mark that? St, not a word good Stipes.  Stip 
Ah sweet Mr. jeoffry. [Enter Loveall with a Bedlam.]  Ant. 
Peace and catch a mouse cry I.  Love. 
Come on brave Tom, come on brave Tom, Remember your instructions Tom.  Bedl. 
Let brave Tom alone. Let brave Tom alone.  Ant. 
A most authentic rogue, how he does stretch it? paratragoediate?  Bedlam sings. 
Newly from a poached Trade, and  
A broil a Viper, King of Fairy land  
I Ob'ron do arise, to see  
What mortal Fortune here hath tied unto my sacred Tree.  Stip. 
O Mr. jeoffry, is that Ob'rum? Pray you let me see him. [Ant lifts up the cloak and Stipes sees him. ]Is this Obrum? 'sduds, he is but poorly apparelled himself methinks.  Ant. 
St. Stip. Peace and catch a mouse cry I, but once more good Mr. jeoffry. Let me have but Ant lifts up the cloak again .one sight more of him. Mr. jeoffry does he use to give away his clothes when he makes gentlefolks? 'sduds I doubt he has none left for me.  Ant. 
What do you mean?  Stip. 
Peace and catch a mouse cry I.  Mer. 
Good father let me see Obrum too: ah, he has a horn like a Tom of Bedlam.  Stip. 
Peace, I would not for the best cow in my yard that he should hear thee.  Bedlam sings. 
Be'st thou ruder than was e'er  
The half excrement of a Bear,  
Or rougher than the Northern wind  
Cam'st thou of a satyr's kind.  
Be whatsoever thou canst be  
So thou shalt remain for me.  Ant. 
Did you hear that Stipes?  Stip: 
ay, good Master jeoffry, stand farther you great baggage and make room for your rathers 'proaching greatness.  Ant. 
But see my father,  Loveall. 
Pray thee convey away the Bedlam any whether, carry him into your house again and shoot him out at the back door.  Love. 
Anteros, I'll leave you to your business. I'll in and fetch another hat. Come brave Tom. 'Bed, Let brave Tom alone. [Ex. Lou. & Bedlam.]  Ant. 
The justice too, 'tis so. Now am I hunted for about a wedding.   

ACT. 5. SCE. 6.  justice Hook, Terpander, Anteros Mrs. Ursly. Hooke. 
Terpander, you have heard how much this match  
May both concern you and your Son, your fortunes:  
The greater part of your inheritance  
You know is mortgaged to me, nay (I'll tell you)  
If I would use that rigour of the law  
'Tis forfeited and past recovery;  
Think therefore quickly, if you would be free  
From all those cares and troubles which afflict  
Such as do live in debt, compel your Son  
To marry this my daughter.  Ant. 
I am a witch,  
A witch, a witch a rank, stark stinking witch.  Hooke. 
It is an ample dowry I confess,  
And little 'tis agreeing to my nature  
To buy a husband at so dear a rate,  
But I have something that sounds father in me;  
And must not lose a daughter, if there be  
A remedy in nature. True it is,  
That (by what angry Deity I know not)  
She has so fixed her love upon your Son,  
That I do think nought but a quick fruition  
Can rescue her from a death.  Ter. 
Good justice Hook,  
I do confess your offer's fair, and would  
Accept it willingly, but that—  Hooke. 
But what?  Ter. 
I fear my Son will not agree unto 't.  Ant. 
Sir had you ta'en an oath upon the same  
I would have borne your sin, had you been perjured.  Ter. 
You know he hates all women.  Hooke. 
very good.  
Is he not yours, and under your command?  
we fathers make our children refractory,  
By being too indulgent over them;  
Besides, I am persuaded that his virtues  
Will not permit him for to contradict  
Th' authority of a father.  Ant. 
O ye Gods!  
Can ye permit this Villain to profane  
The sacred name of Virtue thus, who himself  
Is nothing else but a mere heap of vices?  Ter. 
I ever yet found him obedient,  
Nor do I doubt to win him now: however,  
I am resolved if he in this shall cross me,  
I'll disinherit him immediately.  Ant. 
I? is it come to that already? well  
Prepare thyself now Anteros for th' encounter.  Hooke, 
But see your son. 'tis your best course at first  
T' accost him gently.  Ter. 
How now my son? how fare you?  Ant. 
I am not well sir.  Ter. 
How not well? your colour  
Does not proclaim you very sick, but say.  Ant. 
there's something in my eyes that troubles me.  Ter. 
What's that?  Ant. 
A mote, a woman.  Ter. 
After the old fashion still?  
Come on my son, I have been seeking of you,  
And peradventure you may guess the cause.  Ant. 
I would I could not.  Hooke. 
Hold up your head my daughter  
And summon your best looks into your face.  Ter. 
As I did walk even now into my pasture,  
I did begin to think.  Ant. 
That I was old,  
That must be next.  Ter. 
That now I'm struck in years.  Ant. 
Good, struck in years;  
And could he not as frugally have dispatched it  
In that one word of old?  Ter: 
And—  Ant: 
That it will be a comfortable sight  
To see you married before I die.  Ter: 
That it will be a comfortable sight  
To see you married before my death.  Ant: 
I told you so, it is the common road  
Which they all use when they would pin a wife  
Upon the son. I wonder all this while  
The staff of's age, prop of his family  
Did not come in.  Ter: 
Whilst I was thinking thus,  
Old justice Hook, a Gentleman of rank,  
And of a family not to be despised,  
Came to me with his daughter, and desired  
Our friendship and affinity; and to be brief,  
We have concluded twixt ye two a marriage,  
Which must be present; as for the portion,  
H'as promised in the wedding fire to sacrifice  
The Bonds wherein our Lands stand forfeited.  
A thing beyond my hopes, or your deserts.  Ant. 
A pox upon that thumb under the girdle,  
There 's mischief ever toward's: I never knew  
One of that garb that proved an honest man.  
'Tis the grave cheating posture of the city.  Ter. 
What's that you mutter to yourself? come speak.  Ant. 
I am contented sir.  Ter. 
Well said my son.  Ant. 
But upon this condition, that it shall  
Be lawful too for me to sacrifice  
Unto the aforesaid fire a certain trifle  
Of mine.  Ho. 
What's that?  Ant. 
My wife, & your fair daughter.  Ter. 
Out on you traitor.  Ant. 
Sir, by yea and nay  
It cannot be afforded cheaper.  Hoo. 
Wretch  
And profane person.  Ter. 
sayst thou so thou villain?  
Hast thou no more regard into thy father,  
Nor to his shipwrackt fortune, that thou thus  
Dost study his undoing plot his ruin?  Ant. 
But father, if I marry her today,  
When must the wooing be? tomorrow sir?  Hoo. 
Thou shalt not need to woo her Anteros,  
She is thine own already.  Ant. 
Is she so?  
Would you was hanged sir for the nowes.  Ter. 
Pish, doom,  
I will not spend an article of air  
Upon him more— good Mr Hook let's go,  
The following hour shall see him no son of mine.  Hoo. 
O, mildly sir.  Ant. 
It is determined  
By all the stars, they have consulted, plotted  
To make me miserable.  Hoo. 
Come Terpander,  
You are too harsh with him, I know your son  
Does more esteem of Virtue and Religion—  Ant. 
Good Master sacrilege, a word in private:  
(A little farther, yet a little farther)  
How came you by that strange exotic word  
You used but now? had you're on interest?  
Or was it lent you gratis of a friend?  Hoo. 
What word good Anteros?  Ant. 
Religion,  
For I am sure yet thou never hadst,  
Nor ever wilt have any of thine own.  Hoo. 
O profane person!  Ter. 
This once I speak it.  
Wilt have his daughter?  Ant. 
What shall I answer him?  
I shall be disinherited that's certain.  Ter. 
He melts, Mr Hook, he melts, I feel him coming.  
He is our own.  Ant. 
But why so suddenly?  
Good sir, at least give me some time to think.  Ter. 
Never hope it.  Ant. 
But why sir today?  Ter. 
Because it pleaseth him it most concerns.  Ant. 
Do but defer it till tomorrow sir,  
(Could I obtain but this request, I was happy, aside.  
I'd keep tomorrow in another world)  Ter. 
Until tomorrow? not for an hour: I know  
Your disposition son too well for that.  
I have you now, but where you'll be next day,  
He 's wiser than your father that does know.  Ant. 
But father, I beseech you hear.  Ter. 
But son  
I will not hear, I tell you. Master Hook,  
You here do give your daughter?  Hoo. 
Willingly.  
Anteros, receive thy loving wife.  Ter. 
How now?  
You will not urge me?— go too, do not do it.  Ant. 
O that mine arms are now at liberty!  
O Stipes, happiest man alive, thou hast  
No hands to make a contract,— is there never  
A Mousehole hereabouts to creep into?  
But stay a while, my paper portion.  
The writings.  Hoo. 
Take them.  Ant. 
You're an honest man.  [He gives them him, & Ant. tears then in pieces.] 
'tis right.  Hoo. 
Now take your wife.  Ant. 
I wish you a Barber sir.  
Is that fair Edifice yours?  Hoo. 
It is my son.  Ant. 
Gooder and gooder still; my son? then take  
My counsel sir, go to your house and purge,  
You will be mad else presently; prevent  
The current of the humour, for I see  
(With that poor little reading which I have  
I'th' volume of man) by your distempered looks,  
That some strange deep, and conquering Melancholy  
ere long will seize you: why do you follow me  
Thus with your braided ware? nay never frown,  
Good Mr justice, let's have no Warrants made,  
Nor Mittimuses with your distorted looks;  
we have a forehead too, and can look grim,  
And make as ugly and prodigious faces,  
As the most ignorant justice of you all.  
But shall I tell you (sweet Mr Velvet-hose)  
What I will do, because you were so kind,  
For to deliver in the Bonds for nothing?  
Nay sir, I must transplant these thumbs, before  
I can resolve you: so.— thou'rt a damned rascal,  
And I will cut that throat of thine (do you mark?)  
And when I've done, will fillip that morsel, woman,  
On an embassage to my Hawks, no more;  
By heavens I'll do 't.  Hoo. 
Oh Traitor, Miscreant,  
Daughter take heed; Terpander, O Terpander,  
He threatens me to cut my throat.  Ter. 
How's that?  Ant. 
Sir, you must pardon him, the man is mad.  Hoo. 
He swears he will make hawksmeat of my daughter.  Ant. 
On my virginity sir, he does me wrong;  
I did not charge a syllable upon him,  
But fell as coolly from me as a dew.  
Upon a drooping field; each word I vented  
Was steeped in an honeycomb. I did but bid him  
In a plain, civil dialect to provide  
another husband for his daughter: for  
I doubted that I should not be at leisure  
This brace or two of years to marry her.  
And I may tell you sir, indeed I cannot.  Hoo. 
O, O, am undone, cheated and gulled, undone,  
Villain I'll bind thee to thy good behaviour.  Ant. 
I would you could sir, I would thank you for't:  
But fie M. Hook, a head of that silver die,  
A beard of such an honourable length,  
For to be gulled? and so egregiously?  
By a young man with ne'er a hair o''ns face?  Ter. 
Come son, I do not like these courses, nor  
Do they become a Gentleman, I'll not have  
That contumely dwell on our family,  
That we should use such indirect proceedings  
For to re-edify our tottering fortunes.  
By all the Magic in the name of Father  
I do conjure thee; by this aged head,  
And these grey hairs, by thy dead Mother's Urn,  
By all her cares and fears, by what is dearest  
Unto thy soul, I charge thee, take his daughter.  Ant. 
Without all question I am the first, the first  
That ever piety has made miserable.  
Well Master Hook, you see what may be done,  
What angry spirits a man may lay, while he  
Does stand secure within the circle of father.  
Your daughter I will have; only know this,  
There is another thing which belongs to her,  
Which I must have too, that's the Parsonage;  
'Twas ever yet allotted for her portion,  
And I expect my right.  Hoo. 
How? woe is me,  
I am undone.  Ant. 
Before I stretch forth a paw  
Towards her, I'll have it.  Vrs. 
Father, good father let him,  
He will go back from's word else.  Ho. 
Well, he shall have it.  
Hold: by the virtue of this writing, it  
Is lawful for you (after old lively's death)  
For to present the first Fie, fie, fie, fie.  
I had this drawn (alas) for another end.  Ant. 
My law does tell me it will do. Come on,  
Since there's no remedy, let's even to't.  
Yes hangman, I forgive thee heartily,  
'Tis but thy office.  Hoo. 
Come Terpander, we  
Will keep the wedding, at my house, but hear you?  
The cost and charges shall be yours.  Ter. 
Agreed,  
Most willingly. Follow me son and daughter.  [She fits down, & pulls stones out of her pocket] Vrse. 
Come husband Anteros, will you play at Checkstones  
With me?  Ant. 
Follow, follow, follow, follow,  
I will be there immediately: nay go.   

ACT. 5. SCEN. 7.  Anteros, Stipes, Merda ad arborem, Ante. 
So, I have made a fine days work of this:—  
Well, there's no remedy, it must be so.  
But I must take my leave in form: Farewell  
Ye chimney gods, protectors of our family;  
Stipes.  Stip. 
A bott's upon you, that same tongue  
Of yours must needs be wagging.  Mer. 
Indeed Father  
I did not speak a word, no that I did not.  Stip. 
we must begin again now for your tattling,  
Did not the Gentleman command us silence?  Ant. 
Stipes adieu, I am exceeding sorry  
I cannot stay to see you a Gentleman.  
Spruce M. Noddle, even adieu to you.  
Good M. Mongrel, kind Sir Hammershin.  
Sweet M. William, I am Melancholy  
To part with you as I am a living soul.   

ACT. 5. SCE. 8.  Anteros. Loveall. Lou. 
Why whether in such haste?  Ant. 
To banishment.  
My name is written in the oyster shell;  
I am too happy in a wife jack Love-all,  
My fellow Citizens do envy me.  
Farewell.  Lou. 
In troth I thank you heartily,  
I hope you'll first deliver back again  
My Sword and Hat.  Ant. 
By my best wishes jack  
I thought not of them; pray thee take them to thee.  Lou. 
I will take thee my little Cupid-whipper.  
You must not go.  Ant. 
Let me alone good Love-all,  
Dost thou not hear how with an even gale  
That Southwest wind murmurs amongst the trees?  
Within these four and twenty hours I may  
Touch on the Belgic shore.  Lou. 
The Belgic shore?  
What wilt thou do there man?  Ant. 
I'll trail a pike,  
Turn Lanceprezado, or Bedee, or any thing  
To patch up a wretched life.  Lou. 
You'll turn a coxcomb.  Ant. 
I never shall endure to live a husband  
The very name of wife will turn my stomach.  
I shall have threescore vomits in a day.  Lou. 
What wilt thou say now Anteros if I set thee  
As free from this same marriage, as the child  
Which ten months since was but an Embryo?  Ant. 
Thou canst not.  Lou. 
I can do it, fear it not.  Ant. 
Thou canst nor man, 'tis past recovery.  Lou. 
What wilt thou give me if I do effect it?  Ant. 
Give thee? I'll sacrifice myself unto thee  
My jupiter, build up a Temple for thee  
Shall take the heavens from Atlas' shoulders, and  
Give him a jubilee for ever— Speak.  
He shall be at leisure all the rest of's life,  
For to catch Butterflies— But you do mock me,  
Farewell.  Lou. 
But stay.  Ant. 
Do but effect it jack.  
And I will straight make war upon the Turk,  
Give thee his Diadem and Sceptre— Speak.  
The Persian shall be the Master of thy Horse,  
The German I will make thy cupbearer.  Lou. 
Ha, ha, he. And so I shall have all my drink drunk up,  
Thank you for that.  Ant. 
Nay wilt thou speak, or else  
Let me be gone.— The Dukes of Italy  
Shall be thy footboys.  Lou. 
Here's a brave promiser!  
Why this out does the Court; but dost thou hear?  
How wilt thou do all this?  Ant. 
Nay 'troth I know not,  
But I will do it, and let that suffice.  Lou. 
Well then be silent.— Placenta the Shepherd's wife  
Soon as she heard a marriage was in motion  
Betwixt my Kinswoman and yourself, came running  
To me in haste, and cried what do they mean?  
It is not fit, nor can it be (unless  
That they will violate the laws of Nature)  
That Anteros should have this Gentlewoman;  
I ask the cause, the Midwife answereth  
Because she is his Sister.  Ant. 
How? my Sister?  Lou. 
And is it possible that this is true?  Lou. 
True.  Ant. 
Stay.  Lo. 
Nay will you hear with patience?  
Or else—  Ant. 
as silent as a midnight minute,  
Or else a Counsellor without a fee,  
I'll stand and hear, and suck it in, and—  Lou. 
Yet?  Ant. 
I've done.  Lou. 
Then hear; it seems that Dorothea  
My Uncle's wife, some seventeen years ago  
Supposing she had been with child, provided  
Such necessaries for her, as a woman  
That is in her estate might stand in need of;  
'Twas famed about the Country: but at last  
She found herself deluded by a tympany,  
But fearing lest she should prove the table talk o'th' country,  
Takes counsel with Placenta for to feign  
A birth, and to that end employeth her  
(Being a Midwife) to procure for money,  
The Child of some poor woman new delivered.  
At the same time it fortuned Anteros  
That your mother cried for Inno's help,  
Which she obtained, and was delivered  
Of this your Sister, whom when she perceived  
To be deformed, and distort; at length  
She was overcome by th' Midwife for to part  
With her new purchased Infant, 'twas agreed,  
And the birth straight given out to be abortive,  
And which is more, believed, and for to colour  
The matter o'er the better, they did bury  
An empty coffin. In the mean time your sister  
Was secretly conveyed unto my Aunt,  
Who presently did feign to be in travail,  
And was delivered in conceit of Her,  
Who but a while ago was called your wife.  
'twas not long after, but the brace of mothers  
Did travail both together to the dead,  
And left my uncle a supposed daughter.  
You have the history.  Ant. 
And with it heaven,  
And immortality: O Loveall, Loveall;  
By all the Deities I could embrace thee  
For this thy happy news, were't thou a woman.  Love. 
But what's become of all your promises?  Ant. 
O 'tis a taste, a spice of greatness, Jack,  
To promise.  Loue. 
And to perform just nothing.  Ant. 
You do not hear me say so. what's the matter?   

ACTVS 5. SCENA 9.  Hook, Loveall, Anteres, the 6. Schollers. Loue. 
But see the wooers are discarded quite  
My uncle beats them out of doors.  Hook. 
You villains—  
Out of my house ye brood of caterpillars.—  
Son of a hedge and Moonshine; go— fie, fie, fie.  
O misery beyond— come out you rascal,  
And bring your piping nose along with you;—  
A fire upon this hollow ruff of yours,  
'Tis like your heart— out rogues, and ruffians—  
O I am undone.— Exit.  Ant. 
Ha, ha, he. Loveall, these men are mine;  
I am the Patron of the living now,  
Dost thou see this?  Lou. 
I heard as much within.  Ant. 
I will behave myself most scurvily,  
Like to some surly crabbed Patron now,  
That has some 6, or 7 tired horses tied  
At's door. How now?  Zea. 
Patron.  He salutes Anteros winking, He in the mean time cuts away the black box that hung at his girdle. Ant. 
What says my Client?  
Loveall, I pray thee catechise this box,  
there's good stuff in 't I warrant thee.  Zea. 
Good Patron.  Arthur. 
Hear me Sir, I'll dispatch it in three words,  
This is a tedious Ass, and readeth nought  
But English Treatises.  Zea. 
Sir, will it please you  
To take particular notice?—  Tem. 
Sir.  Stu. 
But Patron—  Omnes. 
Patron.  Ant. 
Who! now the scent grows hot, 'tis rank,  
The game's in view. Haup,— rate them there— no more  
You Sir, that are the ringleader of this rout.—  Zea. 
Kings be profane.  Ant. 
'Sdeath! what a pack of rogues  
Are got together here? what is your name?  Zeal. 
Zealous Knowlittle:  Ant. 
Zealous Knowlittle? good;  
Of which University?  Zeal. 
Of both the Universities.  Ant. 
A very likely thing: good Mr Knowlittle  
Separate yourself a little from the people.  Zeal. 
With all my heart, I'll separate.  Ant. 
Your name?  Temp. 
My name is Tempest Allmouth sir.  Ant. 
How? Tempest Almouth? where are thy brains man?  Arth. 
He has not any.  Ant. 
Bear him company.  Loue. 
What have we here? Item, to send forth tickets  
To all the Brethren that do inhabit  
Within this Shire, to give them intimation,  
That M. Mother-tongue stands the first of june.  Ant. 
You that are next him?  Arm. 
Arthur Armstrong sir.  Ant. 
You there Colosse?  Stutch: 
My name is Stutchell Legg.  Ant. 
Troth, and thou art well underlaid indeed,  
A couple of football players I warrant them.  Lou. 
Item:— a pox upon't, here's bawdry,  
I'll rake no deeper in this puddle.— so.  Ant: 
And what must we call you?  Gan: 
Ganymede Filpot▪  Ant: 
Thou shouldst be a good fellow by thy name.  
Come on; what glorious title I beseech you  
Has bounteous Nature fixed on you: nay open.  Hugo. 
My name is Hugo obligation.  Ant: 
How? Hugo obligation? pray thee Loveall  
Is not this shorn beard villain the precise scrivener,  
Would fain turn Priest?  Lou: 
The very same I take it.  Ant. 
Meddle not with me  jack. 
Nay do not hold me.  
A whoreson inkbottle, and two skins of parchment, He draws his Sword.  
Dares he hope for my sister, and a living?  
You slave, are Parsonages in this age so cheap?  Lou: 
Pray thee Anteros.  Ant: 
Do not entreat me Loveall,  
He dies: this hat is not more mortified.  Lou: 
Pray thee be quiet.  Ant: 
Hang him, a death's too good  
For such a rascal.— Sirrah, I'll indenture's  
Upon your skin. And here's another Villain,  
Whose very countenance speaks Servingman,  
Filpot come hither.  Lou. 
Nay but Anteros.  Ant: 
Death man! our Universities do swarm,  
They have more Scholars than they know to spend  
While they are Sweet: and must such Rogues as these,  
Whose height of knowledge, is to spit and snuffle,  
And talk some 3. hours' nonsense, shoulder them  
Out of their places? what is 't that makes so many  
Of our quick wit's turn jesuits, and forsake  
Both their Religion, and their Country think you?  
Sirrah no more than thus, lie and thou diest.  
Have not you been a Serving man sometimes?  Gan: 
Yes truly sir, I'll not deny't, I was  
A gentleman's butler once.  Ant: 
I told you so.  
The very chippings hang in's eyebrows still.  
His face unto this instant minute shines  
With broken beer that was his fees, stand by,  
And do not hope so large a benefit  
From me as to be killed, live, live, unhappy.  
You M. know little know you whose box is this?  Zeal: 
Truly 'tis mine, verily.  Ant: 
Away you stinkards,  
I willbe visited no more today.  
Avoid I say. Have I not done it well? Exeunt Suitors.  Lou: 
Oh Noah, you want the pawls, and the hums,  
And the grave thumb under the girdle too.  Ant: 
Oh, that's for old living brokers, I'm a young one.  Lou. 
You must indent then with them, for to keep you  
Some hounds or cocks, and get a handsome wife  
To entertain you.  Ant. 
A wife? a thunderbolt  
Is entered me, pray thee no more.  Lou: 
How now?   

ACTVS 5. SCENA 10.  justice Hook, Terpander, Mistress Ursly, Loveall, Anteros, Placenta, Neander, Constantina (as dead,) brought in by two of Lively's servants, three Fiddlers, one of them carries all the fiddles, and neander's sword, the other two lead him in. Hooke. 
And get you packing too, thou old impostor,  
With your distorted puppet here; and you  
That make the custards quake where ere you come,  
Thou enemy to sweet meats.  Ter. 
Mr. Hook  
'Twould relish more of wisdom if you did  
Bear out this matter coolly. Come my daughter.  Hook. 
O me! the very boy's will laugh at me.  Ter. 
Anteros salute your sister, and embrace her.  Ant. 
I am undone again! what shall I do  
Loveall?  Lou. 
What shall you do? why kiss her man.  Ant: 
Sister god save you,— and as much to you  
My never-to-be-hereafter father in law.  Hook: 
Woe's me! what shall I say? what shall I do?  
I have given in the mortgage, and without money.  
But what new spectacle is this?  Lou: 
What's here?  
How? the dead body of a gentlewoman?  Pla: 
Is this Neander?  1 Rust. 
Hold the cut throat fiddlers  
Whilst we do bring this gentlewoman 'fore the justice.  2 Rustic 
A kind and loving husband sure, that has.  
Made a fair hand on's wife thus the first day.  Lou: 
Ha? what is this I see? O traitorous eyes:  
Can I believe ye any more? my sister?  
Constantina?  Hook: 
How's that?  Pla: 
It cannot be.  Lou: 
'Tis she. O partial heavens! but yet it is not,  
'Tis not long since I left my sister safe  
With in her chamber, and in another habit—  
By all the powers 'tis she— I do profane  
The gods; it is not she, it is not.— once more.  
The twins of Leda were not half so like.  
I'll be resolved immediately.  1 Rustic 
Good M. justice, Exit.  
I pray you hear me. As we did dance even now  
In your North field, we found this gentlewoman,  
Lying all along (as to say) even quite dead,  
And this her husband with his naked sword  
Standing hard by her.  Hook: 
Another riddle yet.  
Her husband? ha? Why is not this Neander  
One of the rival's in my daughter's love?  2 Rust. 
Ander, or Pander, we know not that,  
But 'tis her husband, that we're sure of  
Is he not Robin?  1 Rust. 
I that he is our Edward,  
We both were present when they were detracted.  2 Rust. 
Subtracted you fool. But as I said before  
Seeing him stand so desperately with his sword  
We stole behind him, and so caught him.  Ant: 
A valiant act believe't. Good sir, let's go.  Pla: 
Ah Constantina, ah good heart! was this  
The journey you intended?  Ant: 
Sir, I beseech you—  
We shall be poisoned with these women's sighs He offers to go.  
'Tis worse than a German hothouse.  Ter: 
Anteros  
Stay, we will see the end of this.  Hook: 
Fie, fie, Hell is broke loose upon me: all her furies  
Are come at once t'assault me.  Con: 
Ah Cleopes! she revives  Nean: 
She lives again, O miracle of women!  Con: 
Where art thou Cleopes?  Nean: 
Oh hated name,  
Enough t'infect the world, but that it comes  
Out of those lips.  Pla: 
Speak Constantina.  Con. 
What have I to do  
With light or heaven? I will not live.  Pla: 
O me!  
she swounds again.  1 Rust. 
Why do you rub her head  
And face so much, you foolish woman you?  
Let me alone, I'll find her wound I warrant you.  Pla. 
Forbear, or I'll find that Swine's face of yours.  She strikes him. Const. 
I am too bad for hell, they'll not receive me,  
They are afraid I should infect those souls,  
Those virtuous souls which do inhabit there.  Nean 
Art thou not softened yet Neander? Ha?  
Hadst thou an heart cut out o'th' Diamond rock,  
Sure this would melt it.  Const. 
O my Cleopes!  1 Rust. 
What will you give sir, and I will let you  
Shift for yourself?  Nean. 
What thou deservest villain.  2 Rust. 
Half part, or else she shall not go.  Nea. 
Take half.  He breaks loose, and beats them out. 
I will divide my gifts betwixt ye— there.  
Thou Temple of Virtue, fairest Constantina.—  Const. 
Oh I shall die again if I see him.  Nean. 
But will you live if I do presently  
Make a divorce betwixt you and Neander?  
And place you in the arms of him you so  
Love, and adore, your Cleopes?  Const. 
You cannot.  Nean. 
thou'rt all divinity, indeed I cannot.  
See where Pandora comes; but now I can.  
Behold my Lucius.   

ACT. 5. SCE. 11.  Laurentio, Lucius, Endymion, Pandoura, Isabella, cum caeteris. Laur. 
Nay, I will still persist to follow thee  
Basest of men.  End. 
Good father.  Luc. 
Suffer him;  
His tongue has learned the palsy from his hands;  
Alas he's old, and must be pardoned for't.  
But what imports this multitude? and see Neander  
With his Boy-bride. Pandora, sweetest Lady—  Ant. 
another tempest! where shall I shelter me?  Luc. 
By all the joys in Love, by all the sorrows,  
By all his Roses, and his Wormwood, take  
Thy thoughts from me, and let them doubled fall  
Upon my friend Neander.— Fairest foul,  
Do but contemplate that most curious frame  
Of man, in what a pleasing harmony  
Nature has married all those provinces  
His limbs together: view but his sparkling eye,  
And read divinity there; look on his hair,  
Survey his face, and fee how Majesty  
And sweetness there do strive for victory,  
And still the issue's doubtful.  Nean. 
Lucius,  
Thou shalt not overcome; disguise farewell.  
O thou that art the shame of all thy sex,  
Fair Constantina, yet not half so fair  
As virtuous, here behold thy Cleopes;  He discovers himself. 
Neander's vanished; why do you wonder so?  
I do confess I loved that Gentlewoman,  
And for her love I took on this disguise,  
And here for thine I put it off again,  
And on my bended knee do beg my pardon  
For all the wrong I've done thee  Ant. 
Cleopes!  Hoo. 
It is a miracle: but the bonds, the living.  Pla. 
O heavens! 'tis he, most happy Constantina!  Const. 
My Cleopes? grant me some respite joy  
Before thou kill'st me— Oh my Cleopes!  
Whom do I embrace? into whose arms am I fallen?  Cleo. 
O constant virgin!  Const. 
But how shall I hereafter  
Give any credit to my senses? O  
Placenta, courteous Midwife, pray thee tell me,  
Where am I now? in heaven?  Pla. 
Bridle your passion.  Luc. 
Am I myself? or do I dream all this?  Cleo. 
Lucius, take truce with wonder, I am Cleopes,  
And I do hope though now I wear that name,  
As dear to thee as when I heard Neander.  
You may remember whenas first the beauty  
Of fair Pandora did attract your eyes  
To wonder, and to love, that I was then  
A busy wooer unto Constantina:  
But so it pleased Cupid, that while I  
Drew out a languishing and lukewarm suit  
To her, the vigour of Pandora's beams,  
(As doth the Sun unto our culinary fire)  
Did quite extinguish that same petty flame.  
Thinking it vain t'attempt her in that shape,  
I presently did take some discontent,  
And feigned a journey into Belgia,  
And not long after took on this disguise,  
And returned hither; where I have remained  
Your Rival, and capital friend together:  
And (which I wonder at the most) unknown:  
You have my Metamorphosis. But sweet,  
How cam'st thou pray thee, unto Mr Lively?  
And by what tricks did he inveigle thee  
Unto this contract, since thou didst not know  
That Cleopes was there invisible?  Con. 
My better Genius, you shall hear within  
The story whole, it is too tedious  
To be told here.  Cleo. 
But now Pandora, why  
Stand you so dully here, and do not fly  
Into his strict embraces, who alone  
Loves you, and who alone deserves your love?  Luc. 
Do I love her? do I deserve her love?  
Hast thou (sweet friend) for me forsaken her,  
Whom thou didst prize 'bove thine own proper soul?  
And now hast married her whom thou didst fly?  
And all for my sake, and shall I thus repay thee?  
But for her love thou ne'er hadst been Neander;  
And but for mine hadst been Neander still;  
Friend Cleopes, or if thou wilt Neander,  
(Under both titles most beloved of me)  
Was she all Venus; did each hair of hers  
Fetter a Love, were there as many Cupid's  
That hovered o'er her head, as there be lights  
Which guild yond Marble roof, by them I swear,  
By all that's Sacred, by whatever flies  
The touch of mortal eye, I swear again,  
I would disclaim her and her love for ever.  Pand. 
Troth Lucius, I do pity you, that do  
Spend so much breath unto so little end,  
What need all these deep protestations?  
I care not this for all your love, nor yet  
For your friend janus there with the two faces;  
Nor do I think ye men.  Luc. 
So quickly?  Pan. 
Yes.  
I do confess I am a woman; see,  
Here is the man has won what ye have lost;  
Stout soldiers sure, that when the City gates  
Were open to ye, durst not enter in.  Luc. 
O Isabella, 'tis for thy sake I know  
That all these miseries do happen me.  
(Forgive me good Laurentio) Isabella,  
At length I have experience what it is  
To love an outside, the mere bark of woman,  
And to forsake an inward virtue: but  
If once I have thee in possession more—  [Redit in scenam Loueall cum Isabellâ] Loue. 
Follow me Witch, devil, strumpet, prostitute.  Isab. 
Ah whither will he drag me? oh my heart!  Loue. 
What have ye done with my dead sister's body?  Con. 
Thy sister's body now has got a soul.  
(O my sweet Cleopes!) most welcome brother.  Loue. 
But doth she live then?  Const. 
And so happily,  
As I have called it impudence to wish  
What I do now enjoy.  Laur. 
Whom do I see?  
My daughter Isabella?  Loue. 
But is this Cleopes?  Luc. 
I dare not look upon that wronged face.  Const. 
It is, and now thy sister's husband.  Cleo. 
Brother,  
All health, all happiness.  Loue. 
More than all to you,  
Good Cleopes.— But dost thou live, my sister?  
Why wast thou dead but now?  Const. 
Thou shalt hear that  
Some other time.  Laur. 
Seest thou that virgin?  End. 
Yes, it is my sister Isabella.  Laur. 
Peace.  Isab. 
I am undone! my father, and my brother.  
Sir, I beseech you pardon what my love,  
And younger years have trespassed.  Laur. 
Rise my daughter;  
joy will not suffer me for to be angry.  
Seest thou that face?  Isab. 
It is Endymion  
My brother.— Brother, God save you.  End. 
Sister!  Lau. 
Thy Brother? 'tis thy traitor that I mean,  
That has undone thee and thy name.  Isab. 
'Tis Lucius.  Ant. 
Sir I beseech you do not harken to him.  Ter. 
No more.  Ant. 
A pox upon this honesty,  
It will undo us all: 'tis ten to one  
But that his tender Conscience will persuade him  
To pay in the money for all this.  Luc. 
Fair soul  
Canst thou forgive thy Lucius?  Isa. 
Canst thou love  
Thy Isabella?  Luc. 
Give me a man dares ask  
That question? Good Laurentio let me crave  
Your liking and consent.  Lau. 
Consent? to what?  Luc. 
To marry this your daughter.  Lau. 
Marry my daughter?  
No perjured wretch.  Isa. 
Sir I beseech you grant it.  
O Lucius! O happy hour!  Lau. 
Thou hast her,  
And with her such a portion as shall please thee.  Luc. 
I will not hear of Portion, she herself  
Is dowry enough to me.— O Isabella!  Pla. 
What? Is the player's boy proved woman too?  Pan. 
Father.  Hook. 
I say trouble me not— the mortgage.  Pan. 
Sir I beseech you hear me.  Hook. 
Fie, fie, fie.  Pan. 
And let me have your approbation  
In this young Gentleman for my husband.  Hook. 
O.  Laur. 
Perhaps sir you may doubt of his estate,  
But if you'll credit me, I can instruct you,  
I am his Father, he mine only Son,  
And (I do thank my stars) our fortune's are  
None of the meanest. Speak Sir, will you give  
Your daughter here, without a portion?  Hook. 
Without a Portion? take her what ere thou art  
So, So, that care is passed yet, this a little  
Help's out with th' other losses.  Ter. 
Master Hook,  
You shall not frown, since all things here do smile;  
Tomorrow I will pay you half your money,  
So you will grant me a general acquittance;  
'Tis in my power (you know) and I may choose  
Whether I'll pay a farthing, but no more,  
(There is a thing called conscience within me;  
And) you shall have it: therefore be frolic Sir.  Hook. 
Thou art an honest man. Ye are all honest, ye are all honest.  Enter lively having heard the other Scene. Liu. 
All this while have I  
Employed mine cares about this business.  
Now show thyself, and of what house thou com'st.  
All health to this fair company— much joy—  
Much happiness— and a young Son to you;  
Are you at leisure for to kill me yet?  
You see I'm come again.  Nean. 
Let me embrace thee  
Thou instrument of all our good.  Liue. 
Yes, yes,  
I was a fool, knew nothing, knew just nothing,  
Could not divine a whit, not tell, not tell,  
How this same gear would come to pass, not I;  
How do you like your Lively now? your Lively?  Hooke 
we will discourse of that within. Terpander,  
Sir will it please you follow? you my Son,  
Gentlemen y'are all my guests tonight. methinks  
I am grown Pestilent kind upon the sudden,  
The Music too, we will be merry, come,  
Nay come, come, take me while the humours hot.  [Exeunt omnes, but Loveall and Anteros.] Ant. 
Love-all, a word: nay troop on, let them troop.  Lov. 
The news?  Ant. 
'Faith nothing but to take my leave,  
Bid you far well.  Lov. 
Why so? I pray thee stay,  
You'll in I hope.  Ant. 
What among such a kennel  
Of women? Noah, adieu.  Lou. 
Nay prithee go.  Ant. 
Not for the Fairy Kingdom.  Wise. 
Mr. Loveall,  
Sweet Mr. Loveall.  Mung. 
Anteros.  Ant. 
How now?  Mung. 
As I am a gentleman, and an elder brother, I am almost choked.  Wise. 
Sweet Mr. Loveall, O Mr. Loveall. 'Tis utterly against my complexion,  
To lie here any longer.  Ant. 
Death! our fools,  
Our dish of buffles: as I hope to prosper  
My thoughts had lost them quite.  Lou. 
I thought not of them.  Nod. 
Good Mr. Loveall are the officers gone?  Ham. 
Anteros, Anteros, is the coast clear yet?  Ant. 
But how shall we dispose of them?  Lou. 
we'd best  
Barrel them up and send them for new England.  Ant. 
A pox there's fools enough already there.  
Let's pickle them for winter Salads.  Lou. 
No;  
They are not capable of Salt, man; rather  
Let's get some broken trumpet, or old drum,  
And show them to the people from some strange  
Beasts out of Afrique  Mer. 
Father, my gown is not silk yet.  Stip. 
A bots on you.  Ant. 
Hark, there's another egg sprung, my shepherd and his fair daughter.  Wise. 
Loveall, Mr. Loveall, I am of a sanguine complexion.  Ham. 
Anteros.  Ant. 
Now all the world! what shall we do with them?  
But stay, a word,— perform it, I'll take order [He whispers with Loveall]  
T' uncase 'em 'to your hands.—  
Now quickly noddle, all is quiet now,— Exit Loveall.  
Come Mr. William— Not a mouse is stirring—  
Safe, safe, all 's safe. Ha, he, he.  [They all 4 come out at the 4 corners of the stage.] Nod. 
I've spoiled my clothes quite, would I had a brush;  
How now? we're gulled.  Wis. 
ay, as I am a living soul.— mark the end on't.  Ham. 
Who have we here? does his ghost walk?  Nod. 
we are all jeered I perceive it plain now.  Wis. 
Who's that? Mr. Mongrel? is the Scholar alive again? I should have been very melancholy to have been hanged as I am a living soul.  Nod 
If I could get my rapier and a brush, [Redit in scenam Loveall & Placenta with a cudgel.]  
I'd steal away.  Pla. 
Would you have a brush? I'll brush ye ye villains,  
Nay, Mr. Love-all told me what dusty companions ye were,  
And that ye wanted brushing, and how ye bade  
Abused my husband, and my daughter, tied them  
To a tree, come one your ways, want ye brushing?  
Ye rascals, I'll brush you, would ye be brushed▪ She beats them forth  
Come on, let's see what covered dish w'have here now? She unties them  
high day! you lubberly knave; what madam Gillian too?  Stip. 
What? is she come now to trouble us!  
My daughter, I do charge you on my blessing  
Look scurvily upon her.  Mer. 
Yes forsooth Father.  Stip. 
Call her not Mother darling, but disclaim her,  
She is no wife of mine, she does conspire  
Against our gentility daughter, and she lies;  
Call her the plain old woman, sweet-lips, do;  
I'll bear you cut in't, do as your father bids you.  Pla. 
How now?  Mer. 
But forsooth father, my neckercher is not turned into Gold yet.  Pla. 
They are both mad of a certain.  Stip, 
I am a gentleman, and I will be a gentleman, I will enclose, and I will raise rents— I will be a lower-house man, and I will be—  Plac. 
An old coxcomb, and you shall be beaten. [She beats him.]  Stip. 
But does this stand good in law?  Plac. 
Fear not that; I'll find an old statute for it, doubt it not. You are a gentleman? and you will be a gentleman? I'll make you gentle enough ere I have done with you.  Stip. 
O, O, O.  Plac. 
And you my sweet lips that will not call me mother, but look scurvily,  
Come on your ways I have the common law on my side too for this. [She beats Merda.]  Mer. 
Oh mother, I'll never be a gentlewoman more while I live, nor never talk of gold neckerchers, no that I won't truly.  [she beats Stipes again.] Plac. 
Yes, you shall be a Lower-house man, you shall; I'll take you down a Pin, you're too high now.  Stip. 
O, O, good wife— O, O, honey wife.  Pla. 
You'll in? [Exit. Plac. & Merda.]  Stip. 
Buz, peace and catch a mouse cry I.  [Enter Hammershin] Ant. 
What is my Scholar returned? prithee go in jack Loveall, I'll change but two words with him Exit Love .And follow. Well said, nay look not sourly on the matter.  Ham. 
You have abused me Sir, and go to the fence School with me if you dare, or else wrestle a fall with me.  Ant. 
He give thee satisfaction my rowser  
My Hit-her better, nay put off these frowns;  
What sayst thou to my sister, and the Living?  
I know you have heard the news from out the cabin,  
And you was once a suitor to her; speak,  
Will that content thee? come you are not the first  
Has got a Parsonage with fooling Sir,  
I will procure it for thee, fear it not:  
Nay spare your Hat, it will be tedious,  
My thanks shall be in Oats.  Stip. 
But Master jeoffry.  Ant. 
Follow jack Loveall in. [Exit Ham.]  Stip. 
You know I was your Master today.  Ant. 
Well put the case.  Stip. 
Poor, and ill 'pareled.  Ant. 
Put the case again.  Stip. 
But now you see how strangely altered.  Ant. 
Put the case the third time.  Stip. 
Are you advised of that? I'll ne'er trust winking beast again for your sake, I'll tell you but so. Did you not tell me that Obrum would make me a gentleman? Obrum? Obrum? if Obrum has no better tricks than these, let Obrum keep his tricks to cool his porridge, 'sduds I looked every minute when Obrum would have put a green scarlet suit upon my back like yours, all to be daubed with spingle-spangles; and in the mean time comes my wife with a black and blue home spun of her own making. Well that same Obrum is a sembling coney catching knave, and I know what I could call you too, but for your whiniard, and your staring goggles.  Ant. 
Stipes, no more, advance thy duller eye,  
Know'st thou what all those blazing stars portend?  Sti. 
ay, ay, by'r Lady? how now? 'sduds I think forty Obrums have been here, (Master jeoffry is that Obrum that makes gentlefolks, a tailor?) one Obrum could never have painted them thus.     

 

   

Epilogue.  
PEace profane rudeness; what alteration's this?  
What mean these bended Knees? but are these women?  
Am I a Convert then? so suddenly?  
Surely some Power greater than all that Sex  
Is interposed, veiled in a female outside,  
Else how come I so supple jointed, that  
Before was stiffer than the Rhodian Statue?  
There is an Homage due, and I must pay't  
Spite of my proudest nerves. Most Sacred Goddess,  
Behold a Penitent, that falls thus low  
Before your feet: as you have shown yourself  
More than a Mortal, in converting me,  
Confirm it by your Pardon; 'tis a Virtue  
No less deserving, and as near to miracle.  
And You great Monarch, that the world may know  
How nigh a Kin to heaven and all the Gods  
You are in blood and power, confute that bold  
Erroneous tenet, prove the Age of Wonders  
Still to endure. What I have promised  
Unto this Shepherd (as a miracle)  
To be performed by Obron and this tree,  
Do you effect; make us all gentlemen.  
Which one Kind ray sent from Your gracious eyes  
Will do, and in that confidence we rise.  
FINIS.