University of Virginia Library

Act. II.

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.
This I doe heare, reioycing, I can suffer
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.

Scene. II.

Pyed-mantle.
Broker. Peni-boy. Sen.
What luck's this? I am come an inch too late,
Doe you heare Sir? Is your worship o'the family
Vnto the Lady Pecunia?

Bro.
I serue her Grace, Sir,
Aurelia Clara Pecunia, the Infanta.

Pye.
Has she all those Titles, and her Grace besides,
I must correct that ignorance and ouer-sight,
Before I doe present. Sir, I haue drawne
A Pedigree for her Grace, though yet a Nouice
In that so noble study.

Bro.
A Herald at Armes?

Pye.
No Sir, a Pursiuant, my name is Pyed-mantle.

Bro.
Good Master Pyed-mantle.

Pye.
I haue deduc'd her.—

Bro.
From all the Spanish Mines in the West-Indi'es,
I hope: for she comes that way by her mother,
But, by her Grand-mother, she's Dutches of Mines.

Pye.
From mans creation I haue brought her.

Bro.
No further?
Before Sr, long before, you haue done nothing else,
Your Mines were before Adam, search your Office,
Rowle fiue and twenty, you will finde it so,
I see you are but a Nouice, Master Pyed-mantle.
If you had not told mee so.

Pye.
Sir, an apprentise
In armoiry. I haue read the Elements,
And Accidence, and all the leading bookes,
And I haue, now, vpon me a great ambition,
How to be brought to her Grace, to kisse her hands.

Bro.
Why, if you haue acquaintance with Mistresse Statute,
Or Mistresse Band, my Ladies Gentlewomen,
They can induce you. One is a Iudges Daughter,
But somewhat stately; th'other Mistresse Band,
Her father's but a Scriuener, but shee can
Almost as much with my Lady, as the other,
Especially, if Rose Waxe the Chambermaid
Be willing. Doe you not know her, Sir, neither?

Pye.
No in troth Sir.

Bro.
She's a good plyant wench,
And easie to be wrought, Sir, but the Nurse
Old mother Mortgage, if you haue a Tenement,
Or such a morsell? though shee haue no teeth,
Shee loues a sweet meat, any thing that melts
In her warme gummes, she could command it for you
On such a trifle, a toy. Sir, you may see,
How for your loue, and this so pure complexion,
(A perfect Sanguine) I ha' ventur'd thus,
The straining of a ward, opening a doore
Into the secrets of our family:

Pye.
I pray you let mee know, Sir, vnto whom
I am so much beholden; but your name.

Bro.
My name is Broker, I am Secretary,
And Vsher, to her Grace.

Pye.
Good Master Broker!

Bro.
Good Mr. Pyed-mantle.

Pye.
Why? you could do me,
If you would, now, this fauour of your selfe.

Bro.
Truely, I thinke I could: but if I would,
I hardly should, without, or Mistresse Band,
Or Mistresse Statute, please to appeare in it.
Or the good Nurse I told you of, Mistresse Mortgage.
We know our places here, wee mingle not
One in anothers sphere, but all moue orderly,
In our owne orbes; yet wee are all Concentricks.

Pye.
Well, Sir, I'll waite a better season.

Bro.
Doe,
And study the right meanes, get Mistresse Band
Broker makes a mouth at him.
To vrge on your behalfe, or little Waxe.

Pye.
I haue a hope, Sir, that I may, by chance,
Light on her Grace, as she's taking the ayre:

He ieeres him againe.
Bro.
That ayre of hope, has blasted many an ayrie
Of Castrills like your selfe: Good Master Pyed-mantle,

Old Peny-boy leaps
P. Se.
Well said, Master Secretary, I stood behinde
And heard thee all. I honor thy dispatches.
If they be rude, vntrained it our method
And haue not studied the rule, dismisse 'hem quickly,
Where's Lickfinger my Cooke? that vnctuous rascall?
Hee'll neuer keepe his houre, that vessell of kitchinstuffe!

Scene. IIJ.

Broker.
Peny-boy. Se. Lick-finger.
Heere hee is come, Sir.

P. Se.
Pox vpon him kidney,
Alwaies too late!

Lic.
To wish 'hem you, I confesse,
That ha' them already.

P. Se.
What?

Lic.
The pox!

P. Se.
The piles,
The plague, and all diseases light on him,
Knowes not to keepe his word. I'ld keepe my word sure!
I hate that man that will not keepe his word,
When did I breake my word?

Lic.
Or I, till now?
And 'tis but halfe an houre.

P. Se.
Halfe a yeere:
To mee that stands vpon a minute of time.
I am a iust man, I loue still to be iust.

Lic.
Why? you thinke I can runne like light-foot Ralph,
Or keep a wheele-barrow, with a sayle in towne here,
To whirle me to you: I haue lost two stone
Of suet i'the seruice posting hither,
You might haue followed me like a watering-pot,
And seene the knots I made along the street;
My face dropt like the skimmer in a fritter panne,
And my whole body, is yet (to say the truth)
A rosted pound of butter, with grated bread in't!

He sweepes his face.
P. Se.
Belieue you, he that list. You stay'd of purpose,
To haue my venison stinke, and my fowle mortify'd,
That you might ha' 'hem—

Lic.
A shilling or two cheaper,
That's your iealousie.

P. Se.
Perhaps it is.
Will you goe in, and view, and value all?
Yonder is venison sent mee! fowle! and fish!
In such abundance! I am sicke to see it!
I wonder what they meane! I ha' told 'hem of it!
To burthen a weake stomacke! and prouoke
A dying appetite! thrust a sinne vpon me
I ne'r was guilty of! nothing but gluttony!
Grosse gluttony! that will vndoe this Land!

Lic.
And bating two i'the hundred.

P. Se.
I, that same's
A crying sinne, a fearefull damn'd deuice,
Eats vp the poore, deuoures 'hem—

Lic.
Sir, take heed
What you giue out.

P. Se.
Against your graue great Solons?
Numæ Pompilij, they that made that Law?
To take away the poore's inheritance?
It was their portion: I will stand to't.
And they haue rob'd 'hem of it, plainly rob'd 'hem,
I still am a iust man, I tell the truth.
When moneies went at Ten i'the hundred, I,
And such as I, the seruants of Pecunia,
Could spare the poore two out of ten, and did it,
How say you, Broker?

Lic.
(Ask your Eccho)

Bro.
You did it.

P. Se.
I am for Iustice, when did I leaue Iustice?
We knew 'twas theirs, they had right and Title to't.
Now—

Lic.
You can spare 'hem nothing.

P. Se.
Very little,

Lic.
As good as nothing.

P. Se.
They haue bound our hands
With their wise solemne act, shortned our armes.

Lic.
Beware those worshipfull eares, Sir, be not shortned,
And you play Crop i the fleet, if you vse this licence.

P. Se.
What licence, Knaue? Informer?

Lic.
I am Lickfinger,
Your Cooke.

P. Se.
A saucy Iacke you are, that's once;
VVhat said I Broker?

Bro.
Nothing that I heard, Sir.

Lic.
I know his gift, hee can be deafe when he list.

P. Se.
Ha' you prouided me my bushell of egges?
I did bespeake? I doe not care how stale,
Or stincking that they be; let 'hem be rotten:
For ammunition here to pelt the boyes,
That breake my windowes?

Lic.
Yes Sir, I ha' spar'd 'hem
Out of the custard politique for you, the Maiors.

P. Se.
'Tis well, goe in, take hence all that excesse,
Make what you can of it, your best: and when
I haue friends, that I inuite at home, prouide mee
Such, such, and such a dish, as I bespeake;
One a time, no superfluitie.
Or if you haue it not, returne mee money;
You know my waies.

Lic.
They are a little crooked.

P. Se.
How knaue?

Lic.
Because you do indent.

P. Se.
'Tis true, Sir,
I do indent you shall returne me money.

Lic.
Rather then meat, I know it: you are iust still.

P. Se.
I loue it still. And therefore if you spend
The red-Deere pyes i'your house, or sell 'hem forth, Sir,
Cast so, that I may haue their coffins all,
Return'd here, and pil'd vp: I would be thought
To keepe some kind of house.

Lic.
By the mouldie signes?

P. Se.
And then remember meat for my two dogs:
Fat flaps of mutton; kidneyes; rumps of veale;
Good plentious scraps; my maid shall eat the reliques.

Lic.
VVhen you & your dogs haue din'd. A sweet reuersion.

P. Se.
VVho's here? my Courtier? and my little Doctor?
My Muster-Master? and what Plouer's that
They haue brought to pull?

Bro.
I know not, some green Plouet.
I'le find him out.

P. Se.
Doe, for I know the rest,
They are the Icerers, mocking, flouting Iackes.

Scene. IV.

Fitton.
Peni-boy. Se. Almanach. Shvnfield. Madrigal. Lick-Finger. Broker.
How now old Money-Bawd? w'are come—

P. Iv.
To ieere me,
As you were wont, I know you.

Alm.
No, to giue thee
Some good security, and see Pecunia.

P. Se.
What is't?

Fit.
Our selues.

Alm.
Wee'l be one bound for another.

Fit.
This noble Doctor here.

Alm.
This worthy Courtier.

Fit.
This Man o' war, he was our Muster-Master.

Alm.
But a Sea-Captaine now, braue Captaine Shun-field.

He holds vp his nose.
Shvn.
You snuffe the ayre now, as the scent displeas'd you?

Fit.
Thou needst not feare him man, his credit is found,

Alm.
And season'd too, since he tooke salt at Sea.

P. Se.
I doe not loue pickl'd security,
Would I had one good Fresh-man in for all;
For truth is, you three stinke.

Shv.
You are a Rogue,

P. Se.
I thinke I am, but I will lend no money
On that security, Captaine.

Alm.
Here's a Gentleman,
A Fresh-man i'the world, one Master Madrigall.

Fit.
Of an vntainted credit; what say you to him?

Madrigall steps aside with Broker.
Shv.
Hee's gone me thinkes, where is he? Madrigall?

P. Se.
H' has an odde singing name, is he an Heyre?

Fit.
An Heyre to a faire fortune,

Alm.
And full hopes:
A dainty Scholler, and a pretty Poët!

P. Se.
Y'aue said enough. I ha' no money, Gentlemen,
An' he goe to't in ryme once, not a penny.

He snuffes againe.
Shv.
Why, hee's of yeares, though he haue little beard.

P. Se.
His beard has time to grow. I haue no money:
Let him still dable in Poetry. No Pecunia
Is to be seene.

Alm.
Come, thou lou'st to be costiue
Still i' thy curt'sie; but I haue a pill,
A golden pill to purge away this melancholly.

Shv.
Tis nothing but his keeping o'the house here,
With his two drowsie doggs.

Fit.
A drench of sacke
At a good tauerne, and a fine fresh pullet,
Would cure him.

Lic.
Nothing but a yong Haire in white-broth,
I know his diet better then the Doctor.

Shv.
What Lick-finger? mine old host of Ram-Alley?
You ha' some mercat here.

Alm.
Some dosser of Fish
Or Fowle to fetch of.

Fit.
An odde bargaine of Venison,
To driue.

P. Se.
Will you goe in, knaue?

Lic.
I must needs,
You see who driues me, gentlemen.

Alm.
Not the diuell.

Fit,
Hee may be in time, hee is his Agent, now.

P. Se.
You are all cogging Iacks, a Couy o' wits,
The Ieerers, that still call together at meales:
Or rather an Airy, for you are birds of prey:
Peny-boy thrusts him in.
And flie at all, nothing's too bigge or high for you.
And are so truely fear'd, but not belou'd
One of another: as no one dares breake
Company from the rest, lest they should fall,
Vpon him absent.

Alm.
O! the onely Oracle
That euer peept, or spake out of a dublet.

Shv.
How the rogue stinks, worse then a Fishmonger sleeues!

Fit.
Or Curriers hands!

Shv.
And such a perboil'd visage!

Fit.
His face lookes like a Diers apron, iust!

Alm.
A sodden head, and his whole braine a possit curd!

P. Se.
I, now you ieere, ieere on; I haue no money.

Alm.
I wonder what religion hee's of!

Fit.
No certaine species sure, A kinde of mule!
That's halfe an Ethnicke, halfe a Christian!

P. Se.
I haue no monie, gentlemen.

Shv.
This stocke.
He has no sense of any vertue, honour,
Gentrie or merit.

P. Se.
You say very right,
My meritorious Captaine, (as I take it!)
Merit will keepe no house, nor pay no house rent.
Will Mistresse Merit goe to mercat, thinke you?
Set on the pot, or feed the family?
Will Gentry cleare with the Butcher? or the Baker?
Fetch in a Phessant, or a brace of Partridges,
From good-wife Poulter, for my Ladies supper.

Fit.
See! this pure rogue!

P. Se.
This rogue has money tho',
My worshipfull braue Courtier has no money.
No, nor my valiant Captaine.

Shv.
Hang you rascall.

P. Se.
Nor you, my learned Doctor. I lou'd you
Whil you did hold your practice, and kill tripe wiues.
And kept you to your vrinall; but since your thombes
Haue greas'd the Ephemerides, casting figures,
And turning ouer for your Candle-rents,
And your twelue houses in the Zodiacke:
With your Almutens, Alma cantaras,
Troth you shall cant alone for Peny-boy.

Shv.
I told you what we should find him, a meere Bawd.

Fit.
A rogue, a cheater.

P. Se.
What you please, gentlemen,
I am of that humble nature and condition,
Neuer to minde your worships, or take notice
Of what you throw away, thus. I keepe house here
Like a lame Cobler, neuer out of doores,
With my two dogs, my friends, and (as you say)
Driue a quicke pretty trade, still. I get money:
And as for Titles, be they Rogue, or Rascall,
Or what your worships fancy, let 'hem passe
As transitory things; they're mine to day,
And yours to morrow.

Alm.
Hang thee dog.

Shv.
Thou curre.

P. Se.
You see how I doe blush, and am asham'd
Of these large attributes? yet you haue no money.

Alm.
Well wolfe, Hyæna, you old pockie rascall,
You will ha' the Hernia fall downe againe
Into your Scrotum, and I shall be sent for.
I will remember then, that; and your Fistula
In ano, I cur'd you of.

P. Se.
Thanke your dog-leech craft.
They were 'holesome piles, afore you meddl'd with 'hem.

Alm.
What an vngratefull wretch is this?

Shv.
Hee minds
A curtesie no more, then London-bridge,
What Arch was mended last.

Fit.
Hee neuer thinkes.
More then a logge, of any grace at Court,
A man may doe him: or that such a Lord
Reach't him his hand.

P. Se.
O yes! if grace would strike
The brewers Tally, or my good Lords hand,
Would quit the scores. But Sir, they will not doe it.
Here's a piece, my good Lord piece, doth all.
He shewes a piece.
Goes to the Butehers. fetches in a muton,
Then to the Bakers, brings in bread, makes fires,
Gets wine, and does more reall Curtesies,
Then all my Lords, I know: My sweet Lord peece!
You are my Lord, the rest are cogging Iacks,
Vnder the Rose.

Shv.
Rogue, I could beat you now,

P. Se.
True Captaine, if you durst beat any other.
I should belieue you, but indeed you are hungry;
You are not angry Captaine, if I know you
Aright; good Captaine. No, Pecunia,
Is to be seene, though Mistresse Band would speake,
Or little Blushet-Waxe, be ne'r so easie,
I'll stop mine eares with her, against the Syrens,
Court, and Philosophy. God be wi you, Gentlemen,
Prouide you better names. Pecunia is for you.

Fit.
What a damn'd Harpy it is? where's Madrigall?
Is he sneek'd hence.

Shv.
Here he comes with Broker,
Madrigall returnes.
Pecunia's Secretary.

Alm.
He may doe some good
With him perhaps. Where ha you beene Madrigall?

Mad.
Aboue with my Ladies women, reading verses.

Fit.
That was a fauour. Good morrow, Master Secretary.

Shv.
Good morrow, Master Vsher.

Alm.
Sir, by both
Your worshipfull Titles, and your name Mas Broker.
Good morrow.

Mad.
I did aske him if hee were
Amphibion Broker.

Shv.
Why?

Alm.
A creature of two natures,
Because hee has two Offices.

Bro.
You may ieere,
You ha' the wits, young Gentlemen. But your hope
Of Helicon, will neuer carry it, heere,
With our fat family; we ha' the dullest,
Most unboar'd Eares for verse amongst our females.
I grieu'd you read so long, Sir, old Nurse Mortgage,
Shee snoar'd i'the Chaire, and Statute (if you mark'd her)
Fell fast a sleepe, and Mistresse Band, shee nodded,
But not with any consent to what you read.
They must haue somwhat else to chinke, then rymes.
If you could make an Epitaph on your Land,
(Imagine it on departure) such a Poem
Would wake 'hem, and bring Waxe to her true temper.

Mad.
I faith Sir, and I will try.

Bro.
'Tis but earth,
Fit to make brickes and tyles of.

Shv.
Pocks vpon't
'Tis but for pots, or pipkins at the best.
If it would keepe vs in good tabacco pipes,

Bro.
'Twere worth keeping.

Fit.
Or in porc'lane dishes
There were some hope.

Alm.
But this is a hungry soile,
And must be helpt.

Fit.
Who would hold any Land
To haue the trouble to marle it.

Shv.
Not a gentleman.

Bro.
Let clownes and hyndes affect it, that loue ploughes,
And carts, and harrowes, and are busie still,
In vexing the dull element.

Alm.
Our sweete Songster
Shall rarifie't into ayre.

Fit.
And you Mas. Broker
Shall haue a feeling.

Bro.
So it supple, Sir,
The nerues.

Mad.
O! it shall be palpable,
Make thee runne thorow a hoope, or a thombe-ring,
The nose of a tabacco pipe, and draw
Thy ductile bones out, like a knitting needle,
To serue my subtill turnes.

Bro.
I shall obey. Sir,
And run a thred, like an houre-glasse.

P. Se.
Where is Broker?
Are not these flies gone yet? pray quit my house,
I'le smoake you cut else.

Fit.
O! the Prodigall!
Will you be at so much charge with vs, and losse?

Mad.
I haue heard you ha' offered Sir, to lock vp smoake,
And cauke your windores, spar up all your doores,
Thinking to keepe it a close prisoner wi you,
And wept, when it went out, Sir, at your chimney.

Fit.
And yet his eyes were dryer then a pummise.

Shv.
A wretched rascall, that will binde about
The nose of his bellowes, lest the wind get out
When hee's abroad.

Alm.
Sweepes downe no cobwebs here,
But sells 'hem for cut-fingers. And the spiders,
As creatures rear'd of dust, and cost him nothing,
To fat old Ladies monkeyes.

Fit.
Hee has offerd
To gather vp spilt water, and preserue
Each haire falls from him to stop balls with all.

Shv.
A slaue, and an Idolater to Pecunia!

P. Se.
You all haue happy memories, Gentlemen,
In rocking my poore cradle. I remember too,
When you had lands, and credit, worship, friends,
I, and could giue security: now, you haue none,
Or will haue none right shortly. This can time,
And the vicissitude of things. I haue
All these, and money too, and doe possesse 'hem,
And am right heartily glad of all our memories,
And both the changes.

Fit.
Let vs leaue the viper.

P. Se.
Hee's glad he is rid of his torture, and so soone.
Broker, come hither, vp, and tell your Lady,
Shee must be readie presently, and Statute,
Band, Mortgage, VVax. My prodigall young kinsman
Will streight be here to see her; 'top of our house,
The flourishing, and flanting Peny-boy.
Wee were but three of vs in all the world,
My brother Francis, whom they call'd Franck Peny-boy,
Father to this: hee's dead. This Peny-boy,
Is now the heire! I, Richer Peny-boy,
Not Richard, but old Harry Peny-boy,
And (to make rime) close, wary Peny-boy
I shall haue all at last, my hopes doe tell me.
Goe, see all ready; and where my dogs haue falted,
Remoue it with a broome, and sweeten all
VVith a slice of iuniper, not too much, but sparing,
VVe may be faultie our selues else, and turne prodigall,
In entertaining of the Prodigall.
Here hee is! and with him—what! a Clapper Dudgeon!
That's a good signe; to haue the begger follow him,
So neere at his first entry into fortune.

Scene V.

Peny-Boy. Iv.
Peni-boy. Sen. Piclock. Canter.) Broker. Pecvnia. Statvte. Band. Wax Mortgage. bid in the study.
How now old Vncle? I am come to see thee.
And the braue Lady, here, the daughter of Ophir,
They say thou keepst.

P. Se.
Sweet Nephew, if she were
The daughter o' the Sunne, shee's at your seruice,
Aud so am I, and the whole family,
Worshipfull Nephew.

P. Iv.
Sai'st thou so, deare Vncle?
Welcome my friends then: Here is, Domine Picklocke:
My man o' Law, sollicits all my causes.
Followes my businesse, makes, and compounds my quarrells,
Betweene my tenants and mee, sowes all my strifes,
And reapes them too, troubles the country for mee,
And vexes any neighbour, that I please.

P. Se.
But with commission?

P. Iv.
Vnder my hand & seale.

P. Se.
A worshipfull place!

Pic.
I thanke his worship for it.

P. Se.
But what is this old Gentleman?

P. Ca.
A Rogue,
A very Canter, I Sir, one that maunds
Vpon the Pad, wee should be brothers though:
For you are neere as wretched as my selfe,
You dare not vse your money, and I haue none.

P. Se.
Not vse my money, cogging Iacke, who vses it
At better rates? lets it for more i'the hundred,
Then I doe, Sirrah?

P. Iv.
Be not angry vncle.

P. Se.
What? to disgrace me, with my Queene? as if
I did not know her valew.

P. Ca.
Sir, I meant
Young Peny-boy is angry.
You durst not to enioy it.

P. Se.
Hold your peace,
You are a Iacke.

P. Se.
Vncle, he shall be a Iohn,
And, you goe to that, a good a man as you are.
An' I can make him so, a better man,
Perhaps I will too. Come, let vs goe.

P. Se.
Nay, kinsman,
My worshipfull kinsman, and the top of our house,
Doe not your peninet vncle that affront,
For a rash word, to leaue his ioyfull threshold,
Before you see the Lady that you long for.
The Venus of the time, and state, Pecunia!
I doe perceiue, your bounty loues the man,
For some concealed vertue, that he hides
Vnder those rags.

P. Ca.
I owe my happinesse to him,
The waiting on his worship, since I brought him
The happy Newes, welcome to all young heires.

P. Iv.
Thou didst indeed, for which I thanke thee yet,
Your Fortunate Princesse, Vncle, is long a comming.

P. Ca.
She is not rigg'd, Sir, setting forth some Lady,
Will cost as much as furnishing a Fleere,
Here she's come at last, and like a Galley
The study is open'd where she sit in State.
Guilt i'the prow.

P. Iv.
Is this Pecunia?

P. Se.
Vouchsafe my toward kinsman, gracious Madame,
The fauour of your hand.

Pec.
Nay, of my lips, Sir,
Shee kisseth him.
To him.

P. Iv.
She kisses like a mortall creature,
Almighty Madame, I haue long'd to see you.

Pec.
And I haue my desire, Sir, to behold
That youth, and shape, which in my dreames and wakes,
I haue so oft contemplated, and felt
Warme in my veynes, and natiue as my blood.
When I was told of your arriuall here,
I felt my heart beat, as it would leape out,
In speach; and all my face it was a flame,
But how it came to passe I doe not know.

P. Iv.
O! beauty loues to be more proud then nature,
That made you blush. I cannot satisfie
My curious eyes, by which alone I'am happy,
In my beholding you.

P. Ca.
They passe the complement
Prettily well.

Pic.
I, he does kisse her, I like him.

He kisseth her.
P. Iv.
My passion was cleare contrary, and doubtfull,
I shooke for feare, and yet I danc'd for ioy,
I had such motions as the Sunne-beames make
Against a wall, or playing on a water,
Or trembling vapour of a boyling pot—

P. Se.
That's not so good, it should ha'bin a Crucible,
With molten mettall, she had vnderstood it.

P. Iv.
I cannot talke, but I can loue you, Madame.
Are these your Gentlewomen? I loue them too.
And which is mistresse Statute? Mistresse Band?
They all kisse close, the last stucke to my lips.

Bro.
It was my Ladies Chamber-maid, soft-Waxe.

P. Iv.
Soft lips she has, I am sure on't. Mother Mortgage,
I'll owe a kisse, till she be yonger, Statute,
He doubles the complement to them all.
Sweet Mistresse Band, and honey, little VVaxe,
We must be better acquainted.

Sta.
We are but seruants, Sir.

Band.
But whom her Grace is so content to grace,
We shall obserue.

Wax.
Aand with all fit respect.

Mor.
In our poore places.

Wax.
Being her Graces shadowes.

P. Iv.
A fine well-spoken family. What's thy name?

Bro.
Broker.

P. Iv.
Me thinks my vncle should not need thee,
Who is a crafty Knaue, enough, beleeue it.
Art thou her Graces Steward?

Bro.
No, her Vsher Sir.

P. Iv.
What, o' the Hall? thou hast a sweeping face,
Thy beard is like a broome.

Bro.
No barren chin, Sir,
I am no Eunuch, though a Gentleman-Vsher.

P. Iv.
Thou shalt goe with vs. Vncle, I must haue
My Princesse forth to day.

P. Se.
Whither you please, Sir,
You shall command her.

Pec.
I will doe all grace
To my new seruant.

P. Se.
Thanks vnto your bounty;
He is my Nephew, and my Chiefe, the Point,
Old Peny-boy thankes her, but makes his condition.
Tip, Top, and Tuft of all our family!
But, Sir, condition'd alwaies, you returne
Statute, and Band home, with my sweet, soft Waxe,
And my good Nurse, here, Mortgage .

P. Iv.
O! what else?

P. Se.
By Broker.

P. Iv.
Do not feare.

P. Se.
She shall go wi' you,
Whither you please, Sir, any where.

P. Ca.
I see
A Money-Bawd, is lightly a Flesh-Bawd, too.

Pic.
Are you aduis'd? Now o' my faith, this Canter
Would make a good graue Bargesse in some Barne.

P. Iv.
Come, thou shalt go with vs, vncle.

P. Ca.
By no meanes, Sir.

P. Iv.
We'll haue both Sack, and Fidlers.

P. Se.
I'll not draw
That charge vpon your worship.

P. Ca.
He speakes modestly,
And like an Vncle,

P. Se.
But Mas Broker, here,
He shall attend you, Nephew; her Graces Vsher,
And what you fancy to bestow on him,
Be not too lauish, vse a temperate bounty,
I'll take it to my selfe.

P. Iv.
I will be princely,
While I possesse my Princesse, my Pecunia.

P. Se.
Where is't you cat?

P. Iv.
Hard by, at Picklocks lodging.
Old Lickfinger's the Cooke, here in Ram-Alley.

P. Se.
He has good cheate; perhaps I'll come and see you.

P. Can.
O, fie! an Alley, and a Cooks-shop, grosse,
The Canter takes him aside, and perswades him,
'T will sauour, Sir, most rankly of 'hem both.
Let your meat rather follow you, to a tauerne.

Pic.
A tauern's as vnfit too, for a Princesse.

P. Ca.
No, I haue knowne a Princesse, and a great one,
Come forth of a tauerne.

Pic.
Not goe in, Sir, though.

P. Ca.
She must goe in, if she came forth: the blessed
Pokahontas (as the Historian calls her
And great Kings daughters of Virginia)
Hath bin in womb of a tauerne; and besides,
Your nasty Vncle will spoyle all your mirth,
And be as noysome.

Pic.
That's true.

P. Ca.
No 'faith,
Dine in Apollo with Pecunia,
At braue Duke Wadloos, haue your friends about you,
And make a day on't.

P. Iv.
Content 'ifaith:
Our meat shall be brought thither. Simon the King,
Will bid vs welcome.

Pic.
Patron, I haue a suite.

P. Iv.
What's that?

Pic.
That you will carry the Infants,
To see the Staple', her Grace will be a grace,
To all the members of it.

P. Iv.
I will doe it:
And haue her Armes set vp there, with her Titles,
Aurelia Clara Pecunia, the Infanta.
And in Apollo. Come (sweete Princesse) goe.

P. Se.
Broker, be careful of your charge.

Bro.
I warrant you.

The second Intermeane after the second Act.

Censvre.

Why, this is duller and duller! intolerable! scuruy! neither
Diuel nor Foole in this Play! pray God, some on vs be not a witch,
Gossip, to forespeake the matter thus.

Mirth.

I feare we are all such, and we were old enough: But we are
not all old enough to make one witch. How like you the Vice i' the Play.

Expectation.

Which is he?

Mir.

Three or foure: old Couetousnesse, the sordid Peny-boy, the
Money-bawd, who is a flesh-bawd too, they say.

Tatle.

But here is neuer a Fiend to carry him away. Besides, he
has neuer a wooden dagger! I'ld not giue a rush for a Vice, that has not a
wooden dagger to snap at euery body he meetes.

Mirth.

That was the old way, Gossip, when Iniquity came in like
Hokos Pokos, in a Iuglers ierkin, with false skirts. like the Knaue of
Clubs! but now they are attir'd like men and women o' the time, the
Vice, male and female! Prodigality like a young keyre, and his Mistresse
Money (whose fauours he scatters like counters) prank't vp like a
prime Lady, the Infanta of the Mines.

Cen.

I, therein they abuse an honorable Princesse, it is thought.

Mirth.

By whom is it so thought? or where lies the abuse?

Cen.

Plaine in the stiling her Infanta, and giuing her three names.

Mirth.

Take heed, it lie not in the vice of your interpretation: what
haue Aurelia, Clara, Pecunia to do with any person? do they any more,
but expresse the property of Money, which is the daughter of earth, and
drawne out of the Mines? Is there nothing to be call'd Infanta, but what is
subiect to exception? Why not the Infanta of the Beggers? or Infanta o' the
Gipsies? as well as King of Beggers, and King of Gipsies?

Cen.

Well, and there were no wiser then I, I would sow him in a sack,
and send him by sea to his Princesse.

Mirt.
Faith, and hee heard you Censure, he would goe neere to sticke
the Asses eares to your high dressing, and perhaps to all ours for harkening
to you.

Tatle.

By'r Lady but he should not to mine, I would harken, and
harken, and censure, if I saw cause, for th'other Princesse sake Pokahontas,
surman'd the blessed, whom hee has abus'd indeed (and I doe censure
him, and will censure him) to say she came foorth of a Tauerne, was said like
a paltry Poet.

Mirth.

That's but one Gossips opinion, and my Gossip Tatle's too!
but what saies Expectation, here, she sits sullen and silent.

Exp.

Troth I expect their Office, their great Office! the Staple, what
it will be! they haue talk't on't, but wee see't not open yet; would Butter
would come in, and spread it-selfe a little to us.

Mirth.

Or the butter-box, Buz, the Emissary.

Tatle.

When it is churn'd, and dish't, we shall heare of it.

Exp.

If it be fresh and sweet butter; but say it be sower and wheyish.

Mir.

Then it is worth nothing, meere pot butter, fit to be spent in
suppositories, or greasing coach-wheeles, stale stinking butter, and such I
feare it is, by the being barrell'd up so long.

Expectation.

Or ranke Irish butter.

Can.

Haue patience Gossips, say that contrary to our expectations it
proue right, seasonable, salt butter.

Mir.

Or to the time of yeer, in Lent, delicate Almond butter! I haue
a sweet tooth yet, and I will hope the best; and sit downe as quiet, and calme
as butter, looke as smooth, and soft as butter; be merry, and melt like butter;
laugh and be fat like butter: so butter answer my expectation, and be
not mad butter; If it be: It shall both Iuly and December see.

I say no more, But—Dixi.