 | Lavv-Trickes or, VVho VVould Have Thovght It |  |
Actus Secundus.
Enter Count Lurdo and Adam.Adam.
Sir, I doe not loue to double with a womā
if my friend, much lesse with you my most vpright &
straight Count, my yong Lord (as I told you) is turnd
absolute prodigall.
Lur.
How prodigall?
Adam.
Marry thus prodigall, to frequent ordinaries
is his ordinarie practise, rubs out whole weekes
together in bowling. Allyes, bandies away his
pocket full of French-Crownes in a morning, and
counts it a prettie sport to procure heate.
Lur.
Thou telst me wonders, he that but last day,
Was neuer seene to walke without a booke,
Writ against pleasure, and make bitter iests
Of honest recreation, turn'd dissolute,
I see no reason for't, the law and I,
(I tell you plainely Adam) thinke you lye.
Adam.
Thinke as you will sir, there's not a tricke
vsde in the towne that deserues damnation, but hee
desires to deale in't, tis pitty a was not made a tradesman,
he loves to follow his occupation a life, & that
which makes him doubt most, he is in loue with the
Indian punck Tobacco.
Lur.
Punke! how the foole that doth not know it
slaunders a leafe, nick-names a stranger herb.
Adam.
No herb a grace I hope sir.
Lur.
Nor good thrift neither,
Yet theres one dunce, a kinde of plodding Poet,
Sweare's twas not in the first creation,
Because he findes no ballad argument,
To proue old Adam a Tobacconiste.
Adam.
I thinke none a the name loue's it,
good Gardiner lou'd Lettice well, Sallets and Cabbage
reasonable well, yet no Tobacco: Again, Adam
Bell a substantial out-law, & passing a good Archer,
yet no Tobaconist. Further, Diogenes, whose
propper name might bee Adam for ought I know,
lou'd Carretts well, Leeke porredge passing
well, yet no Tobacco: to conclude, my great Grandfathers
Grandfathers father, and my selfe all Gardners,
yet could not abide this Chimney-sweeper Tobacco.
Lur.
They did not: take me with you, what's the cause,
They were al plaine folks, & did not know the lawes.
Adam.
They were plaine indeede, and thereof
grew the prouerbe, plaine dealing is a Iewell.
Lur.
But he that vseth it shall die a begger.
Ad.
That addition was made by some Lawyer or
Poet, to auoid which, they cannot indure plaine-dealing
should haue a hand in any of their actions.
Lu.
Touch no mans functiō, there are ierks & tricks
Spurne not the law, for if you doe, it kicks.
Ad.
So will a spur-gald Iade sir, but to all these misdemeanors,
a maintaines a priuate punck, one Tristella
that hee had in way of reuersion from Iulio, a
twindger, a meere Horsleach, one that will suck out
the braines of his treasurie, and make a meere skin of
his wealth, I, out of my Loue reprehended his error,
and he in a furie kick't me out of dores, and discharged
me of his seruice.
Lu.
I like not this, tis neither right nor streight done
with no law-trick, nor no good conceite, but here a
comes.
Enter Polim. & Emilia.
Ad.
With Autumne in his bosome, pray God she
shake not downe his leaues, and leaue him to make
the Duke his father a bald reckoning.
Lu.
Peace and obserue.
Em.
Though I be a stranger to you,
A Lady cannot liue about the Court
Without the enuie of your Epigrams,
If she be pleasant, she is counted light,
If ruddy, painted, if her ruffes be thicke,
They aske much poaking.
Po.
Trust me, loue hath kild
That worme-wood humor, bring th'authoritie
Of one true tongue to proue my poesie,
Euer wrong'd woman.
Em.
And you'l doo't agen?
Lur.
That's a good wench.
Em.
I pray who ought that pen?
That in a stammering Iambick vaine,
Glanc'd at Emiliaes loose and gaudie traine.
And broke broad iests vpon her narrow heele,
Poak't her Rebatoes, and suruaid her steele,
tide her fring'd garters, bought her words by weight
Lur.
Still good in law, and an vpright conceit.
Em.
Doe you not know that man?
Pol.
Suppose I doe?
Em.
You did but flout them, and youle flout me too
You wondred not Cornelia being so faire,
Would be beholding to her Laundresse haire.
Pol.
I know not this.
Em.
True, nor that Florymell,
Became a Pages habit passing well,
Vsde single Rapier, tooke the rouse and swore,
Of all land Beasts she could not brooke the Bore,
Nor that Count Lurdo, comming to a fray,
Brought not the worth of one poore haire away.
Pol.
More then his owne.
Lur.
That iest comes neere to me,
Tis out-growne now, a wants authoritie.
Em.
Nor that Melina whom your Muse renownes
Wore out as many suiters as new gownes.
Vpon her finger wore her maiden-head.
In likenes of a Dyamond.
Pol.
Indeede twa's sed,
That for Ring Melina sold her head.
Em.
But y'are all Ouids.
Lur.
They are bawdie mates,
Touch Lawyers too, indeed abuse all states,
Em.
Poets are wanton, and no doubt inioy,
Their faire Corynnes, though perhaps lesse coy.
Pol.
Suppose some doe?
Em.
Each one in this agrees to scandall vs.
Lur.
And talke of Lawyers fees.
Pol.
Graunt me but loue, & with my vtmost power,
I will defend your sexes stainlesse honour:
And with my pen dipt in the iuice of gall,
Be his soules terror, that hereafter shall,
Cast ynke at honours garments, or aspire
To name your sex with an vnhallowed fire.
Em.
I take your word.
Enter Iulio.
Poly.
Then seale it with a kisse.
Lur.
That kisse my Lord deserues an Epigram.
Pol.
Sit downe good Vncle.
Lur.
An vnbidden guest
Should bring a stoole along.
Poly.
A womans iest.
Iul.
You meane a lye, for women vse to lye.
Em.
But not like Schollers by authoritie.
Jul.
Yet they may produce lying authoritie, and so
cannot Poets.
Lur.
Nor Lawyers neither.
Em.
Are you a Lawyer?
Jul.
Ifaith Madam, he hath sit on the skirts of law
any time this thirtie yeares.
Ad.
Then he should bee a good Trencher-man by
Lu.
Your reason Adam.
Ad.
I knew one of that facultie in one terme eate
vp a hole Towne, Church, Steeple and all.
Iu.
I wonder the Bels rung not all in in his belly.
Ad.
No sir, he solde them to buy his wife a Taffety
Gowne, and himselfe a veluet Iacket.
Po.
What a prou'd Iacke was that? but I wonder
at Lawyers for one thing, many of them vse to take
their fees afore-hand.
Em.
For a two-folde pollicy, one is they were commonly
greedie, the other for feare if their Clyents
follow their Counsell long, they will not be worth a
fee.
Lau.
Tis well said Lady, you doe well to iest with
an olde man.
Ad.
A saies true, for if you shold iest too much with
a young man, it might proue earnest, & so the fruites
of your ieasts make you both a sham'd on't.
Pol.
Well said Adam, but leauing at a full iest, Vncle,
what earnest businesse brought you hither?
Lur.
Your honours sudden Metamorphosis,
Tolde by your trustie Seruant, and confirmd
By publique rumor.
Pol.
Why what saies Goody Fame, and my trustie Seruant
Lu.
This is the worst my Lord that you expend
Your treasure on that Ladies maintenance.
Pol.
S'foot say I doe, what, has the worme-eaten
bawd Fame: or ere a pander-like foole else to doe
with it? giue her maintenance, why she is of my nere
affinitie, should I see my shee affinitie goe in tatters?
I allow my Seruant rags, & I were worse then a Iew,
if I should suffer my shee affinitie to goe naked.
Lu.
Law takes your part, & if your pursse grow short
Rather then spend the publique treasurie,
Ile lend your Grace a brace of thousand pounds,
I haue securitie.
Em.
A Lawyer right?
Pol.
Securitie? Leases and old rents, Castles and
Towne-ships, able men, good securitie, Townes are
no Starters, theile hold out winde and weather.
Lu.
I craue no more, let me haue pawnes and vse.
Em.
How? Lords turne Vsurers? those that should
punnish brokeage deale vppon pawnes?
Hee'de lend him mony on his Duke-domes crowne
Po.
But faith Vncle tell me, what think you of this
Lady? would she not make a prettie peart Dutches?
Lur.
Shee's faire, nor do I discommend your choise
I wish her your's, a priuate friend or so,
I know mad Ierks, and know that Lawe allowes,
Princes their priuate pleasures, and my selfe
Will doe my best to gaine your honours loue,
I will not absolutely say there are,
But there may be, if so your honour please,
Sellers and Vaults, which from your priuate Garden
May vnder ground lead to your bed-chamber.
Whither, I will not name my selfe, but some close friend,
May vnsuspected bring your beautious Lady.
Em.
Lord what a broaking Aduocate is this?
He was some Squiers Scriuenor, and hath scrapt
Gentilitie out of Atturneys fees:
His bastard actions proue him such a one,
For true worth scornes to turne Camelion.
Pol.
Madam, my Vncle out of tender-loue,
Better to shun all scandalous suspect,
That might attend on our vnsuiting loues
Will lodge you at his house, whither at turnes—
Em.
Your Grace may haue accesse.
Tis so indeede.
Em.
Is there a backe way?
Lur.
And a priuate doore,
A secret vault, and twentie odde tricks more.
Em.
A Stoue?
Lur.
And Arbors with sweete violet Beds,
That haue bin prest to death with maiden-heads,
Where you may sport and breath, and take a rouse
Em.
Perdy, this Lawyer keepes a bawdie house,
I shall be ready to deceiue you all.
My Lord, your Law-plot's, most iudiciall.
Enter the Countesse.
But who comes heere? some one of your cast clyents.
Iul.
Gods me, the Countesse.
Lur.
Mum, I cannot stay,
There's a clowd rising, driues my Sun away.
Em.
Is this your wife?
Lur.
Madam, tis she that was.
Em.
That was and is not? how comes that to passe?
Count.
I cannot tell, God & his conscience knowes
Lur.
And the world sees Colossus on my browes,
Hercules Pillers, here's non vltra writ.
Iul.
Not in brasse Characters?
Pol.
No, hornes more fit.
Lur.
Hath not the Lawe diuorc'd and made a bar
twixt our affections? wert not thou content to take
a pention?
Coun.
Which you still detaine.
Lur.
Good wit, Law-trickes and firme, you may
complaine.
Cou.
Complaine I doe, I kneele before the throane
and sue for Iustice, but yet can purchase none.
Complaine I doe Cousen.
Pol.
Away.
O, as you are a Prince, and you a virgin.
Em.
I was one long since,
This is no place for passion, drie your eyes,
Cou.
Greife nailes me to the ground, I cannot rise,
Ile grow immodest, iustice is exild,
And so shall duetie, patience turne wilde,
Po.
Come, leaue the Bedlam.
Enter Horatio a side.
Lu.
Doe, for wit and Law knowe shee's a foole,
Em.
A couple quoth Iack-daw.
Exeunt
Hor.
Madam.
Co.
Who calles?
Hor.
Madam.
Co.
Horatio.
Hor.
In passion Lady.
Co.
Discontent or so.
Hor.
Be not, be counsaild, do not let dispaire,
Like the ranke cancker bred by sultrie aire.
Eate this young Rose of beautie in the bud:
But in the Aprill Sunne of youthfull blood
Let the sweet blossome ripen, thriue and grow,
To those full ioyes which none but Louers know.
Co.
The man talkes idely, tell me I am faire,
Louely and young.
Hor.
You are, by loue you are,
Not faire, you are: Leanders paramour:
Compar'd with you was a swarth Blackamour
Your haire is softer then the Colchean Fleece,
Your well lim'd features, natures maister peece
Your eyes too Dyamonds, set in purer molde
Then rocks of currall, or the Indian gold.
In thy smooth chin there is an Iuorie pit,
Where blushing Uenus and young Cupid sit,
Feathering of golden shafts, the wounding heads,
Made of thy amber-tresses finest threds.
Co.
You will not buy me sure you praise me so.
Yet faire, ile bid faire for you ere I goe,
Co.
He that bids faire for me deceiues his eye.
Hor.
By heauen a doth not.
Enter Horatios Page.
Co.
Wilfull periurie, what meanes all this?
Hor.
This my discourse intends,
Were husbands Saints, some wiues would haue close
friends.
Co.
Some bad perhaps, but—
Hor.
Husbands but for't, true, woot? prethee woot
thou?
Co.
What?
Ho.
Vd's Hartlings doe?
Co.
Doe what?
Hor.
Loue-tricks quickly, woo't thou prethee.
Cou.
No, I prize my credit.
Hor.
Credit? life a man,
What talks of credit? art not knowne a strumpet?
Cou.
You doe me wrong.
Hor.
Damnation, what a glosse,
This gilded copper, Diamond of glasse,
What strang shew it makes? ile giue you a color
Your face was nere worse painted, then ile paint
Your Wain-scot credit, you are a priuate bit,
Kept for some great made Diues. Red hot scandall
Suck the natiue coulour of your soules
As it hath scorch'd thy credit, shriueld Baw'd,
Spunge, Lemon-pill, and more irrelishable
Then ore-dride Stock-fish, fie.
Co.
Vpon thy shame.
Ho.
Thy husband, O thy husbands bow-leg'd fame
Death I shall hate thee.
Co.
O for honour doe.
Hor.
Sweare thou art my strumpet.
Co.
Ile indure that to.
Shalt not deny't, hart, canst not.
Cou.
Yes, I can.
Ho.
Doo't for thy life, thy soule, basse curtezan.
Exit
Co.
Farwell, if friendship be at such a rate,
Before ile purchast, ile liue still in hate.
Pa.
Hart, a new fashion,
A Lady poore, beautifull and chast? cleane
From the bias of Custome: to be poore, painted,
And proud is as cōmon in Genoa, as felt and feather
In the fortunate Iland: but chast and poore,
As singuler and rare, as Conscience with the Ana-baptist.
Cou.
Come hether Boy, didst neuer owe me seruice
Pag.
Yes Madam, more then euer I paid you honestly,
and were a not my Maister.
Cou.
Thy Maister, who?
Pa.
Horatio, he that puts chastetie to the quick, &
honor to the stab, but ile shew him the nature of a
right French-man, deny him homage, for sweare allegiance,
and come behinde hand in cash keeping, &
with his owne pursse maintaine you against him.
Cou.
Thy purpose brieflie.
Pa.
In balde sentences, your noted wrongs are pittied.
Cou.
Pittyed, by whome?
Pa.
By me, lodgings prepar'd and dyet, which I
humbly tender your honor, as first paiment of the ancient
debt, my seruice owes you.
Cou.
But is the lodging priuate?
Pa.
At mine owne mothers, and though I say't, she
keepes an honest house, though my father bee a Cittizen.
Cou.
Of what profession?
Pa.
Neither her foole nor Phisitian, but an ingenious
Pothecarie.
Cou.
And what resort?
Pag.
Verie ciuil and moste quiet resort, patients, the
and because theile be sure not to want drinke, euerie
one brings his owne water in an Vrinall with him.
Cou.
Doth a vse phisicke too? that's beyond his
warrant.
Pa.
O Lord Madam, better men then hee straine
curtesie with their warrants in this age, besides, you
being musicall, shall meet much content, for my mother
lodges three or foure Knights & Ladies Daughters
that practise musicke and needle-work, and wil
no doubt be exceeding proud of your company, wilt
please you walke?
Co.
Thou art the Star, by whome my fate is led,
My shame's so publique, ide faine hide my head.
Exeunt
| Lavv-Trickes or, VVho VVould Have Thovght It | |