A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS A COMOEDIE As it hath beene often acted at the Phae­nix in Drury-Lane, by the Queenes Maiesties seruants.


LONDON, Printed by E. P. for Henry Seyle, dwelling in S. Pauls Church-yard, at the signe of the Tygers head. Anno. M. DC. XXXIII.



Pardon I beseech you my boldnesse, in presuming to shelter this Comoedie vnder the wings of your Lordships fauour, and protection, I am not ignorant (hauing ne­uer yet deseru'd you in my seruice) that it cannot but meete with a seuere constru­ction, if in the clemencie of your noble disposition, you fashion not a better de­fence for mee, than I can fancie for my selfe. All I can alleage is, that diuers Ita­lian [Page] Princes, and Lords of eminent rancke in England, haue not disdain'd to receaue, and read Poems of this Nature, nor am I wholy lost in my hopes, but that your Honor (who haue euer exprest your selfe a fauourer, and friend to the Muses) may vouchsafe, in your gratious acceptance of this trifle, to giue me encouragement, to present you with some labour'd worke, and of a higher straine hereafter, I was borne a deuoted seruant, to the thrice noble Family of your incomparable Lady, and am most ambitious, but with a becom­ming distance, to be knowne to your Lordship, which if you please to admit, I shall embrace it as a bounty, that while I liue shall oblige me to acknowledge you for my noble Patron, and professe my selfe to be

Your Honours true seruant Philip Massinger.


TIs a rare charity, and thou couldst not
So proper to the time haue found a plot:
Yet whilst you teach to pay, you lend, the age
We wretches liue in; that to come, the stage,
The thronged audience that was thither brought
Inuited by your fame, and to be taught
This lesson. All are growne indebted more,
And when they looke for freedome ran in score.
It was a cruell courtesie to call
In hope of liberty, and then, enthr all.
The nobles are your bond-men Gentry, and
All besides those that did not vnderstand.
They were no men of credit Banckroupts borne
Fit to be trusted with no stocke, but scorne.
You haue more wisely credited to such,
That though they cannot pay, can value much.
I am your debtor too, but to my shame
Repay you nothing backe, but your owne fame.
Henry Moody. miles.

To his friend the Author.

YOu may remember how you chid me when
I ranckt you equall with those glorious men;
Beaumont, and Fletcher: if you loue not praise
You must for beare the publishing of playes.
The craftie Mazes of the cunning plot;
The polish'd phrase; the sweet expressions; got
Neither by theft, nor violence; the conceipt
Fresh, and vnsullied; All is of weight,
Able to make the captiue Reader know
I did but iustice when I plac't you so.
A shamefast Blushing would become the brow
Of some weake Virgin writer, we allow,
To you a kind of pride; and there where most,
Should blush at commendations, you should boast.
If any thinke I flatter, let him looke
Of from my idle trifles on thy Booke.
Thomas Iay. Miles.
Dramatis personae.
  • Louell. An English Lord.
  • Sir Giles Ouerreach. A cruell extortioner.
  • Welborne.A prodigall.
  • Alworth. A young gentleman page to Lord Louell.
  • Greedy, A hungry Iustice of peace.
  • Marrall. A Tearme-driuer. A creature of Sir Giles Ouerreach.
  • Order. Amble. Furnace. Watchall.Seruants to the Lady Alworth.
  • Will-doe. A parson.
  • Tapwell. An alehouse keeper.
  • Three Creditors.
  • The Ladie Alworth. A Rich Widdowe.
  • Margaret. Ouerreach his daughter.
  • Waiting Woman.
  • Chambermaide.
  • Froth. Tapwells wife.


Actus primus, Scena prima:

Welborne. Tapwell. Froth.

No bouze? nor no Tobacco?
Not a sucke Sir,
Nor the remainder of a single canne
Left by a drunken porter, all night palde too.
Not the dropping of the tappe for your mor­nings draught, Sir,
'Tis veritie I assure you.
Verity, you brach!
The Diuell turn'd precisian? Rogue what am I?
Troth durst I trust you with a looking glasle,
To let you see your trimme shape, you would quit me,
And take the name your selfe.
How! dogge?
Euen so, Sir.
And I must tell you if you but aduance,
Your plimworth cloke, you shall be soone instructed
There dwells, and within call, if it please your worship,
A potent moharch, call'd the Constable,
That does command a Citadell, call'd the Stockes;
Whose guards are certaine files of rusty Billmen,
Such as with great dexterity will hale
Your tatter'd, louzie---
Rascall, slaue.
No rage, Sir.
At his owne perill, doe not put your selfe
In too much heate, there being no water neare
To quench your thirst, and sure for other liquor,
As mighty Ale, or Beere, they are things I take it
You must no more remember, not in a dreame Sir.
Why thou vnthankefull villaine dar'st thou talke thus?
Is not thy house, and all thou hast my gift?
I find it not in chalke, and Timothie Tapwell
Does keepe no other register.
Am not I Hee
Whoseriots fed, and cloth'd thee? wert thou not
Borne on my fathers land, and proud to bee
A drudge in his house?
What I was Sir, it skills not,
What you are is apparent. Now for a farewel';
Since you talke of father, in my hope it will torment you,
I'le briefly tell your story. Your dead father,
My quondam master, was a man of worship,
Old Sir John Wellborne, Iustice of peace, and quorum,
And stood faire to bee Custos rotulorum;
Bare the whole sway of the shire; kep't a great house;
Relieu'd the poore, and so forth; but Hee dying,
And the twelue hundred a yeare comming to you,
Late Master Francis, but now forlorne Welborne.
Slaue, stoppe, or I shall lose my selfe.
Very hardly;
You cannot out of your way.
But to my story.
You were then a Lord of Akers; the prime gallant;
And I your vnder-butler; note the change now.
You had a merry time of't. Hawkes, and Hounds,
With choice of running horses; Mistrisses
Of all sorts, and all sizes; yet so hot
As their embraces made your Lordships melt;
Which your Vncle Sir Giles Ouerreach obseruing,
Resoluing not to lose a droppe of'em,
On foolish mortgages, statutes, and bonds,
For a while suppli'd your loosenesse, and then left you.
Some Curate hath penn'd this inuectiue, mongrell,
And you haue studied it.
I haue not done yet:
Your land gone, and your credit not worth a token,
You grew the common borrower, no man scap'd
Your paper-pelletts, from the Gentleman
To the beggers on high wayes, that sold you switches
In your gallantry.
I shall switch your braines out.
Where poore Tim Tapwell with a little stocke
Some forty pounds or so, bought a small cottage,
Humbled my selfe to marriage with my Froth here;
Gaue entertainment.
Yes, to whores, and canters,
Clubbers by night.
True, but they brought in profit,
And had a gift to pay for what they call'd for,
And stucke not like your mastership. The poore Income
I glean'd from them, hath made mee in my parish,
Thought worthy to bee Scauinger, and in time
May rise to be Ouerseer of the poore;
Which if I doe, on your petition Welborne,
I may allow you thirteene pence a quarter,
And you shall thanke my worship.
Thus you doggebolt,
And thus.
beates, and kicks him.
Cry out for helpe.
Stirre and thou diest:
Your potent Prince the Constable shall not saue you.
Heare me vngratefull hellhound; did not I
Make purses for you? Then you lick'd my bootes,
And thought your holy day cloke too course to cleane'em.
'Twas I that when I heard thee sweare, if euer
Thou could'st arriue at forty pounds, thou would'st
Liue like an Emperour: 'twas I that gaue it,
In ready gold. Denie this, wretch.
I must Sir,
For from the tauerne to the taphouse, all
On forfeiture of their licences stand bound,
Neuer to remember who their best guests were,
If they grew poore like you.
They are well rewarded
That begger themselues to make such cuckolds rich.
Thou viper thanklesse viper; impudent bawde!
But since you are grow'n forgetfull, I will helpe
Your memory, and tread thee into mortar:
Not leaue one bone vnbroken.
Aske mercie.
Enter Allworth.
I will not be granted.
Hold, for my sake hold.
Deny mee, Franke? they are not worth your anger.
For once thou hast redeem'd them from this scepter:
His Cudegell.
But let'em vanish, creeping on their knees,
And if they grumble, I reuoke my pardon.
This comes of your prating husband, you pre­sum'd
On your ambling wit, and must vse your glib tongue
Though you are beaten lame for't.
Patience Froth.
There's law to cure our bruizes.
They goe off on their hands, and knees.
Sent to your mother?
My Lady, Franke, my patronesse! my all!
Shee's such a mourner for my fathers death,
And in her loue to him, so fauours mee,
That I cannot pay too much obseruance to her.
There are few such stepdames.
'Tis a noble widdow,
And keepes her reputation pure, and cleere
From the least taint of infamie; her life
With the splendour of her actions leaues no tongue
To Enuy, or Detraction. Prethee tell mee;
Has shee no suitors?
Euen the best of the shire, Franke,
My Lord excepted. Such as sue, and send,
And send, and sue againe, but to no purpose.
Their frequent visits haue not gain'd her presence;
Yet shee's so far from fullennesse, and pride,
That I dare vndertake you shall meete from her
A liberall entertainment. I can giue you
A catalogue of her suitors names.
Forbeare it,
While I giue you good counsaile. I am bound to it;
Thy father was my friend, and that affection
I bore to him, in right descends to thee;
Thou art a handsome, and a hopefull youth,
Nor will I haue the least affront sticke on thee,
If I with any danger can preuent it.
I thanke your noble care, but pray you in what?
Doe I run the hazard?
Art thou not in loue?
Put it not off with wonder.
In loue at my yeares?
You thinke you walke in clouds, but are trans­rent,
I haue heard all, and the choice that you haue made;
And with my finger can point out the North starre,
By which the loadstone of your follie's guided.
And to confirme this true, what thinke you of
Faire Margaret the only child, and heyre
Of Cormorant Ouerreach? does it blush? and start,
To heare her only nam'd? blush at your want
Of wit, and reason.
You are too bitter Sir.
Wounds of this nature are not to bee cur'd
With balmes, but corrosiues. I must bee plaine:
Art thou scarce manumiz'd from the porters lodge,
And yet sworne seruant to the pantophle,
And dar'st thou dreame of marriage? I feare
'Twill bee concluded for impossible,
That there is now, nor ere shall bee hereafter,
A handsome page, or players boy of fourteene,
But either loues a Wench, or drabs loue him;
Court-waiters not exempted.
This is madnesse.
How ere you haue discouer'd my intents,
You know my aimes are lawfull, and ifeuer
The Queene of flowers, the glory of the spring,
The sweetest comfort to our smell, the rose
Sprang from an enuious brier, I may inferre
There's such disparitie in their conditions,
Betweene the goddesse of my soule, the daughter,
And the base churle her father.
Grant this true
As I beleeue it; canst thou euer hope
To enioy a quiet bed with her, whose father
Ruin'd thy state?
And yours too.
I confesse it.
True I must tell you as a friend, and freely,
That where impossibilities are apparent,
'Tis indiscretion to nourish hopes.
Canst thou imagine, (let not selfe-loue blind thee)
That Sir Giles Ouerreach, that to make her great
In swelling titles, without touch of conscience,
Will cut his neighbours throate, and I hope his owne too;
Will ere consent to make herthine? Giue or'e
And thinke of some course sutable to thy rancke,
And prosper in it.
You haue well aduis'd me.
But in the meane time, you that are so studious
Of my affaires, wholly neglect your owne.
Remember your selfe, and in what plight you are.
No matter, no matter.
Yes, 'tis much materiall:
You know my fortune, and my meanes, yet something,
I can spare from my selfe, to helpe your wants.
How's this?
Nay bee not angry. There's eight peeces
To put you in better fashion.
Money from thee?
From a boy? a stipendary? one that liues
At the deuotion of a stepmother,
And the vncertaine fauour of a Lord?
Ile eate my armes first. Howsoe're blind fortune
Hath spent the vtmost of her malice on mee;
Though I am vomited our of an Alehouse,
And thus accoutred; know not where to eate,
Or drinke, or sleepe, but vnderneath this Canopie;
Although I thanke thee, I despise thy offer.
And as I in my madnesse broke my state,
Without th'assistance of anothers braine,
In my right wits Ile peece it; at the worst
Dye thus, and bee forgotten.
A strange humor.

Actus primi, Scena secunda.

  • Order.
  • Amble.
  • Furnace.
  • Watchall.
Set all things right, or as my name is Order,
And by this staffe of office that commands you;
This chaine, and dubble ruffe, Symboles of power;
Who euer misses in hi function,
For one whole weeke makes forfeiture of his breakefast,
And priuilege in the wine-seller.
You are merrie
Good Master Steward.
Let him; Ile bee angry.
Why fellow Furnace, 'tis not twelue a clocke yet,
Nor dinner taking vp, then 'tis allow'd
Cookes by their places may bee cholericke.
You thinke you haue spoke wisely goodman Amble,
My Ladie's goe-before.
Nay, nay; no wrangling.
'Twit me with the Authority of the kitchin?
At all houres, and all places Ile be angrie;
And thus prouok'd, when I am at my prayers,
I will bee angry.
There was no hurt meant.
I am friends with thee, and yet I will be angry.
With whom?
No matter whom: yet now I thinke on't
I am angrie with my Lady.
Heauen forbid, man.
What cause has she giuen thee?
Cause enough Master Steward.
I was entertain'd by her to please her palat,
And till she forswore eating I perform'd it.
Now since our master, noble Alworth died,
Though I cracke my braines to find out tempting sawces.
And raise fortifications in the pastrie,
Such as might serue for modells in the Low-Countries,
Which if they had beene practis'd at Breda,
Spinola might haue throwne his cap at it, & ne're tooke it.
But you had wanted matter there to worke on.
Matter? with fix egges, and a strike of rie-meale
I had kep't the Towne, till doomesday, perhaps longer.
But what's this to your pet against my Lady?
What's this? Marrie this, when I am three parts rosted,
And the fourth part parboyld, to prepare her viands,
Shee keepes her chamber, dines with a panada,
Or water-gruell; my sweat neuer thought on.
But your art is seene in the dining-roome.
By whom?
By such as pretend loue to her, but come,
To feed vpon her. Yet of all the Harpies,
That doe deuoure her, I am out of charity
With none so much, as the thinne-gutted Squire
That's stolne into commission.
Iustice Greedy:
The same, the same. Meate's cast away vpon him,
It neuer thriues. He holds this Paradoxe,
Who eates not well, can ner'e doe iustice well:
His stomacke's as insatiate as the graue,
Or strumpetts rauenous appetites
One knockes.
Alworth knockes, and enters.
Our late young master.
Welcome, Sir.
Your hand,
If you haue a stomake, a cold bake-meate's ready.
His fathers picture in little.
We are all your seruants.
In you he liues.
At once, my thankes to all
This is yet some comfort. Is my Lady stirring?
Enter the Lady Alworth, Way­ting woman, Chambermaid.
Her presence answer for vs.
Sort those silkes well?
Ile take the ayre alone.
Exeunt Waiting Woman; and Chamber-maide.
You aire, and aire,
But will you neuer tast but spoonemeate more?
To what vse serue I?
Prethee be not angry,
I shall er'e long: I'the meane time, there is gold
To buy thee aprons, and a sommer suite.
I am appeas'd, and Furnace now growes Cooke.
And as I gaue directions, if this morning
I am visited by any, entertaine'em
As heretofore: but say in my excuse
I am indispos'd.
I shall, Madam.
Doe, and leaue me.
Nay stay you Alworth.
Exeunt Order. Amble, Fur­nace; Watchall.
I shall gladly grow here,
To waite onyour commands.
So soone turn d Courtier.
Stile not that Courtship Madam, which is duty,
Purchas'd on your part.
Well, you shall or'ecome;
Ile not contend in words. How is it with
Your noble master?
Euer like himselfe;
No scruple lessend in the full weight of honour,
He did command me (pardon my presumption)
As his vnworthy deputy to kisse
Your Ladyships faire hands.
I am honour'd in
His fauour to mee. Does he hold his purpose
For the Low-Countreyes?
Constantly good Madam,
But he will in person first present his seruice.
And how approue you of his course? you are yet,
Like virgin parchement capable of any
Inscription vitious, or honorable.
I will not force your will, but leaue you free
To your owne election.
Any forme, you please,
I will put on: but might I make my choice
With humble Emulation I would follow
The path my Lord markes to me.
'Tis well answer'd,
And I commend your spirit: you had a father
(Bless'd bee his memory) that some few houres
Before the will of heauen tooke him from me,
Who did commend you, by the dearest tyes
Of perfect loue betweene vs, to my charge:
And therefore what I speake, you are bound to heare
With such respect, as if he liu'd in me,
He was my husband, and how ere you are not
Sonne of my wombe, you may be of my loue,
Prouided you deserue it.
I haue found you
(Most honor'd Madam) the best mother to me,
And with my vtmost strengths of care, and seruice,
Will labour that you neuer may repent
Your bounties showr'd vpon me.
I much hope it.
These were your fathers words. If ere my Sonne
Follow the warre, tell him it is a schoole
Where all the principles tending to honour,
Are taught if truly followed: But for such
As repaire thither, as a place, in which
They doe presume they may with licence practise
Their lusts, and riots, they shall neuer merit
The noble name of souldiers. To dare boldly
In a faire cause, and for the Countries safety
To runne vpon the cannons mouth vndaunted;
To obey their leaders, and shunne mutenies;
To beare, with patience, the winters cold,
And sommers scorching heate, and not to faint
When plenty of prouision failes, with hunger,
Are the essentiall parts make vp a souldier,
Not swearing dice, or drinking.
There's no syllable
You speake, but is to me an Oracle,
Which but to doubt, were impious.
To conclude;
Beware ill company, for often men
Are like to those with whom they do conuerse,
And from one man I warn'd you, and that's Welborne:
Not cause Hee's poore, that rather claimes your pitty,
But that hee's in his manners so debauch'd,
And hath to vitious courses sold himselfe.
'Tis true your father lou'd him, while he was
Worthy the louing, but if he had liu'd
To haue seene him as he is, he had cast him off
As you must doe.
I shall obey in all things.
You follow me to my chamber, you shall haue gold
To furnish you like my sonne, and still supplied,
As I heare from you.
I am still your creature.

Actus primi, Scena tertia.

  • Ouerreach.
  • Greedie.
  • Order.
  • Amble.
  • Fur­nace.
  • Watchall.
  • Marrall.
Not to be seene?
Still cloistered vp? Her rea­son,
I hope assures her, though she make her selfe
Close prisoner euer for her husbands losse,
'Twill not recouer him.
Sir, it is her will,
Which we that are her seruants ought to serue it,
And not dispute. How ere, you are nobly welcome,
And if you please to stay, that you may thinke so;
There came not fix dayes since from Hull, a pipe
Ofrich Canarie, which shall spend it selfe
For my Ladies honour.
Is it of the right race?
Yes, Master Greedie.
How his mouth runs or'e!
Ile make it run, and run. Saue your good wor­ship.
Honest Master Cooke, thy hand, againe. How I loue thee:
Are the good dishes still in being? speake boy.
If you haue a minde to feed, there is a chine
Of beefe well seasoned.
A pheasant larded.
That I might now giue thanks for't.
Other Kukeshawes.
Besides there came last might from the forrest of Sherwood
The fattest stagge I euer cook'd.
A stagge man?
A stagge Sir part of it prepar'd for dinner,
And bak'd in puffpast.
Puffepast too, Sir Giles!
A ponderous chine of beefe! a pheasant larded!
And red deere too Sir Giles, and bak'd in puffepast!
All businesse set aside; let vs giue thankes here.
How the leane Sceleton's rap'd!
You know wee cannot.
Your Worships are to sit on a commission,
And if you faile to come, you lose the cause.
Cause me no causes. I'le proue't, for such a dinner
We may put off a commission: you shall find it
Henrici decimo quarto.
Fie Master Greedie.
Will you loose me a thousand pounds for a dinner?
No more for shame. We must forget the belly,
When we thinke of profit.
Well, you shall or'erule me
I could eu'n crie now. Doe you heare master Cooke.
Send but a corner of that immortall pastie,
And I, in thankefulnesse, will by your boy
Send you a brace of three-pences.
Will you be so prodigall?
Enter Welborne.
Remember me to your Lady. Who haue wee here?
You know me:
I did once, but now I will not,
Thou art no blood of mine. Auant thou begger,
If euer thou presume to owne me more;
Ile haue thee cag'd, and whipp'd.
Ile grant the warrant,
Thinke of Piecorner, Furnace.
Exeunt Ouerreach. Greedie. Marrall.
Will you out Sir?
I wonder how you durst creepe in.
This is rudenesse,
And sawcie impudence.
Cannot you stay
To be seru'd among your fellowes from the basket,
But you must presle in to the hall?
Prethee vanish
Into some outhouse, thought it be the piggestie,
My skullion shall come to thee.
Enter Allworth.
This is rare:
Oh here's Tom. Alworth Tom.
We must be strangers,
Nor would I haue you seene here for a million.
Exit Alworth
Better, and better. He contemnes mee too?
Enter Wo­man and Chamber­maide.
Foh what a smell's here! what thing's this?
A creature
Made out of the priuie. Let vs hence for loues sake,
Or I shall sowne.
I beginne to faint already.
Exeunt woman, & Chambermaide.
Will know your way?
Or shall wee teach it you,
By the head, and shoulders?
No: I will not stirre.
Doe you marke, I will not. Let me see the wretch
That dares attempt to force me. Why you slaues,
Created only to make legges, and cringe;
To carrie in a dish, and shift a trencher;
That haue not sou'es only to hope a blessing
Beyond blacke iackes, or flagons; you that were borne
Only to consume meate, and drinke, and batten
Vpon reuersions: who aduances? who
Shewes me the way?
My Lady.
Enter Lady. Woman. Chambermaide.
Here's the Monster.
Sweet Madam, keepe your gloue to your nose.
Or let me,
Fetch some perfumes may be predominant,
You wrong your selfe else.
Madam, my designes
Beare me to you.
To me?
And though I haue met with
But ragged entertainment from your groomes here,
I hope from you to receiue that noble vsage,
As may become the true friend of your husband,
And then I shall forget these.
I am amaz'd,
To see, and heare this rudenesse. Dar'st thou thinke
Though sworne, that it can euer find beleefe,
That I, who to the best men of this Countrey,
Deni'd my presence since my husbands death,
Can fall so low, as to change words with thee?
Thou Sonne of infamie, forbeare my house,
And know, and keepe the distance that's betweene vs,
Or, though it be against my gentler temper,
I shall take order you no more shall be
An eye-sore to me.
Scorne me not good Lady;
But as in forme you are Angelicall
Imitate the heauenly natures, and vouchsafe
At the least awhile to heareme. You will grant
The blood that runs in this arme, is as noble
As that which fills your veines; those costly iewells,
And those rich clothes you weare; your mens obseruance,
And womens flatterie, are in you no vertues,
Nor these ragges, with my pouerty, in me vices.
You haue a faire fame, and I know deserue it,
Yet Lady I must say in nothing more,
Than in the pious sorrow you haue show'n
For your late noble husband.
How she starts!
And hardly can keepe finger from the eye
To heare him nam'd.
Haue you ought else to say?
That husband Madam, was once in his fortune
Almost as low, as I. Want, debts, and quarrells
Lay heauy on him: let it not be thought
A boast in me, though I say, I releeu'd him.
'Twas I that gaue him fashion; mine the sword
That did on all occasions second his;
I brought him on, and off with honour, Lady:
And when in all mens iudgements he was sunke,
And in his owne hopes not to be bung'd vp,
I step'd vnto him, tooke him by the hand,
And set him vpright.
Are not wee base Rogues
That could forget this?
I confesse you made him
Master of your estate, nor could your friends
Though he brought no wealth with him, blame you for't.
For he had a shape, and to that shape a minde
Made vp of all parts, either great, or noble,
So winning a behauiour, not to be
Resisted, Madam.
'Tis most true, He had.
For his sake then, in that I was his friend,
Doe not contemne me.
For what's past, excuse me,
I will redeeme it. Order giue the Gentleman
A hundred pounds.
No Madam, on no termes:
I will nor begge, nor borrow six pence of you,
But be suppli'd elsewhere, or want thus euer.
Only one suite I make, which you deny not
To strangers: and 'tis this.
Whispers to her.
Fie, nothing else?
Nothing; vnlesse you please to charge your seruants,
To throw away a little respect vpon mee.
What you demand is yours.
I thanke you, Lady.
Now what can be wrought out of such a suite,
Is yet in supposition; I haue said all,
When you please you may retire. Nay, all's forgotten,
And for a luckie Omen to my proiect,
Shake hands, and end all quarrells in the cellar.
Agreed, Agreed.
Still merry master Welborne.

Actus secundi, Scena prima.

  • Ouerreach.
  • Marrall.
Hee's gone I warrant thee; this
Commission crush'd him.
Your worship haue the way out, and ne're misse
To squeeze these vnthrifts into ayre: and yet
The chapp-falne Justice did his part, retur­ning
For your aduantage the Certificate
Against his conscience, and his knowledge too,
(With your good fauour) to the vtter ruine
Of the poore Farmer.
'Twas for these good ends
I made him a Iustice. He that bribes his bellie,
Is certaine to command his soule.
I wonder
(Still with your licence) why, your Worship hauing
The power to put this thinne-Gut in commission,
You are not in't your selfe?
Thou art a foole;
In being out of Office I am out of danger
Where if I were a Iustice, besides the trouble,
I might, or out of wilfulnesse, or error,
Run my selfe finely into a Praemunire,
And so become a prey to the Informer.
No, I'le haue non of't; 'tis enough I keepe
Greedie at my deuotion: so he serue
My purposes, let him hang, or damne, I care not.
Friend-ship is but a word.
You are all wisdome.
I would be worldly wise, for the other wisdome
That does prescribe vs a well-gouern'd life,
And to doe right to others, as our selues,
I value not an Atome.
What course take you
With your good patience to hedge in the Mannour
Of your neighbour master Frugall? as 'tis sayd,
He will nor sell, nor borrow, nor exchange,
And his land lying in the mid'st of your many Lordshipps,
Is a foule blemish.
I haue thought on't, Marrall,
And it shall take. I must haue all men sellers,
And I the only Purchaser.
'Tis most fit Sir.
I'le therefore buy some Cottage neare his, Mannour,
Which done, I'le make my men breake ope his fences;
Ride o're his standing corne, and in the night
Set fire on his barnes; or breake his cattells legges.
These Trespasses draw on Suites, and Suites expences,
Which I can spare, but will soone begger Him.
When I haue harried him thus two, or three yeare,
Though he sue in forma pauperis, in spite
Of all his thrift, and care he'le grow behind-hand.
The best I euer heard; I could adore you.
Then with the fauour of my man of Law,
I will pretend some title: Want will force him
To put it to arbitrement: then if he sell
For halfe the value, he shall haue ready money,
And I possesse his land.
'Tis aboue wonder!
Welborne was apt to sell, and needed not
These fine arts Sir to hooke him in.
Well thought on.
This varlet Marrall liues too long, to vpbraide me
With my close cheate put vpon him. Will nor cold,
Nor hunger kill him?
I know not what to thinkeon't.
I haue vs'd all meanes, and the last night I caus'd
His host the Tapster to turne him out of doores;
And haue beene since with all your friends, and tenant's,
And on the forfeit of your fauour charg'd him,
Though a crust of mouldie bread would keep him fró staruing
Yet they should not relieue him. This is done, Sir.
That was something, Marrall, but thou must goe further,
And suddainely Marrall.
Where, and when you please Sir.
I would haue thee seeke him out, and if thou canst
Perswade him that 'tis better steale, than begge.
Then if I proue he has but rob'd a Henroost,
Not all the world shall saue him from the gallowes.
Doe any thing to worke him to despaire,
And 'tis thy Masterpeece.
I will doe my best, Sir.
I am now on my maine worke with the Lord Louell,
The gallant minded, popular Lord Louell;
The minion of the peoples loue. I heare
Hee's come into the Country, and my aimes are
To infinuate my selfe into his knowledge,
And then inuite him to my house.
I haue you.
This points at my young Mistris.
She must part with
That humble title, and write honourable,
Right honorable Marrall, my right honorable daughter;
If all I haue, or e're shall get will doe it.
I will haue her well attended, there are Ladies
Of errant Knights decay'd, and brought so low,
That for cast clothes, and meate, will gladly serue her.
And 'tis my glory, though I come from the Cittie,
To haue their issue, whom I haue vndone,
To kneele to mine, as bond-slaues.
'Tis fit state, Sir.
And therefore, Ile not haue a Chambermaide
That tyes her shooes, orany meaner office,
But such whose Fathers were Right worshipfull.
'Tis a rich Mans pride, there hauing euer beene
More than a Fewde, a strange Antipathie
Betweene vs, and true Gentry.
Enter Welborne.
See, who's here, Sir.
Hence monster; Prodigie.
Sir your Wifes Nephew,
Shee, and my Father tumbled in one belly.
Auoid my sight, thy breath's infectious, Rogue.
I shun thee as a Leprosie, or the Plague.
Come hither Marrall, this is the time to worke him.
I warrant you, Sir.
Exit Ouer.
By this light I thinke hee's mad.
Mad? had you tooke compassion on your selfe,
You long since had beene mad.
You haue tooke a course
Betweene you, and my venerable Vncle,
To make me so.
The more pale spirited you,
That would not be instructed. I sweare deepely.
By what?
By my Religion.
Thy religion!
The Diuells Creed, but what would you haue done?
Had there beene but one tree in all the Shire,
Nor any hope to compasse a penny Halter,
Before, like you, I had outliu'd my fortunes,
A With had sern'd my turne to hang my selfe.
I am zealous in your cause: pray you hang your selfe,
And presently, as you loue your credit.
I thanke you.
Will you stay till you dye in a ditch? Or lice de­uoure you?
Or if you dare not doe the feate your selfe,
But that you'le put the state to charge, and trouble,
Is there no purse to bee cut? house to be broken?
Or market Women with egges that you may murther,
And so dispatch the businesse.
Heer's varietie
I must confesse; but I'le accept of none
Of all your gentle offers, I assure you.
Why, haue you hope euer to eate againe?
Or drinke? Or be the master of three farthings?
If you like not hanging, drowne your selfe, take some course
For your reputation.
'Twill not do; deare tempter,
With all the Rhetorike the fien'd hath taught you.
I am as farre as thou art from despaire,
Nay, I haue Confidence, which is more than Hope,
To liue, and suddainely better than euer.
Ha! Ha! these Castles you build in the aire
Will not perswade me, or to giue, or lend
A token to you.
Ile be more kind to thee.
Come thou shalt dine with me.
With you.
Nay more, dine gratis,
Vnder what hedge I pray you? Or at whose cost?
Are they Padders? or Abram-men, that are your consorts?
Thou art incredulous, but thou shalt dine
Not alone at her house, but with a gallant Lady,
With mee, and with a Lady.
Lady! what Lady?
With the Lady of the Lake, or Queene of Fairies?
For I know, it must be an inchanted dinner.
With the Ladie Alworth, knaue.
Nay, now there's hope
Thy braine is crack'd.
Marke there, with what respect
I am entertain'd.
With choice no doubt of Dogge-whippes.
Why doest thou euer hope to pafse her Porter?
'Tis not far off, go with me: trust thine owne eyes
Troth in my hope, or my assurance rather
To see thee curuet, and mount like a Dogge in a blanket
If euer thou presume to passe her threshold,
I will endure thy company.
Come along then.

Actus secundi, Scena secunda.

  • Alworth.
  • Waiting-woman.
  • Chamber­maide.
  • Order.
  • Amble.
  • Furnace.
  • Watchall.
Could you not command your lea­sure one houre longer?
Or halfe an houre?
I haue told you what my hast is:
Besides being now anothers, not mine owne,
How e're I much desire to enioy you longer,
My duty suffers, if to please my selfe
I should neglect my Lord.
Pray you doe me the fauour
To put these few Quince-cakes into your pocket,
They are of mine owne preseruing.
And this Marmulade;
'Tis comfortable for your stomacke,
And at parting
Excuse me if I begge a farewell from you.
You are still before me. I moue the same suite
Kisses'em seuerally.
How greedie these Chamberers are of a beardlesse chinne!
I thinne the Titts will rauish him.
My seruice
To both.
Ours waites on you.
And shall doe euer.
You are my Ladyes charge, be therefore carefull
That you sustaine your parts.
We can beare I warrant you.
Exeunt Woman and Chambermaide.
Here; drinke it off, the ingre­dients are cordiall,
And this the true Elixir; It hath boild
Since midnight for you. 'Tis the Quintessence
Of fiue Cockes of the game, ten dozen of Sparrowes,
Knuckells of Veale, Potato rootes, and Marrow;
Currall, and Ambergreece: were you two yeares elder,
And I had a Wife, or gamesame Mistrisse
I durst trust you with neither: You neede not baite
After this I warrant you; though your iourney's long,
You may ride on the strength of this till to morrow morning.
Your courtesies ouerwhelme me: I much grieue
To part from such true friends, and yet find comfort;
My attendance on my honorable Lord
(Whose resolution holds to visit my Lady)
Will speedily bring me backe.
Knocking at the gate; Marrall and Wel­borne within.
Dar'st thou venture further?
Yes, yes, and knocke againe.
'Tis he; disperse.
Performe it brauely.
I know my Cue, nere doubt me.
They go off seue­rall wayes.
Beast that I wasto make you stay: most welcome,
You were long since expected.
Say so much
To my friend I pray you.
For your sake I will Sir.
For his sake!
Mum; this is nothing.
More than euer,
I would haue beleeu'd though I had found it in my Primer.
When I haue giu'n you reasons for my late harsh­nesse,
You'le pardon, and excuse me: for, beleeue me
Though now I part abruptly, in my seruice
I will deserue it.
Seruice! with a vengeance!
I am satisfied: farwell Tom.
All ioy stay with you.
Exit Alw. Enter Amble.
You are happily encounter'd: I yet neuer
Presented one so welcome, as I know
You will be to my Lady.
This is some vision;
Or sure these men are mad, to worship a Dunghill;
It cannot be a truth.
Be still a Pagan,
An vnbeleeuing Infidell, be so Miscreant,
And meditate on blanketts, and on dogge­whippes.
Enter Fur­nace.
I am glad you are come, vntill I know your pleasure.
I knew not how to serue vp my Ladies dinner.
His pleasure; is it possible?
What's thy will?
Marry Sir, I haue some Growse, and Turkie chicken,
Some Rayles, and Quailes, and my Lady will'd me aske you
What kind of sawces best affect your palat,
That I may vse my vtmost skill to please it.
The Diuell's enter'd this cooke, sawce for his palat!
That on my knowledge, for almost this twelue month,
Durst wish but cheeseparings, and browne bread on Sundayes.
That way I like 'em best.
It shall be done Sir.
Exit Furnace.
What thinke you of the hedge we shall dine vn­der?
Shall we feed gratis?
I know not what to thinke;
Pray you make me not mad.
Enter Order.
This place becomes you not;
Pray you walke Sir, to the dining roome.
I am well here
'Till her Ladiship quitts her chamber.
Well here say you?
'Tis a rare change! but yesterday you thought
Your selfe well in a Barne, wrapp'd vp in Pease-straw.
Enter Woman, and Chamber-maide.
O Sir, you are wish'd for.
My Lady dream't Sir of you.
And the first command she gaue, after she rose
Was (her deuotions donne) to giue her notice
When you approch'd here.
Which is done on my vertue.
I shall be conuerted, I begin to grow
Into a new beleefe, which Saints, nor Angells
Could haue woone me to haue faith in.
Sir, my Lady.
Enter Lady.
I come to meete you, and languish'd till I saw you.
This first kisse is for forme; I allow a second
To such a friend.
To such a friend! Heau'n blesse me!
I am wholly yours, yet Madam, if you please
To grace this Gentleman with a salute.
Salute me at his bidding.
I shall receaue it
As a most high fauour.
Sir, you may command me.
Run backward from a Lady? and such a Lady?
To kisse her foote is to poore, me a fauour;
I am vnworthy of
(Offers to kisse her foote.
Nay, pray you rise,
And since you are so humble, I'le exalt you
You shall dine with me to day, at mine owne table.
Your Ladiships table? I am not good enough
To sit at your Stewards boord.
You are too modest:
I will not be deni'd.
Enter Furnace.
Will you still be babling;
Till your meate freeze on the table? the old tricke still.
My Art ne're thought on.
Your arme, Master VVelborne:
Nay keep vs company.
I was neuer so grac'd.
Exeunt VVelborne. La­dy. Amble. Marrall. Wo­man.
So we haue play'd our parts, and are come off well.
But if I know the mistery why my Lady
Consented to it, or why Master VVelborne
Desir'd it, may I perish.
Would I had
The roasting of his heart, that cheated him,
And forces the poore gentleman to these shiftes,
By Fire (for Cookes are Persians, and sweare by it).
Of all the griping, and extorting tyrants
I euer heard, or read of, I ne're met
A match to Sir Giles Ouerreach.
What will you take
To tell him so fellow Furnace?
Iust as much
As my throate is worth, for that would be the price on't.
To haue a vsurer that starues himselfe,
And weares a cloke of one and twenty yeares
On a sute of fourteene groates, bought of the Hangman,
To grow rich, and then purchase, is too common:
But this Sir Giles feedes high, keepes many seruants,
Who must at his command doe any outrage;
Rich in his habit; vast in his expences;
Yet he to admiration still increases
In wealth, and Lordships.
He frights men out of their Estates,
And breakes through all Law-netts, made to curbe ill men,
As they were cobwebbs. No man dares reproue him.
Such a spirit to dare, and power to doe, were neuer
Lodg'd so vnluckily.
Ha, ha; I shall burst.
Enter Amble.
Containe thy selfe man.
Or make vs partakers
Of your suddaine mirth.
Ha, ha, my Lady has got
Such a guest at her table, this terme-driuer Marrall,
This suippe of an Attourney.
What of him man?
The knaue thinkes still hee's at the cookes shop in Ramme-alley,
Where the Clarkes diuide, and the Elder is to choose;
And feedes so slouenly.
Is this all?
My Lady
Dranke to him sor fashion sake, or to please master VVel­borne.
As I liue he rises, and takes vp a dish,
In which there were some remnants of a boild capon,
And pledges her in whitebroth.
Nay, 'tis like,
The rest of his tribe.
And when I brought him wine,
He leaues his stoole, and after a legge or two
Most humbly thankes my worship.
Rose already.
I shall be chid.
Enter Lady. Welborne. Marrall.
My Lady frownes.
You waite well.
Let me haue no more of this, I obseru'd your icering.
Sirra, I'le haue you know, whom I thinke worthy
To sit at my table, be he ne're so meane,
When I am present, is not your companion.
Nay shee'le preserue what's due to her.
This refreshing
Followes your flux of laughter.
You are master.
Of your owne will. I know so much of manners
As not to enquire your purposes, in a word
To me you are euer welcome, as to a house
That is your owne.
Marke that.
With reuerence Sir,
And it like your Worship.
Trouble your selfe no farther;
Deare Madam; my heart's full of zeale, and seruice,
How euer in my language I am sparing.
Come master Marrall.
I attend your Worship.
Exeunt Welb. Mar.
I see in your lookes you are sorry, and you know me
An easy mistris: bee merry; I haue forgot all.
Order, and Furnace come with me, I must giue you
Further directions.
What you please.
We are ready.

Actus secundi, Scena tertia.

  • Welborne.
  • Marrall.
I thinke I am in a good way.
Good Sir; the best way.
The certaine best way.
There are casualties
That men are subiect too.
You are aboue'em,
And as you are already Worshipfull,
I hope e're long you will increase in Worship,
And be Right worshipfull.
Prethee doe not flowt mee.
What I shall be, I shall be. Is't for your ease,
You keepe your hat off?
Ease, and it like your Worship?
I hope Jacke Marrall shall not liue so long,
To proue himselfe such an vnmannerly beast,
Though it haile Hazell Nutts, as to be couer'd
When your Worshipp's present.
Is not this a true Rogue?
That out of meere hope of a future cosnage
Can turne thus suddainely: 'tis ranke already.
I know your Worshipp's wise, and needs no coun­sell:
Yet if in my desire to doe you seruice,
I humbly offer my aduice, (but still
Vnder correction) I hope I shall not
Incurre your high displeasure.
No; speake freely.
Then in my iudgement Sir, my simple iudgement,
(Still with your Worshipps fauour) I could wish you
A better habit, for this cannot be,
But much distastfull to the noble Lady.
(I say no more) that loues you, for this morning
To me (and I am but a Swine to her)
Before th'assurance of her wealth perfum'd you;
You sauour'd not of amber.
I doe now then?
Kisses the end of his cudgell,
This your Battoone hath got a touch of it.
Yet if you please for change I haue twenty pounds here
Which, out of my true loue I presently
Lay downe at your Worshipps feet: 'twill serue to buy you
A riding suite.
But where's the horse?
My Gelding
Is at your seruice: nay, you shall ride me
Before your Worship shall be put to the trouble
To walke a foote. Alas, when you are Lord
Of this Ladies mannour (as I know you will be)
You may with the lease of glebe land, call'd knaues-acre,
A place I would manure, requite your vassall.
I thanke thy loue: but must make no vse of it,
What's twenty pounds?
'Tis all that I can make, Sir.
Doest thou thinke though I want clothes I could not haue 'em,
For one word to my Lady?
As I know not that.
Come I'le tell thee a secret, and so leaue thee.
I'le not giue her the aduantage, though she be
A gallant minded Lady, after we are married
(There being no woman, but is sometimes froward)
To hit me in the teeth, and say she was forc'd
To buy my wedding clothes, and tooke me on
With a plaine Riding-suite, and an ambling Nagge.
No, I'le be furnish'd something like my selfe.
And so farewell; for thy suite touching Knaues acre.
When it is mine 'tis thine.
I thanke your Worship.
Exit Welb.
How was coozen'd in the calculation
Of this mans fortune, my master coozen'd too
Whose pupill I am in the art of undoing men,
For that is our profession; well, well, master Welborne
You are of a sweet nature, and fit againe to be cheated:
Which, if the fates please, when you are possess'd
Of the land, and Lady, you sans question shall be.
I'le presently thinke of the meanes.
Walke by mafing, Enter Ouerreach.
Sirrha, take my horse.
I'le walke to get me an appetite? 'tis but a mile,
And Exercise will keep me, from being pursie.
Ha! Marrall! is he coniuring! perhaps
The knaue has wrought the prodigall to doe
Some outrage on himselfe, and now he feeles
Compunction in his conscience for't: no matter
So it be done, Marrall.
How succeed we
In our plot on Welborne?
Neuer better Sir.
Has he hang'd, or drown'd himselfe?
No Sir, he liues.
Liues once more to be made a prey to you,
A greater prey than euer.
Art thou in thy witts?
If thou art reueale this miracle, and briefely.
A Lady Sir, is falne in loue with him.
With him? what Lady?
The rich Lady Alworth.
Thou Dolt; how dar'st thou speake this?
I speake truth;
And I doe so but once a yeare, vnlesse
It be to you Sir, we din'd with her Ladyship,
I thanke his Worship.
His Worship!
As I liue Sir;
I din'd with him, at the great Ladyes table,
Simple as I stand here, and saw when, she kiss'd him,
And would at his request, haue kiss'd me too,
But I was not so audacious, as some Youths are,
And dare do any thing be it ne're so absurd,
And sad after performance.
Why thou Rascall,
To tell me these impossibilities:
Dine, at her table? and kisse him? or thee?
Impudent Varlet. Haue not I my selfe
To whom great Countesses dores haue oft flew open,
Ten times attempted, since her husbands death
In vaine to see her, though I came --- a suitor;
And yet your good Sollicitor-ship, and rogue ---- Welborne,
Were brought into her presence, feasted with her.
But that I know thee a Dogge, that cannot blush
This most incredible lye would call vp one
On thy buttermilke cheekes.
Shall I not trust my eyes Sir?
Or tast? I feele her good cheere in my belly.
You shall feele me, if you giue not ouer Sirra,
Recouer your braines agen, and be no more gull'd
With a beggers plot assisted by the aides
Of seruing men, and chambermaides; for beyound these
Thou neuer saw'st a Woman, or I'le quit you
From my imployments.
Will you credit this yet?
On my confidence of their marriage I offer'd Welborne
(I would giue a crowne now, I durst say his worship) --- aside
My nagge, and twenty pounds.
Did you so I doe?
Strikes him downe
Was this the way to worke him to despaire
Or rather to crosse me?
Will your worship kill me?
No, no; but driue the lying spirit out of you.
Hee's gone.
I haue done then: now forgetting,
Your late imaginerie feast, and Lady.
Know my Lord Louell dins with me to morrow,
Be carefull nought, be wanting to receaue him,
And bid my daughters women trimne her vp,
Though they paint her, so she catch the Lord, Ple thanke 'em,
There's a peece for my late blowes.
I must yet suffer:
But there may be a time. ---- aside.
Doe you grumble?
No Sir.

[Page]Actus tertii, Scena prima.

  • Louell.
  • Alworth.
  • Seruants.
Walke the horses downe the hill: something in priuate,
I must impart to Alworth.
Exeunt serui.
O my Lord,
What sacrifice of reuerence, dutie watching;
Although I could put off the vse of sleepe,
And euer waite on your commands serue 'em;
What dangers, though in ne're so horri'd shapes,
Nay death it selfe, though I should run to meet it,
Can I, and with a thankefull willingnesse suffer;
But still the retribution will fall short
Of your bounties showr'd vpon me.
Louing Youth;
Till what I purpose be put into act,
Doe not o're-prize it, since you haue trusted me
With your soules nearest, nay her dearest secret,
Rest confident 'tis in a cabinet lock'd,
Treachery shall neuer open, I haue found you
(For so much to your face I must professe,
How er'e you guard your modesty with a blush for't)
More zealous in your loue, and seruice to me
Than I haue beene in my rewards.
Still great ones
Aboue my merit.
Such your Gratitude calls 'em:
Nor am I of that harsh, and rugg'd temper
As some Great men are tax'd, with who imagine
They part from the respect due to their Honours,
If they vse not all such as follow 'em,
Without distinction of their births, like slaues.
I am not so condition'd: I can make
A fitting difference betweene my Foot-boy,
And a Gentleman, by want compell'd to serue me.
'Tis thankefully acknowledg'd: you haue beene
More like a Father to me than a Master.
Pray you pardon the comparison.
I allow it;
And to giue you assurance I am pleas'd in't,
My carriage and demeanor to your Mistrisse
Faire Margaret, shall truely witnesse for me
I can command my passions.
'Tis a conquest
Few Lords can boast of when they are tempted. Oh!
Why do you sigh? can you be doubtfull of mee?
By that faire name, I in the warres haue purchas'd,
And all my actions hitherto vntainted,
I will not be more true to mine owne Honour,
Than to my Alworth.
As you are the braue Lord Louell,
Your bare word only giuen, is an assurance
Of more validity, and weight to me
Than all the othes bound vp with imprecations,
Which when they would deceiue, most Courtiers practize:
Yet being a man (for sure to stile you more
Would rellish of grosse flatterie) I am forc'd
Against my confidence of your worth, and vertues,
To doubt, nay more to feare.
So young, and iealous?
Were you to encounter with a single foe,
The victorie were certaine: but to stand
The charge of two such potent enemies,
At once assaulting you, as Wealth and Beauty,
And those too seconded with Power, is oddes
Too great for Hercules.
Speake your doubts, and feares,
Since you will nourish 'em in plainer language,
That I may vnderstand 'em.
What's your will;
Though I lend armes against my felfe, (prouided
They may aduantage you) must be obeyed.
My much lou'd Lord, were Margaret only faire,
The cannon of her more than earthly forme,
Though mounted high, commanding all beneath it,
And ramn'd with bullets of her sparkeling eyes,
Of all the bulwarkes that defend your senses
Could batter more, but that which guards your sight.
But when the well tun'd accents of her tongue
Make musike to you, and with numerous sounds
Assault your hearing (such as if Vlysses
Now liu'd againe, how ere he stood the Sirens,
Could not resist) the combat must grow doubtfull,
Betweene your Reason, and rebellious Passions.
Ad this too; when you feele her touch, and breath,
Like a soft Westerne wind, when it glides o're
Arabia, creating gummes, and spices:
And in the Van, the Nectar of her lippes
Which you must tast, bring the battalia on,
Well arm'd, and strongly liu'd with her discourse,
And knowing manners, to giue entertainement,
Hyppolitus himselfe would leaue Diana,
To follow such a Uenus.
Loue hath made you
Poeticall, Alworth.
Grant all these beat off,
Which if it be in man to doe, you'le doe it;
Mammon in Sir Giles Ouerreach stepps in
With heapes of ill got gold, and so much land,
To make her more remarkable, as would tire
A Falcons winges in one day to fly ouer.
O my good Lord, these powerfull aydes, which would
Make a mishapen Negro beautifull,
(Yet are but ornaments to giue her lustre,
That in her selfe is all perfection) must
Preuaile for her. I here release your trust.
'Tis happinesse, enough, for me to serue you,
And sometimes with chast eyes to looke vpon her.
Why shall I sweare?
O by no meanes my Lord;
And wrong not so your iudgement to the world
As from your fond indulgence to a boy,
Your page, your seruant, to refuse a blessing
Diuers Great men are riualls for.
Your iudgement 'till the triall. How far is it
'T Ouerreach house?
At the most some halfe houres riding;
You'le soone be there.
And you the sooner freed
From your iealous feares.
O that I durst but hope it.

Actus tertii, Scena secunda.

  • Ouerreach.
  • Greedie. Marrall.
Spare for no cost, let my Dressers cracke with the weight
Of curious viands.
Store indeed's no sore, Sir.
That prouerbe fitts your stomacke
Master Greedie.
And let no plate be seene, but what's pure gold,
Or such whose workemanship exceeds the matter
That it is made of, let my choicest linnen
Perfume the roome, and when we wash the water
With pretious powders mix'd, so please my Lord,
That he may with enuie wish to bath so euer.
'Twil be very chargeable.
Auant you Drudge:
Now all my labour'd ends are at the stake,
I'st a time to thinke of thrift? call in my daughter,
And master. Justice, since you loue choice dishes,
And plenty of 'em.
As I doe indeed Sir,
Almost as much as to giue thankes for 'em.
I doe conferre that prouidence, with my power
Of absolute command to haue abundance,
To your best care.
I'le punctually discharge it
And giue the best directions. Now am I
In mine owne conceite a Monarch, at the least
Arch-president of the boyl'd, the roast, the bak'd,
For which I will eate often, and giue thankes,
When my bellies brac'd vp like a drumme, and that's pure iu­stice.
I must bee so: should the foolish girle proue mo­dest.
Exit Greedie.
Shee may spoile all, she had it not from me,
But from her mother, I was euer forward,
As she must bee, and therefore I'le prepare her.
Alone, and let your woemen waite without.Margaret.
Your pleasure Sir?
Ha, this is a neate dressing!
These orient pearles, and diamonds well plac'd too!
The Gowne affects me not, it should haue beene
Embroider'd o're, and o're with flowers of gold,
But these rich Iewells, and quaint fashion helpe it.
And how below? since oft the wanton eye
The face obseru'd, descends vnto the foot;
Which being well proportion'd, as yours is,
Inuites as much as perfect white, and red,
Though without art, how like you, your new Woman
The Lady Downefalne?
Well for a companion;
Not as a seruant.
Is she humble Meg?
And carefull too; her Ladiship forgotten?
I pitty her fortune.
Pitty her? Trample on her.
I tooke her vp in an old tamin gowne,
(Euen staru'd for want of two penny chopps) to serue thee:
And if I vnderstand, shee but repines
To doe thee any duty, though ne're so seruile,
I'le packe her to her Knight, where I haue lodg'd him,
Into the Counter, and there let 'em howle together.
You know your owne wayes, but for me I blush
When I command her, that was once attended
With persons, not inferior to my selfe
In birth.
In birth? Why art thou not my daughter?
The blest child of my industrie, and wealth?
Why foolish girle, wa'st not to make thee great,
That I haue ran, and still pursue those wayes
That hale downe curses on mee, which I minde not,
Part with these humble thoughts, and apt thy selfe
To the noble state I labour to aduance thee,
Or by my hopes to see thee honorable,
I will adopt a stranger to my heyre,
And throw thee from my care, doe not prouoke mee.
I will not Sir; mould mee which way you please.
How interrupted?
Enter Greedie.
'Tis matter of importance.
The cooke Sir is selfe-will'd and will not learne
From my experience, there's a fawne brough in Sir,
And for my life I cannot make him rost it,
With a Norfolke dumpling in the belly of it.
And Sir, we wisemen know, without the dumpling
'Tis not worth three pence,
Would it were whole in thy belly
To stuffe it out; Cooke it any way, prethee leaue me
Without order for the dumpling?
Let it be dumpl'd
Which way thou wilt, or tell him I will scall'd him
In his owne Caldron.
I had lost my stomake,
Had I lost my mistrisse dumpling, I'le giue thanks for.
But to our businesse Megge, you haue heard who dines here?
Exit Greedie.
I haue Sir.
'Tis an honourable man,
A Lord, Megge, and commands a regiment
Of Souldiers, and what's rare is one himselfe;
A bold, and vnderstanding one; and to be
A Lord, and a good leader in one volume,
Is granted vnto few, but such as rise vp
The Kingdomes glory.
Enter Greedie.
I'le resigne my office,
If I be not better obey'd.
Slight, art thou franticke?
Franticke 'twould make me a franticke, and stark-mad,
Were I not a Iustice of peace, and coram too,
Which this rebellious Cooke cares not a straw for.
There are a dozen of Woodcockes.
Make thy selfe
Thirteene, the bakers dozen.
I am contented
So they may be dress'd to my minde, he has found out
A new deuice for sawce, and will not dish 'em
With tosts, and butter, my Father was a Taylor,
And my name though a Iustice, Greedie Woodcocke,
And 'ere I'le see my linage so abus'd,
I'le giue vp my commission.
Cooke, Rogue obey him.
I haue giuen the word, pray you now remoue your selfe,
To a coller of brawne, and trouble me no farther.
I will, and meditate what to eat at dinner.
Exit Gree­die.
And as I said Meg, when this gull disturb'd vs;
This honourable Lord, this Collonell
I would haue thy husband.
There's too much disparity
Betweene his quality, and mine to hope it.
I more then hope't, and doubt not to effect it,
Be thou no enemy to thy selfe, my wealth
Shall weigh his titles downe, and make you equalls.
Now for the meanes to assure him thine; obserue me;
Remember hee's a Courtier, and a Soldier
And not to be trifl'd with, and therefore when
He comes to woe you, see you, doe not coye it.
This mincing modesty hath spoyl'd many a match
By a first refusall, in vaine after hop'd for.
You'le haue mee Sir, preserue the distance, that
Confines a Virgin?
Virgin me no Virgins.
I must haue you lose that name, or you lose me,
I will haue you priuate, start not, I say priuate,
If thou art my true daughter, not a bastard
Thou wilt venture alone with one man, though he came
Like Iupiter to Semele, and come off too.
And therefore when he kisses you, kisse close.
I haue heard this is the strumpetts fashion Sir,
Which I must neuer learne.
Learne any thing,
And from any creature that may make thee great;
From the Diuell himselfe.
This is but Diuelish doctrine.
Or if his blood grow hot, suppose he offer
Beyond this, doe not you stay 'till it coole,
But meete his ardor, if a couch be neare,
Sit downe on't, and inuite him.
In your house?
Your owne house Sir, for heau'ns sake, what are you then?
Or what shall I be Sir?
Stand not on forme,
Words are no substances.
Though you could dispence
With your owne Honour; cast a side Religion,
The hopes of heauen, or feare of hell; excuse mee
In worldly policie, this is not the way
To make me his wife, his whore I grant it may doe.
My maiden Honour so soone yeelded vp,
Nay prostituted, cannot but assure him
I that am light to him will not hold weight
When he is tempted by others: so in iudgement
When to his lust I haue giuen vp my honour
He must, and will forsake me,
How? forsake thee?
Doe I weare a sword for fashion? or is this arme
Shrunke vp? or wither'd? does there liue a man
Of that large list I haue encounter'd with.
Can truly say I e're gaue inch of ground,
Not purchas'd with his blood, that did oppose me?
Forsake thee when the thing is done? he dares not.
Giue me but proofe, he has enioy'd thy person,
Though all his Captaines, Eccho's to his will,
Stood arm'd by his side to iustify the wrong,
And he himselfe in the head of his bold troope,
Spite of his Lordship, and his Collonelship,
Or the Iudges fauour, I will make him render
A bloody and a strict accompt, and force him
By marrying thee, to cure thy wounded honour;
I haue said it.
Enter Marrall.
Sir, the man of Honors come
Newly alighted.
In; without reply
And doe as I command, or thou art lost.
Exit Marg.
Is the lowd musicke I gaue order for
Readie to receiue him?
'Tis Sir.
Let'em sound
A princely welcome, Roughnesse a while leaue me,
For fawning now, a stranger to my nature
Must make way for mee.
Loud musicke. Enter Louell. Greed. Alw. Mar.
Sir, you meete your trouble.
What you are pleas'd to stile so is an honor
Aboue my worth, and fortunes.
Strange, so humble.
A iustice of peace my Lord. Presents Greedie to him.
Your hand good Sir.
This is a Lord; and some thinke this a fauour;
But I had rather haue my hand in my dumpling.
Roome for my Lord.
I misse Sir your faire daughter,
To crowne my welcome.
May it please my Lord
To taste a glasse of Greeke wine first, and suddainely
She shall attend my Lord.
You'le be obey'd Sir.
Exeunt omnes preter Ouer.
'Tis to my wish; assoone as come aske for her!
Why, Megge? Megge Ouerreach. how! teares in your eies!
Ha! drie'em quickely, or I'le digge'em out.
Is this a time to whimper? meete that Greatnesse
That flies into thy bosome, thinke what'tis
For me to say, My honorable daughter.
And thou, when I stand bare, to say put on,
Or father you forget your selfe, no more,
But be instructed, or expect, he comes.
A blacke-brow'd girle my Lord,
Enter Louell. Gree­die Alworth. Mar­rall. they salute.
As I liue a rare one.
Hee's tooke already: I am lost.
That kisse,
Came twanging off I like it, quit the roome:
The rest off.
A little bashfull my good Lord, but you
I hope will teach her boldnesse.
I am happy
In such a scholler: but.
I am past learning.
And therefore leaue you to your selues: remember---
to his daughter.
Exit Ouerreach.
You see faire Lady, your father is sollicitous.
To haue you change the barren name of Virgin
Into a hopefull wife.
He hast my Lord,
Holds no power o're my will.
But o're your duty.
Which forc'd too much may breake.
Bend rather sweetest:
Thinke of your yeares.
Too few to match with yours:
And choicest fruites too soone plucked, rot, and wither.
Doe you thinke I am old?
I am sure I am too young.
I can aduance you.
To a hill of sorrow,
Where euery houre I may expect to fall,
But neuer hope firme footing. You are noble,
I of a low descent, how euer rich;
And tissues match'd with skarlet fuite but ill.
O my good Lord I could say more, but that
I dare not trust these walls.
Pray you trust my eare then.
Enter Ouer. list­ning. Enter Greed.
Close at it! whispering! this is excellent!
And by their postures, a consent on both parts.
Sir Giles, Sir Giles.
The great fiend stop that clapper.
It must ring out Sir, when my belly rings noone
The back'd meates are run out, the rost turn'd powder.
I shall powder you.
Beate me to dust I care not.
In such a cause as this, I'le dye a martyr.
Marry and shall: you Barathrum of the sham­bells.
strikes him.
How! strike a Justice of peace? 'tis pettietrea­son.
Edwardi quinto, but that you are my friend
I could commit you without bayle, or maine-prise.
Leaue your balling Sir, or I shall commit you;
Where you shall not dine to day, disturbe my Lord,
When he is in discourse?
I'st a time to talke
When we should be munching?
Ha! I heard some noise.
Mum, villaine, vanish: shall we breake a bar­gaine
Almost made vp.
Thrust Greedie off.
Lady, I vnderstand you;
And rest most happy in your choice, beleeue it,
I'le be a carefull pilot to direct
Your yet vncertaine barke to a port of safety.
So shall your Honor saue two liues, and bind vs
Your slaues for euer.
I am in the act rewarded,
Since it is good, how e're you must put on
And amorous carriage towards me, to delude
Your subtle father.
I am proue to that.
Now breake wee off our conference. Sir Giles.
Where is Sir Giles?
Enter Ouerreach, and the rest.
My noble Lord; and how
Does your Lordship find her?
Apt Sir Giles, and comming,
And I like her the better.
So doe I too.
Yet should we take forts at the first assault
Twere poore in the defendant, I must confirme her
With a loue letter or two, which I must haue
Deliuer'd by my page, and you giue way too't.
With all my soule, a towardly Gentleman,
Your hand good master Alworth, know my house
Is euer open to you.
'Twas shut 'till now.
Well done, well done, my honorable daughter:
Th'art so already: know this gentle youth,
And cherish him my honorable daughter.
I shall with my best care.
Noise within as of a coch.
A Coch.
More stops
Before we goe to dinner! o my gutts!
Enter Ladie, and Welborne.
If I find welcome
You share in it; if not I'le backe againe,
Now I know your ends, for I come arm'd for all
Can be obiected.
How! the Lady Alworth!
And thus attended!
No, I am a dolt;
Louell salutes the Lady, the La­die salutes Margaret.
The spirit of lyes had entred me.
Peace Patch,
'Tis more than wonder! an astonishment
That does possesse me wholly!
Noble Lady,
This is a fauour to preuent my visit,
The seruice of my life can neuer equall.
My Lord, Ilay'd waite for you, and much hop'd
You would haue made my poore house your first Inne:
And therefore doubting that you might forget me,
Or too long dwell here hauing such ample cause
In this vnequall'd beauty for your stay;
And fearing to trust any but my selfe
With the relation of my seruice to you,
I borrow'd so much from my long restraint,
And tooke the ayre in person to inuite you.
Your bounties are so great they robbe me, Madam
Of words to giue you thankes.
Good Sir Giles Ouerreach.
salutes him.
How doest thou Marrall? lik'd you my meate so ill,
You'le dine no more with me?
I will when you please
And it like your Ladiship.
When you please master Greedie
If meat can doe it, you shall be satisfied,
And now my Lord, pray take into your knowledge
This Gentleman, how e're his outsid's course.
Presents Welborne.
His inward linings are as fine, and faire,
As any mans: wonder not I speake at large:
And howsoe're his humor carries him
To be thus accoutred; or what taint soeuer
For his wild life hath stucke vpon his fame,
He may e'relong, with boldnesse rancke himselfe
With some that haue contemn'd him. Sir Giles Ouerreach
If I am welcome bid him so.
My nephew.
He has beene too long a stranger: faith you haue:
Pray let it bee mended,
Louell conferring with Welborne.
Why Sir, what doe you meane?
This is rogue Welborne, Monster, Prodigie.
That should hang, or drowne himselfe, no man of Wor­ship,
Much lesse your Nephew;
Well Sirra, we shall reckon
For this here after.
I'le not lose my ieere
Though I be beaten dead for't.
Let my silence plead
In my excuse my Lord till better leasure
Offer it selfe to heare a full relation
Of my poore fortunes.
I would heare, and helpe'em.
Your dinner waites you.
Pray you lead, we follow.
Nay you are my ghest, come deere master Wel­borne.
Exeunt manet Gredie.
Deare master Welborne! So shee said; Heau'n! heau'n!
If my belly would giue me leaue I could ruminate
All day on this: I haue granted twenty warrants.
To haue him committed from all prisons in the Shire,
To Nottingham iayle; and now deare master Welborne!
And my good nephew, but I play the foole
To stand here prating, and forget my dinner.
Are they set Marrall?
Enter Marrall.
Long since, pray you a word Sir.
No wording now.
In troth, I must; my master
Knowing you are his good friend, makes bold with you,
And does intreat you, more ghests being come in,
Then he expected, especially his nephew,
The table being full too, you would excuse him
And suppe with him on the cold meate.
How! no dinner
After all my care?
'Tis but a pennance for
A meale; besides, you broke your fast.
That was
But a bit to stay my stomacke: a man in Commission
Giue place to a tatterdemallion?
No bugge words Sir,
Should his Worship heare you?
Lose my dumpling too?
And butter'd tosts, and woodcocks?
Come, haue patience.
If you will dispense a little with your Worship,
And sit with the waiting woemen, you haue dumpling,
Woodcocke, and butter'd costs too.
This reuiues me
I will gorge there sufficiently.
This is the way Sir.

Actus tertii, Scena tertia.

Ouerreach as from dinner.
Shee's caught! O woemen! she neglects my Lord,
And all her complements appli'd to Wel­borne!
The garments of her widdowhood lay'd by,
She now appeares as glorious as the spring,
Her eyes fix'd on him; in the wine shee drinkes,
He being her pledge; she sends him burning kisses,
And sitts on thornes, till she be priuate with him.
She leaues my meate to feed vpon his lookes;
And if in our discourse he be but'tnam'd
From her a deepe sigh followes, but why grieue I
At this? it makes for me, if she proue his
All that is hers is mine, as I will worke him.
Enter Marrall.
Sir the whole boord is troubled at your rising.
No matter, I'le excuse it, prethee Marrall,
Watch an occasion to inuite my Nephew
To speake with me in priuate.
Who? the rogue,
The Lady scorn'd to looke on?
You are a Wagge
Enter Lady and Welborne.
See Sir shee's come, and cannot be without him.
With your fauour Sir, after a plenteous dinner,
I shall make bold to walke, a turne, or two
In your rare garden.
There's an arbor too
If your Ladieship please to vse it
Come master Welborne.
Exeunt Lady and Welborne.
Grosser, and grosser, now I beleeue the Poet
Fain'd not but was historicall, when he wrot.
Pasiphae was enamour'd of a bull,
This Ladies lust's more monstrous. My good Lord,
Excuse my manners.
Enter Louell, Margaret and the rest
There needes none Sir Giles,
I may e're long say Father, when it pleases
My dearest mistresse to giue warrant to it.
She shall seale to it my Lord, and make me happy.
My Lady is return'd.
Enter Welb. and the Lad,
Prouide my coach,
I'le instantly away: my thanks Sir Giles
For my entertainment.
'Tis your Noblenesse
To thinke it such.
I must doe you a further wrong
In taking away your honorable Ghest.
I waite on you Madam, farwell good Sir Giles.
Good mistresse Margaret: nay come master Wel­borne,
I must not leaue you behind, in sooth I must not.
Robbe me not Madam, of allioyes at once
Let my Nephew stay behind: he shall haue my coach,
(And after some small conference betweene vs)
Soone ouertake your Ladyship.
Stay not long Sir.
This parting kisse: you shall euery day heare from me
By my faithfull page.
'Tis a seruice I am proud of.
Exeunt. Louell. Lady. Al­worth. Margaret. Marrall.
Daughter to your chamber. You may wonder Ne­phew,
After so long an enmity betweene vs.
I should desire your friendship?
Well: so I doe Sir
'Tis strange to me.
But I'le make it no wonder,
And what is more vnsold my nature to you,
We worldly men, when wee see friends, and kinsmen,
Past hope suncke in their fortunes, lend no hand
To lift'em vp, but rather set our feer
Vpon their heads, to presse'em to the bottome;
As I must yeeld, with you I practis'd it.
But now, I see you in a way to rise,
I can and will assist you, this rich Lady
(And I am glad of't) is enamour'd of you;
'Tis too apparent Nephew.
No such thing:
Compassion rather Sir.
Well in a word,
Because your stay is short, I'le haue you seene
No more in this base shape; nor shall shee say
She married you like a begger, or in debt.
Hee'le run into the noose, and saue my labour. aside.
You haue a trunke of rich clothes, not far hence
In pawne, I will redeeme'em, and that no clam [...]
May taint your credit for your petty debts,
You shall haue a thousand pounds to cut'em off,
And goe a freeman to the wealthy Lady.
This done Sir out of loue, and no ends else.
As it is Nephew.
Bindes my still your seruant.
No complements; you are stay'd for e're y'aue supp'd
You shall heare from me, my coach Knaues for my Nephew:
To morrow I will visit you.
Heer's an Vncle
In a mans extreames! how much they doe belye you
That say you are hard-harted.
My deeds nephew
Shall speake my loue, what men report, I waigh not.
finis Actus tertii.

[Page]Actus quarti, Scena prima.

Louell. Alworth.

'Tis well: giue me my cloke: I now discharge you
From further seruice. Minde your owne af­faires,
I hope they will proue successefull.
What is blest
With your good wish my Lord, cannot but prosper,
Let after-times report, and to your Honor
How much I stand engag'd, for I want language
To speake my debt: yet if a teare, or two
Of ioy for your much goodnesse, can supply
My tongues defects I could.
Nay, doe not melt:
This ceremoniall thankes to mee's superfluous.
within. Is my Lord stirring?
'Tis he, oh here's your letter: let him in.
Enter Ouer, Gred. Mar.
A good day to my Lord.
You are an early riser,
Sir Giles.
And reason to attend your Lordship.
And you too master Greedie, vp so soone?
In troth my Lord after the Sun is vp
I cannot sleep, for I haue a foolish stomacke
That croakes for breakefast. With your Lordships fauour;
I haue a serious question to demand
Of my worthy friend Sir Giles.
Pray you vse your pleasure.
How far Sir Giles, and pray you answer me,
Vpon your credit, hold you it to be
From your Mannor house, to this of my Lady Alworths.
Why some foure mile.
How! foure mile? good Sir Giles.
Vpon your reputation thinke better
For if you doe abate but one halfe quarter
Of fiue you doe yourselfe the greatest wrong
That can be in the world: for foure miles riding
Could not haue rais'd so huge an appetite
As I feele gnawing on me.
Whither you ride,
Or goe a foote, you are that way still prouided
And it please your Worship.
How now Sirra? prating
Before my Lord: no difference? go to my Nephew;
See all his debts discharg'd, and help his Worship
To fit on his rich suite.
I may fit you too;
Toss'd like a dogge still.
Exit Marrall.
I haue writt this morning
A few lines to my mistresse your faire daughter.
'Twill fire her, for shee's wholy yours already:
Sweet master Alworth, take my ring 'twill carry you
To her presence I dare warrant you, and there pleade
For my good Lord, if you shall find occasion.
That done, pray ride to Nottingham, get a licence,
Still by this token, I'le haue it dispatch'd,
And suddainely my Lord, that I may say
My honorable, nay, right honorable daughter,
Take my aduice young Gentleman: get your breakefast.
'Tis vnholsome to ride fasting, I'le eate with you
And eate to purpose.
Some Furies in that gut:
Hungry againe! did you not deuoure this morning,
A shield of Brawne, and a barrell of Colchesier oysters?
Why that was Sir; only to scoure my stomacke,
A kind of a preparatiue. Come Gentleman
I will not haue you feed like the Hangman of Vllushing
Alone, while I am here.
Hast your returne.
I will not faile my Lord.
Nor I to line
My Christmas coffer.
Exeunt Greedy and Alworth.
To my wish, we are priuate.
I come not to make offer with my daughter
A certaine portion, that were poore, and triuiall.
In one word I pronounce all that is mine,
In lands, or leases, ready coine, or goods,
With her, my Lord comes to you, nor shall you haue
One motiue to induce you to beleeue,
I liue too long, since euery yeare I'le add
Something vnto the heape, which shall be yours too.
You are a right kind father.
You shall haue reason
To thinke me such, how doe you like this seate?
It is well wooded, and well water'd, the Acres
Fertile, and rich; would it not serue for change
To entertaine your friends in a Sommer progresse?
What thinkes my noble Lord?
'Tis a wholesome aire,
And well built pile, and she that's mistresse of it
Worthy the large reuennue.
'Shee the mistresse?
It may be so for a time: but let my Lord
Say only that he likes it, and would haue it,
I say e're long 'tis his.
You doe conclude too fast, not knowing me;
Nor the engines that I worke by, 'tis not alone
The Lady Alworths Lands, for those once Welbornes,
(As by her dotage on him, I know they will be,)
Shall soone be mine. but point out any mans
In all the Shire, and say they lie conuenient,
And vsefull for your Lordship, and once more
I say aloud, They are yours.
I dare not owne
What's by vniust, and cruell meanes extorted
My fame, and credit are more deare to me,
Than so to expose 'em to be censur'd by
The publike voice.
You run my Lord no hazard.
Your reputation shall stand as faire
In all good mens opinions as now:
Nor can my actions, though condemn'd for ill,
Cast any foule aspersion vpon yours;
For though I doe contemne report my selfe,
As a meere sound, I still will be so tender
Of what concernes you in all points of Honour,
That the immaculate whitenesse of your Fame,
Nor your vnquestion'd integrity
Shall e're be sullied with one taint, or spot
That may take from your innocence, and candor,
All my ambition is to haue my daughter
Right honorable, which my Lord can make her.
And might I liue to dance vpon my knee
A young Lord Louell, borne by her vnto you,
I write nil vltra to my proudest hopes.
As for possessions, and annuall rents
Equiualent to maintaine you in the port,
Your noble birth, and present state requires,
I doe remoue that burthen from your shoulders,
And take it on mine owne: for though I [...]me
The Country to supply your riotous wast,
The scourge of prodigalls want shall neuer find you.
Are you not frighted with the imprecations,
And curses, of whole families made wretched
By your sinister practises?
Yes as rocks are
When foamie billowes split themselues against
Their flinty ribbes; or as the Moone is mou'd,
When wolues with hunger pin'd, howle at her brightnesse.
I am of a solid temper, and like these
Steere on a constant course: with mine owne sword
If call'd into the field, I can make that right,
Which fearefull enemies murmur'd at as wrong.
Now for, these other pidling complaints
Breath'd out in bitternesse, as when they call me
Extortioner, Tyrant, Cormorant, or Intruder
On my poore Neighbours right, or grand incloser
Of what was common, to my priuate vse;
Nay, when my cares are pierc'd with Widdowes cries,
And vndon Orphants wash with teares my threshold;
I only thinke what 'tis to haue my daughter
Right honorable; and 'tis a powerfull charme
Makes me insensible of remorse, or pitty,
Or the least sting of Conscience.
I admire
The toughnesse of your nature.
'Tis for you
My Lord, and for my daughter, I am marble
Nay more more if you will haue my character
In little, I enioy more true delight
In my arriuall to my wealth, these darke,
And crooked wayes, than you shall e're take pleasure
In spending what my industry hath compass'd.
My hast commands me hence, In one word therefore
Is it a Match?
I hope that is past doubt now.
Then rest secure, not the hate of all mankind here;
Nor feare of what can fall on me hereafter,
Shall make me studie ought but your aduancement,
One story higher. An Earle! if gold can do it.
Dispute not my religion, nor my faith,
Though I am borne thus headlong by my will,
You may make choice of what beleefe you please,
To me they are equall, so my Lord good morrow.
Hee's gone, I wonder how the Earth can beare
Such a portent! I, that haue liu'd a Souldier,
And stood the enemies violent charge vndaunted
To heare this blasphemous beast, a'm bath'd all ouer
In a cold sweat: yet like a mountaine he
Confirm'd in Atheisticall assertions,
Is no more shaken, than Olimpus is
When angry Boreas loades his double head
With suddaine drifts of snow.
Enter Amble. Lady. Woman.
Saue you my Lord.
Disturbe I not your priuacie?
No good Madam;
For your owne sake I am glad you came no sooner.
Since this bold, bad man, Sir Giles Ouerreach
Made such a plaine discouerie of himselfe,
And read this morning such a diuellish Matins,
That I should thinke it a sinne next to his;
But to repeat it.
I ne're press'd my Lord
On others priuacies, yet against my will,
Walking, for health sake, in the gallerie
Adioyning to your lodgings, I was made
(So vehement, and loud he was) partaker
Of his tempting offers.
Please you to command
Your seruants hence, and I shall gladly heare
Your wiser counsell.
'Tis my Lord a womans
But true, and hearty; wait in the next roome,
But be within call: yet not so neere to force me
To whisper my intents.
We are taught better
By you good Madam.
And well know our distance.
Doe so, and talke not't will become your breeding.
Exeunt, Amble and Woman.
Now my good Lord; if I may vse my freedome,
As to an honour'd friend?
You lessen else
Your fauour to me.
I dare then say thus;
As you are Noble (how e're common men
Make sordid wealth the obiect, and sole end
Of their industrious aimes) 'twill not agree
With those of eminent blood (who are ingag'd
More to prefer their Honours, than to increase
The State left to 'em, by their Ancestours)
To study large additions to their fortunes
And quite neglect their births: though I must grant
Riches well got to be a vsefull Seruant)
But a bad Master.
Madam, 'tis confessed;
But what infer you from it?
This my Lord;
That as all wrongs, though thrust into one scale
Slide of themselues off, when right fills the other,
And cannot bide the triall: so all wealth
(I meane if ill acquir'd) cemented to Honor
By vertuous wayes atchieu'd, and brauely purchas'd,
Is but as rubbage powr'd into a riuer
(How e're intended to make good the bancke)
Rendring the water that was pure before,
Polluted, and vnholsome. I allow
The heire of Sir Giles Ouerreash. Margaret.
A maide well qualified, and the richest match
Our North part can make boast of, yet she cannot
With all that she brings with her fill their mouthes,
That neuer will forget who was her father;
Or that my husband Alworths lands, and Welbornes
(How wrunge from both needs now no repetition)
Were reall motiue, that more work'd your Lordship
To ioyne your families; than her forme, and vertues.
You may conceaue the rest.
I doe sweet Madam;
And long since haue consider'd it I know
The summe of all that makes a iust man happy
Consists in the well choosing of his wife
And there well to discharge it, does require
Equality of yeares, of birth, of fortune,
For beauty being poore, and not cried vp
By birth or wealth, can truely mixe with neither.
And wealth, where there's such difference in yeares,
And faire descent, must make the yoke vneasie:
But I come neerer.
Pray you doe my Lord.
Were Ouerreach, stat's thrice centupl'd; his daughter
Millions of degrees, much fairer than she is,
(How e're! might vrge presidents to excuse me)
I would not so adulterate my blood
By marrying Margaret, and so leaue my issue
Made vp of seuerall peeces, one part skarlet
And the other London-blew. In my owne tombe
I will interre my name first.
I am glad to heare this:
Why then my Lord pretend you marriage to her?
Dissimulation but tyes false knots
On that straite line, by which you hitherto
Haue measur'd all your actions?
I make answer
And aptly, with a question. Wherefore haue you,
That since your Husbands death, haue liu'd a strict,
And chaste Nuns life, on the suddaine giu'n your selfe
To visits, and entertainments? thinke you Madam
'Tis not growge publike conference? or the fauours
Which you too prodigally haue throwne on Welborne
Being too reseru'd before, incurre not censure?
I am innocent heere, and on my life I sweare
My ends are good.
On my soule so are mine
To Margaret: but leaue both to the euent
And since this friendly priuacie does serue
But as an offer'd meanes vnto our selues
To search each other farther; you hauing showne
Your care of mee, I, my respect to you;
Denie me not, but still in chaste words Madam
An after-noones discourse.
So I shall heare you.

Actus quarti, Scena secunda.

  • Tapwell.
  • Froth.
Vndone, vndone! this was your counsaile, Froth.
Mine! Idefie thee, did not master Marrall
(He has marr'd all I am sure) stri­ctly command vs
(On paine of Sir Giles Ouerreach displeasure)
[...]o turne the Gentleman out of dores?
'Tis true
But now hee's his Vncles darling, and has got
Master Iustice Greedy (since he fill'd his belly)
At his commandement, to doe any thing;
Woe, woe to vs.
He may proue mercifull.
Troth, we do not deserue it at his hands:
Though he knew all the passages of our house;
As the receiuing of stolne goods, and bawdrie
When he was rogue Welborne, no man would beleeue him,
And then his information could not hurt vs.
But now he is right Worshipfull againe,
Who dares but doubt his testimonie? me thinkes
I see thee Froth already in a cart
For a close Bawde, thine eyes cu'n pelted out
With durt, and rotten egges, and my hand hissing
(If I scape the halter) with the letter R.
Printed vpon it.
Would that were the worst:
That were but nine dayes wonder, as for credit
We haue none to lose; but we shall lose the money
He owes vs and his custome, there's the hell on't.
He has summon'd all his Creditours by the drum,
And they swarmo about him like so many souldiers
On the pay day, and has found out such a new way
To pay his old debts, as 'tis very likely
He shall be chronicl'd for it.
He deserues it
More than ten Pageants. But are you sure his Worship
Comes this way to my Ladies?
A cry within, braue Master Welborne.
Yes I heare him.
Be ready with your petition and present it
To his good Grace.
Enter Welb. in a rich habit, Greed. Ord. Furn. three Creditors: Tapw. kneeling deliuers his bill of debt.
How's this! petition'd too?
But note what miracles, the payment of
A little trash, and a rich suite of clothes
Can worke vpon these Rascalls. I shall be
I thinke prince Welborne.
When your Worships married
You may be, I know what I hope to see you.
Then looke thou for aduancement.
To be knowne
Your Worships Bayliffe is the marke I shoot at.
And thou shalt hit it.
Pray you Sir dispatch
These needie followers, and for my admittance
Prouided you'l defend me from Sir Giles.
This interim, Tapwell and Froth flattering & bribing iustice Greedy.
Whose seruice I am weary of I'le say something
You shall giue thankes for.
Feare me not Sir Giles
Who? Tapwell? I remember thy wife brought me
Last new yeares tide, a couple of fat turkies.
And shall doe euery Christmas, let your Wor­ship
But stand my friend now.
How? with master Welborne?
I can doe any thing with him, on such termes;
See you this honest couple: they are good soules
As euer drew out fosset, haue they not
A payre of honest faces?
I o're heard you,
And the bribe he promis'd, you are cousend in 'em,
For of all the scumme that grew rich by my riots
This for a most vnthankefull knaue, and this
For a base bawde, and whore, haue worst deseru'd me,
And therefore speake not for'em, by your place
You are rather to do me iustice; lend me your eare,
Forget his Turkies, and call in his Licence,
And at the next Faire, I'le giue you a yoke of Oxen
Worth all his Poultry.
I am chang'd on the suddaine
In my opinion! come neere; neerer Rascall.
And now I view him better; did you e're see
One looke so like an arch-knaue? his very countenance,
Should an vnderstanding iudge but looke vpon him,
Would hang him, though he were innocent.
Tap. Froth.
Worshipfull Sir.
No though the great Turke came insteed of Turkies,
To begge any fauour, I am inexorable:
Thou hast an ill name: besides thy musty Ale
That hath destroy'd many of the Kingsleige people
Thou neuer hadst in thy house to stay mens stomackes
A peece of Suffolke cheele, or Gammon of Bacon,
Or any esculent, as the learned call it,
For their emolument, but sheere drinke only.
For which grosse fault, I heere doe damne thy licence,
Forbidding thee euer to tap, or draw.
For instantly, I will in mine owne person
Command the Constable to pull downe thy Signe;
And doe it before I eate.
No mercie?
If I shew any, may my promis'd Oxen gore me.
Vnthankefull knaues are euer so rewarded
Exeunt Greedie, Tapwell. Froth.
Speake; what are you?
1. Creditor.
A decay'd Vintner Sir,
That might haue thriued, but that your worship broke me
With trusting you with Muskadine and Egges,
And fiue pound Suppers, with your after drinkings,
When you lodg'd vpon the Banckside.
1. Cred.
I haue not beene hasty, nor e're layd to arrest you.
And therefore Sir---
Thou art an honest fellow:
I'le set thee vp againe, see his bill pay'd,
What are you?
2. Cred.
A Taylor once, but now meere Botcher.
I gaue you credit for a suite of clothes.
Which was all my stocke, but you failing in payment,
I was remou'd from the Shop. boord, and confin'd
Vnder a Stall.
See him pay'd, and botch no more.
2. Cred.
I aske no interest Sir.
Such Taylors need not,
If their bills are pay'd in one and twenty yeare
They are seldome losers. O, I know thy face
Thou were't my Surgeon: you must tell no tales.
Those dayes are done. I will pay you in priuate.
A royall Gentleman.
Royall as an Emperour!
He'le proue a braue master, my good Lady knew
To choose a man.
See all men else discharg'd
And since Old debts are clear why a new way,
A little bountie, will not misbecome mee;
There's something honest Cooke for thy good breakefasts,
And this for your respect, take't, 'tis good gold
And I able to spare it.
You are too munificent.
Hee was euer so.
Pray you on before.
3. Gred.
Heauen blesse you.
At foure a clocke the rest know where to meet me
Exeunt Ord. Furn. Furn. Credit.
Now master Marrall, what's the weightie secret
You promis'd to impart?
Sir, time, nor place
Allow me to relate each circumstance;
This only in a word: I know Sir Giles
Will come vpon you for security
For his thousand pounds, which you must not consent to
As he growes in heat, as I am sure hee will,
Be you but rough, and say Hee's in your debt
Ten times the summe, vpon sale of your land,
I had a hand in't (I speake it to my shame)
When you were defeated of it.
That's forgiuen.
I shall deserue't then; vrge him to produce
The deed in which you pass'd it ouer to him,
Which I know Hee'le haue about him to deliuer
To the Lord Louell, with many other writings,
And present moneys, I'le instruct you further,
As I waite on your Worship, if I play not my price
To your full content, and your Vncles much vexation,
Hang vp Jacke Marrall.
I relie vpon thee.

Actus quarti, Scena vltima.

Alworth. Margaret.

Whither to yeeld the first praise to my Lord's.
Vnequall'd temperance, or your constant sweetnesse,
That I yet liue, my weake hands fasten'd on.
Hopes anchor, spite of all stormes of Despaire,
I yet rest doubtfull.
Giue it to Lord Louell.
For what in him was bounty, in mee's duty.
I make but payment of a debt, to which
My vowes in that high office registred,
Are faithfull witnesses.
'Tis true my dearest,
Yet when I call to mind how many faire ones
Make wilfull shipwracke of their faiths, and oathes
To God, and Man to fill the armes of Greatnesse,
And you, rise vp lesse than a glorious starre
To the amazement of the world, that hold out
Against the sterne authority of a Father,
And spurne at honour when it comes to court you,
I am so tender of your good, that faintly
With your wrong I can wish my selfe that right
You yet are pleas'd to do mee.
Yet, and euer,
To me what's title, when content is wanting?
Or wealth rak'd vp together with much care,
And to be kept with more, when the heart pines,
In being dispossest of what it longs for,
Beyond the Indian mines; or the smooth brow
Of a pleas'd Site, that slaues me to his will?
And so his rauenous humour may bee feasted
By my obedience, and he see me great,
Leaues to my soule nor faculties, nor power
To make her owne election.
But the dangers
That follow the repulse.
To me they are nothing:
Let Alworth loue, I cannot be vnhappy.
Suppose the worst, that in his rage he kill me,
A teare, or two, by you dropt on my hearse
In sorrow for my fate, will call backe life
So far, as but to say that I die yours,
I then shall rest in peace, or should he proue
So cruell, as one death would not suffize
His thirst of vengeance, but with lingring torments
In mind, and body, I must wast to ayre,
In pouerty, ioyn'd with banishment, so you share
In my afflictions, (which I dare not wish you,)
So high I prize you; I could vndergoe 'em,
With such a patience as should looke downe
With scorne on his worst malice.
Heauen auert
Such trialls of your true affection to me,
Nor will it vnto you that are all mercie
Shew so much rigour: but since wee must run
Such desperate hazards, let vs doe our best
To steere betweene 'em.
Your Lord's ours, and sure,
And though but a young actor second me
In doing to the life, what he has plotted,
The end may yet proue happy: now my Alworth.
Enter Ouerreach.
To your letter, and put on a seeming anger.
I'le pay my Lord all debts due to his title,
And when with termes, not taking from his Honour,
He does sollicite me, I shall gladly heare him.
But in this peremptory, nay commanding way,
'Tappoint a meeting, and without my knowledge;
A Priest to tye the knot, can ne're be vndone
'Till death vnloose it, is a confidence
In his Lordship, will deceiue him.
I hope better,
Good Lady.
Hope Sir what you please: for me
I must take a safe and secure course; I haue
A father, and without his full consent,
Though all Lords of the land kneel'd for my fauour,
I can grant nothing.
I like this obedience.
But whatsoeuer my Lord writes, must, and shall bee
Accepted, and embrac'd. Sweet master Alworth,
You shew your selfe a true, and faithfull seruant
To your good Lord, he has a iewell of you.
How? frowning Meg? are these lookes to receiue
A messenger from my Lord? what's this? giue me it.
A peece of arrogant paper liketh'inscriptions
Ouerreach read the letter.
Faire mistrisse from your ser­uant learne, all ioyes
That we can hope for, if deferr'd, proue toyes;
Therefore this instant, and in priuate meete
A Husband, that will gladly at your feet
Lay downe his Honours, tendring them to you
With all content, the Church being payd her due.
Is this the arrogant peece of paper? Foole,
Will you still be one? in the name of madnesse, what
Could his good Honour write more to content you?
Is there ought else to be wisht after these two,
That are already offer'd? Marriage first,
And lawfull pleasure after: what would you more?
Why Sir, I would be married like your daughter;
Not hurried away i'th night I know not whither,
Without all ceremonie: no friends inuited
To honour the sollemnity.
An't please your Honour,
For so before to morrow I must stile you:
My Lord desire this priuacie in respect
His honourable kinsmen are far off,
And his desires to haue it done brooke not
So long delay as to expect their comming;
And yet He stands resolu'd, with all due pompe:
As running at the ring, playes, masques, and tilting
To haue his marriage at Court celebrated
When he has brought your Honour vp to London.
He tells you true; 'tis the fashion on my know­ledge
Yet the good Lord to please your peeuishnes
Must put it off forsooth, and lose a night
In which perhaps he might get two boyes on thee.
Tempt me no farther, if you do, this good
Shall pricke you to him.
I could be contented,
Were you but by to do a fathers part,
And giue me in the Church.
So my Lord haue you
What do I care who giues you since my Lord
Does purpose to be priuate, I'le not crosse him.
I know not master Alworth how my Lord
May be prouided, and therefore there's a purse
Of gold 'twill serue this nights expence, to morrow
I'le furnish him with any summes: in the meane time
Vse my ring to my Chaplaine; he is benefic'd
At my Mannor of Gotam, and call'd parson Will-doe
'Tis no matter for a licence, I'le beare him out in't.
With your fauour Sir, what warrant is your ring?
He may suppose I got that twenty wayes
Without your knowledge, and then to be refus'd,
We're such a staine vpon me, if you pleas'd Sir
Your presence would do better.
Still peruerse?
I say againe I will not crosse my Lord,
Yet I'le preuent you too. Paper and incke there?
I can furnish you.
I thanke you, I can write then.
Writes on his booke.
You may if you please, put out the name of my Lord
In respect he comes disguis'd, and only write
Marry, her to this Gentleman.
Well aduis'd
Margaret kneeles.
'Tis done, away my blessing Girle? thou hast it.
Nay, no reply begone, good master Alworth.
This shall be the best nights worke, you euer made
I hope so Sir.
Exeunt Alworth. and Margaret.
Farewell, now all's cocke-sure:
Me thinkes I heare already, Knights, and Ladies,
Say Sir Giles Ouerreach, how is it with
Your Honourable daughter? has her Honour
Slept well to night? or will her Honour please
To accept this Monkey? Dog? or Paraquit?
This is state in Ladies. or my eldest sonne
To be her page, and wait vpon her trencher?
My ends! my ends are compass'd! then for Welborne
And the lands; were he once married to the widdow,
I haue him here, I can scarce containe my selfe,
I am so full of ioy; nay ioy all ouer.
Exit the end of the fourth Act.

[Page]Actus quinti, Scena quinta.

Louell. Lady. Amble.

By this you know, how strong the motiues were
That did, my Lord, induce me to dispence
A little with my grauity, to aduance
(In personating some few fauours to him)
The plots, and proiects of the downe-trod
Nor shall I e're repent (although I suffer
In some few mens opinions for't) the action.
For he, that ventur'd all for my deare Husband,
Might rustly claime an obligation from me
To pay him such a courtesse: which had I
Coiley, or ouer-curiously denied,
It might haue argu'd me of little loue
To the deceas'd.
What you intended Madam
For the poore Gentleman, hath found good successe,
For as I vnderstand his debts are pay'd,
And he once more furnish'd for faire imployment
But all the arts that I haue vs'd to raise
The fortunes of your loy, and mine, young Alworth,
Stand yet in supposition, though I hope well
For the young louers are in wit more pregnant,
Than their yeares can promise; and for their desires
On my knowledge they are equall.
As my wishes
Are with yours my Lord, yet giue me leaue to feare
The building though well grounded: to deceiue
Sir Giles, that's both a Lyon, and a Fox
In his proceedings, were a worke beyond
The strongest vndertakers, not the triall
Of two weake innocents.
Despaire not Madam:
‘Hard things are compass'd oft by easie meanes,’
And iudgement, being a gift deriu'd from heauen,
Though sometimes lodg'd it'h hearts of worldly men
(That ne're consider from whom they receiue it)
Forsakes such as abuse the giuer of it.
Which is the reason, that the politicke,
And cunning Statesman, that beleeues he fathomes
The counsels of all Kingdomes on the earth
Is by simplicity oft ouerreach.
May he be so, yet in his name to expresse it
Is a good O men.
May it to my selfe
Proue so good Lady in my suite to you:
What thinke you of the motion?
Troth my Lord
My owne vn worthinesse may answer for me;
For had you, when that I was in my prime,
My virgin-flower vncropp'd, presented me
With this great fauour, looking on my lownesse
Not in a glasse of selfe-loue, but of truth
I could not but haue thought it, as a blessing
Far, far beyond my merit.
You are too modest,
And vnderualue that which is aboue
My title, or what euer I call mine.
I grant, were I a Spaniard to marry
A widdow might disparage me, but being
A true borne Englishman, I cannot find
How it can taint my Honour; nay what's more,
That which you thinke a blemish is to me
The fairest lustre. You alreadie Madam
Haue giuen sure proofes how dearely you can cherish
A Husband that deserues you: which confirmes me,
That if I am not wanting in my care
To doe you seruice, you'le be still the same
That you were to your Alworth, in a word
Our yeares, our states, our births are not vnequall,
You being descended nobly and alli'd so,
If then you may be wonne to make me happy,
But ioyne your lipps to mine, and that shall be
A solemne contract.
I were blind to my owne good
Should I refuse it, yet my Lord receiue me
As such a one, the studie of whose whole life
Shall know no other obiect but to please you.
If I returne not with all tendernesse,
Equall respect to you, may I die wretched.
There needs no protestation my Lord
To her that cannot doubt, you are welcome Sir.
Now you looke like your selfe.
Enter Welborne.
And will continue
Such in my free acknowledgement, that I am
Your creature Madam, and will neuer hold
My life mine owne, when you please to command it.
It is a thankefulnesse that well becomes you;
You could not make choice of a better shape,
To dresse your mind in.
For me I am happy
That my endeuours prosper'd, saw you of late
Sir Giles, your Vncle?
I heard of him, Madam,
By his minister Marrall, he's growne into strange passions
About his daughter, this last night he look'd for
Your Lordship at his house, but missing you,
And she not yet appearing, his wise-head
Is much perplex'd, and troubl'd.
It may be
Sweer heart, my pro­iect tooke.
Enter Ouer. with distracted lookes, driuing in Marrall before him.
I strongly hope.
Ha! find her Boobie thou huge lumpe of nothing
I'le bore thine eyes out else.
May it please your Lordship
For some ends of mine owne but to withdraw
A little out of sight, though not of hearing,
You may perhaps haue sport.
You shall direct me.
stepps aside.
I shall sol fa you Rogue.
Sir, for what cause
Doe you vse me thus?
Cause slaue why I am angrie,
And thou a subiect only fit for beating,
And so to coole my choler, looke to the writing
Let but the seale be broke vpon the box,
That has slepp'd in my cabinet these three yeares;
I'le racke thy soule for't.
I may yet crie quittance,
Though now I suffer, and dare not resist.
Lady, by your leaue, did you see my Daughter Lady?
And the Lord her husband? Are they in your house?
If they are, discouer, that I may bid'em ioy;
And as an entrance to her place of Honour,
See your Ladyship on her left hand, and make courseis
When she nodds on you; which you must receiue
As a speciall fauour.
When I know, Sir Giles,
Her state requires such ceremony, I shall pay it
But in the meane time, as I am my selfe,
I giue you to vnderstand, I neither know,
Nor care where her Honour is.
When you once see her
Supported, and led by the Lord her Husband
You'le be taught better. Nephew.
No more.
'Tis all I owe you.
Haue your redeem'd ragges
Made you thus insolent?
Insolent to you?
in scorne.
Why what are you Sir, vnlesse in your yeares,
At the best more than myselfe?
His fortune swells him
'Tis rancke he's married.
This is excellent!
Sir, in calme language (though I seldome vse it)
I am familiar with the cause, that makes you
Beare vp thus brauely, there's a certaine buz
Of a stolne marriage, do you heare of a stolne marriage?
In which 'tis said there's some body hath beene coozin'd.
I name no parties.
Well Sir, and what followes?
Marry this; Since you are peremptory: remember
Vpon meere hope of your great match, I lent you
A thousand pounds: put me in good security,
And suddainely my Mortgage, or by Statute
Of some of your new possessions, or I'le haue you
Dragg'd in your lauender robes to the Gaole, you know me,
And therefore do not trifle.
Can you be
So cruell to your Nephew? now hee's in
The way to rise: was this the courtesie
You did me in pure loue, and no ends else?
End me no ends: ingage the whole estate,
And force your Spouse to signe it, you shall haue
Three, or foure thousand more to rore, and swagger,
And reuell in bawdy tauernes.
And begge after:
Meane you not so?
My thoughts are mine, and free.
Shall I haue security?
No: indeed you shall not:
Nor bond, nor bill, nor bare acknowledgement,
Your great looks fright not me.
But my deeds shall:
They both draw the seruants enter.
Helpe murther, murther.
Let him come on,
With all his wrongs, and iniuries about him,
Arm'd with his cut-throate practises to guard him;
The right that I bring with me, will defend me,
And punish his extortion.
That I had thee
But single in the field.
You may, but make not
My house your quarrelling Scene.
Were't in a Church
By heauen, and hell, I'le do't.
Now put him to
The shewing of the deed.
This rage is vaine Sir,
For fighting feare not you shall haue your hands full,
Vpon the least incitement; and whereas
You charge me with a debt of a thousand pounds,
If there be law, (how e're you haue no conscience)
Either restore my land, or I'le recouer
A debt, that's truely due to me, from you
In value ten times more than what you challenge.
I in thy debt! O impudence! did I not purchase
The land left by thy father? that rich land,
That had continued in Welbornes name
Twenty descents; which like a riotous foole
Thou did'st make sale of? is not here inclos'd
The deed that does confirme it mine?
Now, now:
I doe acknowledge none, I ne're pass'd o're
Any such land, I grant for a yeare, or two,
You had it in trust, which if you doe discharge,
Surrendring the possession, you shall ease
Your selfe, and me, of chargeable suits in law,
Which is you proue not honest, (as I doubt it)
Must of necessity follow.
In my iudgement
He does aduise you well.
Good! Good! conspire
With your new Husband Lady; second him
In his dishonest practises; but when
This Mannor is extended to my vse,
You'le speake in an humbler key, and sue for fauour.
Neuer: do not hope it.
Let despaire first sease me.
Yet to shut up thy mouth, and make thee giue
Thy selfe the lye, the lowd lye: I draw out
The precious euidence; if thou canst forsweare
Thy hand, and seale, and make a forfeit of
Thy eares to the pillory: see here's that will make
My interrest cleare. Ha!
Opens the box.
A faire skinne of parchment
Indented I confesse, and labells too,
But neither wax, nor words. How! thunder-strooke?
Not a syllable to insult with? my wise Vncle
Is this your precious euidence? is this that makes
Your interest cleare
I am o'rewhelm'd with wonder!
What prodigie is this what subtle diuell
Hath raz'd out the inscription the wax
Turn'd into dust! the rest of my deedes whole,
As when they were deliuer'd! and this onely
Made nothing! doe you deale with witches Raskall?
There is a statute for you, which will bring
Your necke in a hempen circle yes, there is.
And now'tis better thought, for Cheater know
This iuggling shall not saue you
To saue thee would begger the stocke of mercy.
flattering him
Though the witnesses are dead, your testimony
Helpe with an oath or two, and for thy master,
Thy liberall master, my good honest seruant.
I know, you will sweare any thing to dash
This cunning slight: besides, I know thou art
A publike notarie, and such stand in law
For a dozen witnesses; the deed being drawne too
By thee, my carefull Marrall, and deliuer'd
When thou wert present will make good my title
Wilt thou not sweare this?
I? no I assure you.
I haue a conscience, not sear'd vp like yours
I know no deeds.
Wilt thou betray me?
Keepe him
From vsing of his hands, I'le vse my tongue
To his no little torment.
Mine owne Varlet
Rebell against me?
Yes, and vncase you too.
The Ideot; the Patch; the Slaue! the Boobie;
The propertie fit only to be beaten
For your morning exercise; your Footeball or
Th'vnprofitable lumpe of flesh; your Drudge
Can now anatomize you, and lay open
All your blacke plotts; and leuell with the earth
Your hill of pride; and with these gabions guarded,
Vnloade my great artillerie, and shake,
Nay puluerize the walls you thinke defend you.
How he foames at the mouth with rage.
To him againe.
O that I had thee in my gripe, I would teare thee
Ioint, after ioint.
I know you are a tearer
But I'le haue first your fangs par'd off, and then
Come nearer to you, when I haue, discouer'd,
And made it good before the Iudge, what wayes
And diuelish practises you vs'd to coozen
With an armie of whole families, who yetliue,
And but enrol'd for souldiers were able
To take in Dunkerke.
All will come out.
The better.
But that I will liue, Rogue, to torture thee,
And make thee wish, and kneele in vaine to dye,
These swords that keepe thee from me, should fix here
Although they made my body but one wound,
But I would reach thee.
Heau ns hand is in this,
One Ban-dogge worrie the other.
I play the foole,
And make my anger but ridiculous.
There will be a time, and place, there will be cowards,
When you shall feele what I dare do.
I thinke so:
You dare do any ill, yet want true valour
To be honest, and repent.
They are words I know not,
Nor e're will learne. Patience, the beggers vertue.
Enter Greedie and person Will-doe.
Shall find no harbour here, after these stormes
At length a calme appeares. Welcome, most welcome:
There's comfort in thy lookes, is the deed done?
Is my daughter married? say but so my Chaplaine
And I am tame.
Married? yes I assure you.
Then vanish all sad thoughts; there's more gold for thee.
My doubts, and feares are in the titles drown'd
Of my right honorable, my right honorable daughter
Here will I be feasting; at least for a month
I am prouided: emptie gutts croke no more,
You shall be stuff'd like baggepipes, not with wind
But bearing dishes.
Instantly be here?
Whispring to Will-doe.
To my wish, to my wish, now you that plot against me
And hop'd to trippe my heeles vp; that contemn'd me;
Loud musicke.
Thinke on't and tremble, they come I heare the musicke.
A lane there for my Lord.
This sodaine heate
May yet be cool'd Sir.
Make way there for my Lord.
Enter Alworth and Margaret.
Sir, first your pardon, then your blessing with
Your full allowance of the choice I haue made
As euer you could make vse of your reason:
Grow not in passion: since you may as well
Call backe the day that's past, as vntie the knot
Which is too strongly fasten'd, not to dwell
Too long on words, this's my Husband
So I assure you: all the rites of marriage
With euery circumstance are past, alas Sir,
Although I am no Lord, but a Lords page,
Your daughter, and my lou'd wife mournes not for it.
And for Right honourable sonne in Law, you may say
Your dutifull daughter.
Diuell: are they married?
Doe a fathers part, and say heau'n giue'em ioy.
Confusion, and ruine, speake, & speake quickly,
Or thou art dead.
They are married.
Thou had'st better
Haue made a contract with the King of fiends
Than these, my braine turnes!
Why this rage to me?
Is not this your letter Sir? and these the words?
Marry her to this Gentleman.
It cannot:
Nor will I e're beleeue it's death I will not,
That I, that in all passages I touch'd
At worldly profit, haue not left a print
Where I haue trod for the most curious search
To trace my footstepps, should be gu'lld by children,
Baffull'd, and fool'd, and all my hopes, and labours,
Defeated, and made void.
As it appeares,
You are so my graue Vncle
Village Nurses
Reuenge their wrongs with curses, I'le not wast
A syllable, but thus I take the life
Which wretched I gaue to thee.
Offers to kill Margaret.
Hold for your owne sake
Though charity to your daughter hath quite left you
Will you do an act, though in your hopes lost here
Can leaue no hope for peace, or rest hereafter
Consider; at the best you are but a man,
And cannot so create your aimes, but that
They may be cross'd.
Lord, thus I spit at thee,
And at thy counsaile; and againe desire thee
And as chou art a souldier, if thy valour
Dares shew it selfe where multitude, and example
Lead not the way, lets quit the house, and change
Six words in priuate.
I am ready.
Stay Sir,
Contest with one distracted?
You'le grow like him
Should you answer his vaine challenge.
Are you pale?
Borrow his help, though Hercules call it oddes
I'le stand against both, as I am hem'd in thus.
Since like Libian-Lyon in the toyle,
My fury cannot reach the coward hunters
And only spends it selfe, I'le quit the place,
Alone I can do nothing: but I haue seruants
And friends to second me, and if I make not
This house a heape of ashes (by my wrongs,
What I haue spoke I will make good) or lean'd
One throat vncut, if it be possible
Hell ad to my afflictions.
Exit Ouerreach.
Is't not braue sport?
Braue sport? I am sure it has tane away my sto­macke
I do not like the sawce.
Nay, weep not dearest:
Though it expresse your pittie, what's decreed
Aboue, wee cannot alter.
His threats moue mee
No scruple, Madam.
Was it not a rare tricke
(And it please your Worship) to make the deed nothing?
I can do twenty neater, if you please
To purchase, and grow rich, for I will be
Such a sollicitor, and steward for you,
As neuer Worshipfull had.
I do beleeue thee.
But first discouer the quaint meanes you vs'd
To raze out the conueyance?
They are mysteries
Not to be spoke in publike: certaine mineralls
Incorporated in the incke, and wax?
Besides he gaue me nothing, but still fed me
With hopes, and blowes; and that was the inducement
To this Conumbrum. If it please your Worship
To call to memorie, this mad beast once caus'd me
To vrge you, or to drowne, or hang, your selfe,
I'le doe the like to him if you command me.
You are a Raskall, he that dares be false
To a master, though vniust, will ne're be true
To any other: looke not for reward,
Or fauour from me, I will shun thy sight
As I would doe a basiliskes. Thanke my pittie
If thou keep thy cares, how e're I will take order
Your practise shall be silenc'd.
I'le commit him,
If you'le haue me Sir?
That were to little purpose,
His conscience be his prison, not a word
But instantly begone.
Take this kicke with you.
And this.
If that I had my cleuer here
I would diuide your Knaues head.
This is the hauen,
False seruants still arriue at.
Exit Mar. enter Ouer.
Come agen.
Feare not I am your guard.
His lookes are ghastly.
Some little time I haue spent vnder your fauours
In physicall studies, and if my iudgement erre not
Hee's mad beyond recouery: but obserue him,
And looke to your selues.
Why is not the whole world
Included in my selfe? to what vse then
Are friends, and seruants? say there were a squadron
Of pikes, lined through with shot, when I am mounted
Vpon my iniuries, shall I feare to charge 'em?
No: I'le through the battalia, and that routed,
I'le fall to execution. Ha! I am feeble:
Flourishing his sword vnsheathed.
Some vndone widdow sitts vpon mine arme,
And takes away the vse of't; and my sword
Glew'd to my scabberd, with wrong'd orphans teares
Will not be drawne. Ha! what are these? sure hangmen,
That come to bind my hands, and then to dragge me
Before the iudgement seate now they are new shapes
And do appeare like furies, with steele whippes
To scourge my vlcerous soule? shall I then fall
Ingloriously, and yeeld? no spite of fate
I will be forc'd to hell like to my selfe,
Though you were legions of accursed spiritts.
Thus would I flie among you,
There's no helpe
Disarme him first, then bind him.
Take a Mittimus
And carry him to Bedlam.
How he fomes!
And bites the earth.
Carry him to some darke roome
There try what Art can do for his recouery.
O my deare father!
They force Ouerrcach off.
You must be patient mistresse
Here is a president to teach wicked men,
That when they leaue Religion, and turne Atheists
Their owne abilities leaue'em, pray you take comfort
I will endeuour you shall be his guardians
In his distractions: and for your land master VVelborne,
Be it good, or ill in law, I'le be an vmpire,
Betweene you, and this, th'vndoubted heire
Of Sir Giles Ouerreach, for me, here's the anchor
That I must fix on.
What you shall determine,
My lord, I will allow of.
'Tis the language
That I speake too; but there is something else
Beside the repossession of my land,
And payment of my debts that I must practise
I had a reputation, but 'twas lost
In my loose course; and 'till I redeeme it
Some noble way, I am but halfe made vp
It is a time of Action, if your Lordship
Will please to conferre a company vpon mee
In your command, I doubt not in my seruice
To my King, and Country, but I shall do something
That may make me right agen.
Your suite is granted,
And you lou'd for the motion,
Nothing wants then
But your allowance.


BVt your allowance, and in that, our all
Is comprehended; it being knowne, nor we,
Nor be that wrot the Comedie can be free
VVithout your Mannumission, which if you
Grant willingly, as a faire fauour due
To the Poets, and our labours, (as you may)
For we despaire not Gentlemen of the Play)
VVe iointly shall professe your grace hath might
To teach vs action, and him how to write.

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