University of Virginia Library

Act 3.

scen 1

enter Sir Francis Caster, & James Selcottage
Sir Francis.
mischiefe light on these bones; surely the witches
that owd them, still retaine an Influence
upon their opperations.—

James.
Thinke you so Sir?

Sir Fran.
I am sure they doe man. I have read in authors
that zoroasters who was held a great
magitian; first invented dice, & usd to play
himselfe at hazard: till he left his Kingdome
& then turned enchanter, and made castles
& pallaces in the Aire.—

James.
you see then that the dice
may loose whole Kingdome's in a little time.

Sir Fran.
& winne them too, if they have good luck, man:
none looses, but some winne: say I should loose
the moyety of my patrimony: he that winnes
would beare my part: as it is reported
they doo in France, where he that gets the fortune
carries the honor with it.—

James.
but grieves it not
your very soule, to be thus disposed off
by th'fortunes of the dice?—

Sir Fran.
not a tittle!
a man's not fitt for to be calld a gamester,
which (had hee all the empyres of the world
in his possession;) cannot with a touch
a gentle touch laid on his curled chinne
forfeit them all to chance.

James.
certainely good gamesters
may be termed Stoiques; or the strictest stoiques
were your professed patrons.—

Sir Fr.
stoiques! noe
they were a kind of stoiques; only heere
heere is the difference; stoiques were philosophers
in the theory of things; but we are bent
only for practice.

Jam.
otherwise your patience
is equally respective.

Sir F.
mistake mee not
(my worthy Iago) we are only patient
patient, (dost marke mee) only with the bones;
but otherwise, we are more furious then
the Lybian Lyons, or Hyrcannian Tigers.
noe wasp or hornet hath such Stings.—

James.
yet (by your favour Sir) I have seen your gallants
mad as march hares, fling a whole balle of dice
over their shoulders into the next fire;
teare cards in peeces, with their teeth & eate them
burne tablemen like chips; & in their passion
blaspheme whole houres together—

Sir Fran.
and this they did in passion? thinkst thou soe?

Jam:
I surely soe I tooke it.

Sir Fra.
I see sometimes
men may be much deceav'd: a cleane mistake
may soone be made of action. listen Iago
when they threw bales of dice into the fire
twas only to change lucke, & prevent cheating.
eating of cardes, was most expedient for
those which had papermills, & dind with duke humphrey.
burning of tablemen had a mystery,
for beeing greasy, they sav'd wood; & swearing
bound many to their good behavior; soe that they
could play noe more for a whole month or two.

Jam.
pretty excuses. but theyl scarce hold currant
to men of wit & beard.

Sir Fran.
noe matter Sir
For wit or beard: they serve me wil enough.
and are excuses usd by men in Buffe.

Jam.
but what say you now, to some good new's?

Sir Fran.
good newes is alwaies comfortable after loses.

Jam.
but messengers have their rewards.

Sir Fran.
so shall
my noble Iago, but doe not shuffle now
& make mee a sottish Roderigo Junior
like Iago in the play!

Jam.
feare not, I am still
authenicall in my delivery.

Sir Fran.
out with thy happy issue.

James.
in a word—
Sir Waries dead, or dying, & they say
hath firmely settled all his land on you
after the ward: Mr Hollowheart
liv'd only to do this, & dyde himselfe.

Sir Fr.
blesst be the Tounge of Iago Selcottage!
I am arrivd, at capo de salute
the cape of good hope is my owne: the Indies
with their mosambique gold, & cochin spices
their goan druggs, & rich Peguan gemmes,
masulipatan diamonds, their Industan
unions & emeraulds, can't compaire with mee.
I now begin to thinke, of that exotique course
the great mogoll doth use, when that each yeare
he weighs himselfe, against much pretious treasure;
whereby he doth conjecture of the state
of his full beeing:—I will immitate
his goodly course: & in the empty scale
place the Rancheria, where the pearles are taken
the other scale, my selfe will fill, with Cushions
made of Sir Waryes old Indentures; when
the Islande of the pearles wil shrinke & give
leave that my selfe, then Spaine, shall richer live.

James.
brave expressions.
If they faint not, by the way.

Sir Fran.
feare not Iago.
thy feares are superstitions; thou knowst not
the depth of Waries mines: why very plutus
the patron of all riches is a mizer
if Wary be compard.

Jam.
I do perceive, you will make amends for all.

Sir Fran.
Noe more weel have meat from the greasy shop;
or wines from Tavernes; with a hundred dashes;
but weel have factors in the graecian Isles
shall purvey all our Nectar in caromosalls
combind of caedar, caulkt with frankincense
And for our Viands, old Apicius,
(that journeyd over 4000 miles to eate
a foreigne oyster) shall faile of our Kitchen,
whose fires shall be enlumd with the best
of aromatique spices; & our meate
moystened with butter, made of that same creame
that whitens soe the milky way above.

Jam.
but for our mistresses

Sir Fr.
Then weel have fair phrynees
shall outlooke venus, & make cyprus Jealous
we ravished their goddesse.

Jam.
In the meane time, lets goe
& take a rouse of prevention at the Taverne;
untill our factory begin for to be settled.

Sir Fran.
lets take a taste for once, my noble Iago
of the dash't grape, that when old Jasons fleece
doth make us rich, we may drink wine from greece.

scaena 2.

enter Sir Petronell Flash, Mr Scatterbraine, & Sir Rancefort Bloteface 2 drawers.
Sir Petro.
Drawer

Draw.
anon, anon, Sir.

Sir Petro.
charge thy brave skinkers with the Lebian grape
& let it flow into us.—

Draw.
a pottle of pure allegont you meane Sir?

Sir Petr.
vanish & traverse sodainely. now Rann,
is this not better, then to talke of seasons
& plowing wether, with Tom Corydon?
or to feele shepes tailes for to judge their guspans?
or prophecy the wether from the sight
of the new moone; or make an homely
on the proceedings of the shepheards starre?

Sir Ran.
I am thy convert, (brave Sir Pet.) noe more
will I drink whigg, or cyder keepe in store.

Scatterb.
why sack is the elixar of all wit
and drinking cleane your best philosophy.
what ever poet or historian
broach't their eternall fancies, without wine?
Ennius the father of old poets sunke
low in his verse, when he could not be drunke.

Sir Pet.
how can it choose be otherwise? the spirits
without the fluxure of the grape are stupid?
the braines are overmoist, the vertue weake
of the capacity; all the faculties
frozen without the opening of the Sun.
but as that shining, & aeternall planet
comforts the whole horizon, with his cheare:
so doth his eldest son of plants, the noble
& nimble vine, chase away all the clouds
of heavy spleene; and make the soule ascend
the highest haemisphaere of the best invention.

Sir Ran.
methinks we should have some facetious ditty
in commendation of this noble plant

Sir Pet.
Will Scatterbraine can sing one. wet thy whistle
& lift thy eylids to th'muses hyll
that Bacchus may thy dull invention fill.

Will. Scatt.
have at it then for once: but sir you do not
expect a voice.—

Both.
we doe attend thy Sonnet.

Scatt.

Sir Ran.
an exsquisite fine ditty & much pitty
it is not printed, with the elegant picture
of a black Indian smoaking boy, & pasted
in every taphouse by the chimney side.

Sir Pet.
the song will serve for some encoradgement
(I must confesse) unto a puny tipler.
but for a naturall & easy drinker,
a goose swims not with more facility,
nor duckling paddles, with more ease, then hee
does dabble in his element of liquor.

Will.
enough of this; lets now unto our mistresses,
those are our rich canaries too; by this time
they are provided; and they want their ballast.

Sir Ran.
proceed heroig Scatterbraine: from wine
we will accoste our mistresses divine.

exeunt

scaena. 3.

enter Saena, Mr Hodgefeild, & Claribella.
Saena.
well met most happy Signiour Hodgefeild; now
the fates befrind you I may call you happy.
Cytheris is thy owne; & the whole beauty
of the renowned valiant Isle of cyprus
is at thy service.

Mr Hodge.
Angelique Saena. I am ravished
with thy sweet tones; the harmony of the sphaeres
the epicedion of the dying Swan,
Apollo in his musique, or Arion
chanting upon the curled delphins backe
cannot exceede the musique of thy voice;
The sirens come behind thee; & ulisses
if thou hadst sang before his leaky ship
had quickly pulld the waxe out of his eares,
and heard thy musique, without Panique feares.

Saena.
most rare y faith! who could deny a man
of this rich language, were shee venus, too
usurpe her soule, & body? ovidius Naso!
I cannot blame thee, when thou puts in eloquence
a speciall baite for love.

Mr. Hodg.
enough my pretty Saena. flattery
they say is oft the 2nd part of forced
and most abortive Rhetorique—but se yond
if that my eyes, my soule doth truly tell
the heavenly shape, of beautious Claribell

Saen.
I will vanish;
(enter Claribell.
it is my mistresse.—

Hodge.
save you the offspring of the rosy morne
& watry Thetis bed.—

Clarib.
prethe leave off
these foolish, farfetched, & deare-bought expressions
which engles buy, of the poore threadbare poets.
& come directly to the matter, like
an honest countrey lover.—

Mr Hod.
& that phrase sutes my humour. dearest mistresse
when that happy day be signed out
with rubrick in our Almanacke, in which
the holy ceremonies shall unite
both of our hearts in one.—

Clar.
stay some few daies
untill the old man, be enclosed in
his sacke of linnen; & then we will
be knit for ever.—he is already sicke.

Mr Hodge.
most admirable musique
then if it my please my princes; lets retire
& chat the other part, by a good fire.

scae. 4.

enter Sir Wary Wastefull thrust out in his couch, exceeding weake; Lady Wastefull, Tingle, Blinko, & the ward Thomaso.
Sir Wary.
Is the boy uh, uh, uh, yet come
from scoole I say;

Lad. Wast.
the boy attends your pleasure,

Ting.
I got him leave from scoole, with some
study & trouble.

Sir Wary.
come hither my Thomaso,
I feel my spirits sinking to the last
period of beeing in this world. uh uh, & therefore
sent for thee, to take my last, my latest leave, uh.
& for to pray a blessing downe upon thee uh.

Tho.
Upon my Knees I thanke you for your Care
& doe expect a blessinge.

Lady.
Tis a good—and dutious child.

Sir Wary.
the deaw of the olympian convexe (child)
with the earth's fatnesse, blesse my deare Thomaso
uh, uh, uh, I faint.

Blinko;
good sir looke up upon mee,
hee's dead, hee's Dead; see how his hand hath claspd
mine! & how cheerefully he lookes! & yet
his pulse & lunges both zease.

Tho.
o my deare father! o my wretched selfe!
what shall become of me? my prop is gon
& I am left a prey to the wide world.
o miserable accident! sad chance,
which now begins to feede upon my heart,
but will not faile, to execute upon
each petty limbe, before my fuller age
shall have the power for to release my thraldome.

Lady.
what shall I say most unfortunate—
my husband is deceasd, his hopes layd up.
in the chil earth: my Comforts all dispersd,
my eies now running fountaines: & my heart
beginning to rebell against my breast;
all my most feeble limbes, mouldering away
with Inundations, of a flowing griefe,
which will admit no solace or reliefe.

Ting.
yet comfort sister: place your thoughts upon
a second marriage.—

Lad.
second marriage! Brother!
call in that word or never see my face
Ile marry none, were he the richest monarch
that sparkles in a throne of diamonds,
I would refuse him, if he were my suter.
Come my Thomazo; thou & I will dye
& locke our Selves up in obscurity. exit cum

Thomazo.

Tingle.
let us praepare for the solemnity
of good Sir Waryes funerall; honest Blinko.
you see my sister is soe much in passion
shee heedes it not; away for blackes, whilst I
will cause the bells to ring; & get the sexten
to make the grave.

Blink.
I'm gone already.

Ting.
Doe good Blinko: make ye best hast you can,
or else this monyed, mighty, & potent Wary
may keepe his bed still, as they doe, when that
most ferall pestilence, doth besiege the houses
of the sick patients. 'tis not pelfe can helpe
a dying usurer, nay, nor lay his bones
in the damp vaults of his dead ancestors.
Drosse of the earth, & guilded ore cannot
prove to dead masters, dutious harbingers;
unlesse the charity of surviving friends
be calld into the action: who hath not read,
how Craesus with his riches were almost
buried alive together in one pile!
how the great pompey had his head strucke off
by the command of a Corrupted eueneuch;
& so for some dayes did want an earthy covering?
how Alexander magnus being poisoned
for some, daies was left lying on his bed
a gazing stocke for every vulgar eye?
how, william that brave Norman, which run ore
with good successe most of the saxon ground
had 7 foote purchased in the city Cave
with much adoe, for his poore sepulcre;
how henry 2d of that name of england,
(unhappy in his most perfidious children)
was at his death most basely pillaged,
even in the time of peace, & stripped too
the very skin: untill a little boy
did with his Cloke (as some old storyes tell)
cover the King: thence called short mantle.
why should I speake of the 3rd victorious edward,
who by Alice perris, whilst he lay ful sicke
was pillagd (as some say) unto the quick.
Vaine man, then cast of base unworldly hopes
who ere thou art; & think not thy gold,
but that thy vertue shall preserve thy name,
longer then marble columnes; or the adamant
encircling stones, & when all earthly things
shall fade away: then virtue comfort brings.