University of Virginia Library

ACTVS TERTIVS.

Enter a Page solus.
Page.

Ha, ha, ha, tipsie, tipsie, tipsie, all turnd whirlegig,
Iohn fo de king, Drum, and Timothy Twedle, are rare
fine, ha for the heauens, Ifaith: Drums Lyon drunk, and
he dings the pottes about, crackes the glasses, swaggers
with his owne shadow. Honest Timothy is Mawdelin
drunke, and he weepes for kindnesse, and kisses the hilts
of Iacke Drums Dagger. Mounsieurs Goat drunke, and he

shrugges, and skrubbes, and hees it for a wench. Heere
they come reeling, I must packe, or we shall swagger, for
they hauing a cracke in their heades, and I a fault in my
hands, we shall nere agree.

Exit.
Enter Drum, Mounsieur, and Twedle.
Drum.

A Seruingman quoth you? Hart, and if I serue
any thats flesh and blood, would I might ne're taste my
liquore more: stand bare whilest hee makes water, out
vppont, Ile to Ireland, and there Ile Tan, ran, ty, ry, dan,
Sa, sa, sa, sa: Nay tis the onely life.

Twe.

Nay good Thewte hart, good kind Iack, stay, if
you would loue mee, as I loue you, we would liue & die
together: and please God, would I were dead, and you
are gone. And heeres M. Iohn fo de king, a verie honest
man too.

Drum.

I, I, hee's a verie good honest man: for theres
not a haire betwixt him and heauen.

Twe.

Heele liue with vs now & teach vs French.

Moun.

I by my trot, ang you helpe mee to a Vench
now, mee teach you French. 5. towsand, towsand yere,
ô your Secke is hote, and make mee brule, and brule,
and burne, for a (hee) by gor your Seck is hote.

Enter Winifride.
Drum.

Welcome Basilisco, thou wilt carry Ieuell, and
knock ones braines out with thy pricking wit. Kisse me
sweet wench, kisse mee.

Moun.

Hee my Vinifride, by gor you are come, in te
very nick to pleasure mee, pree you kisse mee, clip mee,
loue mee, or by gor mee ang die certaine.

Drum.

Out you French Dogge, touch my Loue,
and Ile—

Moun.

Touch her, by gor mee touch her, and touch
her, and touch her.

Drum.

Ile touch you, Ile slash you, Ile vench ye.

Wini.

Put vp, put vp, for the passion of God put vp, or
if youle needs too it, sheath both your weapons in mee
first.

Drum.

Hart touch my loue, touch my Winifride?

Wini.

Hark you Iacke, come to my chamber an houre
hence, and you shall haue what you will aske, and I can
graunt.

Drum.

Why then my chollers down. Iohn fo de King.
Fontra for you.

Exit Drum.
Moun.

Fontra for me, futtra, futtra, futtra, fiue towsand
futtra's for you.

Twe.

Stay friend Iacke, Ile reele along with you, if
youle not swagger.

Exit Twedle.
Wini.

Sweete, sweete Mounsieur, hang yon slaues, I
loue you infinitely.

Moun.

By gor me teach you French foure towsand
yeare dan.

Wini.

Well Mounsieur, I'le giue you pleasure.

Moun.

But will you presently? quickly, for by gor
me am a hot shot.

Wini.

I so they say, I heard you were vnder the Torred
zone last day.

Moun.

Pish tis no matter, me am like a Tabacco Pipe,
de more me am burne, de cleaner me am.

Wini.

Well then, two houres hence come to my
chamber, and Timothy Twedle shall giue you mee in a
sacke.

Moun.

In a sacke? Ha very well.

Wini.

And you shall carrie me to my Maisters house
at Holloway, for in the house we cannot be priuate without
suspect. Till then, farewell.

Exit Winifride.
Moun.

By my trot vnreasonablie good, I carrie de
vench on my backe, and de vench carie me on her (hee)
fine backe, fine vench, fine Mounsieur, fine, fine, fine
Knight, all fine, vnreasonablie fine, me sing vor ioy; by
gor me sing la, liro, liro la, lilo.

Exit.
Enter Brabant Signior, Brabant Iunior, and Planet.
Bra Sig.

Gentlemen, as e're you lou'd wench, obserue
M. Puffe and me.

Bra. Iu.

What shall we obserue you for?

Bra. Sig.

Oh for our complement.

Pla.

Complement, whats that?

Bra. Sig.

Complement, is as much as (what call you
it) tis deriued of the Greeke word, a pox ont.

Pla.

Complement, is as much as what call you it, tis
deriued of the Greeke word, a pox ont.

Enter Puffe.
Bra. Sig.

You shall see M. Puffe and me tosse it, Ifaith
marke with what grace I encounter him.

Pla.

Hart thy brother's like the Instrument the Merchants
sent ouer to the great Turke: you need not play
vpon him, heele make musicke of himselfe, and hee bee
once set going.

Bra. Sig.

M. Puffe, I long to do faire seruice to your
loue.

Puffe.

Most accomplisht wit, exquisitly accoutred,
(Puffe)
Iudgement, I could wish my abilitie worthie
your seruice, and my seruice worthie your abilitie.

Pla.

By the Lord fustian, now I vnderstand it: complement
is as mch as fustian.

Bra. Sig.

I protest your abilities are infinite, your perfections
matchlesse, your matchlesse perfection infinite
in abilitie, and your infinite abilitie, matchlesse in perfection.

Pla.

Good againe, reioyce Brabant, thy brother will
not liue long, he talkes Idlely alreadie.

Puff.

Delicious spirit, disparage not your courtesie,
stand not bare to him that was borne to honor you.

Bra. Sig.

Let vs presse our haires then, with an vniforme
consent.

Puff.

The pressure of my haires, or the puncture of my
heart, standes at the seruice of your sollide perfections:
my life is bound to your loue, your loue being my life,
tho my life bee not worthie your loue, your perfection
is the center to which all the paralels of my affection
are drawne: your loue my life, your perfection, my affection,
being.—

Pla.

Your Asse, my Foole.

Puff.

Being chainde by the mightie coplet of ineuitable
destenie, who seeth the sunne, but hee must adore
it: who seeth beautie, but he must honour it: who vieweth
gold, but he must couet it: then, (ô then) who can
behold your sun-like beauteous golden beauties, but he
must more then adore, much more then honour, and
most infinitely loue to be out, out, out.

Bra. Iu.

Out he is indeed.

Pla.

Hee's at a stand, like a restie Iade, or a Fidler, whē
he hath crackt his Minikin.

Puff.

Outragiously addicted to the worthie pursuite
of such matchlesse worth.

Bra. Sig.

Sir, I can rest but truly thankfull, for your
more then good conceit of my no lesse then litle worth.
And now fir for the consequent houres of the day, how
stands your intencion for imployment?

Puff.

I ha tane my leaue of Sir Edward, bid adiew
to loue, my Mistresse is gone, my humour is spent, my
ioyes are at an end, and therefore Gentlemen, I leaue

loue, and fall to the (puffe)
Lawe, I will interre my selfe
in Ploydens Coffin, and take an eternall Conge of the
world. And so sweete gallants farewell.

Exit.
Bra. Sig.

Nay Ile follow you to your graue. Gentlemen
youle not accompany the coarse?

Exit.
Pla.

No, no, looke Ned Brabant, yons a pleasing obiect
for thy eyes.

Enter Camelia, Ellis, and Winifride.
Bra. Iu.

My Mistresse is turnde Bucephalus, no bodie
must ride her but Alexander: no bodie kisse her but Iohn
Ellis. Now stand and list good Planet.

Ca.
Come sweetest Loue, lets giue time pleasing wing,
What shall we make some purposes or sing?

El.
I will sing, so you will beare my burthen.

Ca.
Come laie thy head then in my virgin lappe,
And with a soft sleeke hand Il'e clappe thy cheeke,
And wring thy fingers with an ardent gripe:
Ile breathe amours, and euen intraunce thy spirit,
And sweetly in the shade lie dallying.

Bra. Iu.
Death I can holder: Life of loue
Amazing bewtie, let not me seeme rude,
Tho thus I seeme to square with modestie.

El.

Pray you let me go, for heele begin to square,
And euen as some doo weare Muffes for warmth, some
for wantonnesse, some for pride, some for neither, but to
hide gowtie fingers, so will I get your Fathers consent,
and marry you. Fare you well.

Exit.
Came.
Sir it were good you got a benefice,
Some Evenuch'd Vicaridge, or some Fellowship,
To prop vp your weake yonger brothership.
Match with your equalls, dare not to aspier
My seate of loue, I wis Sir, I looke higher.

Bra. Iu.
Astonishment of Nature, be not proud
Of Forunes bounties: Brabant is a man,
Tho not so clogd with durt as others are:
I do confesse my yonger brothership;
Yet therein laie no such disparagement
As your high scorne imputes vnto my worth.
Coach Iades and Dogges, are coupled still together,
Only for outward likenes, growth and strength,
But the bright models of eternitie,
Are ioind together for affection,
Which in the soule is form'de. Oh let this moue,
Loue should make mariage, and not mariage Loue.

Pla.
Wooe her no more Brabant, thou'lt make her proud,
You Duch Ancient why should you looke higher?
His births as good as yours, and so's his face:
Put off your Iengle, Iangles, and be not as faire,
He shall renounce it, fore this Audience,
Put off your cloathes, and you are like a Banbery cheese,
Nothing but paring: why should you be proud,
And looke on none but Weathercocks forsooth?
O you shall haue a thousand pound a yeare!
Bar Ladie thats a bumming sound. But harke,
Wilt therefore be a slaue, vnto a slaue,
One thats a bound Rogue vnto Ignorance?
Well thou'lt serue to make him gellide broaths,
And scratch his head, and may be now and then
Heele slauer thee a kisse. Plague on such mariages.

Came.
Rude vnciuile Clowne.

Pla.

Tut raile not at me, turn your eie vpō the leprosie of
your own iudgement, loath it, hate it, scorn it, and loue
this yong Gentleman, who is a Foole in nothing but in
louing thee: madde in nothing but affecting thee: and
curst in eternitie if he marry thee.

Ca.
Sir you ha spoke exceeding pleasingly,
For which I loue you, as I loue a dull dead eye.
Brabant I do coniure thee Court not mee,
Do not presume to Ioue or fancie mee.

Bra. Iu.
How not presume to loue or fancie you?
Hart, I will loue you, by this light I will
Whether you will or no, I'le loue you still.
Spight of your teeth I will your loue pursue,
I will by heauen, and so sweet soule adieu.

Exit Bra. Iunior.
Ca.
Farewell, and neuer view my face againe.

Exit Camelia.
Pla.
Harke you faire Winifride, sweet gentle maide,
I haue but fained with you all this while,
I doate vpon the sweet Camelia,
And if your fauour will but second me,
I vowe when I shall wed Camelia,
To indowe you with a hundred pound a yeare,
And what I haue shall stand at your commaund.

Win.
Sir I will vndertake to forward your faire loue,
So you'le remember what you here do vowe.

Pla.
If I forget it, heauen forget mee:
Do you but praise me, let not her once know
I loue, or do affect her for the world.

Wini.
Well feare no rubbes, farwell faire bounteous Sir.

Exit Winifride.
Pla.
It workes, it workes, magnificent delight,
Laughter, triumph, for ere the Sunne go downe,
Thy forehead shall be wreath'd, with pleasures crowne.

Exit Planet.
Enter Pasquil at one doore, and his Page at the other.
Pas.
Now my kinde Page, canst thou nor heare, nor see,
Which way my Katherine hath bent her steppes?

Page.
Sir I can.

Pas.
What canst thou my sweet Page?
What canst thou Boy?
Oh how my soule doth burne in longing hope,
And hangs vpon thy lippes for pleasing newes.

Page.
Sir I can tell ye.

Pas.
What? ô how my hart doth quake & throb with feare.

Page.
Sir I can tell you nothing of her in good faith.

Pas.
Oh thou hast tortur'de me with lingring hope,
Go haste away, flie from the pestilence
Of my contagious griefe, it will infect thee boy,
Murder thy youth, and poison thy lifes ioy.
Run search out Katherine, in her eies dwell
Heauens of ioy: but in Pasquil hell.
Oh thou omnipotent, infinitie,
Crack not the sinewes of my patience
With racking torment: Insist not thus to scourge
My tender youth with sharpe affliction,
If I do loue that glorie of thy hand,
That rich Idea of perfection,
With any lustfull or prophane intent,
Crost be my loue, murdred be all my hopes:
But if with chaste and vertuous arme I clip
The rarest modell of thy workemanship,
Be then propitious: ô eternall light,
And blesse my fortunes, maugre hellish spight.

Enter Katherine in a petticoate.
Ka.
Black sorrow, nurse of plaints, of teares, & grones,
Evaporate my spirit with a sigh,
That it may hurrey after his sweete breath,
Who made thee doate on life, now hunt for death.

Pas.
What soule is that, that with her teare-full eies
Seemes to lament with me in miseries?

Ka.
Here seemes to be the pressure of his truncke,
Deare earth confirme my doubt, was this the place
Which the faire bodie of my Pasquil prest,
When he laie murdred? See the drooping grasse
Hangs downe his mourning head, and seemes to say
This was the fatall place, where Pasquil lay.
Oh thou sweet print, stampt by the fairest limbes,
The richest Coffin of the purest foule
That euer prest the bosome of the earth,
First drinke my teares, and next sucke vp my blood.
Now thou immortall spirit of my Loue,
Thou pretious soule of Pasquil view this knife
Which once thou gauest me, and prepare thy arme
To clip the spirit of thy constant Loue.
Deare Ned I come, by death I will be thine,
Since life denies it to poore Katherine.

She offers to stabbe her selfe.
Pas.
Hold, hold, thou miracle of constancie,
First let heauen perish, and the crazde world runne
Into first Chaos of confusion,
Before such cruell violence be done
To her faire breast, whose fame by vertue wonne,
Shall honour women whilste there shines a sunne.

Kathe.
Thrice sacred spirit, why dost thou forsake
Elizeum pleasures, to withhold the arme
Of wretched Katherine? Oh let me die,
Retire sweete Ghoast, do not pollute thy hand
With touch of mortalls.

Pas.
Amazement of thy Sex, Pasquill doth liue,
And liues to loue thee in eternitie.
Be not agast, recouer spirit, (Sweete)
Tis Pasquill speakes, tis Pasquill clips thy waste,
Tis Pasquill prints a kisse on thy faire hand.

Ka.
What do I dreame? or haue I drawne the sluce
Of life vp? and through streames of bloud
Vnfelt, haue set my prisoned soule at large?
Am I in heauen? or in Pasquills Armes?
I am in heauen, for my Neds embrace
Is Katherines long wish'd celestiall place.

Pas.
Diuinitie of sweetnesse, I protest,
If these inferiour Orbs were rowled vp,
And the imperiall heauen bar'd to my view,
Twere not so gracious, nor so much desir'd,
As my deare Katherine is to Pasquills sight.

Ka.
Heauen of Content, Paphos of my delight.

Pas.
Mirrour of Constancie, life-bloud of loue.

Ka.
Center to whom all my affections moue.

Pas.
Renown of Virgins, whose fame shal ne're fleet.

Ka.
Oh I am maz'd with ioy, I pree thee sweete,
Vnfold to me, what sad mischaunce it was,
Forc'd thy deaths rumour, and such woes disperc'd?
Sad sorrow past, delights to be rehearsed.

Pas.
It will be tedious, but in breefe thinke thus,
Old Mamons malice was the venombd foame,
That poisoned all the sweets of our content.

Kathe.
Alas deare heart, that loue should be so crost.
Now good Ned fetch my gowne, tis at yon house,
I would be loth to turne to Hygate thus.

Pas.
I am oblig'de with infinit respect, to do you seruice.
Oh power diuine, was euer such a loue as Katherine?

Ent. Ma.
Looke Mamon, search Mamon, this way shee went,
Put on thy spectacles, this way she went:
Blest, blest, blest, be thy natiuitie,
Yonder she sits, Ile either haue her now,
Or none shall e're enioy her with content.

Ka.
How loues impatient, when will Ned returne?

Ma.
Tut, tis no matter when, looke where thy Mamō is.

Ka.
Good diuel, for Gods sake do not vexe my sight:
Didst not thou plot the death of my deare Loue?

Ma.
Yes, yes, and wold complot ten thousand deaths,
Euen damne my soule, for beauteous Katherine.
My ship shall kemb the Oceans curled backe
To furnish thee with braue Abiliaments,
Rucks of rich Pearle, and sparkling Diamonds
Shall fringe thy garments with Imbroadry:
Thy head shall blaze as bright with Orient stone,
As did the world being burnt by Phaeton.

Ka.
You make me death, for pitties sake forbeare:
Oh when will Pasquil come? Good Sir depart.
When wilt returne? I pray you Sir goe hence,
And troth, I will not hate you: nay I'le speake
Against my heart, and say I loath you not.
You vexe my patience, gentle sir forbeare,
I begge it on my knee, and with a teare.

Mam.
Tut will you loue me, and detest yon boy?

Ka.
Heauen detest me first, and loathe my soule.

Mam.
Is it your finall resolution?

Ka.
God knowes it is. So good Sir rest content.

Mam.
I, I will rest, and thou shalt rest thus blur'd,
Thus poysond; venomde with this oyle of Toades:
If Mamon cannot get thee, none shall ioy
Which he could not enioy. I feare no lawe,
Gold in the firmest conscience makes a flawe.
Rot like to Helen: Spittle hence, adiew,
Let Pasquil boast in your next interview.

Ka.
Be pittifull and kill me gentle Sir.
Heauen my heart is crackt with miserie:
Where shall I hide me? which way shall I cleanse
The eating poyson of this venomde oyle?
Poore wretch (alas) see where thy Pasquil comes.

Pas.
Here Loue put on your gown. How now? good God,
Heauē giue me patiēce: who hath vs'd thee thus?

Ka.
The diuel in the shape of Mamon. Sweet
Touch me not. Pasquil I coniure thee now
By all the power of affection,
By that strickt bond of loue that lincks our hearts,
Leaue and abandon me eternally.
I merit now no loue, yet prethee sweet,
Vouchsafe to giue me leaue to loue thee still.
But I do binde thee by thy sacred vowe
Of our once happie, and thrice blessed loue,
Follow not Katherine: good Ned, doo not greeue,
In time iust heauen may our woes releeue.

Exit Katherine.
Pas.
fureus. O dira fata, sæua, miseranda, horida
Quis hic Locus? quæ Regio? quæ Mundi plaga?
Vbi sums? Katherina, Katherina, Eheu Katherina.

Enter Mamon.
Mam.

My Spectacles will betraie mee, looke
Mamon, search Mamon, here abouts they fell.

Pas.

Welcome Erra Pater, you that make Prognostications
for euer. Where's you Almanacke?

Pulles his Indentures out of Mamons bosome.
Ma.

Lorde blesse my Obligations, Lorde blesse my
bonds, Lord blesse my Obligations. Alas, alas, alas.

Pas.

Let me see sir now, when will true valour be at
the full? Oh theres an opposition tis eclipsed, Venus, I
Venus is mounted. Wheres the Goat now? Kembd, fine
kemd. Oh heere are Dog daies, out vpont Dog dayes,
Dog dayes, Dog dayes, out vpont.

He teares the Papers.
Mam.

Alas my Obligations, my Bonds, my Obligations,
my Bonds. Alas, alas, alas.

Pas.

Katherina, Katherina, Ehew Katherina.

Exit Pasquil.
Mam.

Obligations, Obligations: Alas my Obligations,
I am vndone, vndone, vndone.

Enter Flawne.
Flawne.

Sir, Sir, Sir.

Mam.

What sir you for, you Dog, you Hounde, you
Crust, whats best newes with you now? Out-alas my
Obligations, my Bonds, I am vndon, vndon.

Flawne.

Sir, the best newes is, your ship (the Hope-well)
hath hapt ill, returning from Barbary. Tis but sunk,
or so, not a scrap of goods sau'de.

Mam.

Villaines, Rogues, Iewes, Turkes, Infidels, my
nose will rot off with griefe. O the Gowt, the Gowt, the
Gowt, I shall run mad, run mad, run mad.

Flawne.

Amen, amen, amen. But theres other newes
to comfort you withall sir.

Mam.

Lets heare them good Flawne. My shippe, my
bonds, my bondes, my ship, I shall run mad vnlesse thy
good newes reclaime mee. Lets heare thy newes.

Flawne.

Your house with all the furniture is burnt,
not a ragge left, the people stand warming their handes
at the fire, and laugh at your miserie.

Mam.

I defie heauen, earth and hell, renounce my
nose, plague, pestilence, confusion, famine, sworde and
fire, deuoure all, deuoure me, deuoure Flawne, deuoure
all: bondes, house, and ship, ship, house, and bondes, Dispaire,
Damnation, Hell, I come, I come, so roome for
Mamon, roome for Vsury, roome for thirtie in the hundred.
I come, I come, I come.

Exit Mamon.
Flawne.

Why me thinkes this is right now, Ile euen
laie him vp in Bedlame, commit him to the mercie of the
whip, the entertainment of bread and water, and the
the sting of a Vsurers Conscience for euer.

Exit Flawne.