 | The Staple of Newes |  |
Scene. I.
Peni-boy. Sen.Pecvnia. Mortgage. Statvte. Band. Broker.
Your Grace is sad me thinks, and melancholy!
You doe not looke vpon me with that face,
As you were wont, my Goddesse, bright Pecunia:
Although your Grace be falne, of two i' the hundred,
In vulgar estimation; yet am I,
You Graces seruant still: and teach this body,
To bend, and these my aged knees to buckle,
In adoration, and iust worship of you.
Indeed, I doe confesse, I haue no shape
To make a minion of, but I'm your Martyr,
Your Graces Martyr. I can heare the Rogues,
As I doe walke the streetes, whisper, and point,
There goes old Peni-boy, the slaue of money,
Rich Peni-boy, Lady Pecunia's drudge,
A sordid Rascall, one that neuer made
Good meale in his sleep, but sells the acates are sent him,
Fish, Fowle, and venison, and preserues himselfe,
Like an old hoary Rat, with mouldy pye-crust.
22
This, and much more, for your good Graces sake.
Pec.
Why do you so my Guardian? I not bid you,
Cannot my Grace be gotten, and held too,
Without your selfe-tormentings, and your watches,
Your macerating of your body thus
With cares, and scantings of your dyet, and rest?
P. Se.
O, no, your seruices, my Princely Lady,
Cannot with too much zeale of rites be done,
They are so sacred.
Pec.
But my Reputation.
May suffer, and the worship of my family,
When by so seruile meanes they both are sought.
P. Se.
You are a noble, young, free, gracious Lady,
And would be euery bodie, in your bounty,
But you must not be so. They are a few
That know your merit, Lady, and can valew't.
Your selfe fearce vnderstands your proper powers.
They are all-mighty, and that wee your seruants,
That haue the honour here to stand so neere you,
Know; and can vse too All this Nether-world
Is yours, you command it, and doe sway it,
The honour of it, and the honesty,
The reputation, I, and the religion,
(I was about to say, and had not err'd)
Is Queene Pecunia's. For that stile is yours,
If mortals knew your Grace, or their owne good.
Mor.
Please your Grace to retire.
Ban.
I feare your Grace
Hath ta'ne too much of the sharpe ayre.
Pec.
O no!
I could endure to take a great deale more
(And with my constitution, were it left)
Vnto my choice, what thinke you of it, Statute?
Sta.
A little now and then does well, and keepes
Your Grace in your complexion.
Ban.
And true temper.
Mor.
But too much Madame, may encrease cold rheumes,
Nourish catarrhes, greene sicknesses, and agues,
And put you in consumption.
P. Se.
Best to take
Aduice of your graue women, Noble Madame,
They know the state o' your body, and ha' studied
Your Graces health.
Ban.
And honour. Here'll be visitants,
Or Suitors by and by; and 'tis not fit
They find you here.
Sta.
'Twill make your Grace too cheape
To giue them audience presently.
Mor.
Leaue your Secretary,
To answer them.
Pec.
Waite you here, Broker.
Bro.
I shal Madame.
And doe your Graces trusts with diligence.
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