University of Virginia Library

Actus primus.

Scæna prima.

Enter Crab the young Heir, Goodwit, and Dick the Falconer.
Goodw.
Come Mr. Crab, tell me how you do like
The glory of the City, and the States
Adorn her. Say, is she bely'd by Fame,
Above the truth of wonder and delight.

Crab.
Faith 'tis a brave place; what dost thou say Dick?

Dick.
You know the rich complexion of my nose
Could ne're abide the sent of Countrey aire;
It doth infect our Reason, and inspire
Brutish and earthy spirits: but tell us now,
Where dwell these gentle girles, those coming things?

Crab.
'Death. I forgot my self; yfaith I'le see
Them presently.

Y. Good.
Sir, you are yet to learn
That this fair City is a heaven on earth;
Each beauty is a star, which moves unknown
To those who want the skill to shew where they
Do rise and set, and where appear at noon;
Which wander, which are fixt the wandring star
Keeps not one sign ever, but what is now
In Virgo, or the sign of maiden-head,
May before long be seen in Gemini.

Dick.
Faith I do think the maiden-head a signe
To all call'd Shees, before that they have dwelt
Three years i'th tender teenes; a signe I mean,
Barely without the thing

Y. Go.
How old I pray
Was your dear mother then, when you were got;
If she call'd you her heir.

Dick.
Sir, I am call'd
Her heir apparent, though I'me not my fathers:
He was a Knight they say, my mother was
A circumstance of my good Ladies chamber,
Who at fifteen, for better and for worse,
Was to the Falc'ner put for to be mann'd;
When his good Master did it to his hand.
'Twas said I came 3. months before my time,
Yet had I Dad's n'own nose, n'own eyes, and forehead too;
Though 'twas too narrow for his fair attiring.
But I am counted of the Falc'ner's airy,
Who train'd me up in his own learned skill.

Y. Goodw.
That is to lure and ly.

Crab.
What's this toth'Wenches?

Y. Goodw.
Sir, I was shewing they were wandring starres
Alwayes in motion; but their Caterer
Will soon direct me, whom I'me sure to find
At an old countreyman's of his, who sells
Fierce aguardienty and tobacco.

Dick.
Pray sir whats he you call their Caterer?

Goodw.
He's one who makes provision for the belly;
Squire of the Placket, he who in elder times
Was free of this deep secret mysterie.
By the black Character on's Pagan face;
And his unchristned sword was easily known.
But now—

Crab.
No more Sir, of these dreadfull sights,
Their shadows will affright me in my dreames.

Goodw.
For your sweet comfort Sir, the thin I mean:
Is a tame beast, yclep'd Captain Hog;
One that's so gentle, you may boldly stroke him
The courteous kick to him's a friendly greeting
The whip a pleasing titillation;
The bastinado is his dear delight.
The grand disgust adort, and the aggravio,
He suffers with a Captain's grand couragio.

Crab.
Yfaith I love this Captain horribly;
I long to greet him with my courteous heel,
To bore his nose, and thankfully requite
His noble kindnesse with his dear delight—
O bravely rythm'd yfaith! now do I think
How the Gallants will hugg me all, and call me
The noble spark of Sussex: in the countrey
The people there will point at me, and say.
That's he that beat the Captain Sirrah, you
Remember to report my brave atchievements.

Dick.
O, fear not Sir; I warrant you I'le sing
Your praises most Poetically; swear
You worsted Captain Peek at 15. weapons.

Goodw.
What wilt thou say thy Master fought a prize?

Dick.
I mean that to the field he challeng'd him
At twenty weapons, came off clear at all.
Without a scratch or seat; then I will shew,
How drinking with another Captain, you
Did tweak him by th'nose about the room,
And make him hold your most victorious stirrup

Goodw.
What must his horse then keep him company?

Dick.
Sir, I do now omit, how searching then
His Captainship, faces about, he did
Eject him with disgrace into the street;
Where 'twas my luck to hold my Master's steed,
That the Soldado might perform my task.

Crab.
Gramercy Dick yfaith; this shall be worth
A copie-hold to thee, yfaith la.

Dick.
Thanks, good Sir, but will the Captain Caterer
Take the battoon so kindly; I ne're thought
Patience a Souldier's virtue untill now
Running away, and patientnesse did come
I do believe, in fashion both together.

Goodw.
Troth Falconer thou hast flown the truth toth'mark.
But this procurer is indeed no Captain,
Onely he serv'd one, rob'd of his outside;
And where he was not known, usurpt't the name.

Crab.
Though I came hither for to see the Wenches,
Yet I will beat this Captain first; you shall
Intreat me hold my hands, and beg my pardon;
Make us both friends in Sack, and ever after
We'le love like children and be bed-fellows.

Dick.
This is his life at home, kissing his maids,
Bearing his men, which must not strike again.
Come shew's some Girles, for I do know my Master
Fain would give his cod piece-points to beat her.

Good.
Come follow me I warrant you I'le shew
You game enough, but do not you turn taile.

Crab.
How! not turn tail? why wherefore come we hither;
But let's alone, I warrant you Il'e towze
And mowze them too.

Goodw.
So so then, come away.

Exeunt.

Scæn. 2.

Enter Derrick and Shift.
Der.
Make me beholding to you, Sir I pray,
To let me know who did direct you to me:

Shift.
Let my thanks wait upon your pardon, Sir;
He's one that's in your debt, and happily
Would not be known to send a second debtor.

Der.
Faith if you come to borrow, yon mistake;
And I am richer then I thought my self,
If any man be in my debt.

Shift.
I mean, no debt of money, but of happinesse,
And rich content in the unvalued blessing
Of a sweet, loving, beauteous, virtuous wife.

Der.
'Tis possible, though I think our trade
Is laden more with curses then with prayers.

Shift.
Of what occupation then do you
Style your self free.

Der.
Faith of the dealing trade,
We are call'd Merchants of the Maidenhead:
Though often I confesse we do put off
Frail ware instead of whole, that's nought to us:
Caveat emptor; we do promise onely,
For the outwards, do you mark me, for the
Outwards alone; as if some youthfull Gallant,
(Suppose your self) should now desire my grave
Experience to direct him to a Wife
That's fair and rich, and young. I am resolv'd
If I present him with these properties;
I do professe no skill in med'cine Sir;
And tis above my skill to know, who at
Fifteen do make maid's water, and who not;
Who have a worm breeding i'th'tongue, who eat
Musk comfits when they kisse whom secret Ills
Molest, which none but mother midnight knowes.

Shift.
Leave these to my discovery, if she
Be young and fair, and rich, (but chiefly rich,)
That drug shall cure her other Ills beyond
The skill of charming Grandam Water-witch.

Der.
He who profest himself so much in debt
To my direction, might have made you know
The clime where my intelligence doth reign
Which Kents-dike bounds upon the East, the West
Is by the river Arun limited;
The North by an imaginary line,
The South is by the Sea confin'd; within
This round what beauties shine, my skil can shew
Their number and degrees, now I do breathe
Within a forrain air.

Shift.
He gave me then
To know as much, nor is it my desire
To have my blisse thrown in my armes: I'le travail
For it meet it, or pursue it flying;
Only lend me your aid.

Der.
Sir, what I lend
I nere exact agen, onely I take
My Interest before-hand; but yet first
Besides your goodly person which I'le make
Your Mistress doat upon before she sees,
Let me know how I shall report you else,
Your name, wealth, countrey, birth and parentage,
What Joynture?

Shift.
I have that will please a woman;
Send me to one has power to dispose
Of her own outwards, as you use to call um;
I have my self that shall deserve her, and
An active brain to boot, shall win her too.

Der.
Pray give me leave to tell your fortune, Sir.

Shift.
Read me a good one then.

Der.
Good as the starres
Will yeild; in whose decrees you are inrol'd,
An English younger brother, whose Estate
Consists in his annuity and wit:
The starres do tell me your annuity
Is sold, and that your wits are roming after.

Shift.
After what romes my wit?

Der.
After your tongue.
Which romes before your wit; would any man
Whose words were usher'd in with knowledge say,
He'd win a wife by his good parts alone?

Shift.
Rich men like crafty knaves do need no broakers;
Had I but land and gold, I'de never seek
To your grave wisdome for direction:
But to be short, enrich me with a wife,
And claim an equall share in all my fortunes.

Der.
I think that face would tempt a lustie widow

Shift.
He that doth woo a widow hunts the winde,
They are too oft gone over to be caught
By younger Brothers, they have learnt a trick
To cheat the elder now; besides I would
Not go a beaten road

Der.
Last night I heard
Newes from my Diocesse, that the great Heir
Of Sir Iohn Crab lately deceas'd, is straid
With one who calls himself a traveller,
I'th'absence of a carefull uncle, whom,
His brother left a Guardian to his Child.

Shift.
The traveller hath married her by this
I warrant you:

Der.
What married the Heir male

Shift.
What's the Heir male to me?

Der.
Il'e shew you Sir,
He has a sister.

Shift.
I let's hear of her.

Der.
Her Father living fear'd that she did love
A Gentleman, whose Father's land he bought;
He being sick, with tears besought his brother
He would not this slip of fruitlesse race
Ingrafted in his stock, and by his prayers
Doth with a promise of his faithfull care;
This uncle (sayes my news) intends a quest
Of his lost Ward, arriv'd as he doth hear
Out of the countrey in this little world
Of London.

Shift.
I do apprehend the rest;
That as the traveller enric'd away
The Nephew, his Guardian being absent;
So I should steal away the Neece, while he
Seeks for the Nephew.

Der.
Still your tongue prevents
Your wit. His trusty Huntsman he hath sent before
To purchase fair & specious lodgings, meaning
To shew his Neece the City

Shift.
Heard you not
My nose crack Sir, I feel it out of joint
Already: for if she do see the City,
Musk-millions of rich gallants will besiege
Her Fort, and my cake's dowe.

Der.
Rye dowe to make
Your Image on, to be the Ideot's Idol.
What does your active brain, your worthy self
Despair? fear not, she shall not dwell so long
I'th'town, nor her acquaintance be so cheap
To every cringer, but believe me I
Am poor in leisure now, see me again
Twixt twelve and one, till then adieu,
'Farewel.
Exit Derick

Shift.
This fellow though he be no Doctor, yet
Expects a Fee; the silver key, if my
True friend belyes him not,
Not onely his intelligence but makes him
Swear nothing by the year to thousands: well
If hope will please him, so, he gets no hire
'Till he deserve it; the old fox may cheat,
And 'tis a science in Ordinaries preacht,
Equal to lending to be over-reacht.

Exit.

Scæn. 3.

Enter young Friendly and Phyllis.
Friend.
Sister we are not poor, my bare annuity
Will keep's alive; and had we less, content
Ill make us rich, if our confin'd desires
Wish only to be what we are, they want
No wealth, who disregard it; those who ask
Our daily almes do shew that we are rich,
If we could think so, and compare our state
With theirs, who have to give, cannot be poor.

Phil.
Not poor? what's a bare hundred pound a year?
Not half the tithe of what my father sold.

Friend.
He who desires no more then what's enough,
Borrows from smaller, and from greater summs
With equal joy; he who doth drink no more
Then will extinguish thirst, is pleas'd as well
With a small spring as with a swelling stream.
And were we stript of all, of all forlorn;
There's none can be so poor as he was born.

Phil.
Our want with this Philosophy doth well
Agree; but yet I hope your constancie
Will yield it a far lesse uneasie task
To commend poverty, then suffer it.

Friend.
Not so, for Wit is heaven's gift to those
Are shapt of purer clay; but patience
Each noble mind bestowes upon it self.

Phil.
Brother, I must confesse my miserie
The lesse, by your example of a just
And worthy scorn of Fortune's injuries.
But the rich blessing of Elisa's love
Doth sweeten your calamities, while I
Wanting inviting Dowrie, may receive
Unwelcome praises for my Chastity:
A virtue now clean worn out of fashion,
Though few commend their abstinence from meat,
Who fall because they have not what to eat.

Friend.
The hopes of my Elisa did expire,
When for a legacie her dying rather
Doom'd my evilement from her blessed sight:
But he can ne're divorce our soules, last night
Her heavenly shape in a most lively dream
Shadow'd my fancie; I then saw, or thought
I saw but sure I saw the Queen of Love
Give her a milky Dove, fellow to that
She sold to her Anacreon for a hymne,
From which she borrow'd instantly a quill,
With which she writ such lines of love, the words
Distilling Ioy, as if they flowed from
A pen that's snatcht from Cupid's wing; she folds,
And seales the letter with a bleeding heart.
The witnesse of the truth She writ, and then
First superscribing it, To her best friend
Friendly; she gav't her winged messenger
To bear, when swelling joy lab'ring for room,
Dissolv'd my sleep, and (as the Poet sings)
I wak't, and so all this was but a dream.

Phil.
Thus the Idea of the Saint which loves
And honours you, presents it self both day
And night to banish carefull thoughts: but I—

Friend.
Complain not sister that you are forsaken;
You told me fortune blest you with the sight,
Where you last summer'd, of the wealthy Heir
Who lords it now in my inheritance,
Who swort by's Grandsire's and his Grandam's Saint,
He lov'd you dearly.

Phil.
He did swear indeed,
But so rustically.

Friend.
I never heard
Of a Court fashion yet in Swearing.
And besides the Proclamation forbids it:
Unlesse he'le bestow his Charity on the poor a new way.
But you must give me leave to tell you sister,
Your carriage tow'rds him, Ill became your fortune,
That when the land your father sold was thrown
Into your lappe, so proudly you refuse it;
Nor was Elisa's brother worthy scorn.

Phil.
What would you have me marrie with a fool?

Friend.
Great ladies now keep things with baubles sister,
And you may teach him wit and manners too;
And win a fame for bringing up a husband.

Phil.
'Tis sin against a woman's modestie,
To appear yeilding at the first assault:
But if young Crab do woo again, although
Of an Ill name, he shall not want a glance.

Enter Dove.
Dove.
My old young Master, and my sweet young Mistress.
Give me your golls—these are the sweetest kisses
I had since I did see you last.

Friend.
Tom Dove welcome to th'town.

Phil.
This may be Venus Dove,
And then the dream is out.

Dove.
You do not dream,
I am indeed Tom Dove, your father's Huntsman;
Who with his land for an appurtenance
Bequeath'd me to the next new Master, I
Am now of counsel to the fair Elisa,
Who in this letter sends you newes and comfort.

Friend.
O my presaging thoughts, do I now wake?
Or did I then but dream? the seale agrees
Kisses the Seal.
On which I thus and thus do taste, and seal
My Ioy, e're I can mask my happinesse.

Dove.
O Mistress, my young Master sings your praises
Most melodiously, he holds the fish,
Your beauty did make water in his mouth.

Phyl.
Fie Thomas, don't bely you Mistresse manners.

Dove.
I mean that you did make this mouth to water.
And when he came late home, he did nothing
But sing and caper, and caper and sing
I'le give away my lambes, and sell away my dammes
To Tuppe with an Ewe so bonny.

Phyl.
Well let him keep his sheep's head to himself,
And I will keep my maiden head. But what
Are the effectual ingredients
Of your amazing Letter, which do work
So strangely with my brother.

Dove.
There is that,
Will moisten his mouth too, something to purge
His melancholy, and make the heart dance.

Friend.
Elisa and her uncle coming up
So suddenly!

Dove.
I do believe they are
Arriv'd by this, two dayes are since expir'd
He receiv'd news, his lodgings were provided;
Which time my idle care hath burnt away
In buying knacks and toyes for your sweet Mistresse
And her appendix, though my first charge was
To visit you, but I do hope.—

Friend.
Your pardon
Timely prevents your suit, but yet the losse
Of her wise brother doth amaze me, how
Think you to hunt him out? my advice is
To winde thy Horn about the town, he knowes
The summons.

Dove.
Therefore he'le not appear. Besides,
The Citizens may take it to themselves;
And I may pull the heard about my eares.

Phyl.
Indeed I think him creeping in the horn
Already; if he be not soon reclaimed,
The Gallant hath a most becoming face
To grace the lesser end.

Friend.
Come leave your flouting.
Tom, when your newes hath received thanks within.
Then take your leave to wait your Master's coming.

Exeunt.

Scæn. 4.

Enter Old Goodwit, Elisa, and Winifred.
Old Goodw.
Neece, your are welcome to the Theatre
Of fond delights, the schoole of vanitie;
Where various sights seduce the gazer's eye:
There to be good where nothing tempts to ill,
Is a faint virtue of the weakest mindes,
This is a place will try your Constancie;
Where if it stand unshaken being assail'd,
As it stood firm where there was nought to shake it;
Though you do not increase your store of virtue.
Yet you shall purchase glorie in reserving
Those graces which were lov'd, admir'd at home.

Elisa.
Sir, paying first the thanks which my dutie owes
Your loving care, my promise shall secure
Your fear, who am the Mistress of a heart
Shall stand unshaken as a rock, against
The furie of the waves, amidst that Sea
Of which (they say) Venus her self was born.

Old Goodw.
I will not sinne against the soul of goodnesse,
In doubting yours. Daughter you have a fair
Example, let your imitation
Wait on her virtues.

Win.
Sir, I took her for
My guide, since I first follow'd her, and am
A servant to her worth, and your commands.

Old Goodw.
You shall do well, my man hath taken fair
And spacious lodgings for us. I do wonder
They could not hold him to expect our coming.
If he flie out, and my tame Dove prove wilde,
I'le clip his wings; my neece and daughter, I
Must provide questers to retrive the stray.
If in my absence Dove return, let him
Know who's displeas'd, and why.

Elisa.
Uncle he shall.

Old Goodw.
And heare you, Win? forget not you your charge.

Exit.
Win.
My care is ever servant to your will.

Elisa.
Come Cousin, let me hear this secret charge.

Win.
You do not long I hope.

Elisa.
Not for ripe cherries
In winter, or for oysters in the dog daies:
But I must tast this secret.

Win.
I believe
The relish will displease, but now I think on't.
Last night I had the sweetest dream, me thought—

Elisa.
I will not give a farthing for your thought;
What task was that my uncle charg'd you with?

Win.
Then I'le disclose what I did mean to keep
Close as my maidenhead; a sweet young gallant
Catching my work, did feel his wantonnesse
Reveng'd with my sharp needle, on which chance
He writ such piteous verses in the bloud
Which my Steeletto drew; t'wod grieve your heart
To hear his sad laments, he finely swore
My little Instrument was Cupid's dart,
And though the god were blind, his darts could see,
Therefore he said my needle had an eye:
Then he protested the bloud wherewith he writ
Came from his heart, which he did call the spring
Of Love and Sorrow.

Elisa.
Cousin you are unkinde,
To cheat me with delayes; your father did
Appoint me your example: when I pray
Did you finde me a niggard of my thoughts?
Are you not conscious of all my secrets,
As if you dwelt within me; I love not
This nicenesse, but if needs we must be strangers—

Win.
Pray heaven I have not gotten you with childe,
I'me sure you have no other bed-fellow.

Elis.
Yes Win, I have; whom might I once embrace,
A man of rich desert.

Win.
Benedicite! a man lie with us, and I feel him not?

Elis.
You oft have known me name my servant Friendly,
'Tis he I mean, his virtues dwell with me:
And the blest shape enshrines them to my thoughts
Is ever present; you have seen his tokens,
Heard our loves first beginning, but now you—

Win.
No more, if you'l be ignorant of nothing,
Prepare your eares to hear unwelcome newes;
My charge is to preserve you from the sight
Of him you daily see, who nightly lies
With you, your Friendly; whom my father hears
To be in town, and fears you'l find a way
To let him know of yours; my office is
To intercept his visit.

Elis.
Will you then
Prove traitor unto love? Cousin beware,
His godhead will revenge your treacherie;
But yet you know him not: if he should act
Our tailor's man, or bring us women's knacks
To sell, how would your skill discover him?

Win.
My father told me of a mole he had
By his right eye, that signe will betray him.

Elis.
That mole was given by the god of love;
Who lighting once a taper at his eye,
The bashfull Lad putting it by, receiv'd
That ornament which Cupid cauteriz'd;
Who unto those who wear his livery
Will be propitious in their worthy Loves.

Win.
May he have fortune equal to his wish;
And if you can devise a way to see him,
And I not forfeit my obedience,
My aid shall not be wanting.

Elis.
Now I am
Restor'd: I will go studie, he shall act
Some new adventure to advance our hope
Shall shame times past, instruct the time to come.

Exeunt.