University of Virginia Library



Actus primus,

scen. prima.

Enter Scudmore, as in his Chamber in a morning, halfe ready, reading a Letter.
Sc.
Legit.
Whereas you write, my fortunes and my birth
Made aboue yours, may be a reall cause
That I must leaue you, know thou worthiest man,
Thou hast a soule, whose plenteous wealth supplies
All the leane wants blinde Chance hath dealt to thee.
Yet could I thinke, the Goddes from all their store,
Who ne're knew indigence vnto their will,
Would (out of all their stocke of Vertue left,
Or out of all new graces they can make)
Make such another peece as Scudmore is,
Then might he iustly feare; but otherwise,
Sooner the Masculine Element of Fire,
Shall flame his Pyramids downe to the Earth;
Sooner her Mountaines shall swell vp to Heauen,
Or softest Aprill showers quench fires in Hell;
Sooner shall Starres from this Circumference,
Drop like false fierie exhalation,
Then I be false to vowes made vnto thee;
In whom, ought ne're a fault: I ne're could see,
But that you doubted once my constancie.

Yours through the world, and to the end of Time. Bellafront.


Scud.
Loqui. vt raptui.
If (what I feele) I could expresse in words,
Methinkes I could speake ioy enough to men,


To banish sadnesse from all loue, for euer:
Oh thou that reconcil'st the faults of all
That froathy sex, and in thy single selfe
Confin'st, nay hast engrost Vertue enough
To frame a spacious world of vertuous women;
Hadst thou bin the Beginning of thy sex.
I thinke the Deuill in the Serpents skin,
Had wanted Cunning to orecome thy goodnesse,
And all had liu'd and dy'de in Innocency
The white Originall Creation.
Knockes within.
Whose there? Come in.

Enter Neuill.
Ne.

What, vp already Scudmore, neare a Wench with
thee? Not thy Laundresse?


Scud.
Good-morrow my deare Neuill.

Ne.
What's this? A Letter; Sure it is not so,
A Letter written to Hieronimo!

Scud.

By Heauen you must excuse me; Come, I know
You will not wrong my friendship and your manners
to tempt me so.


Ne.
Not for the world my friend,
Farewell, Good-morrow.

Exiturus.
Scud.
Nay Sir, Neither must you
Depart in anger from this friendly hand:
I sweare, I loue you better then all men,
Equally with all Vertue in the world:
Yet this would be a Key to lead you to
A prize of that importance.

Ne.
Worthy friend,
I leaue you not in anger: What de'e meane?
Nor am I of that inquisitiue Nature fram'd,
To thirst to know your priuate businesses:
Why, they concerne not me; If they be ill
And dangerous, t'would greeue me much to know em.
If good; they be so, though I know em not:
Nor would I do your loue so grosse a wrong,
To Couet, to participate affaires


Of that neere touch, which your assured loue
Doth thinke not fit, or dares not trust me with.

Scud.
How sweetly does your friendship play with mine,
And with a simple subtilty, steales my heart
Out of my bosome. By the holiest Loue
That euer made a Story, y'are a man
With all good so repleate, that I durst trust you
Euen with this secret, were it singly mine.

Ne.
I do beleeue you, farewel worthy friend.

Scud.
Nay looke you, this same fashion does not please me,
You were not wont to make your visitation.
So short and carelesse.

Ne.
Tis your Iealousie
That makes you thinke it so, for by my soule
You haue giuen me no distast, in keeping from me
All things that might be burthenous, and oppresse me.
Introth I am inuited to a wedding,
And the Morne faster goes away from me,
Then I go toward it: and so Good-morrow.

Scud.
God-morrow Sir, thinke I durst shew it you.

Ne.
Now by my life I not desire it Sir,
Nor euer lou'd these prying listening men,
That aske of other states and passages,
Not one among a hundered but proues false,
Enuious and slanderous, and wil cut that throat
He twines his armes about, I loue that Poet
That gaue vs reading, not to seeke our selues
Beyond our selues, Farewell.

Scud.
You shall not go,
I cannot now redeeme the fault I haue made
To such a friend, but in disclosing all.

Ne.
Now if you loue me, do not wrong me so,
I see you labour with some serious thing,
And thinke (like Fayries Treasure) to reueale it,
Will cause it vanish; and yet to conceale it
Will burst your breast, tis so delicious,
And so much greater then the Continent.

Sc.
Oh you haue pierc't my entrails with your words.


And I must now explaine all to your eies,
Read, and be happy in my happinesse.

Ne.
Yet thinke on't, keepe thy secret, and thy friend
Sure and entire; Oh! giue not me the meanes
To become false heereafter; or thy selfe
A probable reason to distrust thy friend,
Though he be neare so true, I will not see't.

Scud.
I die by Heauen, if you denie againe,
I starue for Counsell; take it, looke vpon it;
If you do not, It is an æquall plague,
As if it had beene knowne and published:
For God-sake read, but with this Caution,
By this right hand, by this yet vnstain'd sword,
Were you my father flowing in these waues,
Or a deare sonne exhausted out of them,
Should you betray this soule of all my hopes,
Like the two brethren (though loue made em Starres)
We must be neuer more seene both againe.

Ne.
I read it fearelesse of the forfeiture,
Yet warne you, be as Cautelous, not to wound
My integritie, with doubt, on likelyhoods,
From misreport, but first exquire the Truth.

Legit. Ne. Scud. aliquando respiciens.
Scud.
Read, whilst I tell the Storie of my loue,
And sound the Truth of her heroicke Spirit,
Whom eloquence could neuer flatter yet,
Nor the best tongue of praises reach vnto.
The Maide there nam'd, I met once on a Greene
Neere to her Fathers house, me thought she show'd,
For I did looke on her, indeed no eie
That ow'd a sensible member, but must dwell
Awhile on such an obiect.
The passing Horses, and the feeding Kine
Stood still, and left their iournies and their food,
The singing Birds were in contention
Which should light neerest her; for her cleare eies
Deceiu'd euen men, they were so like bright skies.


Neere in a Riuolet, swum two beauteous Swans,
Whiter then any thing, but her necke and hands,
Which they left straight to comfort her: A Bull
Being baiting on the Greene for the Swaines sport,
She walking toward it, the vex'd sauage beast
Ceast bellowing; the snarling Dogges were mute,
And had enough to do to looke on her,
Whose face brought Concord, and an end of iarres,
Though Nature made em euer to haue warres.
Had there bin Beares and Lyons, when she spake
They had bin charmed too: For Græcians Lute
Was rusticke Musicke to her heauenly tongue,
Whose sweetnesse e'ne cast slumbers on mine eies,
Soft as Content, yet would not let me sleepe.

Ne.
Yours through the world, & to the end of time. Bellafront.
Which, Bellafront Rich, Sir Iohn Worldlies Daughter?

Scud.
She is the food, the sleepe, the aire I liue by.

Ne.

Oh heauen! we speake like Goddes, and do like
Dogges.


Scud.
Whar meanes my

Ne.
This day, this Bellafront the Rich Heire,
Is married vnto Count Fredericke,
And that's the wedding I was going to.

Scud.
I prethie do not mocke me, Married?

Ne.
It is no matter to be plaid withall,
But euen as true as women all are false.

Scud.
Oh! that this stroake were Thunder to my brest,
For Neuill thou hast spoake my heart in twaine,
And with the sudden whirlewind of thy breath,
Hast rauisht me out of a temperate soile,
And set me vnder the red burning Zone.

Ne.
For shame returne thy blood into thy face,
Know'st not how slight a thing a woman is?

Scud.
Yes, and how serious too: Come Ile t'the Temple,
She shall not damne her selfe for want of Counsell.

Ne.
Oh! prethee run not thus into the streets,
Come dresse you better, so: Ah! as thy cloaths


Are like thy mind, too much disorder'd,
How strangely is this Tide turn'd? For a world
I would not but haue cal'd heere, as I went.
Collect thy Spirits, we will vse all meanes
To checke this blacke fate, flying toward thee; Come,
If thou miscarriest, tis my day of doome.

Scud.
Yes, now I'me fine, Married? It may be so,
But women looke too't, for if she proue vntrue,
The Diuell take you all, that are his due.

Enter Count Fredericke, a Taylor trussing him, attended by a Page.
Cou.
Is Sir Iohn Worldly vp, Boy?

Boy
No my Lord.

Cou.
Is my Bride vp yet.

Boy
No.

Cou.
No, and the Morne so faire.

Enter Pendant.
Pen.
Good morrow my thrice honor'd & heroick Lord

Boy

Good morrow your Lord and Maister you might
say, for breuitie sake.


Cou.
Thou'ast a good Taylor, and art verie fine.

Pen.
I thanke your Lordship.

Boy
I you may thanke his Lordship indeed.

Pen.
Foregod this Dublet sits in print my Lord.
And the Hose excellent; the Pickadell rare.

Boy
Heele praise himselfe in trust with my Lords taylor,
For the next S. Georges sute.

Cou.

Oh, Good-morrow Taylour, I abhorre billes in a
Morning.


Pen.

Your Honor sayes true; their Knauerie will be discern'd
by day-light,

But thou maist watch at night with bill in hand,
And no man dares finde fault with it.

Tay.

A good iest Efaith, Good-morrow to your Lordship,
a verie good iest.

Exit Taylor.

Cou.

I wonder my inuited guests are so tardie, What's a
clocke.




Pen.
Scarse seauen my Lord.

Cou.
And what newes Pendant?
What think'st thou of my present marriage?
How shewes the Beautie to thee I shall wed?

Pen.
Why to all women, like Diana among hir Nimphs.

Boy
There's all his reading.

Pen.
A beautie of that purenesse and delight,
That none is worthy of her but my Lord,
My Honorable Lord.

Cou.
But then her fortune
Matcht with her beautie, makes her vp a match.

Pen.
By Heauen vnmatcheable, for none fit but Lords,
And yet for no Lord fit, but my good Lord.

Cou.
And that her Sister then should loue me to,
Is it not strange?

Pen.
Strange: No, not strange at all,
By Cupid, there's no woman in the world
But must needs loue you, doate, go madde for you;
If you vouchsafe reflection; Tis a thing
That does it home: thus much reflection
Catches em vp by Dozens, like wilde foule.

Boy
Now ye shall tast the meanes by which he eates.

Pen.
Nature her selfe hauing made you, fell sicke
In loue with her owne worke, and can no more
Make man so louelie, being diseasd with loue.
You are the worlds Minion, of a little man;
Ile say no more, I would not be a woman,
For all has beene got by them.

Cou.
Why man, why?

Pen.
Hart, I should follow you like a yong rank whore,
That runs proud for her loue, plucke you by'th sleeue,
Who ere were with you, in the open streete,
With the impudencie of a drunken Oyster-wise,
Put on my fighting wastcoate, and the Ruffe
That feares no tearing, batter downe the windowes
VVhere I suspected you mightlie all night,
Scratch faces, like a VVilde-Cat of Pict-hatch.



Cou.
Pendant thou't make me dote vpon my selfe,

Pen.
Narcissus by this hand, had farre lesse cause.

Cou.
How knowst thou that?

Boy.
They were all one my Lord.

Pen.
How do I know, I speake my Conscience.
His beauties were but shaddowes to my Lord,
VVhy Boy his presence would enkindle sin,
And longing thoughts in a deuoted Nun:
Oh foote, oh Legge, oh Hand, oh body, face,
By Ioue it is a little man of wax.

Cou.
Th'art a rare Rascall; Tis not for nothing
That men call thee my Commendations.

Boy.
For nothing, no, he would be loath it should.

Enter Captaine Poutes.
Cou.

Good Morrow, and good welcome Captaine
Poutes.


Cap.
Good Morrow to your honour, and all ioy
Spring from this match, and the first yeare a Boy,
I commend these two verses a purpose, to salute your Honor.

Cou.

But how haps it Captaine, that your intended marriage
with my Father in Lawes third daughter, is not solemnized
to day.


Pen.

My Lorde tels you true Captaine, it woulde haue
sau'd meat.

Faith I know not, Mistris Kate likes me not, shee sayes I
speake as if I had a pudding in my mouth, and I aunswered
her, if I had it was a white pudding, and then I was the
better arm'd for a woman; for I had a case about mee, so
one laught, and the other cried fie: the third saide I was a
Bawdy Captaine, and there was all I could get of them.


Cou.

See Boy, if they bee vp yet, Maids are long lyers I
perceiue.


Boy.

How if they will not admit me my Lord:


Cou.

VVhy should not they admit you my Lorde, you
cannot Commit with em my Lord.


Boy

Marry therefore my Lord.

Exit Boy.



Cou.

But what should be the reason of her sodain alteration,
she listned to thee once: Ha.


Pen.

Haue you not heard my Lord, or de'e not know.


Cou.

Not I, I sweare.


Pen.

Then you know nothing that is worth the knowing.


Cap.

That's certaine, he knowes you.


Pen.

There's a young Merchant, a late Sutor, that deals
by whole sale, and Heire to Land, well descended, of worthy
education, beholding to Nature.


Cou.

Oh, tis young Strange.


Cap.

Ist he that lookes like an Italian Taylour? Out of
the lac'd wheele, that weares a Bucket on's head?


Cou.

That is the man, yet beleeue mee Captaine, it is a
noble sprightly Cittizen.


Cap.

Has he money?


Cou.

Infinitely wealthy.


Cap.

Then Captaine thou art cast, would I had gon for
Cleeueland; Worldly loues money better then I loue his
Daughter,

Ile to some Company in Garrison: God b'wy.

Cou.
Nay, ye shall dedicate this day to me,
We speake but by the way man, nere dispaire;
I can assure you, shee's yet as free as Ayre.

Pen.
And you may kill the Merchant with a looke,
I'de threaten him to death: my honor'd Lord
Shall be your friend, goe too, I say he shall,
You shall haue his good word, shall he my Lord?

Cou.
Sfut, he shall haue my bond to do him good.

Pen.
Law, Tis the worthiest Lord in Christendome:
Oh Captaine, for some fourescore braue Spirits, once
To follow such a Lord in some attempt.

Cap.
A hundred Sir were better.

Enter old Sir Innocent Ninnie, my Lady Ninnie, Sir Abraham, and Mistris Wagtayle.
Cou.
Heere's more Guesse.

Cap.
Is that Man and Wife?



Pen.
It is Sir Innocent Ninne, that's his Lady,
And that M. Abraham their onely sonne.

Count discoursing with In: La: Abra: looking about.
Cap.

But did that little, old, dri'de Neats tongue, that
Eele-skin get him.


Pen.

So tis said Captaine.


Cap.

Methinkes, he in his Lady, should shew like a Needle
in a Bottle of Hay.


Pen.

One may see by her Nose, what Pottage shee
loues.


Cap.

Is your name Abraham; Pray who dwels in your
Mothers backside, at the signe of the Aqua-vitæ bottle.


Pen.

Gods precious: Saue you Mistris Wagtaile.


Wag.

Sweet M. Pendant.


(Puls hir by the sleeue.
S. Abr.

Gentlemen, I desire your better acquaintance,
you must pardon my Father, hee's somewhat rude, rude, &
my Mother grosly brought vp, as you may perceiue.


Cou.
Yong M. Abraham, cry ye mercie Sir.

Abra.
Your Lordships poor friend, & Sir Abra: Ninny
The Dub a dub of Honor, piping hot,
Doth lye vpon my Worships shoulder blade.

Inno.

Indeed my Lord, with much cost and labour, wee
haue got him Knighted; and being Knighted, vnder fauor
my Lord, let me tell ye, hee'le proue a sore Knight as ere
run at Ring. He is the one and onely Ninnie of our house.


La. Nin.

He has cost vs something ere he came to this:
Hold vp your head Sir Abraham.


Abra.

Pish, pish, pish, pish.


Cou.

De'e heare how.


Pen.

Oh, my Lord.


Cap.

I had well hop'd she could not haue spoke, she is so fat.


Cou.

Long maist thou wear thy Knights-hood, & thy spurs
Pricke thee to Honor on, and pricke off Curs.


Abra.

Sir Abraham thankes your Honour; and I hope,
your Lordship will consider the simplicity of Parents, a
couple of old fooles my Lord, and I pray so take em.


Om.

Ha, ha, ha.




Abra.

I must be faine to excuse you heere, you'le needs
be comming abroad with mee; if I had no more wit then
you now we should be finely laugh'd at.


Inno.

Berlady his worship saies well wife, wee'le troble
him no longer; with your Honors leaue, Ile in and see my
old friend Sir Iohn, your Father that shall be.


La. Nin.

Ile in to, and see if your Bride need no dressing.


Exit Inno.
Cou.

Sfut as much as a Tripe I thinke, hast them I pray.
Captain, what think'st thou of such a woman in a long Sea
Voyage, where there were a dearth of Victuals?


Cap.

Venison my Lord, Venison.


Peu.

I faith my Lord, such Venison as a Beare is.


Cap.

Hart, she lookes like a blacke Bumbard, with a pint
pot waiting vpon it.


Exeunt Lady Wag.
Cou.

What Countrimen were your Ancestors S. Abra.


Abra.

Countrimen, they were no Countrimen, I scorne
it, they were Gentlemen all, My Father is a Ninnie, and my
Mother was a Hammer.


Cap.

You should be a Knocker then by the Mothers side.


Abra.

I pray my Lord, what is yon Gent. he looks so like
a Sarazen, that as I am a Christian I cannot endure him.


Cou.

Take heed what you say Sir, hee's a Soldier.


Pen.

If you crosse him, hee'l blow you vp with Gunpowder


Abra.

In good faith, he lookes as if he had had a hand in
the treason, Ile take my leaue.


Cou.

Nay good Sir Abraham, you shall not leaue vs.


Pen.

My Lord shall be your warrant.


Abra.

My Lord shall be my warrant: Troth I doo not
see that a Lords warrant is better then any other mans, vnlesse
it bee to lay one by the heeles. I shall stay heere, and
ha my head broake; and then I ha my mends in my owne
hands, and then my Lords warrant will helpe me to a plaister,
that's all.


Count.

Come, come, Captaine, pray shake the hand
of acquaintance with this Gentleman, he is in bodily feare
of you.




Cap.

Sir, I vse not to bite any man.


Abra.

Indeed Sir, that would shew you are no Gentleman,
I would you would bid me be couer'd: I am a knight,
I was Knighted a purpose to come a wooing to Mistris
Lucida, the middle Sister, Sir Iohn Worldlyes second daughter;
and she saide she would haue mee, if I could make her
a Ladie, and I can doo't now; Oh heere she comes.


Enter Sir Iohn Worldly, Maister Strange, Kate, and Lucida, with a Willow Garland.
Cou.

My Bride will neuer be readie I thinke: heer are the
other Sisters.


Pen.

Looke you my Lorde; There's Lucida weares the
Willow Garland, for you; and will so go to Church I hear:
and looke you Captaine, that's the Merchant.


Abra.

Now doth the pot of Loue boile in my bosome;
Cupid doth blow the fire; and I cannot Rime to bosome,
but Ile go reason with her.


Wor.

Youle make her ioynture of that fiue hundred you
say, that is your inheritance, M. Strange?


Stra.

Sir I will.


World.

Kate, you do loue him?


Kate.

Yes faith Father, with all my heart.


World.

Take hands, kisse him, her portion is foure thousand.
Good-morrow my sonne Count, you stay long for
your Bride; but this is the day that sels her, and shee must
come forth like my Daughter, and your Wife.

I pray salute this Gentleman as your Brother,
This morne shall make him so; and though his habit
But speake him Cittizen, I know his worth
To be gentile in all parts. Captaine,

Cap.
Sir.

World.
Captaine, I could haue beene contented well
You should haue married Kate.

Kate.
So could not Kate.

World.

You haue an honourable Title; a Souldier is a verie



honourable Title: A Captaine is a Commander of Soldiers;
But look you Captaine, Captaines haue no money,
therefore the Worldlies must not match with Captaines.


Cap.
So Sir, so.

World.
There are braue warres.

Cap.
Where?

World.
Finde them out braue Captaine,
Win honor, and get monie by that time;
Ile get a Daughter for my Noble Captaine.

Cap.
Good Sir, good.

World.
Honor is Honor, but it is no money,
Aspiciens Strange.
This is the Tumbler then must catch the Coney.

Cap.
Thou'rt an old fellow: Are you a Marchant Sir?

Stra.
I shame not to sayyes? Are you a Souldier Sir?

Abra.
A Soldier Sir; Oh God I, he is a Captaine.

Stra.
He may be so, and yet no Souldier Sir:

For as many are Soldiers, that are no Captaines; so manie
are Captaines that are no Soldiers.


Cap.

Right Sir: and as manie are Cittizens that are no
Cuckolds.


Stra.
So, many are Cuckolds, that are no Cittizens.
What ayle you Sir, with your robustious lookes?

Cap.

I would be glad to see for my money, I haue payde
for my standing.


Stra.
You are the Nobler Captaine Sir:
For I know manie that vsurpe that name,
Whose standings pay for them.

Cap.
You are a Pedler.

Stra.
You are a Pot-gun.

Cap.
Merchant, I would thou hadst an Iron Tale
Like me.

Cou.
Fie Captaine, you are too blame.

Pen.

Nay, Gods will, you are too blame indeede, if my
Lord say so.


Cap.

My Lord's an Asse, and you are another.


Abra.

Sweete Mistris Luce; let you and I withdraw, this
is his humor.



Send for the Constable.

Cap.
Sirra, Ile beate you with a pudding on the change.

Stra.
Thou dar'st as wel kisse the wide mouthed Canon
At his discharging, or performe as much
As thou dar'st speake: For Souldier you shall know,
Some can vse swords, that weare em not for show.

Kate

Why Captaine, though ye be a man of warre, you
cannot subdue affection; you haue no alacritie in your eie,
and you speake as if you were in a Dreame, you are of so
melancholy and dull a disposition, that on my Conscience
you would neuer get Children; Nay nor on my bodie neither:
and what a sinne were it in me, and a most pregnant
signe of Concupiscence, to marrie a man that wantes the
mettall of Generation; since that is the blessing ordain'de
for Marriage, procreation the onely end of it. Besides, if I
could loue you; I shall be heer at home, and you in Cleeueland
abroad; I among the bold Brittaines, and you among
the hot shots.


World.

No more puffing good Captaine; leaue batteries
with your breath, the short is this:

This worthy Count, this Morning makes my Son;
And with that happie Marriage this proceeds:
Worldly's my Name, Worldly must be my deeds.

Cap.

I will pray for Ciuill wars, to cut thy throat without
danger Marchant,

I will turne Pyrate, but Ile be reueng'd on thee.

Stran.

Do Captaine do, a halter will take vp our quarrel
then.


Cap.
Zoones, I will be reueng'd vpon ye all.
The strange aduenture th'art now to make
In that small Pinnace, is more perillous
Then any hazard thou could'st vndergo,
Remember a scorn'd Souldier tolde thee so.
Exit Captaine.

Stran.
Go walke the Captaine good Sir Abraham.

Abra.
Good faith Sir, I had rather walke your horse,

I will not meddle with him, I would not keepe him Companie



in his drinke for a world.


World.

But what good doo you Sir Abraham on my
daughter,

I could be e'ne content, my Lucida
Would skip your wit, and looke vpon your wealth,
And this one day let Hymen Crowne ye all.

Abra.
Oh no, she laughes at me; and scornes my sute:
For she is wilder, and more hard withall,
Then Beast, or Bird, or Tree, or stonie wall.

Kate
Ha, Godamercie old Hieronimo.

Abra.
Yet might she loue me for my louely eies:

Count.
I but perhaps your nose she doth despise.

Abra.
Yet might she loue me for my dimpled chin:

Pend:
I but she sees your Beard is verie thin.

Abra.
Yet might she loue me for my proper bodie:

Stran.
I, but she thinkes you are an arrant Noddie.

Abra.
Yet might she loue me, cause I am an heire:

World.
I, but perhaps she does not like your ware.

Abra.
Yet might she loue me in despight of all:

Luce.
I, but indeed I cannot loue at all.

World.
Well Luce, respect Sir Abraham I charge you.

Luce.
Father, my vow is past: whilst the Earle liues
I neare will Marrie, nor will pine for him:
It is not him I loue now, but my humor.
But since my Sister he hath made his choise,
This wreath of Willow that begirts my browes,
Shall neuer leaue to be my Ornament
Till he be dead, or I be married to him.

Pen.
Life my Lord, you had best marrie em all three,
Theyle neuer be content else.

Count.
I thinke so to.

World.
These are impossibilities; Come, Sit Abram.
A little time will weare out this rash vow.

Abra.
Shall I but hope?

Luce
Oh, by no meanes. I cannot endure these round
Breeches, I am readie to sound at em.

Kate
The Hose are comely.



Luce.

And then his left Leg: I neuer see it, but I thinke
on a Plum-tree.


Abra.

Indeed there's reason there should be some difference
in my Legges, for one cost me twentie pound more
then the other.


Luce.

Introth both are not worth halfe the mony.


Count.

I hold my life one of them was broake, and cost
so much the healing.


Abr.
Right hath your Lordship said, twas broke indeed,
At footeball in the Vniuersitie.

Pen.
I know he is in loue, by his Verse vaine.

Stra.
He cannot hold out on't: you shall heare.

Abra.
Well since I am disdain'd; off Garters blew;
VVhich signifies Sir Abrams loue was true.
Off Cypresse blacke, for thou befits not me;
Thou art not Cypresse, of the Cypresse Tree,
Befitting Louers: Out greene Shoo-strings out,
Wither in pocket, since my Luce doth pout:
Gush eyes, thumpe hand, swell heart, Buttons flie open,
Thankes gentle Dublet; else my heart had broken.
Now to thy Fathers Countrey house at Babram,
Ride post; There pine and die, poore, poore Sir Abram.

Omnes
Oh dolefull dumpe.

Musicke playes.
World.
Nay you shall stay the wedding, Hark the Musick,
Your Bride is readie.

Cou.
Put Spirit in your Fingers; Lowder still,
And the vast Ayre with your enchantments fill.

Exeunt Om.