 | A Contention For Honovr And Riches |  |
Jng.
My Lady desires to speake with you.
Ric.
Your Lady? who's your Lady?
Ing.
The Lady Honor.
Rich.
Let Honor come to Riches, it will not
Disparage her, my friend.
Jng.
She is not well.
Ri.
Honor is seldom sound, what ailes her Ladiship?
Ing.
She had a fall lately.
Ric.
A fall?
Ing.
And spraind
Her foot.
Ric.
Teach her to clime; shee's so ambitious.
In.
Please you to do her the favour, she will waite
Vpon your Ladi-ship another time.
I cannot come.
Ing.
Good Madam.
Ric.
I ha the goute.
Ing.
You may command a Coach.
Ric.
Riches I know
May command any thing, but I doe not use
To come to every one desires my company
Beside, my servants are abroad, and it
Becomes me not to goe so unattended.
Ing.
I shall be fortunate, if you accept
My service.
Ric.
Is that state enough for me?
Although it be in fashion with your Lord,
To amble with his foot man and Page,
I use to have more followers.
Ing.
Great Ladies
Have no such traine, many are held superfluous,
The Gentleman Vsher now a dayes is thought
Sufficient for a Countesse, nay, for two
Take him by turnes, & yet he may be courteous
To the waiting Gentlewoman.
Ric.
You assume, me thinkes,
Much liberty in talking, wha'ts your name?
In.
They which know me, call me Ingenuity.
Ric.
Ingenuity?
Out upon! thee I suspect,
Ing.
I have studyed Arts.
Ri.
Defend me from his witchcraft had thy Mistris:
None but a Scholler to employ upon
Her complements to me, one whose profession
I hate, whose memory is my disease,
And conversation death? how ranck he smells
Of Aristotle, and the musty Tribe
Of worme-eaten Philosophers? get from me,
I will endure the Beares, and their provision,
Lie in an Hospitall, or French-footmen, feed
With prisoners, or be rack'd at Westminster,
Nay die, & make poore orphants my Executors,
Ere be confind to heare thy learned nonsence.
Ing.
Why should you be such enemy to Schollers?
They waste Minervaes precious dew, their sweat,
To gaine your favour, and would thinke themselves
Blest, when your golden beames but shine upon 'em.
Ric.
Tis not your flattery can win upon me.
Goe, and declame against me, good Diogenes,
Admire a vertuous poverty, and nakednesse,
Call Fortune whore, and write whole volumes in
The praise of hunger and your lowsie wardrobe,
Yes, teach the world, Riches is growne a monster,
And that she dotes on ignorance: these are
Your vulgar doctrines, and I pray pursue 'em,
With some twice sodden pamphlet, till you make
Submission to my foole, in hope of the
Reversion of his Groomes bare livery:
Your Theses, and your Syllogismes, will
No doubt convert the Beadle, and the dog-whip.
Ing.
Be pleas'd to heare me speake—
Ric.
What impudence
Does this appeare, you should desire that favour?
Have I not given testimony to the world
Sufficiently, I doe not love a Scholler?
Ing.
Indure me for my Mistresse Lady Honor.
Ric.
I wonder what she meant to entertain thee!
Away, dispute no further, if you move me
To more impatience, Riches will finde wayes
To curbe your insolence: tis not your pretence
To Honors service, can protect you from
My anger, I have kindred, and acquaintance
Shall with their breath blow thee beyond the Sea;
Or if I should be mercifull, and let thee
Injoy thy Country, never hope to arrive at
Above a pension, that will find you woollen
A Pedant, or a Vicaridge preferment,
Gelded sufficiently by the improper Parson,
Is all your wit must hope for; and take heed
That you be modest then; no coate, nor Cassocke
I shall put your Divinity to silence.
Ing.
I despise
Thy womanish threats, and shall account my selfe
Happy without thy favour. O Philosophy,
Assist thy poore admirer, and infuse
A noble fortitude to scorne her malice:
I have no thought, but has a triumph 'ore
Thy base conspiracy. Welcome my deare Bookes,
And contemplation, that shall feed my soule
To immortality: let Puppets dote
Vpon thy gifts, and sell their priviledge,
For gaudy clothes and Epicurean surfets,
Lust, and a Catalogue of Rich mens sinnes,
That shall like plummets hang upon their heart:
When wings are most required, keepe thy resolve,
And be an enemy to Learning still,
That when we find a Scholler, by thee favord,
We may suspect him counterfeit and a dunce.
Honor will be my Mistris, whose least smile
I value above all thy pride, or treasures,
And she will scorne thee too. Farewell, gay Madam,
A painted tombe! though glorious to the eye.
Corruption dwells within thee.
Exit.
Ric.
Foule mouth Satyre,
But tis some punishment to let him waste
It may consume him without more diseases,
Let him die any way, men of his quality
Are living but unprofitable burdens
To the earth, as they were borne to consume fruits,
And talke of needlesse Sciences. Who are these?
My ancient sutors, Clod the Country-man,
And Gettings the rich Citizen?
Enter Clod and Gettings.
Get.
She'es here.
Good morrow to the star of my delight,
Whose beames more glorious doe eclipse the Sunne,
And cast a richer warm'th about the world.
Ric.
How? turn'd Poet?
Get.
Feare me not, Lady,
I am none of those were borne too't, I had rather
Be a Iew then christned in Parnassus Pompe,
I have nothing but the knuckles and the rumpes
Of Poetry.
Ric.
Take heed in time, lest you become infected
With wit, I doe not love poeticke fancies,
Nor any thing that trenches on the Muses,
They were baggages, and Phœbus their protector,
Deserv'd the whipping post.
Get.
I have read, he was
A common Piper, and those Nine were Gipsies,
Ric.
I like it,
When you doe raile at Learning, I allow you
To read a Ballad, and ridiculous Pamphlets,
Writ on the strength of Beere, or some dull liquor:
But if you smell profane Sacke in a Poeme,
Come not within a league of understanding,
As you respect my favour.
Get.
I am instructed.
Ric.
But why does Clod stand all this while so
mute?
Clo.
Either I am Iohn a Noakes, or I am not Iohn
a Noakes.
Ric.
Hee's dreaming of his horses.
Clod.
Gee, sweete Lady, I am all to be mired in
your beauty, the horses of my imagination are foundred
in the high-way of your perfections, for I am
deepe in love with your Lady-ship, though I doe not
weare such fine clothes as Master Gettings here, and
so much out of fashion: for if I commend my doublet,
I must speake fustian, yet my heart is cut and
slash'd, and I defie any man that has a better stomack
to you in the way of Matrimony.
Get.
No comparison, Master Clod.
Clod.
Let him be odious; that names comparison,
for my part, I scorne 'em all and the degrees.
Y'are very positive.
Clod.
Dost thou positive me? And my Mistresse
were not here, thou shouldest find Clod is made of an
other gesse mold, then to endure thy affronts.
Ric.
And you quarrell, I am gone.
Ge.
Nay, nay, sweet Lady we shall be friends agen.
Ric.
I hope it wonot stretch to a duell.
Exit.
Get.
Duell? You wonot provoke me, Clod,
Will you? if you doe, Clod.
Clod.
I will provoke any man living in the way
of love.
Get.
How?
Clod.
He that shall goe a wooing to my Mistris,
I will provoke him, and he were my father.
Get.
Y'are a durty fellow, Clod, and if I had met
thee that yeere I was Scavenger, I would have had
thee carted.
Clod.
Mee carted, Cart thy Bawdes, there bee
enow within the walls, do'st tell me of a Scavenger?
a fart for thy office, I am a better man in the country
then the Constable himselfe, and doe tell thee to
thy face, though I am plaine Clod, I care not a beanestalke
for the best What lacke you on you all, no not
the next day after Simon and Iude; when you goe a
feasting to Westminster with your Gallyfoist and
your pot-guns, to the very terror of the Paper-whales,
in Cheapside, wonder to see ships swimme
upon mens shoulders, when the Fencers flourish,
and make the Kings liege people fall downe and
Worship the Devill and Saint Dunstan, when your
whifflers are hangd in chaines, and Hercules Club
spits fire about the Pageants, though the poore children
catch cold, that shew like painted cloth, and are
onely kept alive with sugar plummes, with whom,
when the word is given, you march to Guild-hall,
with every man his spoone in his pocket, where you
looke upon the Giants, and feed like Sarazens, till you
have no stomacke to Pauls in the afternoone: I
have seene your Processions, and heard your Lions
and Camels make speeches, in stead of Grace before
and after dinner: I have heard songs too, or something
like e'm: but the Porters have had the burden,
who were kept sober at the City charge, two dayes
before, to keepe time and tune with their feet, for
bragge what you will of your charge, all your pompe
lies upon their backe.
Get.
So, so.
Clo.
Must this dayes pride so blow you up, that a
Country-mans tale may not be heard?
Get.
That dayes pride?
Clo.
Or what ist make you Gamboll so?
Why, anger ha's made you witty Country-man.
Clo.
Thou lyest, and I am none of thy Country-man,
I was borne out of the sound of your Pancake-bell,
I cannot abide to see a proud fellow: and it were
not for us in the Country, you would have but a
leane City, wee maintaine your Charter, and your
Chamber too, you would ha but ill markets, and
we should forsweare to furnish e'm, where were
your hides, hornes and plenty of other provision?
your, wives could not doe as they doe, with your
short yard and your false light, and the Country
should not come in upon them. Come, you cannot
live without us, you may be cald a body Politicke,
but the Country is the soule, and therefore
subscribe and give way to me.
Get.
The high-way, but not the wall in London,
doe you know where you are, and what you have
talk't all this while? an Informer would squeeze
your truncke hose for this, and teach you to know
your Termes and your Attornies.
Clo.
Ile have as good Law for my money, as the
best on you, I know what belongs to't, I have almost
broke the Parson of the Parish already, about
his Tithe-egges.
Get.
Why, thou lumpe of ignorance, leather and
long a dung-hill, till the weedes have overgrowne
thee, and a farre off hast cozend a horse, thou that
dost whistle out thy prayers, and wo-not change
thy durty soyle, for so many acres in Paradise, nor
leave thy share o'the plough, for Saint Peters patrimony,
thou that were begot upon a hay-mow,
bred in thy fathers stable, and out-dung'd his Cattell,
thou, that at one and twenty, wert onely able
to write a sheeps marke in Tarre, and read thy owne
capitall letter, like a gallous upon a cowes buttocke;
you that allow no Scripture Canonicall, but an Almanacke,
which makes you weather-wise, and puts
you in hope of a deare yeere: let the Country starve,
and the poore grind provender, so the market rise:
let your soule fall to the Devill among the Corne-cutters,
I am ashamed to hold discourse any longer
with thee; onely one word, I would advise you to
let your action of love fall, and be content to marry
with Malkin, in the Country, shee can churme
well, and humble her selfe behind a hedge, for this
Lady is no lettice for your lips, goe goe, meddle with
your jades, and exercise a whip, among your bread
and cheese eaters.
Clo.
Sirra Cit, I doe challenge thee.
Get.
What weapon?
The next Cutler shall furnish us both if thou
hast any metall, let us try before we part, who is the
better man.
Get.
If thou hast any ambition to be beaten to
dust, Clod, thanke your selfe.
Clo.
I will slash thy skin like a Summer doublet,
come thy wayes.
Enter a Courtier and a Souldier courting Honor.
Ingenuity.
Cour.
Looke this way, Lady, and in me behold
Your truest servant.
Sol.
Tis but aery Court-ship
That he professes, looke upon me, Lady,
That can be active in your service.
Ing.
Tis
The Courtier and the Souldier, pleading them
Affection to my mistresse Lady Honor,
I wo'not interrupt them yet; I cannot
Find by her countenance that she enclines to either.
Co.
Blesse me but with one smile, if you did know
With what devotion my soule lookes on you,
How next to my religion I have placed,
If not above it, your bright excellence,
How long since I first vowed my selfe your captive,
That eye would daine some influence.
Sol.
I have
Such silken language we are strangers to,
We are us'd to other Dialect, and imitate the Drum,
Bold Artillery: can you love me?
When I have marched upon the dreadfull Cannon,
My heart was fixt on Honor nor could death
In all her shapes of horror, tempt one thought
To base retire, when no voyce could be heard,
But thunder, and no object seene but lightning,
Which seem'd to have bin struck frō the first Chaos,
So great a darkenesse had eclips'd the Sunne,
Yet then I thought on Honor, and lookt in
Their lives that sunke about me, every body
I trod upon, (for now the dead had buried
The earth) gave me addition to heaven,
Where, in my imagination I saw
Thee charioted, and dropping downe a Garland.
Ho.
No more, these are but complemēts of wars,
Perhaps some studied speech I love your quality,
But am not taught with these Hyperboles;
Honor's not won with words, true valour needs
No paint of ostentation, the wound
That has the greatest orifice includes not
The greatest danger.
Ing.
She has quash'd his Culvering,
And now he's swearing out some prayers.
Shee's mine.
Thus lookt the moone, when with her virgin fires
She went in progresse to the mountaine Latmos,
To visit her Endimion, yet I injure
Your beauty, to compare it to her orbe
Of silver light, the Sun from which, she borrowes
That makes her up the nightly Lamp of heaven,
Has in his stock of beams not halfe your luster,
Enrich the earth still with your sacred presence,
Vpon each object throw a glorious starre,
Created by your sight, that when the learn'd
Astronomer comes forth to examine heaven,
He may find two, and be himselfe devided,
Which he should first contemplate.
Ho.
You both love me.
Cour.
But I the best.
Sol.
How sir, the best?
Cou.
Ere since I knew the Court,
I had no other study but to advance
My selfe to Honor, all my suites have beene
Directed to this one, that Honor would
Fixe me among those other Constellations
That shine about the King, tis in thy love
To plant a Coronet here: and then I dare
Iustle the proudest Heroe and be inscrib'd
A demy-god, frowne dead the humble mortall,
What cannot Honor doe?
Ho.
Not that you boast.
True Honor makes not proud, not takes delight
I'th ruine of poore vertue.
So.
Sir, you said you lov'd her best.
Co.
And will maintaine it.
So.
You cannot, dare not.
Co.
Dare not?
Ho.
So peremptory, Honor may in time
Find wayes to tame the insolent Lady Riches,
But leave her to her pride.
Ing.
The Courtier, and
The Souldier looke as they would quarrell.
Ho.
Let 'em.
You see how they pursue me still, but Honor
Is not so easily obtain'd.
Ing.
They are
Gay creatures, and conspicuous in the world.
Ho.
But no such miracles: Gentlement, you promise
Some spirit in you, ther's no way to make
Me confident of your worth but by your action:
In briefe, if you be ambitious of Honor,
You must fight for me, and as fame shall give me
Your character, I shall distinguish you,
And cherish worth: meane time I take my leave.
Some private conference, I dare trust your bosome
With some thing of more weight.
Jng.
I am then happy,
When you command me service.
Ho.
And I keepe
A Register of all, and though delayd,
Forget not the reward.
Exeunt Honor, Ing.
So.
Hark, Master Cringe,
How d'ee like her sentence? If you meane
To have Honor you must fight for't: no toild speeches,
Nor crinckling in the hammes will carry her,
You have worne a sword thus long, to shew the hilt,
Now let the blade appeare.
Co.
Good Captaine Voyce,
It shall, and teach you manners, I have yet
No Ague, I can looke upon your buffe,
And punto beard, and call for no strong waters,
I am no Taverne gull, that wants protection,
Whom you with oathes doe use to mortifie,
And sweare into the paiments of all reckonings,
Vpon whose credit you weare belt and feather,
Top and top gallant, and can make him seale
At mid-night to your Taylor, goe invite
Young Gentlemen to dinner, and then pawne 'em,
Or valiantly with some of your owne file,
March with your Regiment, and kicke the Leverets,
Make cullice o'the Bawdes, yet be made friends,
Before the Constable be sent for, and
Run to'the ticket for the pox, these services,
I doe presume, you are acquainted with.
So.
Musk-Cat.
Co.
Or wert thou what thou seem'st, a Soldier,
For so much good I wish thee for my honor,
When I have kil'd thee.
So.
Sirra Civet-box.
Co.
Let me aske your Souldier ship but one cold question,
If Lady Honor, whom you have presum'd
Without good manners to affect, should possibly
Descend to marry thee, prethee what joynture
Couldst thou make her?
So.
Ioynture?
Co.
Ile admit for arguments sake,
Thou art a Souldier, perhaps
You will give her a Catalogue of Townes,
Or Leaguers, the names of bridges broken downe,
Your nose in time may make another, you will tel her
Of onslaughts, Bulwarks, Barricado, Forts,
Of Cannon, Culvering, Sacres, and a rabble
Of your Artillery, which you have cond by heart,
In ready wounds, some twenty idle, admit it,
And in diseases can assure her forty,
This wo'not doe, she cannot eate a Snapsacke,
Nor carry baggage, lie in your foule Hut,
And rost your pullen, for whose precious theft,
You and the Gibbet feare to bee acquainted,
If you returne into your wholesome Country,
Vpon your honorable woodden legs.
The houses of correction are no Palaces,
And Passes must be had, or else the Beadles
Will not be satisfied, the Treasurers name
And twelve-pence for your service i'th Lowcountries,
And spending of your blood for doughty Dutchmen,
That would have hāg'd you there, but in their charity
You were reserv'd for begggery at home,
Is no inheritance I take it sir.
So.
Have you done yet?
Co.
I have not much more to say.
So.
It does appeare by all this prattle then,
You doe not know me, and have ta'ne too much
On trust to talke of Souldier, a name
Tha'st not deserv'd to mention, because
Some fellowes here, have brag'd, and perhaps beaten
You, and some other of your satten Tribe,
Into beliefe that they have seene the warres,
Or Finesbury. Must the true sonnes of courage,
Be thus dishonor'd, and their character
Defac'd by such prodigious breath? must we,
We that for Honor and your safeties suffer,
What in the repetition would fright
Your pale soules from you, when perhaps you foot
A jigge at home, and revell with your Lady,
Be thus rewarded! Happy they that dyed
Their Country sacrifice, to prevent the shame
Of living with such popular drones, but I
Should wrong our glorious profession
By any Arguments, to make thee sensible
Of what we are: it shall suffice to publish
What is not now in ignorant supposition.
But truth, of your gay quality and vertues,
You are a Courtier.
Co.
Very good.
So.
Not so.
If such there be, I talke not to them now,
But to thee Phantasme, of whom men doe doubt
Whether thou hast a soule, thou that dost thinke it
The better and more gratefull part of thy
Religion, to weare good clothes, and suffer
More paines at buttoning of thy gawdy doublet,
Then thou durst take for heaven, thou hast devided
And hast so often called your great men goods,
That tis become thy Creed, and thou dost now
Beleeve no other, thou w'ot take a bribe,
To undoe a Nation, and sell thy Country-men
To as many persecutions as the
Devill: thou art beholding to thy pride, it has
Made thee thy owne selfe-lover, for without it,
None else affecting thee I doe now see,
What else could keep thee from despaire & drowning?
Thy wantonnesse has made thy body poore,
But not in shew, for though thy back have payd for't,
It weares rich trappings; Art may helpe your legs,
But cannot cure your dancing: that and pepper,
Avoid with like discretion, one betrayes you
At dinner, and the other betweene meales.
Goe purchase lands and a faire house, which must
When thou livest in it be an Hospitall,
And owe no other body for diseases.
Co.
Pray come, and take a chamber.
So.
Thou hast ignorance
And impudence enough for twenty Alchymists.
Co.
Ile heare no more.
So.
A little, Ile intreat you,
You shall be beaten afterward, ne're feare it.
Co.
Dar'st thou blaspheme the Court?
I honour it,
And all the Noble ornaments of State,
That like Pomegranats in old Aarons coate,
Adorne the Prince that wears 'em, but such Courtiers
That coozen us like Glow-wormes in the night,
Or rotten wood, I hate, and in their number
For this time be content I list your worship.
Co.
How do you know what I am, or what title
Perhaps I weare?
So.
I know thee by the wrong
To Souldiers.
Co.
I speake of such as thou wert, and I dare
Maintaine, and write as much in thy owne blood.
Enter Honestie.
Co.
Dost thou not see, Honestie?
So.
Honestie? what hast thou to do with Honesty?
Co.
I never could endure her, she appeares
More terrible then a ghost, I ha no stomacke
To fight, my blood is frozen in my veines,
She is a thousand punishments at once:
Now would I give my Office to be at peace
With mine owne conscience, ha, she do's pursue me?
So.
These are idle imaginations, collect
Your selfe, good Courtier, and remember what
Wee are to doe, or I shall, ha.
Co.
Whats the matter, more terror?
So.
I am cold too.
Co.
Another apparition.
So.
You may know him by a jaw-faln, tis No-pay.
And what a comfort No-pay's to a Souldier,
I appeale to a Councell of warre, the Devill is not
So full of horror, No-pay? Ile not fight
A stroke, though I were sure to cleare the Empire.
Exeunt.
Enter Citizen and Country-man arm'd.
Get.
Our weapons length are even, but youle find
There is such ods betwixt us, nought but death
Can reconcile our difference.
Clod.
Deny your major. I thinke I heard a Scholler
use that word against Bellarmine. I, Ile stand too't:
for if nought but death, can reconcile our difference,
we must be both kild: no, prepare thy selfe, I hope to
send thee to heaven, and be farre enough off ere Sunset:
if thou hast made thy Will, let them prove it
when thou art dead, and bury thee accordingly, thy
wife will have cause to thanke me, it will be a good
hearing to the poore of the Parish: happy man by his
dole, besides, the Blue-coates can but comfort thy
kindred with singing and rejoycing at thy Funerall.
Come on thy wayes.
Y'are very round, Clod, I doe not thinke you
have practis'd Fencing of late, this is a weapon you
are not us'd to, a Pitch-forke were more convenient
for you to manage.
Clo.
A Pitch-forke? Thou shalt know thy destiny
by this, though it have but one point. I know where
thy heart lies, I desire no more, and lesse would satisfie
me, unlesse thou wilt eate thy words, and confesse
thou hast wrong'd me, out it shall, I have a stomacke
to cut thee up, and my sword has a pretty
edge of it selfe, and my greatest griefe is, that I owe
thee nothing, to discharge all together, but tis no
matter, I can but kill thee.
Get.
You cannot, sure: for ought I see in your countenance,
you are not long-lyv'd your selfe, you have
but a tallow complexion, doe you know what
ground you stand upon, Clod?
Clo.
Ground?
Get.
You may tread upon your grave now, for
all this blustering.
Clod.
Thou liest, there's more to provoke thee: no,
I came not hither to dye, and I wo'not be buryed at
any mans discretion, my father was buryed i'the
Country, and my grand-father, and his father before
him, and if I live, Ile bee buried there my selfe: but
what doe we lose time? looke to thy head, for I will
Enter Foule-Weather-in-Harvest.
Ha, hold, alas, I wo'not fight, I ha no heart to lift
up a weapon.
Ge.
You were fire and tow but 'een now.
Clo.
But here's water. Dost not see? I shall be undone.
Get.
Who is this?
Clo.
Why, tis Foule-Weather-in-Harvest, all
spoil'd, I wo'not have thy heart now, and thou
wouldst gee't me.
Get.
Tis well, something will coole you, after so
much thunder, but it wo'not quench the fire of my
anger. I doe not use to put up these things, when I
am drawne too't, your Foule weather is nothing to
the businesse in hand, therefore submit thy necke to
my execution, or—
Clo.
Kill me: Ile forgive thee, I shall have no Harvest
to yeere.
Enter Long-Vacation.
Get.
And thou hadst as many heads as Hydra—
Ha, Ile not hurt a Hare, I am frighted this is my
heart, you had not so wet, but we are like to have
as dry a time on't, I stood upon tearmes before, this
is Long-Vacation.
Long-Vacation?
Get.
I dream'd of a dry Summer, he will consume
me, it will be a thousand yeeres till Michael-masse.
Prethee let's be friends, for my part I have no
hope of Riches.
Clo.
And I but little, and this weather hold.
Enter Riches.
Here she comes.
Ric.
Where be these friends of mine? Alas, what
Meane you? I am faint with seeking you to stay your fury:
For I was told your bloody resolutions.
You should be a man of government, are these
The ensignes of the City? will you give
Without the Herald in your Armes, a Sword
To the old City Dagger? you weare a Gowne
Embleme of peace, will you defile your gravity
With Basket-hilt and Bilboe? And you bold Yeoman,
That like a Rieke of hay, hath stood the shocke
Of Winter, and grew white with snow of age,
Is this an instrument for you?
But I am confident that you will say, tis love
Of me hath brought you to the field, and therefore
To prevent future mischiefe, I determine
Here to declare my selfe: but first conjoyne
Your loving hands, and vow a constant friendship,
Get.
By our seven gates that doe let in
Every day no little sin,
By the sword which we aduance,
And the Cap of Maintenance:
By the Shrieves post, and the hall
Ycleped Guild, and London wall,
By our Royall Change which yeelds
Gentile ware, and by More-fields,
By our thrice burnt famous Steeple,
That doth over-looke the people,
Cheapeside Crosse, and loud Bow-bell,
And by all that wish it well:
I am friends with him till he dies,
And love him like my liberties:
So helpe me Riches, what I speake:
The Citizen will never breake.
Ric.
What say you?
Clo.
By my Cart, and by my Plough,
My dun Mare, and best red Cow,
By my Barne, and fattest Weather,
My grounds, and all my state together,
In thy love I over-take thee,
Else my whistling quite forsake me,
And let me ever lye, which worse is,
At racke and manger with the horses.
Then Master Clod.—
Clo.
Ha, ha, with all my heart, am I the man?
Ric.
The man. I must intreate to have some patience.
I doe imagine you affect me dearely,
And would make much of Riches.
Clo.
There's no Lady
That shal out-shine my Darling: tis no matter, though
I be in Russet all the weeke, Riches shal live like a Lady,
have perfum'd linnen, costly Gownes, and Peticoats
worth taking up, and as the fashion is; I will
put thee into a bagge.
Ric.
This wo'not, sir, agree with your condition,
To keepe me brave: the Country Cut must be
Observ'd.
Clo.
Hang Country Cuts! Doe but marry me.—
Ric.
But this is not my exception; there is more
That interdicts our marriage: for though you
Are willing to conceale it, Master Clod,
Yet you and I are kindred, at least cousins.
Clo.
Why, is not your name Riches?
Ric.
Though my name
Be Riches, yet my mother was a Clod,
She married rich earth of America,
Where I was borne, a durty family,
But many matches have refined us now,
And we are called Riches.
If you were borne in America, wee are but
kindred a farre off.
Ric.
Let us not confound our Genealogies.
Clo.
I would be loth to marry an Infidell borne,
and yet I like your complexion so well, that—
Ric.
No, I am reserv'd for thee,
And here I plant my best affection.
Get.
Welcome to my heart.
How I doe love thee, Riches! O my soule,
We'le marry straight.
Ric.
And thus much for your comfort.
Nay, droope not, Clod, though I be wife to him,
Yet if I bury Gettings, Ile be thine,
And carry London with us into th'Country.
Clo.
After this rate you are my wife in Law.
Well: give you joy.
Get.
Me thinkes I fumble my gold chaine already.
But who are these?
Enter Courtier and Souldier.
Co.
No Honor to be found.
So.
Let us inquire
Of these. Did any see the Lady Honor?
Get.
What care we for Honor, so we have Riches?
Co.
Ha? I have beene acquainted with this Lady.
Ric.
I was at Court the last weeke, sir.
Cour.
I remember.
I ha seene her some-where too.
Ric.
I ha beene a Traveller.
So.
Were you never taken by the Hollander?
Ric.
I was in the Plate-fleete.
So.
Baser los manos Signiora.
Ric.
I have almost forgot my Spanish, but after
a little practice I may recover it.
Clo.
I know not Honor if I see her, I have heard
of such a Lady: ten to one, but Riches can direct you
to her.
Ric.
I apprehend your desires, sir, & will direct you.
Co.
I am your servant, Lady.
Ri.
But first, Mr. Gettings, know these Gentlemen.
Ge.
They are in my books already, pray Gentlemen,
Know my Commodities, when I ha married Riches,
I shall be better able to furnish you
Co.
We wish you joy.
So.
And shall remaine your debtors.
Get.
I make no doubt.
Co.
But here's the Lady whom we enquire for.
So.
She has musicke to attend her.
Musicke. Enter Honor and Ingenuity.
Ha! the Scholler?
The case is alterd. Is not that Ingenuity?
Co.
How familiar they are! I hope they'r not married.
Is this Madam Honor?
Co.
So, Lady.
Ho.
Gentlemen,
I come to reconcile your difference,
I did foresee you desperate in love,
And prompted, I confesse your swelling valours
To fight for me, but upon second thoughts.
I canceld that opinion, and devis'd
A way to settle all things without danger
This Gentleman late my servant, Ingenuity,
Hath remov'd all occasion of your further
Courtship, and now won me for his Bride.
Co.
Married the Scholler? despis'd.
So.
Affronted.
Ho.
You are passionate.
You could not both possesse me, yet in him
Your excellencies meet, and I enjoy e'm.
He can be Courtier and a Soldier
When the occasion presents it selfe.
He that hath learn'd to obey well, can command.
Nay, be not sad, if you lov'd me, expresse it
In your Congratulations. Here I fixe
My selfe, and vow my best affection.
If in the number of my friends, I may
Write you, be confident you sha'not lose
By your respect to Honor. Lady Riches,
But you may smile upon a Scholler now
Married to Honor.
Rich.
Since you have so advanc'd him,
He shall not want my favour.
Ing.
Now I am confident.
Co.
We must obey our destiny. Since Fate
Meant me not so much happinesse, to be
The husband, let me still be humble servant
To Honor.
So.
My desires have the same ambition.
Co. and So.
Ioyes crowne your marriage
Ing.
Now you both denide me.
But in this Empire I can brooke no Rivall.
Be all my honor'd guests, and with one feast
And revels celebrate our double marriage.
Co.
And here our love unites. Pardon what language
My passion threw upon thee: I acknowledge
A Soldiers worth above the reach of malice.
So.
My heart shall spread to embrace the noble
Courtier.
Clod.
Here's nothing but complement: you should
bring up a fashion to kisse one another.
Get.
Tis such a dry Clod!
Ing.
Correct your passions, sir, I am inform'd
You have beene guilty this day of abuse,
Their yeerely Triumph.
Get.
'Twas his ignorance,
But we are friends agen.
Ing.
Then I ha done. Now Gentlemen and Ladies,
In the assurance all are pleas'd, let us
Ioyne in dance. Such mirth becomes a wedding.
Strike up some nimble aire.
They dance.
Ing.
Thus all have seene how Providence imparts
Wealth to the City, Honor to the Arts.
Exeunt.
| A Contention For Honovr And Riches | |