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Scæne 5.
Enter Ancient, crying Broomes, and after him severally, foure Souldiers, crying other things. Boroskie and Gent. over the Stage observing them.1. Song.
Anc.
Broom, Broom, the bonnie Broom,
Come buy my Birchen Broom,
Ith' warres we have no more room,
Buy all my bonnie Broom.
For a kisse take two;
If those will not doe,
For a little, little pleasure,
Take all my whole treasure:
If all these will not do't,
Take the Broom-man to boot.
Broom, Broom, the bonnie Broome.
2. Song.
1 Sol.
The wars are done and gone,
And Souldiers now neglected, Pedlers are,
Come maidens, come alone,
For I can shew you handsome, handsome ware.
Powders for, for the head,
And drinks for your bed,
To make yee blith and bonney.
As well in the night we souldiers can fight,
And please a young wench as any.
2 Sol.
I have fine Potato's,
Ripe Potato's.
3. Song.
3 Sol.
Will ye buy any Honesty, come away,
I sell it openly by day,
I bring no forced light, nor no Candle
To cozen yee; come buy and handle:
This will shew the great man good,
The Trades-man where he sweares and lyes,
Each Lady of a noble bloud,
The Citie dame to rule her eyes:
Ye are rich men now: come buy, and then
Ile make yee richer, honest-men.
4. Song.
4 Sol.
Have ye any crackt maiden-heads, to new leach or mend?
Have ye any old maiden-heads to sell or to change?
Bring 'em to me with a little pretty gin,
Ile clout 'em, Ile mend 'em, Ile knock in a pin,
Shall make 'em as good maids agen,
As ever they have bin.
Bor.
What means all this, why do y' sel Brooms Ancient?
Is it in wantonnesse, or want?
An.
The onely reason is,
To sweep your Lordships conscience: here's one for the nonce.
Gape sir, you have swallowed many a goodlier matter—
The onely casting for a crazie conscience.
3 Sol.
Will your Lordship buy any honestie? 'twill be worth your money.
Bor.
How is this?
3 Sol.
Honestie my Lord, 'tis here in a quill.
An.
Take heed you open it not, for 'tis so subtle,
The least puffe of wind will blow it out oth' kingdome.
39
Will your Lordship to taste a fine Potato?
'Twill advance your wither'd state.
Anc.
Fill your honour full of most noble itches,
And make Jack dance in your Lordships breeches.
1 Sol.
If your daughters on their beds,
Have bowd, or crackt their maiden-heads;
If in a Coach with two much tumbling,
They chance to crie, fie, fo, what fumbling;
If her foot slip, and downe fall shee,
And break her leg 'bove the knee,
The one and thirtieth of Februarie let this be tane,
And they shall be arrant maids againe.
Bor.
Ye are brave souldiers; keep your wantonnesse,
A winter will come on to shake this wilfulnesse.
Disport your selves, & when you want your money—
Ex.
Anc.
Broom, Broom, &c.
Exit singing.
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