 | The Antipodes |  |
Scene 2.
Enter Lawyer, and Poet.Law.
Your case is cleare, I understand it fully,
And need no more instructions, this shall serve,
To firke your Adversary from Court to Court,
If he stand out upon rebellious Legges,
But till Octabis Michaelis next.
Ile bring him on submissive knees.
Dia.
What's he?
Let.
A Lawyer, and his Clyent there, a Poet.
Dia.
Goes Law so torne, and Poetry so brave?
Will you but give the Actors leave to speake,
They may have done the sooner?
Law.
Let me see,
This is your bill of Parcells.
Poet.
Yes, of all
My severall wares, according to the rates
Delivered unto my debitor,
Dia.
Wares does he say?
Let.
Yes, Poetry is good ware
In the Antipodes, though there be some ill payers,
As well as here; but Law there rights the Poets.
Law.
Delivered too, and for the use of the right worshipfull
Mr. Alderman Humblebee, as followeth—Imprimis—
Reads.
Umh, I cannot read your hand; your Character
Is bad, and your Orthography much worse.
Read it your selfe pray.
Dia.
Doe Aldermen
Love Poetry in Antipodea London.
Let.
Better than ours doe Custards; but the worst
Pay-masters living there; worse than our gallants,
Partly for want of money, partly wit.
Dia.
Can Aldermen want wit and money too?
That's wonderfull.
Poet.
Imprimis sir here is
For three religious Madrigalls to be sung
By th'holy Vestalls in Bridewell, for the
Conversion of our City wives and daughters,
Ten groats a peece, it was his owne agreement.
Law.
Tis very reasonable.
Poet.
Item, twelve Hymnes,
For the twelve Sessions, during his Shrievalty,
Sung by the Quire of New-gate, in the praise
Of City Clemency (for in that yeare
No guiltlesse person suffer'd by their judgement)
Ten groats a peece also.
Law.
So, now it rises.
Dia.
Why speaks your Poet so demurely?
Let.
Oh—
Tis a precise tone he has got among
The sober sister-hood.
Oh I remember,
The Doctor said Poets were all Puritans
In the Antipodes: But where's the Doctor?
And where's your sonne my Ioylesse?
Let.
Doe not minde him.
Poet.
Item,
A Disticke graven in his thumb-ring,
Of all the wise speeches and sayings of all
His Alder Predecessors, and his brethren
In two Kings reignes.
Law.
There was a curious Peece.
Poet.
Two peeces he promised to me for it.
Jtem, inscriptions in his Hall and Parlour,
His Gallery, and garden, round the walls,
Of his owne publicke acts, betweene the time
He was a Common Councell man and shriefe,
One thousand lines put into wholsome verse.
Law.
Here's a summe towards indeed! a thousand verses?
Poet.
They come too, at the known rate of the City.
(That is to say at forty pence the score)
Eight pounds sixe shillings, eight pence.
Law.
Well sir, on.
Poet.
Item, an Elegy for Mistris Alderwoman
Upon the death of one of her Coach-mares,
She priz'd above her daughter, being crooked—
Dia.
The more beast she.
Mar.
Ha, ha, ha.
Bar.
Enough, enough sweet-heart.
Mar.
Tis true, for I should weep for that poore daughter,
Tis like she'll have no children, pray now looke,
Am not I crooked too?
Bar.
No, no, sit downe.
Poet.
Jtem, a love Epistle for the Aldermanikin his sonne,
And a Booke of the godly life and death
Of Mistris Katherine Stubs, which I have turn'd
Into sweet meetre, for the vertuous youth,
To woe an ancient Lady widow with.
Law.
Heres a large summe in all, for which ile try,
His strength in law, till he peccavi cry,
Iamque opus exegi quod nec Iovis Ira, nec ignis:
Dia.
The Lawyer speaks the Poets part.
Let.
He thinkes
The more; the Poets in th'Antipodes,
Are slow of tongue, but nimble with the pen.
Poet.
The counsaile and the comfort you have given
Me, requires a double fee.
Offers mony.
Law.
Will you abuse me therefore?
I take no fees double nor single I.
Retaine your money, you retaine not me else.
Away, away, you'll hinder other Clyents.
Poet.
Pray give me leave to send then to your wife.
Law.
Not so much as a Poesie for her thimble,
For feare I spoyle your cause,
Poet.
Y'ave warned me sir.
Exit.
Dia.
What a poore honest Lawyer's this?
Let.
They are all so
In th'Antipodes.
| The Antipodes | |