 | VVit At severall VVeapons |  |
Actus primus
Scæna prima.
Enter Sir Perfidious Old-craft an old Knight, and Witty-pate his Sonne.Witty.
Sir, i'me no Boy, i'me deepe in one and twenty,
The second yeare's approaching.
Old K.
A fine time
For a youth to live by his wits then I should thinke,
If e're he meane to make account of any.
Witty.
Wits Sir?
Old K.
I wits Sir, if it be so strange to thee,
I'me sorry I spent that time to get a Foole,
I might have imploy'd my paines a great deale better;
Thou know'st all that I have I ha got by my wits,
And yet to see how urgent thou art too;
It grieves me thou art so degenerate
To trouble me for meanes, I never offer'd it:
My Parents from a Schoole-boy, past nineteen once,
See what these times are growne too, before twenty
I rusht into the world, which is indeed
Much like the Art of Swimming, he that will atteine to't
Must fall plumpe, and duck himselfe at first,
And that will make him hardy and adventurous,
And not stand putting in one foot and shiver,
And then draw tother after, like a quake-buttock;
Well he may make a padler i' the world,
From hand to mouth, but never a brave swimmer,
Borne up byth' chin as I bore up my self
With my strong industry that never fayl'd me;
For he that lyes borne up with Patrimonies,
Lookes like a long great Asse that swims with bladders,
Come but one prick of adverse fortune to him
He sinkes, because he never try'd to swim
When wit playes with the billowes that choackt him.
Witty.
Why is it not a fashion for a Father Sir,
Out of his yearely thousands, to allow
His only sonne a competent brace of hundreds,
Or such a toy?
Old K.
Yes, if he meane to spoyle him,
Or mar his wits he may, but never I
This is my humour Sir, which you'le finde constant;
I love wit so well because I liv'd by't,
That ile give no man power out of my meanes to hurt it,
And that's a kinde of gratitude to my rayser,
Which great ones oft forget; I admire much
This Ages dulnesse, when I scarce writ man,
The first degree that e're I tooke in thriving,
I lay intelligencer close for wenching,
Could give this Lord or Knight a true Certificate
Of all the Maiden-heads extant, how many lay
'Mongst Chamber-maids, how many 'mongst Exchange Wenches,
Though never many there I must confesse,
They have a trick to utter ware so fast;
I knew which Lady had a minde to fall,
Which Gentlewoman new divorc'st, which Trades-man breaking,
The price of every sinner to a haire,
And where to raise each price; which were the Tearmers
That would give Velvet Petty-coates, Tissue Gownes,
Which Peeces, Angells, Suppers, and Halfe crownes;
I knew how to match and make my market,
Could give intelligence where the Pox lay ledger,
And then to see the Letchers shift a point,
'Twas sport and profit too; how they would shun
Their ador'd Mistris chambers, and run fearefully,
Like Rats from burning houses, so brought I
My Clyents a the game still safe together,
And noble Gamesters lov'd me, and I felt it:
Give me a man that lives by his wits say I,
And never left a Groat, there's the true Gallant.
When I grew somewhat pursie, I grew then
In mens opinions too, and confidences,
They put things call'd Executorships upon me,
The charge of Orphans, little sencelesse creatures,
Whom in their Childe-hoods I bound forth to Feltmakers,
To make 'em lose and work away their Gentry,
Disguise their tender natures with hard custome,
So wrought 'em out in time, there I rizze ungently,
Nor do I feare to discourse this unto thee,
I'me arm'd at all points against treachery,
I hold my humour firme, if I can see thee thrive by
Thy wits while I live, I shall have the more courage
To trust thee with my Lands when I dye; if not,
The next best wit I can heare of carries 'em:
For since in my time and knowledge so many rich Children
Of the City conclude in beggery, i'de rather
Make a wise stranger my Executor, then a foolish
Wit, thou after my name; and that's my nature.
Witty.
'Tis a strange harsh one, must I still shift then?
I come brave cheates, once to my trade agen,
And i'le ply't harder now then e're I did for't,
You'le part with nothing then, Sir?
Old K.
Not a jot Sir.
Witty.
If I should aske you blessing e're I go Sir,
I think you would not give't me.
O. K.
Let me but heare thou liv'st by thy wits once
Thou shalt have any thing, thou'rt none of mine else,
Then why should I take care for thee?
Witty.
'Thanke your bounty.
Exit
O. K.
So wealth love me, and long life, I beseech it,
As I do love the man that lives by his wits,
He comes so neare my nature; i'me growne old now,
And ev'n arriv'd at my last cheat I feare me,
But 'twill make shift to bury me, by day-light too,
And discharge all my Legacies, 'tis so wealthy,
And never trouble any Interest money:
Iv'e yet a Neece to wed, over whose steps
I have plac'st a trusty watchfull Gardinesse,
For feare some poore Earle steale her, 't has bin threatned
To redeem morgag'd Land, but he shall misse on't;
To prevent which, I have sought out a match for her,
Fop of Fop-hall, he writes himselfe, I take it,
The antient'st Fop in England, with whom i'me privately
Compounded for the third part of her Portion,
Enter Sir Gregory Fop, and Cuningham.
And she seemes pleas'd, so two parts rest with me,
Hee's come; Sir Gregory, welcome, what's he Sir?
Sir Greg.
Young Cunningham, a Norfolke Gentleman,
One that has liv'd upon the Fops, my kinred,
Ever since my remembrance; hee's a wit indeed,
And we all strive to have him, nay, 'tis certaine
Some of our name has gone to Law for him;
Now 'tis my turne to keep him, and indeed
Hee's plaguy chargeable as all your wits are,
But I will give him over when I list,
I ha us'd wits so before.
O. K.
Hope when y'are married Sir you'le shake him off.
Sir Greg.
Why what do you take me to be, old Father
i'Law that shall be, do you think ile have any of the Wits
hang upon me after I am married once? none of my
kinred ever had before me; but where's this Neece? ist a
fashion in London to marry a woman and never see her?
O. K.
Excuse the nicenesse Sir, that care's your friend,
Perhaps had she been seen, you had never seen her;
There's many a spent-thing call'd an't like your honour,
That lyes in wait for her at first snap, she's a Countesse,
Drawne with sixe Mares through Fleet-streete, and a Coach-man
Sitting Bare-headed to their Flaunders buttocks,
This whets him on.
Sir Greg.
Pray let's clap up the businesse Sir,
I long to see her, are you sure you have her,
Is she not there already? Hark, O hark.
O. K.
How now, what's that Sir?
Sir. Greg.
Every Caroach goes by,
Goes ev'n toth' heart of me.
O. K.
Ile have that doubt eas'd Sir,
Instantly eas'd, Sir Gregory, and now I think on't
A toy comes i' my minde, seeing your friend there,
Wee'l have a little sport, give you but way to't,
And put a trick upon her, I love wit pretiously,
You shall not be seene yet, wee'le stale your friend first,
If't please but him to stand for the Anti-maske.
Sir Greg.
Puh, he shall stand for any thing, why his supper
Lyes i' my breeches here, ile make him fast else.
O. K.
Then come you forth more unexpectedly
The Maske it selfe, a thousand a yeare joynture,
The cloud your friend will be then drawne away,
And only you the beauty of the Play.
Sir Greg.
For Red and Black Ile put downe all your Fullers,
Let but your Neece bring White, and we have three
Cullours.
Exit Sir Greg.
O. K.
I'me given to understand you are a Wit Sir.
Cunning.
I'me one that Fortune shewes small favour to Sir.
O. K.
Why there you conclude it, whether you will or no Sir;
To tell you truth, i'me taken with a wit.
Cun.
Fowlers catch Woodcocks so, let not them know so much,
O. K.
A Pestilence mazard, a Duke Humphrey sparke
Had rather lose his Dinner then his Jest,
I say, I love a wit the best of all things.
Cun.
Alwaies except your selfe.
O. K.
Has gin't me twice now,
Enter Neece and Guardionesse.
All with a breath, I thank him; but that I love a wit
I should be heartily angry; cuds, my Neece,
You know the businesse with her,
Cun.
With a woman?
'Tis ev'n the very same it was i'me sure
Five thousand yeares ago, no foole can misse it.
O. K.
This is the Gentleman I promist Neece,
To present to your affection.
Cun.
'Ware that Arrow.
O. K.
Deliver me the truth now of your liking.
Cun.
I'me spoyl'd already, that such poore leane Game
Should be found out as I am.
O. K.
Go set too her Sir—ha, ha, ha.
Cun.
How noble is this vertue in you Lady,
Your eye may seeme to commit thousand slaughters
On your dull servants, which truly tasted
Conclude all in comforts.
O. K.
Puh.
Neece.
It rather shewes what a truth worth can make,
Such as yours is.
O. K.
And that's not worth a groat,
How like you him Neece?
Neece.
It shall appeare how well Sir,
I humbly thanke you for him.
O. K.
Hah? ha, good gullory, he does it well ifaith,
Light, as if he meant to purchase lip-land there:
Hold, hold, beare off I say, slid your part hangs too long,
Cun.
My joyes are mockeries.
Neece.
Y'ave both exprest a worthy care and love Sir,
Had mine owne eye been set at liberty,
To make a publike choyce (beleeve my truth Sir)
It could not ha done better for my heart
Then your good providence has.
O. K.
You will say so then,
Alasse sweet Neece, all this is but the scabbard,
Now I draw forth the weapon.
Neece.
How?
O. K.
Sir Gregory,
Approach thou Lad of thousands.
Enter Sir Gregory.
Sir Greg.
Who calls me?
Neece.
What motion's this? the Modell of Ninivie?
O. K.
Accost her daintily now, let me advise thee.
Sir Greg.
I was advis'd to bestow dainty cost on you.
You were ill advis'd, back, and take better counsell;
You may have good for an Angell, the least cost
You can bestow upon a woman Sir
Trebles ten Counsellors Fees, in Lady-ware,
Y'are over head and eares ere you be aware,
Faith keep a Batchelour still, and go to bowles Sir,
Follow your Mistris there, and prick and save Sir,
For other Mistresses will make you a slave Sir.
Sir Greg.
So, so, I have my lerrepoop already.
O. K.
Why how now Neece, this is the man I tell you.
Neece.
He, hang him Sir, I know you do but mocke,
This is the man you would say.
O. K.
The Devill rides I think.
Cun.
I must use cunning here.
O. K.
Make me not mad, use him with all respect,
This is the man I sweare.
Neece.
Would you could perswade me to that;
Alasse, you cannot go beyond me Unckle,
You carry a Iest well I must confesse,
For a man of your yeares, but—
O. K.
I'me wrought beside my selfe.
Cun.
I never beheld comlinesse till this minute.
Guar.
O good sweet Sir, pray offer not those words
To an old Gentlewoman.
Neece.
Sir.
Cun.
Away fifteene,
Here's fifty one exceeds thee.
Neece.
What's the businesse?
Cun.
Give me these motherly creatures, come, ne're smother it,
I know you are a teeming woman yet.
Guard.
Troth a young Gent. might do much I think Sir
Cun.
Go too then.
Guard.
And I should play my part, or I were ingratefull.
Neece.
Can you so soone neglect me?
Cun.
Hence, i'me busie.
O. K.
This crosse point came in luckely, impudent Baggage,
Hang from the Gentleman, art thou not asham'd
To be a Widowes hinderance?
Cun.
Are you angry Sir?
O. K.
You're welcome, pray court on, I shall desire
Your honest wise acquaintance; vexe me not
After my care and paines to finde a match for thee,
Lest I confine thy life to some out chamber,
Where thou shalt waste the sweetnesse of thy youth,
Like a consuming light in her owne socket,
And not allow'd a male creature about thee;
A very Munckey thy necessity
Shall prize at a thousand pound, a Chimney-sweeper
At fifteene hundred.
Neece.
But are you serious Unckle?
O. K.
Serious.
Neece.
Pray let me looke upon the gentleman
With more heed, then I did but hum him over
In haste, good faith, as Lawyers Chancery sheetes;
Beshrew my blood a tollerable man,
Now I distinctly read him.
Sir Greg.
Hum, hum, hum.
Neece.
Say he be black, hee's of a very good pitch,
Well anckled, two good confident calves, they looke
As if they would not shrink at the ninth childe;
The rednesse ith' face, why that's in fashion,
Most of your high bloods have it, signe of greatnesse marry;
'Tis to be taken downe too with May butter,
Ile send to my Lady Spend-tayle for her Medicine.
Sir Greg.
Lum te dum, dum, dum, de dum.
Neece.
Hee's qualified too, beleve me.
Sir Greg.
Lum te dum, de dum, de dum.
Neece.
Where was my judgement?
Sir Greg.
Lum te dum, dum, dum, te dum, te dum.
Neece.
Perfections cover'd messe.
Sir Greg.
Lum te dum, te dum, te dum.
Neece.
It smoakes apparantly, pardon sweet Sir
The errour of my Sex.
O. K.
Why well said Neece,
Upon submission you must pardon her now Sir.
Sir Greg.
Ile do't by course, do you think i'me an asse Knight?
Here's first my hand, now't goes to the Seale Office.
O. K.
Formally finisht, how goes this Suit forward?
Cun.
I'me taking measure of the widowes minde Sir,
I hope to fit her heart.
Guard.
Who would have dreamt
Of a young morsell now? things come in minutes.
Sir Greg.
Trust him not widow, hee's a younger Brother,
Hee'le sweare and lye; beleeve me hee's worth nothing.
Guard.
He brings more content to a woman with that nothing,
Then he that brings his thousands without any thing,
We have presidents for that amongst great Ladies.
O. K.
Come, come, no Language now shall be in fashion,
But your Love-phrase the bell to procreation.
Exeunt.
Enter Sir Ruinous Gentry, Witty-pate, and Priscian.
Witty.
Pax, there's nothing puts me besides my wits, but this fourth,
This lay illiterate share, there's no conscience in't.
Ruin.
Sir, it has ever been so where I have practis'd, and must be
Sill where I am, nor has it been undeserv'd at the yeares
End, and shuffle the Almanack together, vacations and
Terme-times one with another, though I say't, my wife is a
Woman of a good spirit, then it is no lay-share.
Pris.
Faith for this five yeare, Ego possum probare, I have had
A hungry penurious share with em, and she has had as much
As I alwayes.
Witty.
Present or not present?
Pris.
Residens aut non residens, perfidem.
Witty.
And what president's this for me? because your
Hic & hac, Turpis and Qui mihi discipulus braines (that
never got any thing but by accidence and uncertainty)
did allow it, therefore I must, that have grounded conclusions
of wit, hereditary rules for my Father to get by.
Ruin.
Sir be compendious, either take or refuse, I will
bate no token of my wives share, make even the last reckonings,
and either so unite or here divide company.
Pris.
A good resolution, profecto, let every man beg his
owne way, and happy man be his dole.
Witty.
Well, here's your double share, and single brains
Pol, edipol, here's toward, a Caster ecastor for you, I will
endure it a fortnight longer, but by these just five ends—
Pris.
Take heed, five's odde, put both hands together
or severally they are all odde unjust ends.
Witty.
Medius fidius, hold your tongue, I depose you
from halfe a share presently else, I will make you a participle
and decline you, now you understand me, be you a
quiet conjunction amongst the undeclined; you and your
Latine ends shall go shift, Solus cum solo together else, and
then if ever they get ends of gold and silver enough to
end in Di & Dum instantly.
Enter Old Knight and Sir Gregory.
Ruin.
Inough, ynough, here comes company, we lose
five shares in wrangling about one.
Witty.
My Father, put on Priscian, he has Latine fragments
too, but I feare him not, ile case my face with a little
more haire and releive.
O. K.
Tush Nephew (ile call you so) for if there be
No other obstacles then those you speake of
They are but powder charges without pellets,
You may safely front 'em; and warrant your owne danger.
Sir Greg.
No other that I can perceive ifaith Sir, for I
put her to't, and felt her as far as I could, and the strongest
repulse was, she said, she would have a little Souldier
in me, that (if need were) I should defend her reputation.
O. K.
And surely Sir, that is a principle
Amongst your principall Ladies, they require
Vallour either in a friend or a husband.
Sir Greg.
And I allow their requests ifaith, as well as any
womans heart can desire, if I knew where to get valour,
I would as willingly entertaine it as any man that
blowes.
O. K.
Breathes, breathes Sir, that's the sweeter phrase.
Sir Greg.
Blowes for a Souldier, ifaith Sir, and i'me in
Practise that way.
O. K.
For a Souldier, I grant it.
Sir Greg.
Slid ile swallow some bullets, and good round
ones too, but ile have a little Souldier in me.
Ruin.
Will you on and beg, or steale and be hang'd.
Sir Greg.
And some Schollar she would have me besides,
Tush, that shall be no bar, 'tis a quality in a
Gentleman, but of the least question.
Pris.
Salvete Domini benignissimi, munificentissimi.
O. K.
Salvete dicis ad nos? Jubeo te salvere,
Nay Sir, we have Latine and other mettall in us too,
Sir, you shall see me talke with this fellow now.
Sir Greg.
I could finde in my heart to talk with him too,
If I could understand him.
Pris.
Charissimi, Doctissimique Domini, ex abundantia,
Charitatis vestræ estote poopitii in me junenem,
Miserum, pauperem, & omni consolatione exulem.
O. K.
A pretty Schollar by my faith Sir, but ile to him agen.
Sir Greg.
Does he beg or steale in this Language can you tell Sir?
He may take away my good name from me, and I ne're
The wiser.
O. K.
He begs, he begs Sir.
Pris.
Ecce, ecce, in oculis lacrymarum flumen, in ore
Fames, sitisque ignis in vultu, pudor & impudentia,
In omni parte necessitas & indigentia.
O. K.
Audi tu bonus socius, tu es Scolasticus, sic intelligo,
Ego faciam argumentum, mark now Sir, now I fetch
Him up.
Sir Greg.
I have been fetcht up a hundred times for this,
Yet I could never learne halfe so much.
O. K.
Audi, & responde, hoc est Argumentum, nomen est
Nomen, ergo, quod est tibi nomen, Responde nunc,
Responde argumentum meum. Have I not put him to't Sir?
Sir Greg.
Yes Sir, I think so.
Witty.
Step in, the rascall is put out of his pen'd speech,
And he can go no farther.
O. K.
Cur non respondes?
Pris.
Oh Domine, tanta mea est miseria.
Witty.
So he's almost in agen.
Pris.
Ut nocte mecum pernoctat egestas, luce quotidie
Paupertat habitat.
O. K.
Sed quod est tibi nomen, & quis dedit? Responde
Argumentum.
Pris.
Hem, hem.
Witty.
He's dry, he hems, on quickly.
Ruin.
Courteous Gentlemen, if the brow of a Military
face may not be offensive to your generous eye-balls, let
his wounds speake better then his words, for some branch
or small sprig of charity to be planted upon this poore
barren soyle of a Souldier.
O. K.
How now, what Armes and Arts both go a beging?
Ruin.
Such is the poast-progresse of cold charity now a
dayes, who (for heat to her frigid limbs) passes in so
swift a motion, that two at the least had need be to stay
her.
Sir Greg.
Sir, let's reward um I pray you and be gone,
if any quarrell should arise amongst us, I am able to answer
neither of them, his Iron and Steele tongue is as
hard as the tothers Latine one.
O. K.
Stay, stay Sir, I will talke a little with him first,
Let me alone with both, I will try whether they
Live by their wits or no; for such a man I love,
And what? you both beg together then?
Pris.
Conjunctis manibus, profecto, Domine.
Ruin.
With equall fortunes equall distribution, there's
not the breadth of a swords point uneven in our division.
Sir Greg.
What two qualities are here cast away upon
two poore fellowes, if a man had um that could maintaine
um, what a double man were that, if these two Fellowes
might be bought and sodden, and boyl'd to a jelly, and
eaten fasting every morning, I do not thinke but a man
should finde strange things in his stomack.
O. K.
Come Sir, joyne your charity with mine, and we'le
make up a couple of pence betwixt us.
Sir Greg.
If a man could have a penny-worth for his penny,
I would bestow more money with 'em.
Witty.
Save you Gentlemen, how now? what are you encountred
here? what fellowes are these?
O. K.
'Faith Sir, here's Mars and Mercury, a paire of
poore Planets it seemes, that Jupiter has turn'd out to live
by their wits, and we are e'ne about a little sparke of
charity to kindle um a new fire.
Witty.
Stay, pray you stay Sir, you may abuse your charity,
nay make that goodnesse in you no better then a
vice, so many deceivers walke in these shadowes now a
dayes, that certainly your bounties were better spilt then
reserv'd to so lewd and vicious uses; which is he that professes
the Souldier?
Ruin.
He that professes his owne profession Sir, and
the dangerous life he hath led in it this paire of halfe
score yeares.
Witty.
In what services have you been Sir?
Ruin.
The first that flesht me a souldier Sir, was that
great battell at Alcazar in Barbarie, where the noble English
Stukely fell, and where that royall Portugall Sebastian
ended his untimely dayes.
Witty.
Are you sure Sebastian dyed there?
Ruin.
Faith Sir, there was some other rumour hop't
amongst us, that he wounded escap't, and touch't on his
Native shore agen, where finding his Country at home
more distrest by the invasion of the Spaniard then his losse
abroad, forsooke it, still supporting a miserable and unfortunate
life, which (where he ended) is yet uncertaine.
Witty.
By my faith Sir, he speakes the nearest fame of
truth in this.
Since Sir, I serv'd in France, the Low Countries,
lastly, at that memorable Skirmish at Newport, where the
forward and bold Scot there spent his life so freely, that
from every single heart that there fell, came home from
his resolution a double honour to his country.
Witty.
This should be no counterfeit, Sir.
O. K.
I do not thinke he is, Sir.
Witty.
But Sir, me thinkes you do not shew the markes
of a Souldier, could you so freely scape, that you brought
home no scarres to be your chronicle?
Ruin.
Sir, I have wounds and many, but in those
parts where nature and humanity bids me shame to
publish.
Witty.
A good Souldier cannot want those badges.
Sir Greg.
Now am not I of your minde in that, for I
hold him the best souldier that scapes best, alwaies at a
Cocke-fencing I give him the best that has the fewest
knocks.
Witty.
Nay ile have a bout with your Schollar too,
To aske you why you should be poore (yet richly learn'd)
Were no question, at least you can easily
Answer it; but whether you have learning enough,
To deserve to be poore or no (since poverty is
Commonly the meed of Learning) is yet to be tryed;
You have the Languages, I meane the chiefe,
As the Hebrew, Syriack, Greeke, Latine, &c.
Pris.
Aliquantulum, non totaliter, Domine.
O. K.
The Latine I have sufficiently tryed him in,
And I promise you Sir he is very well grounded.
Witty.
I will prove him in some of the rest.
Tois miois fatherois iste Cock-scomboy?
Pris.
Kay yonkeron niggitton oy fouleroi Asinisoy.
Witty.
Cheateron ton biton?
Pris.
Tous pollous strikerous, Angelo to peeso.
Witty.
Certainely Sir, a very excellent Schollar in the Greeke.
O. K.
I do note a wonderous readinesse in him.
Sir Greg.
I do wonder how the Trojans could hold out
ten yeares Seige (as 'tis reported) against the Greekes, if
Achilles spoke but this Tongue? I do not thinke but he
might have shaken downe the walls in a seventh-night,
and ne're troubled the wooden horse.
Witty.
I will try him so far as I can in the Syriack.
Kircom bragmen, shag a dou ma dell mathou.
Pris.
Hashagath rabgabash shobos onoriadka.
Witty.
Colpack Rubasca, gnawerthem shigshag.
Napshamothem Ribsbe bongomosh lasbemech nagothi.
Witty.
Gentlemen I have done, any man that can, go further,
I confesse my selfe at a Nonplus.
Sir Greg.
Faith not I Sir, I was at my farthest in my
naturall Language, I was never double-tongu'd I thanke
my hard fortune.
Witty.
Well Gentlemen, 'tis pitty (walke further off a
little my friends) I say, 'tis pitty such fellowes so endow'd,
so qualified with the gifts of Nature and Arts, yet should
have such a scarcity of fortunes benefits, we must blame
our Iron-hearted age for it.
O. K.
'Tis pitty indeed, and our pitty shall speake a little for 'em;
Come Sir, here's my Groat.
Witty.
A Groat Sir? oh sie, give nothing rather, 'twere
better you rayl'd on um for begging and so quit your
selfe, I am a poore Gentleman, that have little but my
wits to live on.
O. K.
Troth and I love you the better, Sir.
Witty.
Yet ile begin a better example then so, here
fellowes, there's between you, take Purse and all, and I
would it were heavier for your sakes, there's a paire of
Angells to guide you to your lodgings, a poore Gentlemans
good will.
Pris.
Gratias, maximas gratias, benignissime Domine.
O. K.
This is an ill example for us, Sir, I would this
bountifull Gentleman had not come this way to day.
Sir Greg.
Pox, we must not shame our selves now, Sir,
ile give as much as that Gentleman, though I never be
Souldier or Schollar while I live; hero friends, there's a
piece, that if he were divided would make a paire of
Angells for me too, in the love I beare to the Sword and
the Tongues.
O. K.
My largesse shall be equall too, and much good
doe you, this bounty is a little abatement of my wit
though, I feele that.
Ruin.
May souldiers ever defend such charities.
Pris.
And Schollars pray for their encrease.
O. K.
Fare you well Sir, these fellowes may pray for
you, you have made the Schollars commons exceed to
day, and a word with you, Sir, you said you liv'd by your
wits, if you use this bounty you'le begger your wits beleeve
it.
Witty.
Oh Sir, I hope to encrease 'em by it, this seed
never wants his harvest, fare you well, Sir.
Exit
Sir Greg.
I thinke a man were as good meet with a
reasonable Thiefe, as an unreasonable Begger sometimes,
I could finde in my heart to beg halfe mine back agen,
can you change my piece my friends?
Pris.
Tempor a mutantur, & nos mutamur in illis.
Sir Greg.
My Gold is turn'd into Latine,
Enter Witty-pate.
Looke you good fellowes, here's one round
Shilling more that lay conceal'd.
O. K.
Sir, away, we shall be drawn farther into dammage
else.
Sir Greg.
A pox of the Foole, he live by his wits? if his
wits leave him any money but what he beggs or steales very
shortly, ile be hang'd for him.
Exeunt the two Knights.
Ruin.
This breakfast parcell was well fetcht of ifaith.
Witty.
Tush, a by-blow for mirth, we must have better
purchase, we want a fourth for another project that I
have ripen'd.
Ruin,
My wife, she shares, and can deserve it.
Witty.
She can change her shape, and be masculine.
Ruin.
'Tis one of the free'st conditions, she feares not the
crack of a Pistoll, she dares say stand to a Grazier.
Pris.
Probatum fuit, profecto, Domine.
Witty.
Good, then you Sir Bacchus, Appollo shall be
dispatcht with her share, and some contents to meete us
to morrow (at a certaine place and time appointed) in
the masculine Gender, my Father has a Nephew, and I
an owne Cousen comming up from the University, whom
he loves most indulgently, easie Master Credulous Oldcraft,
(for you know what your meere Academique is) your
Carrier never misses his houre, he must not be rob'd (because
he has but little to lose) but he must joyne with us
in a devise that I have, that shall rob my Father of a
hundred pieces, and thanke me to be rid on't, for there's
the ambition of my wit to live upon his profest wit, that
has turn'd me out to live by my wits.
Pris.
Cum hirundinis alis tibi regratulor.
Witty.
A male habit, a bag of a hunder'd weight, though
it be counters (for my Alchimy shall turne 'em into Gold
of my Fathers) the houre, the place, the action, shall be
at large set downe, and Father, you shall know, that I
put my portion to use, that you have given me to live by;
And to confirme your selfe in me renate,
Exeunt.
| VVit At severall VVeapons | |