University of Virginia Library

Act V.

Scene I.

Tub. Pol-marten.
Tub.
I pray thee good Pol-marten, shew thy diligence,
And faith in both: Get her, but so disguis'd,
The Chanon may not know her, and leave me
To plot the rest: I will expect thee here.

Pol.
You shall Squire. Ile performe it with all care,
If all my Ladies Ward-robe will disguise her.
Come Mistris Awdrey.

Awd.
Is the Squire gone?

Pol.
Hee'll meet us by and by, where he appointed:
You shall be brave anone, as none shall know you.

Scene II.

Clench. Medlay. Pan. Scriben.
To them.
Tub Hilts.
Cle.
I wonder, where the Queenes High Constable is!
I veare, they ha' made 'hun away.

Med.
No zure; The Justice
Dare not conzent to that. Hee'll zee 'un forth comming.

Pan.
He must, vor wee can all take corpulent oath,
Wee zaw 'un goe in there.

Scr.
I, upon record!
The Clock dropt twelve at Maribone.

Med.
You are right, D'oge!
Zet downe to a minute, now 'tis a'most vowre.

Cle.
Here comes Squire Tub.

Scr.
And's Governour, Mr. Basket.
Hilts, doe you know 'hun, a valiant wise vellow!
Az tall a man on his hands, as goes on veet.
Blesse you Mass' Basket.

Hil.
Thanke you good D'oge.

Tub.
who's that?

Hil.
D'oge Scriben, the great Writer Sir of Chalcot.

Tub.
And, who the rest?

Hil.
The wisest heads o' the hundred.
Medlay the Ioyner, Head-borough of Islington,
Pan of Belsize, and Clench the Leach of Hamsted.
The High Constables Counsell, here of Finsbury.

Tub.
Prezent me to 'hem, Hilts, Squire Tub of Totten.

Hil.
Wise men of Finsbury: make place for a Squire,
I bring to your acquaintance, Tub of Totten.
Squire Tub, my Master, loves all men of vertue.
And longs (az one would zay) till he be one on you.

Cle.
His worship's wel'cun to our company:
Would't were wiser for 'hun.

Pan.
Here be some on us,
Are call'd the witty men, over a hundred;

Scr.
And zome a thousand, when the Muster day comes.

Tub.
I long (as my man Hilts said, and my Governour)
To be adopt in your society.
Can any man make a Masque here i' this company?

Pan.
A Masque, what's that?

Scr.
A mumming, or a shew.
With vizards, and fine clothes.

Cle.
A disguise, neighbour,
Is the true word: There stands the man, can do't Sir.
Medlay the Joyner, In-and-In of Islington,
The onely man at a disguize in Midlesex.

Tub.
But who shall write it?

Hil.
Scriben, the great Writer.

Scr.
Hee'll do't alone Sir, He will joyne with no man:
Though he be a Joyner, in designe he cals it.
He must be sole Inventer: In-and-In.
Drawes with no other in's project, hee'll tell you,
It cannot else be feazeable, or conduce:
Those are his ruling words? Pleaze you to heare 'hun?

Tub.
Yes Mr. In-and-In, I have heard of you;

Med.
I can doe nothing, I.

Cle.
Hee can doe all Sir.

Med.
They'll tell you so.

Tub.
I'ld have a toy presented,
A Tale of a Tub, a storie of my selfe,
You can expresse a Tub.

Med.
If it conduce
To the designe, what ere is feazeable:
I can expresse a Wash-house (If need be)
With a whole pedigree of Tubs.

Tub.
No, one
Will be enough to note our name, and family:
Squire Tub of Totten, and to shew my adventures
This very day. I'ld have it in Tubs-Hall,
At Totten-Court, my Ladie Mothers house,
My house indeed, for I am heire to it.

Med.
If I might see the place, and had survey'd it;
I could say more: For all Invention, Sir,
Comes by degrees, and on the view of nature;
A world of things, concurre to the designe,
Which make it feazible, if Art conduce.

Tub.
You say well, witty Mr. In-and-In.
How long ha' you studied Ingine?

Med.
Since I first
Ioyn'd, or did in-lay in wit, some vorty yeare.

Tub.
A pretty time! Basket, goe you and waite
On Master In-and-In to Totten-Court,
And all the other wise Masters; shew 'hem the Hall:
And taste the language of the buttery to 'hem;
Let 'hem see all the Tubs about the house,
That can raise matter, till I come—which shall be
Within an houre at least.

Cle.
It will be glorious,
If In-and-In will undertake it, Sir:
He has a monstrous medlay wit o' his owne.

Tub.
Spare for no cost, either in boords, or hoops,
To architect your Tub: Ha' you nere a Cooper
At London call'd Vitruvius? send for him;
Or old Iohn Haywood, call him to you, to helpe.

Scr.
He scornes the motion, trust to him alone.

Scene III.

Lady. Tub. D. Tur. Clay. Puppy. Wispe. Preamble. Turfe.
Lad.
O, here's the Squire! you slip'd us finely sonne!
These manners to your Mother, will commend you;
But in an other age, not this: well Tripoly,
Your Father, good Sir Peter (rest his bones)
Would not ha' done this: where's my Huisher Martin?
And your faire Mrs. Awdrey?

Tub.
I not see 'hem,
No creature, but the foure wise Masters here,
Of Finsbury Hundred, came to cry their Constable,
Who they doe say is lost.

D. Tur.
My husband lost?
And my fond Daughter lost? I feare mee too.
Where is your Gentleman, Madam? Poore Iohn Clay,
Thou hast lost thy Awdrey.

Cla.
I ha' lost my wits,
My little wits, good Mother; I am distracted.

Pup.
And I have lost my Mistris Dido Wispe,
Who frownes upon her Puppy, Hanniball.
Losse! losse on every side! a publike losse!
Losse o' my Master! losse of his Daughter! losse
Of Favour, Friends, my Mistris! losse of all!

Pre.
What Cry is this?

Tur.
My man speakes of some losse.

Pup.
My Master is found: Good luck, and't be thy will,
Light on us all.

D. Tur.
O husband, are you alive?
They said you were lost.

Tur.
Where's Justice Brambles Clarke?
Had he the money that I sent for?

D. Tur.
Yes,
Two houres agoe; two fifty pounds in silver,
And Awdrey too.

Tur.
Why Awdrey? who sent for her?

D. Tur.
You Master Turfe, the fellow said.

Tur.
Hee lyed.
I am cozen'd, rob'd, undone: your man's a Thiefe,
And run away with my Daughter, Mr. Bramble,
And with my money.

Lad.
Neighbour Turfe have patience,
I can assure you that your Daughter is safe,
But for the monies I know nothing of.

Tur.
My money is my Daughter; and my Daughter
She is my money, Madam.

Pre.
I doe wonder
Your Ladiship comes to know any thing
In these affaires.

Lad.
Yes, Justice Bramble
I met the maiden i' the fields by chance,
I' the Squires company my sonne: How hee
Lighted upon her, himselfe best can tell.

Tub.
I intercepted her, as comming hither,
To her Father, who sent for her, by Miles Metaphore,
Justice Preambles Clarke. And had your Ladiship
Not hindred it, I had paid fine Mr. Justice
For his young warrant, and new Purs'yvant,
He serv'd it by this morning.

Pre.
Know you that Sir?

Lad.
You told me, Squire, a quite other tale,
But I beleev'd you not, which made me send
Awdrey another way, by my Pol-marten:
And take my journey back to Kentish-Towne,
Where we found Iohn Clay hidden i' the barne,
To scape the Huy and Cry; and here he is.

Tur.
Iohn Clay age'n! nay, then—set Cock a hoope:
I ha' lost no Daughter, nor no money, Justice.
Iohn Clay shall pay. Ile looke to you now John.
Vaith out it must, as good at night, as morning.
I am ene as vull as a Pipers bag with joy,
Or a great Gun upon carnation day!
I could weepe Lions teares to see you Iohn.
'Tis but two viftie pounds I ha' ventur'd for you:
But now I ha' you, you shall pay whole hundred.
Run from your Burroughs, sonne: faith ene be hang'd.
An' you once earth your selfe, Iohn, i' the barne,
I ha' no Daughter vor you: Who did verret 'hun.

D. Tur.
My Ladies sonne, the Squire here, vetch'd 'hun out.
Puppy had put us all in such a vright,
We thought the Devill was i' the barne; and no body
Durst venture o' hun.

Tur.
I am now resolv'd,
Who shall ha' my Daughter.

D. Tur.
Who?

Tur.
He best deserves her.
Here comes the Vicar. Chanon Hugh, we ha' vound
Iohn Clay agen! the matter's all come round.

Scene IV.

To them
Chanon Hugh.
Hugh.
Is Metaphore return'd yet?

Pre.
All is turn'd
Here to confusion: we ha' lost our plot;
I feare my man is run away with the money,
And Clay is found, in whom old Turfe is sure
To save his stake.

Hug.
What shall wee doe then Justice?

Pre.
The Bride was met i' the young Squires hands.

Hug.
And what's become of her?

Pre.
None here can tell.

Tub.
Was not my Mothers man, Pol-marten, with you?
And a strange Gentlewoman in his company,
Of late here, Chanon?

Hug.
Yes, and I dispatch'd 'hem.

Tub.
Dispatch'd 'hem! how doe you meane?

Hug.
Why married 'hem.
As they desir'd; But now.

Tub.
And doe you know
What you ha' done, Sir Hugh?

Hug.
No harme, I hope.

Tub.
You have ended all the Quarrell. Awdrey is married.

Lad.
Married! to whom?

Tur.
My Daughter Awdrey married,
And she not know of it!

D. Tur.
Nor her Father, or Mother!

Lad.
Whom hath she married?

Tub.
Your Pol-marten, Madam.
A Groome was never dreamt of.

Tur.
Is he a man?

Lad.
That he is Turfe, and a Gentleman, I ha' made him.

D. Tur.
Nay, an' he be a Gentleman, let her shift.

Hug.
She was so brave, I knew her not, I sweare;
And yet I married her by her owne name.
But she was so disguis'd, so Lady-like;
I thinke she did not know her selfe the while!
I married 'hem as a meere paire of strangers:
And they gave out themselves for such.

Lad.
I wish 'hem
Much joy, as they have given me hearts ease.

Tub.
Then Madam, Ile intreat you now remit
Your jealousie of me; and please to take
All this good company home with you, to supper:
Wee'll have a merry night of it, and laugh.

Lad.
A right good motion, Squire; which I yeeld to:
And thanke them to accept it. Neighbour Turfe,
Ile have you merry, and your wife: And you,
Sir Hugh, be pardon'd this your happy error.
By Justice Preamble, your friend and patron.

Pre.
If the young Squire can pardon it, I doe.

Scene V.

Puppy. Dido. Hugh
tarry behind.
Pup.
Stay my deare Dido, and good Vicar Hugh,
We have a busines with you: In short, this
If you dare knit another paire of strangers,
Dido of Carthage, and her Countrey-man,
Stout Hanniball stands to't. I have ask'd consent,
And she hath granted.

Hug.
But saith Dido so?

Did.
From what Ball-Hanny hath said, I dare not goe.

Hug.
Come in then, Ile dispatch you. A good supper
Would not be lost, good company, good discourse;
But above all where wit hath any source.

Scene VI.

Pol-marten. Awdrey. Tub. Lady. Preamble. Turfe. D. Turfe. Clay.
Lad.
After the hoping of your pardon, Madam,
For many faults committed. Here my wife,
And I doe stand, expecting your mild doome.

Lad.
I wish thee joy Pol-marten; and thy wife:
As much, Mrs. Pol-marten. Thou hast trick'd her
Vp very fine, me thinkes.

Pol.
For that I made
Bold with your Ladiships Wardrobe, but have trespass'd
Within the limits of your leave—I hope.

Lad.
I give her what she weares. I know all women
Love to be fine. Thou hast deserv'd it of me:
I am extreamely pleas'd with thy good fortune.
Welcome good Justice Preamble; And Turfe,
Looke merrily on your Daughter: She has married
A Gentleman.

Tur.
So methinkes; I dare not touch her
She is so fine: yet I will say, God blesse her.

D. Tur.
And I too, my fine Daughter. I could love her
Now, twice as well, as if Clay had her.

Tub.
Come, come, my Mother is pleas'd. I pardon all,
Pol-marten in, and waite upon my Lady.
Welcome good Ghests: see supper be serv'd in,
With all the plenty of the house, and worship.
I must conferre with Mr. In-and-In,
About some alterations in my Masque;
Send Hilts out to me: Bid him bring the Councell
Of Finsbury hither. Ile have such a night
Shall make the name of Totten-Court immortall:
And be recorded to posterity.

Scene VII.

Tub. Medlay. Clench. Pan. Scriben. Hilts.
Tub.
O Mr. In-and-In; what ha' you done?

Med.
Survey'd the place Sir, and design'd the ground,
Or stand still of the worke: And this it is.
First, I have fixed in the earth, a Tub;
And an old Tub, like a Salt-Peeter Tub,
Preluding by your Fathers name Sir Peeter,
And the antiquity of your house, and family,
Originall from Salt-Peeter.

Tub.
Good yfaith,
You ha' shewne reading, and antiquity here, Sir.

Med.
I have a little knowledge in designe,
Which I can varie Sir to Infinito.

Tub.
Ad Infinitum Sir you meane.

Med.
I doe.
I stand not on my Latine, Ile invent,
But I must be alone then, joyn'd with no man.
This we doe call the Stand-still of our worke.

Tub.
Who are those wee? you now joyn'd to your selfe,

Med.
I meane my selfe still, in the plurall number,
And out of this wee raise our Tale of a Tub.

Tub.
No, Mr. In-and-In, my Tale of a Tub.
By your leave, I am Tub, the Tale's of me,
And my adventures! I am Squire Tub,
Subjectum Fabulæ.

Med.
But I the Author.

Tub.
The Worke-man Sir! the Artificer! I grant you.
So Skelton-Lawreat; was of Elinour Bumming:
But she the subject of the Rout, and Tunning.

Cle.
He has put you to it, Neighbour In-and-In.

Pan.
Doe not dispute with him, he still will win.
That paies for all.

Scr.
Are you revis'd o' that?
A man may have wit, and yet put off his hat.

Med.
Now, Sir this Tub, I will have capt with paper:
A fine oild Lanterne-paper, that we use.

Pan.
Yes every Barber, every Cutler has it.

Med.
Which in it doth containe the light to the busines.
And shall with the very vapour of the Candle,
Drive all the motions of our matter about:
As we present 'hem. For example, first
The worshipfull Lady Tub.

Tub.
Right worshipfull,
I pray you, I am worshipfull my selfe.

Med.
Your Squire-ships Mother, passeth by (her Huisher,
Mr. Pol-marten bareheaded before her)
In her velvet Gowne.

Tub.
But how shall the Spectators?
As it might be, I, or Hilts, know 'tis my Mother?
Or that Pol-marten there that walkes before her.

Med.
O wee doe nothing, if we cleare not that.

Cle.
You ha' seene none of his workes Sir?

Pan.
All the postures
Of the train'd bands o' the Countrey.

Scr.
All their colours.

Pan.
And all their Captaines.

Cle.
All the Cries o' the Citie:
And all the trades i' their habits.

Scr.
He has his whistle
Of command: Seat of authority!
And virge to interpret, tip'd with silver, Sir
You know not him.

Tub.
Well, I will leave all to him:

Med.
Give me the briefe o' your subject. Leave the whole
State of the thing to me.

Hil.
Supper is ready, Sir.
My Lady cals for you.

Tub.
Ile send it you in writing.

Med.
Sir, I will render feazible, and facile,
What you expect.

Tub.
Hilts, be't your care,
To see the Wise of Finsbury made welcome:
The Squire goes out.
Let 'hem want nothing. Iz old Rosin sent for?

Hil.
Hee's come within.

Scri.
Lord! what a world of busines
The Squire dispatches!

Med.
Hee is a learned man:
I thinke there are but vew o' the Innes o' Court,
Or the Innes o' Chancery like him.

Cle.
Care to fit 'un then.

The rest follow.

Scene VIII.

Iack. Hilts.
Iac.
Yonder's another wedding, Master Basket,
Brought in by Vicar Hugh.

Hil.
what are they, Iack?

Iac.
The High Constables Man, Ball Hanny; and Mrs. Wispes,
Our Ladies woman.

Hil.
And are the Table merry?

Iac.
There's a young Tile-maker makes all laugh;
He will not eate his meat, but cryes at th'boord,
He shall be hang'd.

Hil.
He has lost his wench already:
As good be hang'd.

Iac.
Was she that is Pol-marten,
Our fellowes Mistris, wench to that sneake-Iohn?

Hil.
I faith, Black Iack, he should have beene her Bride-groome:
But I must goe to waite o' my wise Masters.
Iack, you shall waite on me, and see the Maske anone:
I am halfe Lord Chamberlin, i' my Masters absence.

Iac.
Shall wee have a Masque? Who makes it?

Hil.
In-and-In.
The Maker of Islington: Come goe with me
To the sage sentences of Finsbury.

Scene IX.

2 Groomes.
Gro. 1.
Come, give us in the great Chaire, for my Lady;
And set it there: and this for Justice Bramble.

Gro. 2.
This for the Squire my Master, on the right hand.

Gro. 1.
And this for the High Constable.

Gro. 2.
This his wife.

Gro. 1.
Then for the Bride, and Bride-groome, here Pol-marten.

Gro. 2.
And she Pol-marten, at my Ladies feet.

Gro. 1.
Right.

Gro. 2.
And beside them Mr. Hanniball Puppy.

Gro. 1.
And his shee Puppy, Mrs. Wispe that was:
Here's all are in the note.

Gro. 2.
No, Mr. Vicar:
The petty Chanon Hugh.

Gro. 1.
And Cast-by Clay:
There they are all.

Tub.
Then cry a Hall, a Hall!
'Tis merry in Tottenham Hall, when beards wag all.
Come Father Rozin with your Fidle now,
Loud musicke.
And two tall-toters: Flourish to the Masque.

Scene X.

Lady Preamble before her. Tub. Turfe. D. Turfe. Pol.-marten, Awdrey. Puppy. Wispe. Hugh. Clay. All take their Seats. Hilts waits on the by.
Lad.
Neighbours, all welcome: Now doth Totten-Hall
Shew like a Court: and hence shall first be call'd so.
Your witty short confession Mr. Vicar,
Within hath beene the Prologue, and hath open'd
Much to my sonnes device, his Tale of a Tub.

Tub.
Let my Masque shew it selfe: And In-and-In,
The Architect, appeare: I heare the whistle.

Hil.
Peace.

Med.
Thus rise I first, in my light linnen breeches,
To run the meaning over in short speeches.
Medley appeares above the Curtain.
Here is a Tub; A Tub of Totten-Court:
An ancient Tub, hath call'd you to this sport:
His Father was a Knight, the rich Sir Peeter;
Who got his wealth by a Tub, and by Salt-Peeter:
And left all to his Lady Tub; the mother
Of this bold Squire Tub and to no other.
Now of this Tub, and's deeds, not done in ale,
Observe, and you shall see the very Tale.

He drawes the Curtain, and discovers the top of the Tub.
Hil.
Ha' Peace.

Loud Musick.

The first Motion.

Med.
Here Chanon Hugh, first brings to Totten-Hall
The high Constables councell, tels the Squire all;
Which, though discover'd (give the Divell his due:)
The wise of Finsbury doe still pursue.
Then with the Justice, doth he counterplot,
And his Clarke Metaphore, to cut that knot:
Whilst Lady Tub, in her sad velvet Gowne,
Missing her sonne, doth seeke him up and downe.

Tub.
With her Pol-marten bare before her.

Med.
Yes,
I have exprest it here in figure, and Mis-
tris Wispe her woman, holding up her traine.

Tub.
I' the next page, report your second straine.

The second Motion.

Hil.
Ha' Peace.
Loud Musick.

Med.
Here the high Constable, and Sages walke
To Church, the Dame, the Daughter, Bride-maids talke,
Of wedding busines; till a fellow in comes,
Relates the robbery of one Captaine Thum's:
Chargeth the Bride-groome with it: Troubles all,
And gets the Bride; who in the hands doth fall
Of the bold Squire, but thence soone is tane
By the sly Justice, and his Clarke profane
In shape of Pursuyvant; which he not long
Holds, but betrayes all with his trembling tongue:
As truth will breake out, and shew, &c.

Tub.
O thou hast made him kneele there in a corner,
I see now: there is simple honour for you Hilts!

Hil.
Did I not make him to confesse all to you?

Tub.
True; In-and-In hath done you right, you see.
Thy third I pray thee, witty In-and-In.

Cle.
The Squire commends 'un. He doth like all well.

Pan.
Hee cannot choose. This is geare made to sell.

The third Motion.

Hil.
Ha' peace.

Loud musick.
Med.
The carefull Constable, here drooping comes,
In his deluded search, of Captaine Thum's.
Puppy brings word, his Daughter's run away.
With the tall Serving-man. He frights Groome Clay,
Out of his wits. Returneth then the Squire,
Mocks all their paines, and gives Fame out a Lyar:
For falsely charging Clay, when 'twas the plot,
Of subtile Bramble, who had Awdrey got,
Into his hand, by this winding device.
The Father makes a reskue in a trice:
And with his Daughter, like Saint George on foot,
Comes home triumphing, to his deare Hart root.
And tell's the Lady Tub, whom he meets there,
Of her sonnes courtesies, the Batchelor.
Whose words had made 'hem fall the Huy and Cry.
When Captaine Thum's comming to aske him, why
He had so done? He cannot yeeld him cause:
But so he runs his neck into the Lawes.

The fourth Motion.

Hil.
Ha' Peace.

Loud Musick.
Med.
The Lawes, who have a noose to crack his neck,
As Justice Bramble tels him, who doth peck
A hundreth pound out of his purse, that comes
Like his teeth from him, unto Captaine Thum's.
Thum's is the Vicar in a false disguise:
And employes Metaphore, to fetch this prize.
Who tels the secret unto Basket-Hilts,
For feare of beating. This the Squire quilts
Within his Cap; and bids him but purloine
The wench for him: they two shall share the coine.
Which the sage Lady in her 'foresaid Gowne
Breaks off, returning unto Kentish-Towne,
To seeke her Wispe; taking the Squire along,
Who finds Clay Iohn, as hidden in straw throng.

Hil.
O, how am I beholden to the Inventer,
That would not, on record against me enter!
My slacknesse here, to enter in the barne,
Well In-and-In, I see thou canst discerne!

Tub.
On with your last, and come to a Conclusion.

The fift Motion.

Hil.
Ha' peace.

Loud Musicke.
Med.
The last is knowne, and needs but small infusion
Into your memories, by leaving in
These Figures as you sit. I, In-and-In,
Present you with the show: First of a Lady
Tub, and her sonne, of whom this Masque here, made I.
Then Bride-groome Pol, and Mistris Pol the Bride:
With the sub-couple, who sit them beside.

Tub.
That onely verse, I alter'd for the better, ευφονια gratia.

Med.
Then Justice Bramble, with Sir Hugh the Chanon:
And the Bride's Parents, which I will not stan' on,
Or the lost Clay, with the recovered Giles:
Who thus unto his Master, him 'conciles,
On the Squires word, to pay old Turfe his Club,
And so doth end our Tale, here, of a Tub.