University of Virginia Library

ACT. III.

SCENE I.

Moth.
Moth.
Harrow alas! I swelt here as I go;
Brenning in fire of little Cupido.
I no where hoart yfeele, but on mine head.
Huh, huh, huh, so; ycapred very wele.
I am thine Leeke, thou Chaucer eloquent;
Mine head is white, but o mine taile is green.
This is the Palyes where mine Lady wendeth
Come forth mine Duck, mine Bryd, mine honycomb.
Come forth mine Cinamon.

Enter Mrs Potluck.
Pot.
Who is't that cals?

Mo.
A Knight most Gent.

Pot.
What is your pleasure Sir?

Mo.
Thou art mine pleasure, by dame Venus brent;
So fresh thou art, and therewith so lycand.

Pot.
Alas! I am not any flickering thing:
I cannot boast of that slight-fading gift
You men call beauty; all my handsomnesse
Is my good breeding, and my honesty.
I could plant red, where you now yellow see;
But painting shews an harlot.

Moth.
Harlot, so
Called from one Harlotha Concubine
To deignous Wilhelme, hight the Conqueror.

Pot.
Were he ten Williams, and ten Conquerors
I'd have him know't, I scorn to be his Harlot.
I never yet did take presse-money to
Serve under any one.

Moth.
Then take it now.
Werme kisse! Thine lips ytaste like marrow milk;
Me thinketh that fresh butter runneth on them.
I grant well now, I do enduren woe,
As sharp as doth the Titius in Hell,
Whose stomack fowles do tyren ever more,
That highten Vultures, as do tellen Clerkes.

Pot.
You've spoke my meaning, though I do not know
What 'tis you said. Now see the fortune on't;
We do know one anothers Souls already;
The other must needs follow. Where's your dwelling?

Mo.
Yclose by Aldersgate there dwelleth one
Wights clypen Robert Moth; now Aldersgate
Is hotten so from one that Aldrich hight;
Or else of Elders, that is, ancient men;
Or else of Aldern trees which growden there;
Or else as Heralds say, from Aluredus:
But whence so e'r this Yate ycalled is
There dwelleth Robert Moth thine Paramour.

Pot.
Can you be constant unto me as I
Can be to you?

Moth.
By Woden God of Saxons,
From whence comes Wensday, that is Wodensday,
Truth is a thing that ever I will keep,
Unto thylke in which I creep into
My Sepulchre; I'l be as faithfull to thee,
As Chaunticleere to Madam Partelot.

Pot.
Here then I give away my heart to you,
As true a heart as ever widow gave.

Moth.
I Robert Moth, this tenth of our King
Give to thee Joan Potluck my biggest crumpe Ring:
And with it my Carcasse entire I bequeathen
Under my foot to Hell, above my head to heaven:
And to witnesse that this is sooth,
I bite thy red lip with my tooth.

Pot.
Though for a while our bodies now must part,
I hope they will be joyn'd hereafter.

Moth.
O!
And must we part? alas, and must we so?
Sin it may be no bet, now gang in peace.
Ex. Potluck
Though soft into mine bed I gin to sink
To sleep long as I'm wont to done, yet all
Will be for naught; I may well lig and wink,
But sleep shall there none in this heart ysink.

Exit

Scen. II.

Credulous, and Shape dogging him.
Cred.
So now the Morgage is mine own outright;
I swear by the faith of my Body now
It is a pretty thing, o' my corporal Oath
A very pretty thing. Besides the house,
Orchards, and Gardens: some two hundred Acres
Of Land that beareth as good Country corn,
For Country corn, as may be.

Shap.
As I'd have it.

Cr.
How now good friend! where dost thou live? dost thou
Know Caster's Farme?

Shap.
Yes Sir; I fear 'tis gon:
Sure Caster's Farme is cast away.

Cred.
A jest!
Good troth a good one of a Country one;
I see there's wit there too. Then thou dost know it.

Shap.
I am affraid I shall not know it long;
I shall lose my acquaintance.

Cred.
'Snigs another!
A very perillous head, a dangerous brain.

Sha.
God blesse my Master, and the Devil take
Some body else.

Cred.
Um! that's not quite so good
As th'other two; that some body else is me:
(Now you shall see how hee'l abuse me here
To mine own face) why some Body else good Brother?

Sha.
The rich gout rot his bones; an hungry, old,
Hard griping Citizen, that only feeds
On Heyrs and Orphans goods, they say must have it:
One that ne'r had the wisdom to be honest;
And's therefore Knave, 'cause 'tis the easier Art.
I know he hath not given half the worth on't.
'Tis a meer cheat.

Cred.
'Slid Brother thou hast paid him
To th'utmost, though he hath not paid thy Master.
Now is my wit up too: this Land I see
Will make men thrive i'th' brain.

Sha.
Would he were here,
Who e'r he be, I'd give him somewhat more
Into the bargain: a base thin-jaw'd sneaksbill
Thus to work Gallants out of all. It grieves me
That my poor Tenement too goes into th' sale.

Cred.
What have I done? now wit deliver me.
If he know I am he, hee'l cut my throat;
I never shall enjoy it: sure it was
Your Masters seeking friend; he would ne'r else
Have had to doe with it; he that bought it is
A very honest man; and if you please him
Will deale with you. I may speak a word
In your behalf: 'twont be the worse for you.

Sha.
I'm going Sir unto him; do you know
Where I may find him?

Cred.
What if I am he?

Sha.
I am afraid he is not half so honest
As you do seem.

Cred.
Faith I'm the same; I try'd
What metal thou wast made of: I perceive
Thou wilt not flinch for th' wetting; thou mayst be
My Bayliff there perhaps.

Sha.
And't please your Worship.

Cred.
So now the case is alter'd.

Sha.
I do know
It was my Masters seeking, you would ne'r
Have had to do with't else. He sent me to you
For the last hundred pound, by the same token,
That you invited him to th' eating house.

Cred.
(O this simplicity! he does not know
Yet what an Ordnary means.) I was now coming
To have paid it in.

Shap.
I'l save your Worship that
Labour an't please you: let me now begin
My Bayliffeship.

Cred.
'Snigs wiser yet than soe.
Where is thy Master?

Shap.
Sir, my Master's here
I thank my stars; but Mr Caster is
At an Horse-race some ten miles off.

Cred.
VVhy then
I'l stay till he returns; 'twill be by dinner.

Sha.
Your best way's now to send it; if by chance
The race go on his side, your VVorship may
Faile of your purchase.

Cred.
'Snigs and that's considerable.
Here, here, make haste with it; but e'r thou goest
Tell me, is't a pretty thing?

Sha.
O' my corporall Oath,
A very pretty thing: besides the house
Orchards, and Gardens, some two hundred Acres
Of Land that beareth as good Country Corne,
God give you luck on't.

Cred.
Right as I did say,
Ev'n word by word. But prethee stay a little;
VVhat Meadow ground's there? Pasture in proportion?

Sha.
As you would wish Sir; I'm in haste.

Cred.
Nay Bayliffe
But one word more, and I have done; what place
Is there to dry wet linnen in?

Sha.
O twenty
To hang up cloaths, or any thing you please.
Your VVorship cannot want line-room. God be wi' you.

Cred.
But this once and—

Sha.
I must be gone—The Race.

[Exit Shape.
Cred.
Little thinkst thee how diligent thou art
To little purpose. 'Snigs I pitty him;
VVhat haste he makes to cheat himself! poor foole!
Now I am safe the wretch must pardon me
For his poor Tenement; all's mine. I'l sow
One ground or other every month with Pease:
And so I will have green ones all the year.
These Yeomen have no Policie i'th' world.

Exit.

Scen. III

Priscilla, Meanwell.
Pris.
Pray y' entertain your self a while, untill
I give my Mistris notice of your presence.
I'd leave a book with you, but that I see
You are a Gentleman: perhaps you'l find
Some pretty stories in the hangings there.

Mean.
Thank you sweet-heart.

Prisc.
(A very proper man)
If't lye in me to doe you any pleasure,
Pray you Sir use me, you shall find me ready.

[E. Pr.
Me.
I make no doubt of that: these Implements,
These chamber Properties are such ripe things,
They'l fall with the least touch. From twelve to twenty
They thinke that others are to sue to them;
When once they've past these limits, they make bold
I cannot say to wooe, that's somthing modest,
But aske downright themselves.

Ent. Mr s Jane.
Jan.
Leave us Priscilla,
And wait without a while.

Mean.
Faire Mistres pardon
The boldnesse of a stranger, who uncivilly
Thus interrupts your better thoughts.

Jan.
May I
Demand your businesse.

Mean.
Under favour thus.
Not to use farther circumstance faire Virgin,
(And yet lesse faire 'cause Virgin) you are one
That are the thought, the care, the aime, the strife,
I should not erre if I should say the madnesse
Of all young men; all sighs, all folded Armes,
All o'r-cast looks, all broken sleeps are ow'd
Only to you.

Jan.
I'm sorry I should be
A trouble unto any: if I could
Afford the remedy as well as now
I doe your grief, assure your selfe that cure
Shall be the birth of my next Action.

Mean.
That cure is my request. If that this were
Mine own sute, I had us'd no circumstance.
Young Master Credulous a proper man
(For sure he shall be rich) one whom the whole
List of our City-Virgins dote on—you
Conceive the rest I know.

Jan.
Alas, what ailes him?
I'l not be slack to doe him any good.

Mean.
'Tis in your power. He is very much
If you will know't—But sure you will not grant
If I should tell you—

Jan.
If you thus presume
That I am hard, you only aske denyall:
Your expectations cross'd except you faile.

Mean.
If you will know it then, he is in love.

Jan.
I pitty him indeed poore heart: with whom?

Mean.
Even with your beautious self.

Jan.
'Tis not well done
To scoffe one ne'r did injure you.

Mean.
I vow
By all that's good, by your faire selfe, I am
As tender of you as that blest one is
Who e'r he be that loves you most. If I
In any case abuse you, let me be
More miserable than Little-worth.

Jan.
Is he become expression? is his Fate
The period of ill wishes? sure he never
Deserv'd so ill from you.

Mean.
I don't reflect
Upon his ruin'd Fortunes, but your coldnesse.
And sure I may call him unhappy, whom
You doe neglect.

Jan.
That man, where ere he be,
Is happier than your selfe; and were he here,
You should see him receiv'd and your self scorn'd.

Mean.
I doe not thinke so Lady; sure you would
Make more of me than so. I'l bring the man,
And so confute you.

Jan.
It may be I might
Love you the better somthing for that Office,
If he might enter here.

Mean.
Nay I could tell
Y'had cast him off: alas you need not hide it,
I have it from himselfe.

Jan.
Doth he think so?
Could I but see him—

Mean.
If his sight can bring
But the least joy unto you (as perhaps
You'l take some pleasure in his misery)
You shall enjoy it.

Jan.
I doe feare you promise
Only to raise my hopes a while, and then
To triumph in their Ruine.

Mean.
That you may
See how my breast and tongue agree, I'l leave
This Ring with you till I return again.

Jan.
My Littleworth! foole that I was: could I
Not all this while perceive 'twas thee? why didst thou
Deferre my joy thus long by suffering me
To stand i'th' Cloud?

Mean.
Alas! I ghess'd I'd been
Infectious to thee now; that thou wouldst look
On a disease more mildly than on me:
For Poverty is counted a contagion.

Jan.
I call this kisse to witnesse (which I wish
If I prove false may be the last to me
Which friends pay dying friends) I ne'r will be
Others than thine.

Mean.
I like the vow so well,
That the same way I'l seale my promise too.
If I prove not as thou (that is most constant)
May this kisse be, that I may wish it worse,
Than that which is due to departing souls,
The last that I shall take from thee. I am
Sent here, but yet unknown to them that send me,
To be anothers Spokes-man. The man is
That foolish Son of Mr Credulous:
Thou must pretend some liking; 'twas thy Father
Granted me this accesse to win thee for him;
Be thou no way averse. 'T shall be my care
So to bring things about, that thou shalt be
Mine by consent in spight of misery.

Jan.
Be secret, and Love prosper thy design.

Ex. Jan.
Mean.
Happy that man that meets such faithfulnesse.
I did not think it had been in the sex.
I know not now what's misery. Peace: my Fair
[Musick
Is hallowing the Lute with her blest touch.

A Song Within.

Mean.
'T cannot be her, her voice was ne'r prophan'd
With such immodest numbers.


Mean.
'Tis the breath
Of something troubled with Virginity.


Mean.
What dost thou mean?

[Enter Priscilla.
Pris.
Only to please you Sir.

Mean.
Sweetest of things was't thou? I faith I guess'd
'T would be no others melody but yours.
There have been many of your sex much given
Unto this kind of musick.

Pris.
Sappho was
Excellent at it: but Amphion he
He was the man that out-did all; 'tis said
Of him, that he could draw stones with the sound
Of his sweet strings. I'd willingly arrive
At some perfection in the Quality.

Mean.
I do acknowledge your desires most prone.
This for your trouble.

Pri.
I am not mercenary,
Your acceptation is reward enough.

Mean.
You have it then.

Pris.
Beauty go with you Sir.

[Exeunt several waies.

Scen. IV.

Credulous, Hearsay, Slicer, to them Sir Thomas Bitefig Haveatall, Caster, as to the Ordinary.
Cred.
Your welcome friends, as I may say—

Hear.
You do forget.

Cred.
—That am a guest as well as you.

Slic.
Most noble sons of Fortune, and of Valour,
You grace us with your presence: you must pardon
Our small provision.

Hear.
No variety here
But you most noble guests, whose gracious looks
Must make a dish or two become a feast.

Have.
I'l be as free as 'twere mine own.

Cast.
Who thinks
On any thing that borders upon sadnesse
May he ne'r know what's mirth, but when others
Laugh at his sullen wrinkles.

Have.
We will raise
A noise enough to wake an Alderman,
Or a cast Captaine, when the reck'ning is
About to pay.

Cre.
Hang thinking, 'snigs I'l be
As merry as a Pismire; come let's in.

Slic.
Let's march in order military Sirs.

Ha.
That's well remember'd most compleat Lieutenant

Ex. as to the Ordnary.

Scen. V.

Rime-well, Bagshot, Vicar Catchmey, Sir Christopher.
Rim.
Come my most noble order of the club.
'Cause none will else, let's make much of our selves.
His letter may procure a Dinner yet.

Bag.
Cheer up Sir Kit, thou lookst too spiritually:
see too much of the Tith-pig in thee.

Ch.
I'm not so happy: Kit's as hungry now
As a besieged City, and as dry
As a Dutch Commentator. This vile world
Ne'r thinks of Qualities: good truth I think
'T hath much to answer for. Thy Poetry
Rimewell, and thy voice Vicar Catchmey, and
Thy Law too Bagshot is contemn'd: 'tis pitty
Professions should be slighted thus. The day
Will come perhaps, when that the Commonwealth
May need such men as we. There was a time
When Coblers were made Church-men, and those black'd
Smutch'd Creatures thrust into white Surplisses,
Look'd like so many Magpies, and did speak
Just as they, by rote. But now the Land
Surfets forsooth. Poor Labourers in Divinity
Can't earn their groat a day, unlesse it be
Reading of the Christian buriall for the dead:
When they ev'n for that reason truly thank
God for thus taking this their Brother to him.

Catch.
Something profane Sir Christopher.

Chri.
When I
Levell my larger thoughts unto the Basis
Of thy deep shallowness, am I prophane?
Henceforth I'l speak, or rather not speak, for
I will speak darkly.

Catch.
There's one comfort then
You will be brief.

Chri.
My briefness is prolix;
Thy mind is bodily, thy soul corporeal;
And all thy subtile faculties are not subtile,
Thy subtility is dulness. I am strong.
I will not be conceiv'd by such Mechanicks.

Rime.
I do conceive you though Sir Christopher,
My Muse doth sometimes take the selfsame flight.

Chri.
Pauci, pauci ques æquus amavit.
But Quadragessimall wits, and fancies leane
As ember weeks (which therefore I call leane,
Because they're fat) these I do doom unto
A knowing ignorance; he that's conceiv'd
By such is not conceiv'd; sense is non-sense
If understood by them. I'm strong again.

Rime.
You err most Orthodoxly sweet Sir Kit.

Chri.
I love that though I hate it: and I have
A kind of disagreeing consent to't.
I'm strong, I'm strong again. Let's keep these two
In desperate hope of understanding us.
Ridles, and Clouds are very lights of speech:
I'l vaile my carelesse anxious thoughts, as 'twere
In a perspicuous cloud, that I may
Whisper in a loud voice, and ev'n be silent
When I do utter words; words did I call them?
My words shall be no words, my voice no voice;
My noise no noise, my very language silence.
I'm strong, I'm strong: good Sir you understand not.

Bag.
Nor do desire; 'tis meerly froth, and barme,
The yest that makes your thin small Sermons work.

Chri.
Thou hold'st thy peace most vocally. Again.

Catch.
I hate this Bilke.

Chri.
Thou lovest 'cause thou dost hate.
Thy injuries are Courtesies. Strong again.

Cat.
Good Sampson use not this your Asses jaw-bone.

Chri.
Thou'st got my love by losing it; that earnest
Jest hath regain'd my soul. Sampson was strong;
He kill'd a thousand with an Asses-jawbone.
Ent. a Serv. as a passing by
And so will I. 'st, 'st—good friend d'y' hear?
Here is a letter friend to Mr Meanwell.

Bag.
Any Reversions yet? nothing transmiss'd?

Rime.
No gleanings James? no Trencher Analects?

Ser.
Parly a little with your stomacks Sirs.

Catch.
There's nothing so ridiculous as the hungry:
A fasting man is a good jest at any time.

Ser.
There is a Gentleman without, that will'd me
To ask if you'l admit of him among you,
He can't endure to be in good company.

Catc.
You'r merry James; yes by all means good James;
Admit quoth he? what else? pray y' send him in.
[Ex. Se.
Let's be resolv'd to fall out, now then he
Shall have the glory to compose the Quarrel,
By a good dozen of pacificall Beere.

Rime. Bag.
Agreed, agreed.

Chri.
My Coat allows no Quarrell.

Rime.
The Colour bears't if you'l venture the stuffe,
The tendernesse of it I do confesse
Some what denies a grapling.

Chri.
I will try,
Perhaps my Spirit will suggest some anger.

[Ent. And.
An.
Save you boon sparks: wil't please you to admit me?

Chri.
Your Worship graceth us in condescending
To levell thus your presence humble Sir.

And.
What may I call your name most reverend Sir?

Bag.
His name's Sir Kit.

Chri.
My name is not so short,
'Tis a trissyllable, an't please your Worship:
But vulgar tongues have made bold to profane it
With the short sound of that unhallowed Idoll
They call a Kit. Boy learn more reverence.

Bag.
Yes, to my Betters.

And.
Nay friends, do not quarrel.

Chri.
It is the holy cause, and I must quarrell.
Thou Son of Parchment, got between the Standish
And the stiff Buckram bag: thou that maist call
The Pen thy Father, and the inke thy Mother,
The sand thy Brother, and the wax thy Sister,
And the good Pillory thy Couzen remov'd,
I say learn reverence to thy Betters.

Bag.
Set up an hour-glasse; hee'l go on untill
The last sand make his Period.

Chri.
'Tis my custome,
I do approve the Calumny: the words
I do acknowledge, but not the disgrace.
Thou vile ingrosser of unchristian deeds.

Bag.
Good Israel Inspiration hold your tongue;
It makes far better Musick, when you Nose
Sternolds, or Wisdoms Meeter.

Catch.
By your leave
You fall on me now Brother.

Rim.
'Tis my cause,
You are too forward Brother Catchm..

Catch.
I
Too forward?

Rim.
Yes I say you are too forward
By the length of your London measure Beard.

Catch.
Thou never couldst entreat that respite yet
Of thy dishonesty as to get one hair
To testifie thy Age.

Bag.
I'm beardlesse too;
I hope you think not so of me?

Chri.
Yes verily,
Not one hairs difference 'twixt you both.

Rim.
Thou violent Cushion-thumper, hold thy tongue,
The Furies dwell in it.

Catch.
Peace good Sir Kit.

Chri.
Sir Kit again? Thou art a Lopez; when
One of thy legs rots off (which will be shortly)
Thou'lt beare about a Quire of wicked Paper,
Defil'd with sanctified Rithmes,
And Idols in the frontisepiece: that I
May speak to thy capacity, thou'lt be
A Balladmonger.

Catch.
I shall live to see thee
Stand in a Play-house doore with thy long box,
Thy half-crown Library, and cry small Books.
By a good godly Sermon Gentlemen—
A judgment shewn upon a Knot of Drunkards—
A pill to purge out Popery—The life
And death of Katherin Stubs—

Chri.
Thou wilt visit windows;
Me thinks I hear thee with thy begging tone
About the break of day waking the Brethren
Out of their morning Revelations.

And.
Brave sport Ifaith.

Rime.
Pray y'good Sir reconcile them.
If that some Justice be i'th' Ordinary now
Hee'l bind them to the peace for troubling him.

Bag.
Why should he not good Sir, it is his office.

An.
Now 'tis o'this side; o for a pair of Cudgels!

Rime.
Peace Inkhorn, there's no musick in thy tongue.

Catc.
Thou and thy Rime lye both, the tongue of man
Is born to musick naturally.

Rime.
Thou thing,
Thy belly looks like to some strutting hill,
O'r shadow'd with thy rough beard like a wood.

Chri.
Or like a larger Jug, that some men call
A Bellarmine, but we a Conscience;
Whereon the lewder hand of Pagan workman
Over the proud ambitious head hath carv'd
An Idoll large with beard Episcopal,
Making the Vessel look like Tyrant Eglon.

Catch.
Prophane again Sir Christopher I take it.

Chri.
Must I be strong again? thou humane beast,
Who'rt only eloquent when thou sayst nothing,
And appear'st handsome while thou hid'st thy self,
I'm holy 'cause prophane.

And.
Couragious Raskals,
Brave Spirits, Souldiers in their daies I warrant.

Bag.
Born in the field I do assure your Worship:
This Quarrelling is meat and drink to them.

Rime.
Thou lyest.

Bag.
Nay then I do defie thee thus.

[Ba. draws his Inkhorn and Ri. catcheth off Sr Chr. hat and spectacles.]
Rime.
And thus I am prepar'd to answer thee.

Ch.
For the good St s sake part them; I am blind,
If that my Spectacles should once miscarry.

Rime.
Caytiff, this holy instrument shall quaile thee.

Bag.
And this shall send thee to thy couzen furies.

Chri.
I feel a film come o'r mine eyes already,
I must look out an Animal conductive,
I mean a Dog.

And.
Pray y'beat not out his eyes in
Anothers hands.

Chri.
Most strongly urg'd.

Catch.
Your words
Are meerly wind. James ho! what James some beer.
They're mastive Dogs, they won't be parted Sir,
Without good store of Liquor.

[Ent. Serv. with beere.
And.
I will souce them.

Ser.
Drink t' 'em Sir, if that you'l have 'em quiet.

An.
Is that the way? here's to you my friends; a whol one.

Ba.
Were't not for that good Gentleman thou'dst smoak for't.

Ri.
Had I not vow'd some reverence to his presence.
Thou hadst been nothing.

Bag.
'Fore Mars I was dry;
This valour's thirsty: fill to my Antagonist.

Rime.
No, mine own dish will serve: I'm singular.
Few vessels still do well; I carry this
To drink my beer, while others drink their sack.
I am abstemious Rimewel: I hate wine
Since I spake treason last i'th' Celler. Here
Give me thy hand, thou child of fervency.
Didst thou mistrust thy spectacles?
It was no anger, 'twas a Rapture meerly.

Chris.
Drink, and excuse it after. James your help.
Come Man of voice keep time while that I drink.
This moisture shall dry up all injuries,
Which I'l remember only to forget;
And so hereafter, which I'm wont to call
The future now, I'l love thee stubbornly.
Your beer is like my words, strong, stinging geare.

Catch.
Here little Lawyer, let's be friends hereafter;
I love this reconcilement with my heart.

And.
'Tis the best deed that e'r I did: O my conscience
I shall make a good Justice of the Peace,
There had been bloud-shed, if I had not stickled.

Ser.
More bloud been spilt I warrant than beer now.

And.
That Inkhorn is a deadly dangerous weapon:
It hath undone one quarter of the Kingdom.

Chris.
Men should forgive; but thou art far, yea far
From it O Bagshot; thou'rt in love with hate;
Blesse me! I see the Fiend still in his looks;
He is not reconcilable with drink;
Hee'l never love truly, till he eat with me.
The nature of his Spirit asketh meat:
He hath a Woolf in's breast; food must appease him.

And.
Cold meat will doe it, wil't not?

Rim.
Any thing—
That may imploy the teeth.

And.
Goe James provide;
You are not merry yet.

Catch.
To satisfie you
In that point, we will sing a Song of his.

And.
Let's ha't; I love these Ballads hugeously.

The Song.
1. Catch.
Then our Musick is in prime,
When our teeth keep triple time;
Hungry Notes are fit for Knels:
May lankenes be
No Quest to me.
The Bagpipe sounds, when that it swels.
Chor.

2. Bagsh.
A Mooting Night brings wholsome smiles,
When John an Okes, and John a Stiles,
Doe greaze the Lawyers Satin.
A Reading-Day
Frights French away,
The Benchers dare speak Latin.
Chor.

3. Rim.
He that's full doth Verse compose;
Hunger deales in sullen Prose:
Take notice and discard her.
The empty Spit
Ne'r cherish'd Wit,
Minerva loves the Larder.
Chor.

4. Chr.
First to break Fast, then to dine,
Is to conquer Bellarmine:
Distinctions then are budding.
Old Sutcliffs Wit
Did never hit,
But after his Bag-pudding.
Chor.

And.
Most admirable; a good eating Song.

Chri.
Let us walk in, and practice it; my Bowels
Yern till I am in charity with all.

And.
A Christian resolution good Sr Christopher.

Ex.

Scen. VI.

Meanwell with a letter in his hand, Hearsay, Slicer.
Mea.
Sweet Sir I am most passionately yours,
[Mean. reads.
To serve you all the waies I can. Priscilla.
Very well Penn'd of a young Chambermaid,
I do conceive your meaning sweet Priscilla:
You see I have the happy fortune on't;
A night for nothing, and intreated too.

Slic.
Thou dost not know how I do love thee; let me
Make use of this, thou'lt have the like occasion.

Hea.
Thou art the fawningst fellow Slicer—Meanwel
Heark here.

Mean.
For Gods sake be contented Sirs;
I'm flesh and bloud as well as you. Lieutenant,
Think on your Suburb Beauties; sweet Intelligencer,
I will by no means bar you of your Lady.
Your sin I assure you will be honourable.

[Exit Mean.
Slic.
Pox o' your liquorous lips; if that she don't
After this sealing forty weeks deliver
Something unto thee as thy act and deed,
Say I can't Prophesie.

Hear.
If I don't serve him
A trick he thinks not of—

Slic.
Did'st mark how he
Did apply himself to the Knight all dinner?
I am afraid he plaies the cunning Factor,
And in anothers name woes for himself.

Hear.
Let it go on; let it work something farther.
'Tis almost ripe enough to crush; he hath not
Crept high enough as yet to be sensible
Of any fall.

Slic.
Now is the time or never.
This night you know he and his Doxie meet;
Let me alone to give them their good morrow.
If that we carry things but one week longer
Without discovery, farewell London then;
The world's our own. He ne'r deserves to thrive
That doth not venture for it. Wealth's then sweet
When bought with hazzard. Fate this Law hath set;
The foole inherits, but the wife must get.