University of Virginia Library

Act. 1.

secaena. 1.

—enter Sir Wary Wastefull, Mr Hollow-heart, Mr Grum-chine, Lady Wastefull, & Mr Tingle her owne brother.
Sir Wary.
And thus farre are we come, with right good speed;
Noe rubb did much offend us: that's the prime
of every action, when the strength of monney
can ripen a rich harvest for the sicle
of one good meaninge: then the blooming bud
doth softly ripen a prosperity.
Whereas to stop our hopes with want,
& wyerdraw out our deepe occassions,
(which weightily doe make or marre a state)
This folly oftentimes doth wound the body
of our most deare Intentions, & surround us
amidst our thoughts' & comments politique.

Mr Hollowheart
—we have indeed (good brother) prettily well
indifferent well I say, encompassed
the grudge of all the foes 'to your estate;
and drawne a cypresse, 'fore the waining light
of the decaied symptoms left unto yee;
but yet all is not done;

Sir Wary
not all yet done?
you say true (brother) more is to be done.
I'le call in all my monneys personall,
and send my servant Blinko to spy out
a purchase for a seat to place my baggs on.
good earth is solid; flashy paper light:
houses but candle rents: ground feares no blight.

Lady.
I pray sweet doe! call for your monneys quickly
The scrivener much deceaves yee: bonds are paper:
& credit sincks, where reputation's lost.
At best, the trade's uncomly for high blood;
It seldom does the noble any good.
vertue and honour claime a share in such
to make vile gaines wise people think it much.

Sir Wary.
I shall effect thy counsell very shortly:
I like good solid earth: this paltry Coine
Is like old homers, επεα πτεροεντα
I think your purchasers (most of them) are graecians.
'Tis store will make a frozen melancholy
(for all your mortifying sharpe dicteriums)
to pergraecari, skip, & friske it oft.
well—well—this manour itches.

Holl.

aside.
Sir Wary.
Tis true she is soe; and Ile place her first.
for noe girle
shall soare aloft in my deceasd estate.
They'l loose our name. o for a brave male issue
to be an heyre to 5 and 40 mannours!

Tingle.
—I, god send it, Sir,
I hope 'twill not be long ere that I see it
beare up my sisters apron; faith these robes
doe not become you sister.

Lady Wast.
—well thats' all one; when it shall please my starrs
I may conceave: before the fates deny.
or should I? what fortune would attend my child
would pose the Artists in their horoscope.

Sir Wary.
Well! would it please the supreme deity
the feeder of our nature & emplanter
of all the secret moisture in our veines
which springs an action for humanity:
to lend an aide beyond these sterved powers
to quicken happy life, & masculine
attractive spright, within dame natures Arke;
I would sollicite every minutes passe,
with a robustious micant horizon,
which should breathe forth the strong desire of him
whose emulation, & sole chiefest aime
is soe to be expressd, but in the shape
and pourtraid by a stripling of my owne.

Hollowh.
I shall arrest those praises, sir, untill
I see a better warrant from above.

Tingle.
pray! let them breath; thei'r pious: to desire
is modest asking: boldnesse to require.

Lady W.
—when nature pleaseth, I shall fitted bee
I hope for fruitfull & blest progeny.
men wish to please their fancies: but they'r serv'd
when time is fitted, or the bones deserv'd,
I pray as much as any: to want race
is womans skorne; which doth here quite deface.
A numerous issue is a mothers pleasure
a fathers joy, welbred; a grandsires treasure.

Sir Wary.
Let's put a period then, and recreate
our weary thoughts, which busied were with state:
to observe our owne occasions does us good,
but too much dulnesse childs & dreines our blood.
A little of the one, commends the other:
This is the way to make your wife a mother.

scaena 2

enter Mistress Claribell, Saena her maid; Mr Hodgepodge, alias Hodgefeild; Mr Simple & his page.
Mr Hodgefeild.
Pray Mistress Saena! turne not now away.
this is the making or the marring houre,
in which my blisse is crossd, or perfited.

Saena.
I must confesse; it somewhat may Concerne yee
to get all now Compleated; for 'tis time
which oft Combines impossibilities,
& knits the wary characters of art;
A season strain'd can conquer Victory,
& crowne each faculty with a due pleas'd worth.
Yet must I work this for yee? & have nought?
noe point of true dimension from your favour?
noe tincture from a generous feeling pulse?
nor any moiety for my diligence?
you know 'tis in our power to cross a match:
yes! though the wedding gowne be made & witnesse,
put to th'agreement: though a father call
& mother mak't a match: we have a power
ore all these parcell child-commanders: neither
fore the conjunction does praevaile our Art.
we can pause after stroakes; and sometimes lock
the wrangling Theseus in a Labyrinth.
make our deare mistresse lick up our frothy humours
& vomit part out, in her husbands face,
whilst you shall hold her, thus! and I will fetch
to countenance the deed, the next hot water.
besides we can persuade, well for a neede,
& turn the application of our mistresse
to what addiction our owne bow is bent.
Turne upside downe Conclusions; and convert
the poinant humour to our purposes.
These things our skill, can compasse, had it merit.

Mr Hodgefeild;
merit doeth plead; heere take it correspondent
To a most ready & most praegnant art,
There; hold.

Saena
Pray sir, surcease we are not so submisse,
to prostitute our tounge, (I shall deserve it;)
for your forgotten bounties harbinger.
True bounty Counts Convenience; & then comes
must lonely faire excepted: but thrust forward
(without that hiew of rich discretion)
Is duld & blunted by a sad repulse.
poise but my constitution: Can yee finde
a posy for soe base an Anagram,
implanted in my ill fixt horoscope?
or that my physiognomy doest portend
a Stigma, for so ready Trechery?
Though I can doe, it may be, very much,
with my younge mystresse: tis not so easy meanes
shall swallow up my firme laid faith to her;
And soe I leave you—.

Mr Hodgefeild.
O! my hope is gone
the best of sutors woo by servants aide.
when feare & errour makes them soone afraide
a prompter can encoradge, & lett in;
so doe the weakest glorious prizes winne.
Audacious proper wooing without ground
distastes your mistresse; doth your selfe confound.
but yet some Comforts aide mee.—

Claribell
—still troubled in my maiden thoughts?

Mr Hodgefeild.
my mistresse voice, & person doth appeare
as doth the glorious sunne; when rising from
her watry couch shee guilds' the hemisphere
& lightens all concavities below,—
with the reflexion of a gratefull beame.
now dearest Jaylour of a weary soule,
(weary'd for that 'tis kept soe much within)
release my agony'de sence, & entertaine
my dried limbes, within those blest precincts
may put mee from all thought of misery.
seale mee a long expected resolution
to free mee from these bonds, and cares that vexe
the truest heart of a right suppliant;
and I shall shrine thee in my heart a godesse.

Claribell;
why then in briefe; I love thee & have longe
entyrely lov'd thee; but 'tis vanity
for me to say I love: & the ould man
that perches ore all our greene-siknesse walle
as yet against it: were he but once dispatch'd,
we quickly would seale up this difference.

Mr Hodgef.
can he be not once mov'd? they say, loves potent,
& can doe much: time wearies hoary oakes;
which shew a stiffe & venerable age.
Time flawes the hardned jawes of rocky flints,
and weares a passadge, to eternall night;
and chaseth bedded sorrowes; which if plac't
in the fell chambers of a touch't remorse
had eaten up the vitall entrailes, and
enclosd the subject with envenoumd phanges.
yet by this medicine hath these ferall rootes
been pluckt, discerpt & dride' all into nothinge:
& sometimes washt with a Laethaean flood.
why should not then an Importunity,
(which wearies time & massacres discretion;)
command with helpe of love, soe small a boone,
as to envolve, both hearts of ours in one?

Claribell.
I wish it may be soe: & were not curses
that come from parents loathed exescrations
of a most deadely, & a viperous nature
I would attempt yet somewhat: now farewell;
I may noe more be seene.—

Mr. Hodgefeild.
was ever man soe bless't, & yet so cross't?
Soe bless't in a most comming, loving mistresse,
which sends paternall aide through every blush
(as fragrant as the sweet Arabian gummes)
unto her poore, distressed, loyall servant:
soe cursed, in a hatefull stoppage causd
by her most impious, & unweldy father:
whose words like charmes, do hunt me from these thresholds,
& make mee sing my griefe to philomell.
o! blessing drop't from the eternall sky!
o heavenly mixture of Ambrosia.
mixed by the fates for some all happy soules,
to have in the height of Love an unity;
a correspondence in our dear affections
which may replante, what time doth rend away,
& blow alive the mortifyde cynders
of syncere liking, & true affiance,
(neglected by forbidden Amoretts,)
into the dull relapse of dusty embers.
yee gods; which sit on winged chairs to governe
the sad & changeable scaene of mortall acts,
direct my constant passage on this stage
That I may draw a just catastrophe.
without the insulting voice of a full chorus:
& then respire my last, in lovely armes
more warme to mee, then is soft zephyrus
when shee arrives to ticle deynty flora.
may these things blesse mee: & I live to see
the old man dy, and Claribell with mee.

scaena. 3.

(enter to him Mr Simple, & page.)
Simple.
by your leave good cozen Hodgefeild, I am come
to call you to the bearebaiting; yonder is
old sackerson to be baited; all the doggs
are ready, & the beare already mussled.
come will yee goe?

Hodgefeild.
not now kind cozen Simple. Ime employde
this afternoone, & so engaged, I cannot
attend your sports.

Simple.
why then, you loose most noble sport, I tell yee
better then any game Cupid can play.
play, meethinks—
when the beare fights, especially Sackerson
(or the soone of sacke, which wine sure makes himm valiant;)
mars or minerva should assist the sport
It is soe noble; I am sure the gods sport at it
& therefore looke a care for to translate,
neere the trallucent starre of ursa major
(the ancestour of Sackerson) the fiery tribe
of starres, which waite on the caelestial curve.

Hodge.
I vow; the beares have made my cozen frantique,
synce when so learned cozen!

Simp.
ever since—I loved the sport; all recreation makes
that once a man delights in, every subject
as noble, as the arts themselves Can make him.
the exercise of ringing makes men Statists
& learnes them soe to change your tune each minute
with this most subtle posy; he can't live,
that cannot readily change, & dissemble.
this exercise doth teach the wise professour
to hold his peace & sound in a true distance,
or else, that needes he must run ore & jangle.
It teaches men likewise the noble art
of memory, & how by figures swiftly
to broach a new arithmetique from the changes.
Then hunting (by wise Xenaphon) is calld
an image & an exercise of warre.
the flying at the brooke is an Idea
of natural philosophy: by the which
the natural passes of the aire to water
& water into Aire, are most rarely
& solidly demonstrated; then
fishing doth teach us, how to sift the seas
& to make way for navigation
by groping under waters with a plummet.

Hodge.
prithee! have done good, cozen wise good cheape,
thou art now noe Simple scoller.

Simp.
but—coz—Hodgefeild!
the exercise of beare-baiting is the only
Caelestiall sport!

Hodge.
Fy! now you are prophane!

Simp.
hold of your censure, Cupidineues Kinseman,
your friend Ralph Simple, speakes the simple truth
& hates a prophane, & dammee roaring wezand.
I say our exercise is caelestial
for first it is the ground of that brave Art
that scolers term Astronomy: & next
Princes doe use it altogether now
upon the holiest daies; & therefore I
am not to be much blamed (if I call)
this noble exercise, caelestiall.

page.
but Sir, whilst thus you reade your lecture
sackerson, is almost drench't.

Simp.
farewell, coz Hodgefeild, I am for the Beare:
whilst for your mistresse love you'l shed a Teare.

secaena 4

enter Sir Petronel Flash; Sir Rancefort Bloteface, Mr Scatterbraine, & Quillet.
Sir Petronell Flash.
Yes by this light, shall yee;

Sir Rancefort.
noe. by your favour, Sir.

Sir Pet.
I say you shall, by Venus: not you bound?
and one of our fraternity? a trifle!
'tis we, that beare you out. could you
partake a Taverne dinner; drink briske wine;
take off a neates tounge; wash your throate with claret;
and see the Stilyard, once a week without us?
besides your Hackney coach, your brace of Tumblers.
These cost us nothing, doe they? your poore wife,
(That pukes on the composition of a ruine cheese
& puts the stone, & mother with spaw water
into an honest flight:) shall heare your humour,
humour
you'l not be bound Sir, will yee?

Rancef.
noe; not by any meanes, were not the loadstone,
In your disposall, which doth draw mee to 'ot:
youl see mee all dischargd: I shall not absolve
your Taverne bills, & reckonings; & be cast
into the lonely counter for mulld sack.
I hope I shall not: whilst I live conceal'd
and goe to Hollands leauguer, or the Burse.

Scatterb.
pray never fear us: we are principall
and have estates to answer it: were we poore?
your banqueront cast of gallants, that scarce reckon
within 3 years with Tailours or with silkeman!
who have their bills extended every quarter
for want of paiment to a subtile use,
then might your gumm'd gols tremble: but for us,
or our engadgements, once to make a question
dearely deserves the profer of a duell
and of a city friend, an enemy.
enter Quillet
what? are you ready gentlemen?

all.
yes, are the bonds, drawne?

Quillet.
drawne, hangd, and almost quartered into
labells, ful 2 houres synce! will Sir Rancefoot
stand bound in the triple obligation.

Sir Petro.
alls right my lad; commend me to thy master.

Quill.
'tis done already sir.

Exit.
Scatterb.
Away, away, to scrivener Tristrams house,
the mans, whose name is sorrow; yet he beareth
mirth in a bagge about him, tyde with whipcoard,
& seald in calves skin, with bees excrement.
let us arrest his plenty; dreine his ditches,
digge up his mines: & knaw with our Indentures
like petty rats, his vermine baggs asunder.
& let the zechines, & the dollors drop,
peaces of eight; ould gold; & spanish faces
with french Conundrums, & your Holland chinke.

Sir Pet.
gather now Scatterbraine; your wits are lost,
& now looke to'ot: twill be a monney harvest
but not a word to him.

Sir Ranc.
come; will yee goe?

Sir Pet.
on; in the comique stile
goe & Ile follow. I prethe sequor, ladde.