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A Collection Of Old English Plays, Vol. IV. by Editor: A.H. Bullen

Part 7 out of 9

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_Boy_. That's easily discernd, for foure weare breeches.

_Bos_. Nere the sooner for that, my diminitive youth, for women now
adaies weare breeches as well as men; mary, the difference lies in the

_Hostis_. Well, sir, to open the truth, I am the Hostesse.

_Bos_. The fruit is known, by the Tree at the first view, as the Author
writes, learnedly; come _basilus manus_.[238]

_Scil_. This kissing becomes a Gentleman, ile use it sure.[239]

_Bos_. Secondly, Mistris Hostesse, I would know what lodging ye have for
my Lady and her traine.

_Hostis_. What will serve your turne, sir?

_Bos_. Ile call my selfe to account and specifie thus: my Lady and her
Dogge, that's two visible; then there's the Dogge and my Lady, thats
four invisible; then there's my Ladies dogge and I, quoth the dogge,
that's six; then theres sequence of three, viz., the Dogge, and I, and
my Lady; then there's a pair of Knaves, viz., the Dogge & my selfe & my
Lady turnd up; viz., my Lady sequence of three, a paire of Knaves and my
Lady, turn'd up to play upon:--we can have no less than five beds.

_Hostis_. Truely you must lye close together (the Servants I meane), for
I am so thrust with Guest I [c]an hardly spare so many.

_Bos_. Faith, weele lie together as close as we can; there's my Lady and
her dogge lye al together and I at the bed's feete, and theres all our
family of Love.[240]

_Hostis_. How farre is your mistris behinde?

_Bos_. The truth is the fatall sisters have cut the thred of her
Cork-shoe, & shee's stept aside in to a Coblers shop to take a true
stitch, whether I mean to send myself as a Court of Guard to conduct
her, but see, oh inconstant fortune! see where she comes, _solus_.

_Enter[241] Getica_.

_Gent_. _Bos_, you serve me well, to let me wait upon my selfe.

_Bos_. Of two evils, the least is to be chosen, I had a care of your
puppie being less then your selfe.

_Scil_. Gentlewoman, you have an excellent Ch: [sic] I have an appetite
as a man would say.

_Gent_. Whats your will, sir?

_Scil_. Truth will to light, and the truth is I have an appetite to
kisse you.

_Phil_. This point would become a Gentleman, sure; I pray, who trim'd it

_Gent_. My man, forsooth.

_Phy_. Sir, I desire your acquaintance; tis excellent, rare.

_Gent_. You would have said so, had you seene it an houre since.

_Ser_. Heeres game for me! I hunt for fooles and have sprung a covey.

_Hostis_. Gentles, please you, draw neere? lead the way into the

_Bos_. _Bos_ is the name of a thing may be seene, felt, heard, or
understood, and the nominative case goes before my Mistris the Verbe; my
mistris requires an accusative case to follow, as _usus feminae proptus
[_Exeunt al but Hostis_.

_Hostis_. Oh fye upont, who would be an hostis, & could do otherwise?
[A] Ladie [h]as the most lascivious life, conges and kisses, the tyre,
the hood, the rebato, the loose bodyed Gowne, the pin in the haire, and
everie day change, when an Hostis must come and go at everye mans
pleasure. And what's a Lady more then another body? Wee have legs, and
hands, rowling eyes and hanging lips, sleek browes, and cherie cheeks &
other things as Ladies have, but the fashion carries it away.

_Prentices passe over_. [_Re-enter[242] Host_.]

_Host_. There, there, my little Lacky boies, againe, again, my fine
fil-pots! where is my fine Hostis? come, come, my little _Dido_, set
your corks on a creaking, my knaves are unthrifty; dance not your
Canaries heere up & down, looke about to my Guests I say.

_Hostis_. I, I have much joy, an Hostesse!

_Host_. What, abides my _Penelope_? heere stand[s] thy _Ulisses_,
ile tarry with thee still, thou shall want for no cost. Ile buy thee
a brave wistle; looke about to my Guestes, I say.

_Hostis_. I, Hostesses will bee knowne shortelye as their Signes; still
in one weather-beaten suite, as though none weare hoodes but Monkes and
Ladies, and feathers but fore-horses and Waiting Gentlewomen, or chaines
but prisoners and Courtiers; no Perywigges but Players and Pictures: but
the weakest must to the wall still.

_Host_. Tush, tush, these are toies; ile none of these Flipflaps, ile
have no soping, no puffs, nor no Cobwebs, no busks, nor bumbarrels;[243]
thou shalt weare thine own haire & fine cloath of Sheep-skins, thy
colour shall be Dowlas as white as a Lillie, ile kisse these
chop-cheries; thou shalt goe Gossip at Shrovetide; look about to my
Guests then. [_Exit_.

_Hostis_. I, twas my hard fortune to be an Hostesse; time was I might
have done other wise.

_Enter Cittizens Wife_.

_City W_. Why how now, woman, a'th olde disease still? will it never be
better? cannot a Woman finde one kinde man amongst twentie? Ah the daies
I have seen, when a Womans will was a lawe: If I had a mind to such a
thing, or such a thing, I could have had it, but twa's never better
since men were Purse-bearers.

_Hosty_. Mine is een the unnaturallist man to his Wife.

_Citie wi_. Truely, and commonly are all such fat men: ile tell thee,
Gossip, I have buried sixe, I, sixe husbands, but if I should live to
have as many more, as I know not what may happen, but sure Ide never
have such a fatte man: they be the most unweldey men; that woman[244]
shall not want a sore stomack, that's troubled with them I warrant her.

_Hosty_. And hee maintaines me heare like I knowe not what.

_City wi_. I, and what say, they are their wives head; well if he be the
head, shee's the body, and the body is to beare the head, and the body
is to beare the pursse.

_Hostis_. They cannot misse us, yet they regard us not.

_Citty wife_. Misse us! no faith, but would all women were of my minde,
they call us weaker vessels, they should finde vessels of us, but no
weake vessels, I warrant them.

_Enter[245] Prentice_.

_Pren_. Mistris, my Maister cals for ye.

_Hostis_. Goe, ile come anon, hees not so hastie to give me what I want,
I warrant ye.

[_Exit[245] Prentice_.

_City w_. No, would he were; little thinkes the husband what goes
through the wives hand, washing, wringing, and rubbing, up early, down
late, & a thousand things they looke not too.

_Hostis_. And yet they must have the government of all.

_City w_. And great reason they have for it, but a wise man will put in
a Woman's hand: what sheele save that hee spends.

_Hostis_. You have a pretty Ruffe, how deepe is it?

_City w_. Nay, this is but shallowe, marrie I have a Ruffe is a quarter
deepe, measured by the yard.

_Hostis_. Indeede, by the yard.

_City w_. By the standard: you have a pretty set too, how big is the
steele you set it with?

_Hostis_. As bigge as a reasonable sufficient--

_Enter Prentice_.

_Pren_. Mistris, my Maister would desire you to come in.

_Citty w_. What? she shall not come yet: if you lay down the bucklers,
you lose the victorie.

_Hostis_. By my troth, I must goe, we shall have such a coyle else.

_Cittie w_. A coyle! why, have you not a tongue in your head? faith if
ye win not all at that weapon, yee are not worthy to be a woman. You
heare not the news abroade?

_Hostis_. No: what newes?

_City W_. No, I warrant ye, you never come abroad; this is to be
troubled with a fatte man, he never comes abroad himself nor suffers his
wife out of his sight: yee shall ever have a fatte Host either on his
bench at the dore or in his chair at the chimney; & there he spits and
spaules a roome like twentie Tobacco-takers. Oh! fye on them, beasts!

_Hostis_. I prethee, what newes?

_Citty w_. Oh! woman, the most hardfavoured newes, and without all
conscience: they say theres a statute made, any woman that buries her
husband is not to marrie againe of two monthes after.

_Hostis_. A tedious time, by Lady; a month were enough.

_Cittie w_. I, halfe a month; winter nights are long and colde. Ile tell
ye, I have buried sixe, and thank my good fortune I ever knewe the next
ere the other was in his winding sheete.

_Pre_. Mistris, my maister is angrie, and the Guests cal for their

_Hostis_. Goe, I come: Gossip, when shall I see you agen?

_Citty w_. Nay, when shall I see you abroad? sildome, i'me sure.

_Hostis_. I must needes away; God buy you, Gossip.

_Cittie w_. God buy ye; Gods so, I have forgot wherefore I came: a word
ere you goe, the party yee wott on commends him unto ye, he that met the
other party in the white felt, the yellow scarf, and the round
_Venetian_,[246] when the other party kis't you, and I broake the jest
on him, when hee said kisses kindeles Coules and love searches.

_Hostis_. Oh! I remember him, yes faith, hee's prettie well set; hee
ha's the right trick with the tongue in his kisse, and hee dances
reasonably comely, but he fals heavie.

_Citty w_. He savours of a kinde of Gallant, but not of a Courtyer.

_Hostis_. Well weele have a night out, god be with ye, Gossip.

_Cittie wife_. God buy ye.



_Scene 1_.]

_Enter Lentulus and Tulley_.

_Lentu_. Not yours nor her owne, _Terentia_.--Yours in modestie, _Flavia_.
See, _Tulley_, what an active passive love hath plaide;
I love and am again beloved, but at the shrine
Where I do offer up my Cordiall sacrifice,
I am returnd with peremptorie scorne;
And where I stand but as a gazer, viewing
All alike, I am pursude
With violent passions, a speaking eye
Bindes favours and now discovering lines.[247]
Thy counsell now, deere friend; for at thy direction
Stands my thrall or freedome.

_Tul_. Oh my Lord, affection is unlimited,
Daring all dangers, having no tipe nor figure,
Beyond all arte.
Then tye not that (Great Lord,) to _Tullies_ awe;
Fancy forswears all reason, love all lawe.

_Lent_. How well thy power can shun that which
I followe with obedience. Too true yfaith;
Thou mightst as well put out the eie of day,
Or cover sinne from heaven, or to erect
A towre of sand on the uncertain surge,
Or any thing that were more inficient,
Then to remoove one doting thought of mine
From her disdain. Thy aide, deere _Tulley_,
Be thou an Orratour for _Lentulus_,
My tongue stands tun[e]d to a harsher method;
Breath in her eares, those Organs of receite,
A quintessence distild of honny words,
And charme with a beguiling lullabye
Her free consent to thine and my request:
Which done, thats done which is my sole delight,
Which done, thats done that I can never quite.

_Tull_. All which to me are problematique mines,
Obscurde inigmaes, and to my studies
Incognite Language; yet, if my powers
Have power to cloath my tongue in love,
Ile be a Lover and in love so pleade
As if that _Tully_ loved _Terentia_.

_Lent_. Thanks, sweete _Cicero_;
This day we dine with olde _Flaminius_,
The forward Father of my Aukeward love.
His willing minde doth strive to make the peace
Betwixt our discord thoughts; his free consent
Is given to _Lentulus_; there, _Tulley_, take on holde,
And, when a Sunne of thy intent shines fayre,
Onset loves fort with polliticke assaults
And conquer; conquest in obtaining that
Where victors are repulsed. But see! our talke
Hath over-tane our way; see, olde _Flaminius_
Comes to welcome us.
With him a looke like[248] the bright orient verge
At the uprising of _Auroraes_ shine.

_Enter Flaminius, Terentia, and Flavia_.

_Flam_. And, my good Lorde, y'are happily met. Heartily welcome; young
_Tullie_, welcome to; yee come wel to ease my charge, these Ladies find
fault with their Guardian, I goe too softly for them: old blood is
stiffe, & young Ladies will not beare with age; I resigne, I resigne, to
you that followe.

_Lent_. If they admit us for their Guardian,
Weele dare dangers ere we part from them.

_Flam_. Why well saide, my Lords, Soldiers will not flye indeede; I have
seene the day, I could have crackt a tree of yew, made my bowstring
whisper in mine eare in[249] the twang, tost my pike lustilye. Tis since
the siedge of _Parthia_: bith-'mas a great while; I was lustie then at
the service was done there, yet I love the discourse. Come my Lord, I
chuse your companye, leave _Tulley_ to the Ladies; he can tell them
tales of _Venus_ and _Adonis_ and that best pleaseth them. Now I must
heere of raps and blowes, and Bils and Guns, and swords and bucklers. I
loved it once; come, our Cookes are backeward, discourse will beget
stomacks; y'are like to tarrie long for leane Cates. [_Exit_.

_Lent_. Now, gentle _Tulley_, advocate my suite;
Her fore-amazing person makes me mute.

_Cicero_. He beare these Ladies company if they
Shall deeme acceptance. [_Exit_.

_Teren_. With interest of thankes to Cicero.

_Flav_. Faith, I like not this ods of female, an equallitie were better:
yet of both twere fitter the woman should undergoe the oddes. I had
rather a said three men to one woman, then two women to one man. Heeres
_Tulley_ addrest to _Terentia, Terentia_ drawing neere to _Tulley_;
her's smal comfot [_sic_] left for _Flavia_. Wel, gentles, ile leave ye
to the Goddesse. So ho! my Lords, take me with ye.

_Teren_. Nay stay, good _Flavia_. Youle not loose the sight of

_Fla_. Nor you of _Tulley_; come, if you tel, ile blab.

_Cice_. But, sweete Lady, _Tulley_ is not heere.

_Fla_. But _Cicero_ is, his neere friend, thats as good.

_Cice_. He was, Lady, till hee changed his habit by putting on the
office of an unskillful Servingman, intending to garde _Terentia_ to her
father's house.

_Fla_. Then _Flavia_ must gard her self; wel use good words and good
action, and stalke well before your Ladie; she's kinde, yfaith, and a
little thing will please her.

_Ter_. Will it please _Flavia_ to partake?

_Fla_. Oh fye! twere an injurie I could [not] brook myself, therefore
ile leave ye; but be breefe, stand not on pointes, cut them all first; &
if ye fall to kissing, kisse not too long for feare ye kisse the post.

_Teren_. Goe to, youle still be a wagge, _Flavia_.
But what saies _Tulley_ to _Terentia_?

[_Exit_[250] _Flavia_.

_Cicero_. Lady I must maintain my former argument.
_Tullie's_ not heere but heere is _Tullies_ friend;
For, ere I speake, I must intreate you wil
Transforme poore _Tulley_ into _Lentulus_.

_Teren_. I have no power of Metamorphosing;
If _Tulley_ be not heere, you must concede,[251]
I cannot make of _Tulley Lentulus_.

_Cice_. Nor can the world make _Cicero_ so worthy.
Yet for an houre['s] discourse a Pesant's shape
May represent the person of a king;
Then in the person of the great _Lentulus_
I doe salute Sunne-bright _Terentia_.
Lady, vouchsafe a Saint-like smile on him
(From that angell forme) whose honord minde
Lies prostrate lowly at _Terentia's_ feete;
Who hath put off a Golden victors honour
And left the _Parthyan_ spoyle to _Lepido_;
Whome many Ladies have bedecked with favours
Of rich esteeme, oh proud he deignd to weare them,
Yet guiftes and givers hee did slight esteeme;
For why? the purpose of his thoughts were bent
To seek the love of faire _Terentia_.
The cho[i]ce is such as choiser cannot bee
Even with a nimble eye; his vertues through
His smile is like the Meridian Sol
Discern'd a dauncing in the burbling brook;
His frowne out-dares the Austerest face
Of warre or Tyranny to sease upon;
His shape might force the Virgine huntresse
With him for ever live a vestall life;
His minde is virtues over-matcht, yet this
And more shall dye if this and more want force
To win the love of faire _Terentia_.
Then, gentle Lady, give a gentle do[o]me;
Never was brest the Land-lord to a heart
More loving, faithful, or more loyall then is
The brest of noble--

_Teren_. _Tullie_!

_Tul_. _Lentulus_!

_Ter_. And why not _Tullie_?

_Tul_. It stands not aptly.

_Tere_. I wants a sillible.

_Tul_. It doth.

_Tere_. Then noble _Cicero_.

_Tul_. Thats too deere.

_Tere_. Gentle is as good:
Then say the best of gentle _Cicero_.

_Tul_. Good Lady, wrong not your honour so
To seate unworthy _Tully_ with your worth.
Oh looke upon the worth of _Lentulus_,
Let your faire hand be beame unto the ballance
And with a stedded peyze lift up that beame.
In th'one[252] scale put the worth of _Lentulus_,
His state, his honors, and his revenewes;
Against that heavy waite put povertie,
The poore and naked name of _Cicero_,
A partner of unregarded Orators;
Then shall you see with what celeritie
One title of his worth will soone pull up
Poore _Tullies_ dignitie.

_Tere_. Just to the height of _Terentias_ heart
Where I will keepe and Character that name,
And to that name my heart shall adde that love
That shall wey downe the worth of _Lentulus_.

_Tul_. Deare Madam.

_Tere_. Speake still, if thou wilt, but not for him;
The more thou speak'st the more augments my love,
If that thou can'st adde more to infinite;
The more thou speakest the more decreaseth his,
If thou canst take away ought from nothing;
Thinke, _Tulley_, if _Lentulus_ can love me,
So much and more _Terentia_ doth love thee.

_Tull_. Oh Madam,
_Tulley_ is poore, and poore is counted base.

_Ter_. Vertue is ritch and blots a poore disgrace.

_Tul_. _Lentulus_ is great, his frowne's my woe,
And of a friend he will become my foe.

_Ter_. As he is friend, we will intreate his love;
As he is great, his threatenings shall not make me love.

_Tul_. Your fathers graunt makes _Lentulus_ your Lord.

_Teren_. But if thereto his daughter not accord,
That graunt is cancel'd; fathers may commaund
Life before love, for life to true love's paund.

_Tul_. How will _Flaminius_ brooke my povertie?

_Ter_. Well, when _Flaminius_ see's no remedie.
Lord how woman-like are men when they are woe'd!
_Tully_, weigh me not light, nere did immodest blush
Colour these cheeckes, but ardent.

_Tully_. Silence, sweet Lady, heere comes _Flavia_.

_Enter_[253] _Flavia_.

_Fla_. Fie, Fie, how tedius ye are; yonders great looking for _Tulley_,
the old senate has put on his spectacles, and _Lentulus_ and he are
turning the leaves of a dog-hay [?], leaves of a worm-eaten Chronicle,
and they want _Tullies_ judgment.

_Tul_. About what, sweet Lady?

_Fla_. To know what yeare it was the showers of raine fell in Aprill.

_Tul_. I can resolve it by rote, Lady, twas that yeare the Cuckoo sung
in May: another token Lady; there raigned in Rome a great Tyrant that
yeare, and many Maides lost their heads for using flesh on Fish-daies.

_Fla_. And some were sacrificed as a burnt offering to the Gods of
Hospitallitie, were they not?

_Tul_. Y'are a wag, _Flavia_, but talk and you must needes have a
parting blowe.

_Flav_. No matter so we stand out and close not.

_Tull_. Or part faire at the close and too't again.

_Flav_. Nay, if we should too't againe, _Terentia_ would growe jealous.

_Tul_. Ladies, I take my leave
And my love.

_Ter_. Take heede ye sigh not, nor looke red at the table, _Tully_.

[_Exit [Tully]_.

_Flav_. Your shoe wrings you, Lady.

_Ter_. Goe to, ye are a wanton, _Flavia_.

_Fla_. How now _Terentia_, in your nine Muses?
Theres none must pleade in your case but an Orator.

_Ter_. I want one indeede Wench, but thou hast two, and the gentle
destinies may send thee three; neere blush, for smoke and the fire of
a womans love cannot bee hid. Oh a fine tongue dipt in _Helicon_! a
comedian tongue is the onely perswasive ornament to win a Lady; why his
discourse is as pleasant--

_Fla_. As how, I prethee?

_Ter_. And keepes as good decorum; his prologue with obedience to the
skirt; a rough Sceane of ciuill Warres and a clapping conclusion;
perhappes a Jigge;[254] if not, the Tragicomicall tale of _Mars_ and
_Venus_; then must she take the Tale by the end, where he defending
_Mars_, & she _Venus_, must fall from billing to byting, from byting to
blowes, to get the supremacie.

_Fla_. A good policie to praise _Cicero_,
For feare I rob you of your _Lentulus_.

_Ter_. Faith, a Souldier is not for thy[255] humor; now I crie a
Warrier; he fights stoutly in a field-bed, discharges his work sure,
under his Curtaines would I fight. But come, our Lovers melt while we
meditate; thou for thy Scholler, I for my soldier; and if we can not
please them so, weele shake off this loose habit and turn Pages to suit
their humors.


[Scene 2.]

_Enter Accutus and Graccus_.

_Grac_. Come, _Accutus_, discharge your follower; lets leave rubbing a
while, since the byas runs so much the wrong way. Sirra! these bowles
which we roule and turn in our lower sypher are by use made wodden
worldlings right, for every one strives who shall lye neerest the

_Ac_. They post indeed, as their nature is, in an even way, but they are
cowards, theile abide no danger, they rub at everie mole-hil; if they
tyre in going up a hill, they retire and come back againe.

_Grac_. Well let them alley, bet all, then to rest away, begone.

_Acut_.[257] S'foote _Graccus_, heeres a couple of our old gamsters. Oh!
for quick conceite to beget a jest! heeres two, that either a man must
be aquainted or quarrell with, & of two evils ile chose the latter; I
hope I make it the lesser. If I should be acquainted, the foole will
haunt me, if I quarrell I may be so blest, as to be rid of a foole.

_Grac_. I have a womans wit for a suddaine stratageme.

_Enter Scil. and Servulis_.[258]

_Scil_. No, by my troth, by this bright horrison--

_Accut_. An excellent Cuckoo, hee keepes his note in Winter.

_Scil_. I haue no appetite at all to live in the countrie any more; now,
as they say, I have got a smacke on the Cittie. Slid, I thinke (as the
proverbe goes) I was wrapt in my mother's smocke the day I was begotten,
I thank the Goddesse _Cupid_ for it. I am so favourd of the Women, my
hostes loves me execrably.

_Accut_. Good reason, fooles make good sport.

_Grac_. Sever, sever, ere wee bee discovered.

_Ser_. Sir, the respective regard of your well governed partes do
challenge a mellifluous species of enduement or contumelious estimation.

_Grac_. Gentles, God save ye, well over-taken Gallants.

_Scil_. Welcome, by the welkin.

_Grac_. This is verie pleasant weather.

_Ser_. Sir the ayre is frugall.

_Grac_. Is that Gentleman of your Company?

_Scil_. Our company sir, no, we are no companions for lame Souldiers.

_Grac_. Propper man, pittie he is so regardles. A good legge, it seemes
he has some greefe in it.

_Scil_. Nay, and he be lame, ile talke to him; there's so many lustie
knaves walkes now a daies will not sticke to give a man hard words, if
he be not disposed to charitie. Harke ye sir, I understand ye are a
propper man, and that you have a good legge.

_Accut_. And what of that, Sir?

_Scil_. What of that! slid, he answers me like a sturdie beggar
alreadie! by the five elements, or sences, I aske ye for no hurt, ile
bestowe my charitie as franke as--

_Acut_. Stoope and looke out, zounds a Gentleman cannot come by a
misfortune in service or so, but everie foole wil ride him. Take that.

_Gra_. Sirra, stay, ile combat thee in his defence.

_Serv_. Sir, be pacifical, the impotent must be lightly regarded.

_Grac_. Give me leave Gentlemen, ile follow him.

_Scil_. Nay, I pray you be malcontented, I have no great hurt, but in
revenge hee's a rascall for using me so; he may thank God, discretion
governed me, tis wel known I have always bene a man of peace; ile not
strike yee the least mouse in anger, nor hurt the poorest Conney that
goes in the street, for I know of fighting comes quarrelling, of
quarrelling comes brawling, and of brawling growes hard words, and as
the learned _puerelis_[259] writes, tis good sleeping in a whole skin.

_Grac_. Sir, your discretion shall governe me at this time. Your name, I
pray ye sir?

_Scil_. My name is signior _Scillicet_.

_Grac_. Even so sir? nay, sir, I doe not forget your Argument.

_Enter Accutus_.

_Acut_. Save ye, sir, saw ye not a Gentleman come this way even now,
somewhat hurt in one of his Legges?

_Scil_. He went by even now, sir; is he a friend of yours?

_Acu_. A deare friend, and a propper Gentleman, sir.

_Scil_. By the horison hee's a propper man indeede, he gave me the time
of day as he went by, I have a gallon of wine for him at any time. If ye
see anything in me worth Commendations, I pray ye commend me to him.

_Acut_. I will sir;--twere best you gave me good words, but ile trie ye
farther yet;--fare ye well, sir.

_Scil_. I pray you remember me to him.--You see my anger is over
already. [_Exit[260] Acutus_.

_Grac_. Would ye not strike him? lets followe.

_Scil_. Indeede ye shall not, I hate it.

_Ser_. I will not be barren of my armorie, in my future perambulation
for the lower element.

_Grac_. You are too patient in wrongs, sir.--Zoundes I know not how to
picke a quarrell.

_Serv_. Sir, the grievous youth is inwardlye possest of a supple spirit,
he can brooke impugnying, but tis adverse to my spirit if I were armed.

_Enter Accutus_.

_Accut_. Save ye, gallants, sawe ye not a fellowe come halting this way
of late?

_Scil_. Hath he done any hurt, or is hee a friend of yours?

_Acut_. Hee's a Rascall and ile maintaine him so.

_Scil_. Hee's a verie Rascall indeede, and he used mee like a knave: if
ere I meete him, I shall hardly put it up; I have it in blacke and blue
to shew heere.

_Serv_. Say, I breath defyance to his front.

_Acut_. Challenge him the field.

_Scil_. Doos't thinke heele answere me? I'l challenge him at the
pich-fork, or the Flaile, or ile wrastle a fall with him for a bloody
nose; anye weapon I have bene brought up in ile--

_Accut_. What will ye? heere he is, you minime, that will be friend with
friends and foe with foes; and you that will defie _Hercules_, and
out-brave _Mars_ and feares not the Devil; passe, bladder, ile make ye

_Scil_. By Gods-lid, if I had knowne it had bene you, I would not have
said so to your face.

_Accut_. Away, with your Champion, goe.

_Grac_. This was excellentlye performed, ifaith a better breathing then
a game at bowles.

_Accut_. Theile give you the good salve at any time this month, for I am
sure they have salving enough for so long.

_Grac_. I pittie the foole yfaith, but the tother Horseleach I wish his
blowes trebled. I converst with him, but a Rogue so stuft with the
lybrary of new minted[261] words, so tearing the sence, I never met

_Accut_. But now we have spoilde our determinate dinner at my hostesse
of the Hobbye; we shall nowe bee knowne.

_Grac_. That holds well still, I am taken for a prooved friend, and thou
shalt be disguised, till, I have wrought a league by vertue of a pottle
of Canarie.

_Acut_. Content, mine Host shall be accessarie and ile be a serviter to
observe myracles.

_Grac_. They are good subjects for idle houres:--but soft, what second
course is entring heere?

_Enter Phy., Bos, and Boy_.

_Phy_. _For I did but kisse her; Bos_, how lik'st thou my relish?

_Bos_. Oh sir, relish but your licour, as you doe your song, you may goe
drunke to bed any day in the weeke.

_Phy_. _Sister_,[262] _awake, close not, &c_. Does my face hold colour

_Bos_. I, and you would but scaviage the pavilion of your nose.

_Gra_. I, marrie, _Accutus_, how lik'st thou this Gentlewoman Gallant?

_Accut_. A good states-man, for common-wealth of Brownists; the Rogue
hates a Church like the Counter.

_Gra_. I, and if my Ladie Argentile were dead, he wold rather live upon
almes then fall to worke.

_Accut_. So he might have tolleration.--What, shal's close with them?

_Gra_. In any case, but in some mild imbrace, for if we should continue
thus rough, we should be shunned like an Appoplex.

_Accut_. Gallants, the fortune of the day runs with ye: what all at
mumchance?[263] how is't? how is't?

_Phy_. Sir, I think twas you bestowed some abuse of me tother day.

_Accu_. Which I would wipe out of your memorie
With satisfaction of a double courtesie.

_Phy_. I accept it ifaith, sir, I am not prone to anger, I assure ye the
following night knew not my anger. Your acquaintance, Signior.

_Gra_. Fye, without ceremony lets yoake this triplicity as we did in the
daies of olde, with mirth and melody.

_Phy_. I, say you? so then _Coll_[264] _her and clip her and kisse her,
too, &c_.

_Bos_. The triplicitie! heere's those has supt at an ordinarie.

_Accu_. This gallant humors.

_Gra_. But the other walkes aloofe.

_Bos_. The triplicite! heere's those has crackt glasses and drawn blood
of a Tapster.

_Gra_. The visitation of your hand, sir.

_Bos_. The Triplicitie! will colours change?

_Acut_. Sir, take no offence, I beseech ye, we gave onlye satisfaction
for an olde injurie, but in the degree of amitie your selfe sits in the

_Bos_. No sir, but in respect.

_Gra_. What kinde is your Dogge of, sir?

_Bos_. Verie kinde to anything but his meat, that hee devours with great

_Grac_. Where was he bred?

_Bos_. In a Bitch.

_Gra_. What Countrie?

_Bos_. A kind of Mungrill, he will carrie but not fetch, marrie hee is
to be put to a dauncing schoole for instruction.

_Acut_. The tricke of the rope were excellent in him, & that ile teach
him, if I misse not my mark. Come, Gallants, we waste time, the first
Taverne we arrive at weel see the race of an houre-glasse.

_Phy_. Can ye a part in a Song?

_Gra_. Verie tollerably.

_Phy_. Weele have a catch then, if with sol, sol, la: Gentlemen have you
any good herbe? you have match, boy.

_Boy_. Your pipe shall want no fire sir.

_Acut_. Oh, without ceremony: now, _Graccus_, if we can but pawne their
senses in Sack and Sugar, let mee alone to pursue the sequell.

_Gra_. Follow it away.


[_Scene_ 3.]

_Enter Hostis, Cittizens wife, Servulus, and Scillicet_.

_Hostis_. Come, come, bring them out of the ayre: alas good hearts, what
rogorous villaine would commit with him? ile tell ye Gosip, hee's eene
as kinde an animall, he would not wrong them y'faith.

_Citty wife_. Tush, feare nothing woman, I hope to make him so again.
Alacke, alacke, how fell you out all a head?[265] Oh Butcher! are ye
hurt in another place?

_Hostis_. Did he not throw you against the stones? If he did, doe not
conceale, I dare say you gave them not a foule word.

_Scil_. By the illuminate welkin not a word till my mouth was full of
blood, and so made my words foule.

_Citty wife_. Is not this Gentleman hurt too?

_Serv_. Onelye the extravagant Artire[266] of my arme is brused.

_Cittie wi_. See, see, the extravagant of his arme is brused to. Alas,
how could ye quarrell so?

_Serv_. I will demonstrate: in the defence of the generous youth I did
appugne my adverse, let violently flie.

_Cittie wife_. Ah good hearts! would I had stood between you, when he
let flie so violently.

_Ser_. We voide of hostile armes.

_Hostis_. I, if they had had horses, they had sav'd their armes.

_Serv_. Be capable, I meane, void of armorie.

_Citty-wife_. Untill ye had armor on.

_Serv_. Had I bene accompanied, with my Toledo or morglay.[267]

_Cittie wife_. I, your Dogge or Bitch.

_Serv_. Continue, I beseech, I meane my sword, sole lye my sword.

_Cittie wife_. Or solely your sword, better a bad toole then none
at all.

_Serv_. In the concourse--

_Cittie w_. Nay, the concourse will light on him for it, I warrant.

_Serv_. I, for the tuition of my Capitall, did mount my Semisphere,
three degrees, that as a strong, & stony guard did defend my Capitall.

_Citty w_. Twas well ye kept him out, for if he had entered on your
stony Guard, he would have spoilede your Capitall.

_Serv_. In fine, being mortally assaild, he did preambulate [_sic_] or
walk off.

_Scil_. Yes, faith, he did preambulate, and walke mee finely.

_Cittie w_. Good heartes, how many were there of them?

_Serv_. About the number of seaven.

_Scil_. I, there was seaven.

_Serv_. Or eight.

_Scil_. Or eight.

_Serv_. Rather more.

_Citty w_. I, more at least, I warrant ye.

_Hostis_. Alasse ye cannot chuse but be more hurt, but ile search you
throughly, be assured.

_Citty w_. And if she cannot helpe ye fewe can; shee knowes what belongs
to a Tent,[268] or a bruse, and experience is good in those cases.

_Serv_. I have a concupiscent forme of trust in your skil, it will

_Citty wi_. I, feare not, put both your concupisences in me for that

_Serv_. The generous will disburse coynage for satisfaction of your
metaphisicall endevour.

_Scil_. Yes, yes, I will discharge all.

_Cittie wife_. Wee make no doubt of that; come into a chamber, ye shall
lye downe awhile; perhaps youle bee stiffe anon, then you shall use your
legges, the more you strive with it the better. Alas, good hearts!


_Phy_. Sol, sol, la! Tapster, give attendance! Gentlemen, I hope all we
are friends, the welkin is skie colour still, and men must grow by
degrees; you must pardon me, I must sp--speak my minde.

_Grac_. The uttermost of your minde at this time cannot be offensive.

_Phy_. _The fryer was in the_--sol, sol, draw the tother quart. I hope
you are not angrie gallants; and ye come to my lodging, ye shall be
welcome; my Hostes shall bid you welcome, shee's a good wench; if I say
the word, she wil fa--fullfill it.

_Acut_. Sirra drawer, for the other thats a sleepe; let him so remaine;
for the Dog, let him be bound to a post for his appearance, till I take
order for his undooing.

_Draw_. The foole and the Dogge shall both take rest at your commaund,

_Phy_. Gentlemen, I hope we are all friends: sol, sol, shal's have a

_Grac_. I, come, come, everie one catch a part. [_Sing_.

_Phy_. Hey good boies ifaith, now a three man's song, or the olde _downe
a downe_; well things must be as they may, fils the other quart;
muskadine,[269] with an egg is fine, there's a time for all things.
_Bonos nocthus_.[270] [_Sleepe_.

_Grac_. Good night to you sirs.

_Accut_. So now, _Graccus_, see what a polluted lumpe,
A deformed _Chaos_ of unsteddy earth
Man is, being in this ill kinde unmand seeming somthing
Bestial man, brutish animall. Well tis thus decreede,
He shall be what he seemes, that's deade.
For what in him shows life but a breathing ayre?
Which by a free constraint it self ingenders
In things without life, as twixt a pair of bellowes
We feele a forcible aire, having of it self
Force and being, no more is this breathing block
But for his use in kinde.--Give out in some bursse or congregation
Among the multitude _Philautus_[271] death.
Let all the customarie rights of funerall,
His knell or what else, be solemnly observed.
Ile take order for his winding sheete,
And further, to furnish it with further suertie,
Ile have a potion that for twentie houres
Shall quench the motion of his breath. Goe, spread,
Let me alone to effect it.

_Gra_. Ile sow it, I warrant thee; thou talkst of bursse,--I have a way
worth ten on't, ile first give it out in my Barbers shop, then at my
ordinarie, and that's as good as abroad; and as I cross _Tiber_ my
waterman shall attach it, heele send it away with the tide, then let it
come out to an Oyster wenches eare, and sheele crie it up and down the

_Acut_. Let's first secure him from eyes, and at night he shall be
portered to our chamber; so, now away.

_Grac_. Oh a couple that would spred rarely,[272] lets give it for loves

_Enter Hostis and Cittizens wife_.

_Acut_. Call, call.

_Grac_. Hem, hem.

_Citty wife_. A pox on your hemmings, do you think we care for your

_Hostis_. Tis some stinking troublesome knave, I warrant ye.

_Citty wife_. Hang him, regard him not; theres hemming indeede, like a
Cat, God blesse us, with a burre in her throate.

_Grac_. S'hart, how we are ript up for this?

_Ac_. Oh man, this hemming is the most hatefulst thing, theres not the
most publique punck,[273] nor worm-eaten bawd that can abide it, and
honestie would run madde to heare it. But come we waste time, tis now
about the mid of day; we must sowe arithmatike by the houres, that
at[274] the morrowes highth _Philautus_ awake again, at which time he
shall be on his Hearse, and all the Guestes of the Hobbye invited to
accompany his ghost, when being awake, himselfe and all shall see if
drunkenesse be not mad misterie.

_Grac_. But I prethee, practise some milder behaviour at the ordinarie,
be not al madman.

_Acut_. Push,[275] ile bee all observative, and yet ifaith I grieve to
see this double garded[276] age, all side-coate, all foole. Fye thou
keepest the sports from the marke; away, and returne. What newes is now
in progresse.

_Grac_. I have the newest. _Terentia_, Daughter to the olde Senate,
thogh _Lentulus_ left the field to come to her, yet she hath forsaken
him in the open field, and shee's for our young Oratour, _Tully_; she
has vowd by _Venus_ legge and the little God of Love, he shall be her
captaine; sheele serve under him, till death us depart,[277] and
thereto, I plight thee my troth.

_Acut_. More Ladies _Terentias_, I crie still,
That prise a saint before a Silken foole.
She that loves true learning and pomp disdaines
Treads on _Tartarus_ and _Olimpus_ gaines.

_Grac_. I, marrie, but then would learning be in colours, proud, proud;
then would not foure nobles purchase a benefice, two Sermons in a yeare.

_Accut_. I, _Graccus,_ now thou hitst the finger right
Upon the shoulder of Ingratitude.
Thou hast clapt an action of flat felony;
Now, ill betide that partiall judgement
That doomes a farmers rich adultus
To the supremacie of a Deanrie,
When needie, yet true grounded Discipline,
Is govern'd with a threed bare Vycarage.

_Grac_. I, thou speakst well of their sides that are liberally overseene
in the sciences. I take no hold on't, but were all men of thy minde,
then would everie Schoole-maister bee a Senate, and there would never
come Cobler to be Constable againe.

_Accut_. Ynough, ynough, _Graccus_, let silence seale up our secret
thoughts and libertie say,

_Virtus sola summa gloria,
Quae format homines vero honore_.


_Scene_ 1.]

_Enter Flaminius and Tully_.

_Flam_. Goe to, I say, urge no more, tis Taverne talke, for Taverners
Table talke for all the vomit of rumor. What newes, saies one? none so
new as this: _Tully_ shall be married to _Terentia_. What newes says
another? the same, the same. Whose consent have ye? not mine, I deny it.
I must know of it, ile have a hand; goe to, no more.

_Tul_. Gentle Sir,
Lay not a leaden loade of foule reproach
Upon so weake a prop; what's done is past recal.
If ought is done, unfitting to be done,
The worst is done, my life must answer it.

_Flam_. I, you shall answer it in the Senate house, the Emperor shall
knowe it. If she be my childe, I will rule her, ile bridle her, ile
curbe her, ile raine her; if she will not, let her goe, starve, begge,
hang, drawe, sinke, swimme, she gets not a doit, a deneire, ile not owne

_Tul_. Reverend Sir, be more patient.

_Flam_. I am impatient, I am troubled, I am vext, I am scoft, I am
pointed at, ile not endure it, ile not abide it, ile be revenged, I wil,
of her, of you both, proud boy, wanton giglot,[278] aspyring, hautie.
Knowe your equals, shee's not for ye, if ye persist, by my holy maker,
you shall answer it, looke to it, you shall, you shall indeede.
[_Exit_[279] _Flaminus_.

_Tull_. I shall, I must, I will, I will indeede,
Even to the greatest I will answere it;
If great mens eares be ope to inocency,
If greatnesse be not partial with greatenesse,
Even to the greatest I will answere it.
Perhaps, some shallow censurer will say,
The Orator was proud, he would climbe too hie;
But heaven and truth will say the contrarie.
My greatest grief is, I have my friend betraide;
The treasons done, I, and the Traitor's free,
Yet innocent Treason needes not to flee.
His loyaltie bids me abide his frowne,
And he hath power to raise or hurle me downe.

_Enter_[280] _Terentia_.

_Tere_. What ailes my _Tully_? wherefore look'st thou sad?
What discontent hath stopped the crimson current
Which ran so cheerefully within that brow,
And makes it sullen like a standing poole?
Tell me who ist hath wrong[d] my _Cicero_?
[Say,[281] is it _Lentulus_?]

_Tul_. Oh wrong him not.

_Tere_. Who is it then, that wrongs my _Tully_ so?
What, hath _Terentia_ ought offended thee?
Doost thou recall my former promises?
Dost thou repent thee of--

_Tul_. Oh wrong me not.

_Tere_. What, hath my father done this injurie?
There, there, my thoughts accord to say tis so.
I will deny him then, hee's not my father;
Hee's not my friend will envie _Cicero_.

_Tul_. Wrong not thy self.

_Teren_. What heavie string doost thou devide[282] upon?
Wrong not him, wrong not me, wrong not thy selfe.
Where didst thou learne that dolefull mandrake's note
To kill the hearers? _Tully_, canst thou not
Indure a little danger for my love,
The fierie spleene of an angrie Father,
Who like a storme will soon consume it self?
I have indurde a thousand jarring houres
Since first he did mistrust my fancies aime,
And will indure a thousand thousand more
If life or discord either live so long.

_Tul_. The like will I for sweete _Terentia_.
Feare not, I have approoved armour on,
Will bide the brunt of popular reproach
Or whatsoever.

_Tere_. Enough, _Tully,_ we are discovered.

_Enter_[283] _Flavia_.

_Fla_. Yfaith,[284] are ye at it? what, is there never a loving teare
shed on either side? nor you? nor you? _Tullies_ [eyes] are red, come,
come, ye fooles, be more breefe. I would have buried three husbands,
before youle be married.

_Tul_. Why lives _Flavia_ a Virgin still?

_Fla_. Because, I haue vow'd virginitie til I can get a husband.

_Teren_. Why, _Flavia_, you haue many suitors.

_Flav_. Oh, I am loaden with suitors; for indeede I am faine to beare
with any of them, I have a dumbe-shewe of all their pictures, each has
sent in his severall shadow, and I swear I had rather have them then the
substance of any of them.

_Tul_. Can you not describe them in action?

_Flav_. Yes, and their action; I have one honest man of the age of
fortie five, or there about, that traverses his ground three mile everie
morning to speake to mee, and when hee is come, after the saluting
ceremony, of 'how do you, Lady,' he falles to calculating the nativitie
of the Moone, prognosticating what faire weather will follow, if it
either snow or raine; sometime with a gentle pinche by the fingar
intermixed with the volley[285] of sighes, hee falles to discoursing of
the prise of pease, and that is as pleasing to me as a stinking breath.

_Tul_. A good description.

_Fla_. Another brings Letters of commendation from the Constable of the
Parish, or the Church-warden, of his good behaviour and bringing up, how
he could write and reade written hand; further desiring that his Father
would request my Father that his Fathers Sonne might marrie my Fathers
Daughter and heele make her a joynter of a hundred pound a yeare, and
beget three or foure fooles to boote.

_Teren_. Better and better.

_Tul_.[286] _Usus promptus [sic] facit; Faemina[e] ludificantur
viros_; well, forward.

_Flav_.[287] I have another that I prise derer then the rest, a most
sweete youth, and if the wind stand with him I can smell him half a
mile ere hee come at me, indeede hee weares a Musk-cat--what call ye
it?--about him.

_Tul_. What doe you call it?

_Flav_. What ye will, but he smels better then burnt Rosemarie, as well
as a perfuming pan, and everie night after his first sleepe writes
lovesicke sonnets, railing against left handed fortune his foe,[288]
that suffers his sweet heart to frowne on him so.

_Tul_. Then it seemes you graunt him no favour.

_Flav_. Faith, I dare not venture on him, for feare he should be rotten;
give me nature, not arte.

_Tere_. Here comes Lord _Lentulus_.

_Tul_. Swift danger, now ride poaste through this passage.

_Enter_[289] _Lentulus_.

Health to your honour.

_Len_. And happines to you.

_Tul_. In[290] heaven, deere Lord, but--

_Lent_. Tush, tush, on earth; come, come, I know your suite, tis
graunted sure, what ere it be.

_Tul_. My sute craves death, for treason to my friend.

_Teren_. The Traitor lives while I have breath to spend,
Then let me die to satisfie your will.

_Lent_. Neither, yfaith, kneele not, rise, rise, I pray;
You both confesse you have offended me?

_Both_. We doe, we have.

_Lent_. Then for this offence, be this your doome:
_Tulley_ must die, but not till fates decree
To cut your vital threed, or _Terentia_
Finde in her heart to be your Deathes-man.

_Flav_. Faith the Fates may doe as they may, but _Terentia_ will never
finde in her heart to kill him, sheele first burie him quick.

_Len_. The like is doomde to faire _Terentia_.
How say you both, are yee content?

_Teren_. My thoughts are plung'd in admiration.

_Tul_. But can your honour burie such a wrong?

_Len_. I can, I can; heere, _Tulley_, take _Terentia_,
Live many happie yeares in faithfull love.
This is no more then friendships lawes allow;
Thinke me thy self, another _Cicero_.

_Flav_. Twere better, my Lord, you did perswade her to think you another
_Cicero_, so you might claim some interest in her now and then.

_Lent_. That I would claim with you, faire Ladie;
Hark in your eare, nay, I must conclude with you.

_Flau_. Y'oule not bite, my Lord?

_Len_. No, of my faith, my Lady.

_Tere_. Thus far, my love, our hopes have good successe;
One storme more past, my griefes were much the less.

_Tul_. Friendship itself hath beene more prodigal
Then a bolde face could begge upon a friend.

_Lent_. Why, then theres a bargaine.

_Flav_. Strike hands upon the same, I am yours to commaund.
Ile love with ye, ile lie with ye, ile love with all my heart,
With all my strength, with all my power and virtue:
Seald and delivered in the presence of us--

_Lent_. _Marcus Tullius Cicero_.
Then you deliver this as your act and deede?

_Flav_. I doe, and scale it with this--

_Lent_. Why, well said, tis done; see, we begin but now,
And are as ready to goe to Church as you.
What needes further ceremony?

_Flav_. Yes, a little matrimony.

_Lent_. I, Lady. Come _Tully_ and _Terentia_;
One day shall shine on both our Nuptials;
Feare not, ile quench the fire of your Fathers heate
With my consent.

_Flav_. I prethee, appoint the time.

_Lent_. About a week hence, love.

_Flav_. Oh, tis too intolerable long.

_Lent_. Then foure daies.

_Flav_. Foure daies is foure times foure & twenty hours.
That's too long too.

_Lent_. We cannot sooner be readie.

_Flav_. Yes, and unreadie[291] too in a day and a halfe.

_Lent_. Well then two daies.

_Flav_. Til then weele feede on conceite; _Tully_, thanke me, but for
your companie I would not tarry so long; come, _Tully_, since we shall
bee married all at one time, weele goe to bed so, and he shall be
maister of the Cock-pit that bids his Gossips[292] first.



_Scene_ 1.]

_Enter Accutus and Graccus_.

_Acut_. Nay quicke, _Graccus_, least our houre forestall us, ile in and
deale for your disguise; tarry thou & give mine host a share of our
intent; marry, charge him to keep it as secret as his Garbage. He undoes
our drift [else] and cloathes the foole in sackcloath during his life.

_Gra_. Ile warrant thee ile manage it with as good judgement as a
Constable his charge.

_Acut_. And I mine as a watchman his office.

_Gra_. Better, I hope; well about it.

[_Exit [Acutus]_.

_Enter_[293] _Host. Prentices pass over the stage_.

_Host_. There, there my little lackey boyes, give the word as ye passe,
look about to my guests there; score up at the Bar there; again, agen,
my fine Mercuries; if youle live in the facultie, be rulde by
instructions, you must be eyed like a Serjeant, an eare like a
Belfounder, your conscience a Schoolemaister, a knee like a Courtier,
a foote[294] like a Lackey, and a tongue like a Lawyere. Away, away, my
brave bullies! welcome, sweete Signior, I cannot bow to thy knee, I'me
as stout & as stiff as a new made knight, but if I say the word, mine
Host bids the Cobler--

_Gra_. May I crave a word of you, mine Host?

_Host_. Thou shalt whisper in mine eare, I will see and say little; what
I say duns[295] the mouse and welcom, my bullies.

_Enter Scillicet and Getica_.

_Scil_. By the torrid zone (sweet heart) I have thought well of you ever
since I loved ye, as a man wold say, like a young dancer, out of all
measure; if it please you yfaith anything I have promised you ile
performe it to a haire, ere to morrow night.

_Get_. I wounder [_sic_] I can heare no newes of my man and my puppie.

_Scil_. Doe you thinke, sweet heart, to be maried by day light or by

_Get_. By night is more Lady-like. Ile have a cryer to cry my puppie

_Scil_. What thinke ye if we had an offering?

_Get_. That were most base yfaith.

_Scil_. Base, slid, I cannot tel if it were as base as a sagbut, ile be
sworne tis as common as a whore, tis even as common to see a Bason at a
Church doore, as a Box at a Playhouse.

_Get_. It greeves me not so much for my man as for my puppie; my man can
shift for himself, but my poore puppie! truely I thinke I must take
Phisicke even for feare, sweetheart.

_Host_. Tut, tut, ile warrant thee ile be as close as a bawd, ile keepe
mine owne counsell, be merrie and close;[296] merrie hart lives long,
let my guests take no wrong, & welcome, my bullie. [_Exit_.

_Grac_. There's none ment, beleeve it, sir.

_Scil_. Signor, by the welkin, well met, what all three so luckely?

_Enter Servulus_.

_Ser_. Gallants, saving the Ceremonie,
Stroke your haire up and admire, forsweare sacke.

_Scil_. Foresweare Sacke! slid, not for the spending of two farmes more,
if they were come into my hands once.

_Ser_. I say be astonisht and forsweare sacke, for by the combustion
influence of sacke five men lye breathlesse ready to be folded in the
terrestiall element.

_Grac_. Five slaine with Sacke! ist possible?

_Ser_. These eyes are testators.

_Scil_. Nay, then tis so.

_Getica_. Sir, you have not heard of a puppie in your travels?

_Grac_. No indeede, Gentlewoman.

_Ser_. Five, beleeve me, Sir.

_Acu_. Five of one, oh devil!
What limme of him but a complete Villaine!
A tongue prophaner then Idolatrie,
His eye a beacon fixed in his place
Discovering illes, but hood-winked unto grace;
His heart a nest of vice kept by the Devill,
His good is none at all, his all is evill.

_Enter_[297] _Hostess_.

_Hostis_. Oh, the father! Gallants, yonders the most hard favourd newes
walkes the streetes, seaven men going to their graves, that dyed with
drinking and bisseling.[298]

_Acut_. Good, still, nay then I see the devill has some power over a
woman more then a man. Seaven! t'will be more anon.

_Get_. Now I beseech _Bacchus_ my puppie has not overseene[299] himself.

_Scil_. This is verie strange.

_Hostis_. And as true a report, I assure you.

_Enter City-Wife_[300]

_Cittie wife_. Out alas, where's my Gosip? Oh woman! have you not heard
the newes?

_Hostis_. Yes, I have heard on't.

_Cittie wife_. Oh, woman, did your child's child ever see the like? nine
men to bee buried too day, that drunk healthes last night.

_Acut_. Better and better, goodnes never mends so fast in the carrying:

_Cittie wife_. They say one is your guest, _Philautus_.

_Acut_. And all, I dare sweare, whome ile revive againe.

_Cittie wife_. Well he was a propper man, yfaith.

_Hostis_. I, and had good skill in prick-song, yet he had a fault in his
humor, as none are without (but Puritans,); he would swear like an
Elephant, and stamp and stare, (God blesse us,) like a play-house
book-keeper when the actors misse their entrance.

_Scil_. Nay, harke ye, sir, I can brooke much injurie but not that;
meddle with me but not with my trade; shee is mine owne, shee's _meus,
tuus, suus_, no man's else, I assure ye, we are sure[301] together.

_Grac_. Sure ye are together, sir, but is your wife your trade? You
meane to live upon your wife then.

_Acut_. The foole has some wit,[302] though his money bee gone.

_Grac_. Sir, I hope ye are not offended, I assure ye I would be loath to
offend the least haire of your _caput, sissiput_, or _occiput_.

_Scil_. _Occiput_? what meane you by _occiput_?

_Grac_. The former part of your head.

_Scil_. The former part of your head! why I hope I have not an occiput,
in the former part of my head. Signior _Servulus_, what meanes he by it?

_Serv_. The signification of the word only amounts to this, the former
part of your head.

_Accut_. The foole is jealious, prethee feede it.

_Scil_. S'lid, I cannot be so sussified; I pray you, Segnior, what
meanes he by _occiput_?

_Grac_. No hurt, verily, onely the word signifies, and the reason is,
saith _Varro_, being a great deriver from originals, it is called
_occiput_ for that the former part of the head looks likest the Oxe.

_Scil_. Likest the Oxe, by gad, if ere I come to talke with that
_Varro_, ile make him show a better reason for it.

_Grac_. But, howsoever, it proceeded from me all in kindenes.

_Scil_. Sir, I accept it so, for I tell ye I am of a mollifying nature.
I can strut and againe in kindnesse I can suffer a man to breake my
head, and put it up without anger.

_Accut_. I claime that priviledge, sir, I thinke I offended you once
that way.

_Scil_. I love ye then for it sir, yet I cannot remember that ever a
Tapster broke my head, yet I call to minde I have broke many Tapsters

_Accut_. Not as a Tapster, for I but borrow this habyt.

_Scil_. The fruit is knowne by the tree, by gad, I knewe by your
aporn[303] ye were a gentlemen, but speciallye by your flat[304] cap.

_Serv_. I call to memorie, let us unite with kinde imbrace.

_Cittie wife_. Now well fare your harts; by my truth, tis joy to a woman
to see men kinde; faith you courtiers are mad fellowes, you care not in
your humors to stab man or woman that standes in your way, but in the
end your kindenes appeares.

_Hostis_. You can resolve us, sir; we heare of great revels to be at
Court shortly.

_Grac_. The marriage of _Lentulus_ and the Orator: verie true.

_Hostis_. Might not a company of Wives be beholding to thee for places,
that would be there without their husbands knowledge, if neede were?

_Grac_. A moitie of friendship that, ile place ye where ye shall sit and
see all.

_Cittie wife_. Sit? nay, if there were but good standinges, we care not.

_Acu_. S'foot, _Graccus_, we tarrie too long, I feare; the houre wil
overtake us, tarrie thou and invite the Guests, and Ile goe see his
course mounted.

_Grac_. About it.

[_Exit_[305] _Acutus_.

_Hostis_. Whether goes that gentleman?

_Grac_. About a needeful trouble; this gentleman
Hath, at the charges of his charitie,
Preparde to inter a friend of his,
Though lately entertaind a friend of yours,
Acquaintance to you all, _Philautus_; and would desire
You would with him accompany his ghost
To funerall, which will be presently on his journey.

_Cittie wife_. Of his charge? dyed he not able to purchase a Winding

_Grac_. Twere sinne to wrong the dead; you shall heare the inventorie of
his pocket.

Imprimis, brush and a Combe o o v.d.
Item, a looking Glasse o o i.d.ob.
Item, A case of Tobacco Pipes o o iiij.d.
Item, Tobacco, halfe an ounz o o vj.d.
Item, in money and golde o o iij.d.
_Summa totalis_. xix d. halfe penny.

_Hostis_. What was his suite worth?

_Grac_. His sute was colde, because not his owne, and the owner caused
it to be restored as part of recompence, having lost the principall.

_Re-enter_[306] _Acutus_.

_Acut_. What, are they readie? the Corse is on his journey hetherwards.

_Grac_. Tush, two womens tungs give as loud report as a campe royall of
double cannons.

_Enter Host, Cornutus_.

_Host_. Tut, tut, thou art welcom; _Cornutus_ is my neighbour, I love
him as my self. Tha'st a shrowe to thy wife, gave her tongue to [_sic_]
much string, but let mine Host give thee counsell, heele teach thee a

_Cornu_. No, no, my good Host; mum, mum, no words against my wife;
shee's mine owne, one flesh, & one blood. I shall feele her hurt, her
tongue is her owne, so are her hands; mum, mum, no words against your

_Host_. Tut, tut, thou art a foole, keepe her close from the poticarie,
let her taste of no licoras, twill make her long winded; no plums, nor
no parseneps, no peares, nor no Popperins, sheele dreame in her sleep
then; let her live vpon Hasels, give her nuts for her dyet, while a
toothe's in her head, give her cheese for disgestion,[307] twil make her
short winded; if that will not serve, set fire to the pan and blow her
up with Gun-powder.

_Cittie wife_. I, I, mine Host, you are well imployed to give a man
counsell against his wife; they are apt enough to ill I warrant ye.

_Cornu_. Mum, mum, my sweet wife, I know the world wel enough; I have an
eare but I heare not, an eye but I see not, what's spoke against thee I
regard not; mum, mum, I knowe the world well enough.

_Cittie wife_. I, and twere more seemely you were at your owne house
too; your wife cannot goe abroad, but you must follow; husbands must bee
fringed to their wives Petticoates. I pray you tarrie you, ile goe home.

_Cor_. Not so, my sweet wife, I am gone, I am vanisht; mum, mum, no
anger shall stirre thee; no words, I know the world well inough.

_Hostis_. Twere better, by thrice deuce-ace, in a weeke every woman
could awe her husband so well as she.

_Gracc_. Ist possible? s'foot, well I thought it had bene but a fable al
this while that _Iole_ shold make great _Hercules_ spit on his thombes
and spin, but now I see if a man were as great as _Caesar, Julius_ or
_Augustus_, or both in one, a woman may take him downe.

_Hostis_. Gossip, faith ile use a little of your counsel, but my husband
is so fat, I feare I shall never bring him to it.

_Grac_. Now, gentles, you that can, prepare a few teares to shed, for
now enters a sad sceane of sorrowe.

_Enter Fryer and Course_.

_Fryer_. Man is flesh and flesh is fraile,
The strongest man at length must faile;
Man is flesh and flesh is grasse;
Consuming time, as in a glasse,
Now is up and now is downe
And is not purchast by a Crowne;
Now seede, and now we are sowen,
Now we wither, now are mowen;
_Frater noster_ heere doth lye,
_In paupertate_ he did die,
And now is gone his _viam longam_
That leades unto his _requiem aeternam_;
But dying needie, poore and bare,
Wanting to discharge the Fryer,
Unto his grave hee's like to passe
Having neither Dirge nor Masse:
So set forward, let him goe,
_Et benedicamus Domino_.

_Phy_. And then to _Apollo_ hollo, trees, hollo.--Tapster a few more
cloathes to my feete.

_Omnes_. Oh heavens!

_Acut_. Gentles, keep your places, feare nothing; in the name of God,
what art thou?

_Phy_. My Hearse and winding-sheete! what meanes this? why, Gentles, I
am a living man.

_Acut_. Spirit, thou ly'st; thou deludest us.

_Citty wife_. Conjure him, Fryer.

_Fryer_. _In nomine Domini_ I thee charge,
_Responde mihi_, heere at large,
_Cujum pecus_, whence thou art,
_Et quamobrem_ thou makest us start
_In spiritus_ of the gloomy night?
_Qui Venis huc_ us to affright,
_Per trinitatem_ I there charge thee,
_Quid tu vis hic_ to tell to me.

_Phy_. Why, Gentles, I am a living man, _Philautus_.[308] What instance
shall I give ye? heare me I have sight, understanding, I know mine
hostes, I see that Gentlewoman, I can feele.

_Scil_. Feele this Gentlewoman! s'lid if yee were ten Ghosts, ile not
indure it.

_Acut_. Spirit, thou deludest us.

_Phy_. Why what should I say? will ye heare my voice, heeres not but--

_Scil_. Nay, that's a lye, then tis a living spirit, ile have a bout
with him.

_Accut_. Oh sir, meddle not with shadowes. Spirit, thou lyest;
I saw thee dead, [and] so did many moe.[309]
We know ye wandring dwellers in the dark
Have power to shape you like mortallitie
To beguile the simple & deceve their soules.
Thou art a Devill.

_Phy_. Sweet Gent, beholde I am flesh and blood; heeres my flesh, feele

_Cittie wife_. By my troth, methinkes hee should be alive. I could finde
in my heart to feele his flesh.

_Grac_. Trie with your Rapier, _Accutus_; if he bleede he lives.

_Phy_. If I bleede I die; sweet Gentlemen, draw no blood.

_Accu_. How shall wee knowe thou art flesh and blood then?

_Grac_. Take heede, _Accutus_, heele blast thee.

_Phy_. What instance shall I give ye? I am _Phylautus_,[310] he that
must needes confesse, he was drunk in your companies last day; sweet
Gentlemen, conceive me aright.

_Accut_. Why true, true, that we know and[311] those swilling bowels.
Death did arrest thee, many saw thee deade,
Else needles were these rites of funeralls.
And since that time, till now, no breath was knowne
Flye from you; and twentie times the houre-glasse
Hath turned his upside downe; and twenty times,
The nimble current sand hath left his upper roome.
To ly beneath, since sparke of life appeard;
In all which time my care imploide it self
To give the[e] rights of buriall: now, if you live,
Who so glad as I?

_Phy_. Sir, your love has showne it selfe aboundant, but the cold aire
is a meanes to devorce me from your companies: mine host, let me crave
passage to my chamber.

_Host_. Out of my dores, knave; thou enterest not my dores, I have no
chalke in my house, my posts shall not be garded with a little sing
song, _Si nihil attuleris, ibis, Homere, foras_.

_Accut. Ha! how now man? see'st now any errors?
Nay, this is nothing; he hath but showne
A patterne of himself, what thou shalt finde
In others; search through the Globe of earth,
If there mongst twentie two thou doost find
Honester then himself ile be buried straight.
Now thinke what shame tis to be vilde,
And how vilde to be drunk: look round! where?
Nay looke up, beholde yon Christall pallace.
There sits an ubiquitarie Judge
From whom _arcana nulla abscondita_,
That see's all and at pleasure punisheth;
Thou canst not scape scot free, how cans't thou?
Why, sencelesse man in that sinne will betray
His father, brother, nay, himselfe;[312] feares not
To commit the worst of evils, secure if
Thunder-boults should drop from heaven, dreading
Nor heaven, nor hell; indeede his best state
Is worse then least, prised at highest rate.

_Ser_. This critique is hoarsh [_sic_], unsaverie, and reproofeful;
avoyd him.

_Scil_. Hee speakes well, but I like not his dispraysing of drunkennes;
tis Phisicke to me and it makes me to sleep like a horse with my nose in
the manger. Come, sweet heart.

_Hostis_. Signior, _Philautus_, I pray ye a word. [_Exit_.

_Acut_. How now, whispering? s'foot if they should give our purpose
another crosse point, where are we then? note, note.

_Hostis_. Heere take the key, convey yourself into the Chamber, but in
any case take heede my husband see you not.

_Phy_. Feare not, Gentles, be thanks the guerden of your love till time
give better abilitie. [_Exit_.

_Acut_. Ha! nay s'foot, I must claw out another device, we must not part
so, _Graccus_; prethee keepe the sceane, til I fetch more actors to fill
it fuller.

_Gra_. But prethee, let me partake.

_Acut_. Not till I returne, pardon me. [_Exit_.

_Hostis_. By my troth Gossip, I am halfe sick of a conceit.

_Citty wife_. What, woman? passion of my heart, tell me your greefs.

_Hostis_. I shall goe to court now, and attired like an old Darie woman,
a Ruffe holland of eight groates, three inches deep of the olde cut, and
a hat as far out of fashion as a close placket.

_Cittie wife_. Why I hope your husband is able to maintain you better,
are there not nights as well as daies? does he not sleepe sometimes? has
he no pockets about him, cannot you search his breeches? anything you
find in his breeches is your owne.

_Hostis_. But may a woman doe that with safety?

_Cittie wife_. I, and more, why should she not? why what is his is
yours, what's yours your owne.

_Hostis_. The best hope I have is; you knowe my Guest Mistris _Gettica_,
she has pawnd her Jewels to me already, and this night I look for her
Hood and her tyer, or if the worst chance, I know I can intreate her to
weare my cloathes, and let me goe in her attire to Court.

_Cittie wife_. Or if all faile, you may hire a good suit at a Jewes, or
at a broakers; tis a common thing and speacially among the common sort.

_Enter Host and Constable_.

_Host_. To search through my house! I have no Varlets, no knaves, no
stewd prunes, no she fierie phagies [faces?]; my Chambers are swept, my
sinkes are all scowred, the honest shall come in, the knaves shall goe
by; yet will I, maister Constable, goe search through my house, I care
not a sheepes skin.

_Const_. We are compeld to doe it, mine host; a Gentleman is robd last
night, & we are to search every privy corner.

_Host_. Mine host is true Mettall, a man of reputation, a true
_Holefernes_, he loves juice of grapes, and welcom, maister Constable.

_Acut_. _Graccus_, how likst thou this?

_Grac_. Excellent, for now must he needes fall into Constables hands,
and if he have any grace, twil appear in his face, when he shall be
carried through the streete in a white sheet; twill be a good penance
for his fault.

_Hostis_. Now fortune favour that my husband find him not.

_Cittie wife_. Heele be horne mad & never able to indure it: why, woman,
if he had but as much man in him as a Maribone, heele take the burthen
uppon his own necke and never discover you.

_Hostis_. Alas, heere they come, lets away, Gossip.

_Phy_. _Fortune_,[313] _my foe, why doost, &c_.

_Acut_. Oh fye, thats bitter prethe goe comfort him.

_Grac_. Faith he should be innocent by his garment; Signior, I grieve
for this, but if I can help, looke for it.

_Phy_. I thanke ye, sir.

_Const_. We must contaminate our office, pray regard us as little as ye
can. [_Exit_.

_Accut_. Me thinkes this shold put him quite out of tune now, so let him
goe now to mine Host; theres he and hee, and hee,

Theres shee, and she, ile have a bout with all:
And critiques honneys sweetest mixt with gal.


[_Scene_ 2.]

_Enter Host, Cornutus_.

_Host_. Goe to, there's knaves in my house! I know of no Varlets, I
have an eye has his sence, a brain that can reach, I have bene cald
Polititian, my wife is my wife. I am her top, i'me her head: if mine
Host say the word, the Mouse[314] shall be dun.

_Corn_. Not so my sweet Host, mum, mum, no words against your wife; he
that meanes to live quiet, to sleep in cleane sheetes, a Pillowe under
his head, his dyet drest cleanely, mum, mum, no words against his wife.

_Host_. Thar't a foole, thar't a foole, bee rulde by mine host, shew thy
self a brave man, of the true seede of _Troy_, a gallant _Agamemnon_;
tha'st a shrew to thy wife, if shee crosse thy brave humors, kicke thy
heele at her huckle[315] bone.

_Enter Accutus_.

_Acut_. Gentles, most happily encountered, how good hap hath turnd two
labours into one! I was addrest to both, and at once I have met both,
sure I must intreate that you must not deny.

_Host_. Say on, my sweete bullie, mine Host will attend thee; speake
roundly to the purpose, and welcome, my bullie.

_Accut_. Marrie thus, there are[316] great revels & shews preparde to
beautifie the nuptials of _Lentulus_, and _Tully_, in which the
Cittizens have the least share; now, would but you and some others that
I shall collect,

Joyne hands with me in some queint jest,
Our shew shall deserve grace, and brave the rest.

_Host_, I have thee, brave spirit, tha'rt of the true seede of _Troy_,
lets be merrie and wise, merrie hearts live long; mine Host, my brave
Host, with his neighbor _Cornutus_ shall bee two of the Maskers, and the
Morrice shall be daunc'd.

_Cor_. Not so, mine Host. I dare not doe so, t'will distemper my wife,
my house will be unquiet; mum, mum, I know the world, well enough.

_Host_. Thou shall goe, saies mine Host, merrie hearts live long;
welcome, bullie! mine Host shall make one, so shall my _Cornutus_, for
if I say the word the mouse shall be dun.

_Enter Bos with Porters_.

_Porters_. Save ye mine Host, heeres a parcell of Corne was directed to
be delivered at your house.

_Host_. What ware, my little Atlas, what ware is it?

2 _Por_. I know not, but i'me sure tis as heavie as a horse and--

1 _Por_. I thinke, tis a barrel of oyle, for it spurg'd at my backe.

_Bos_. It was oyle, for I drew the Tap.

_Grac_. What, _Bos_, what mak'st thou heere?

_Acc_. Oh, _chara_[317] _deum soboles, magnum bovis incrementum_.
_Bos_, art there, there?

_Bos_. As sure as you are there, Signior.

_Grac_. _Bos_, will ye not forsake your Cabbin?

_Bos_. Oh sir, he that has not a tilde house must bee glad of a thatch
house. May I crave a suite of you, signior?

_Grac_. What suit, _Bos_?

_Bos_. What you please, beggars must not chuse.

_Accut_. _Bos_ is growne misticall, hee's too dark.

_Bos_. I speake _Hebrew_ indeede, like _Adam_ and _Eve_, before they fel
to spinning; not a rag.

_Grac_. What, naked, _Bos_?

_Bos_. As ye see, will ye heare my suite, signior?

_Gra_. Drunk, & his cloathes stoln, what theef would do it?

_Bos_. Any theefe, sir, but no true[318] man.

_Gra_. Wel, _Bos_, to obtaine a suit at my handes, and to doe some
pennance for your fault, you shall heere maintaine an argument in the
defence of drunkennes. Mine Host shall heere it, ile be your opponent,
_Acutus_ moderator: wilt thou doe it?

_Host_. A mad merrie grig;[319] all good spirits; wilt thou doe it,

_Bos_. Ile doo't.

_Grac_. Seate yee, heres my place; now, _Bos_, propound.

_Bos_. Drunkenness is a vertue.

_Gra_. Your proofe.

_Bos_. Good drink is full of vertue,
Now full of good drink is drunke;
_Ergo_, to be drunke is to be vertuous.

_Grac_. I deny it: good drinke is full of vice,
Drinke takes away the sences,
Man that is sencelesse is vitious;
_Ergo_, good drinke is full of vice.

_Bos_. I deny it still: good drinke makes good bloud,
Good blood needes no Barber,
_Ergo_, tis good to drinke good drinke.

_Accu_. Hee holdes ye hard, _Graccus_.

_Bos_. Heeres stronger proofe: drunkennes ingenders with two of the
morrall vertues, and sixe of the lyberall sciences.

_Gra_. Let him proove that and Ile yeeld.

_Host_. A mad spirit, yfaith.

_Bos_. A drunkard is valiant and lyberall; heele outface _Mars_, brave
_Hercules_, and feares not the Devill; then for the most part hee's
liberal, for heele give all the cloathes off his back, though hee weepe
like a Widowe all the day following; nay for the sciences, hee's a good
phisitian, hee vomits himself rarelie and will giue any man else a
vomit, that lookes on him (if he have not a verie good stomacke);
perfect in Geomitrie, for he hangs in the aire by his own conceite, and
feeles no ground; and hee's all musicall, the world turns round with
him, everie face in the painted cloath, shewes like a Fairie dauncing
about him, and everie spar in the house a minstrell.

_Grac_. Good: forward.

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