University of Virginia Library

ACTVS 2.

SCENA I.

Roscius. Bird. Flowrdew.
Rosc.

Receive your places. The first that we present
are the Extreams of a vertue necessary in our
Conversation, call'd Comitas or Courtesy,
which, as all other vertues, hath her deviations from the
Mean. The one Colax, that to seeme over Courteous falls
into a servile flattery, the other (as fooles fall into the contraries

which they shunne) is Dyscolus, who hating to bee
a slavish Parasite growes into peevishnesse and impertinent
distast.

Flow.
I thought you taught two vices for one vertue!

Rosci.
So does Philosophy, but the Actors enter.

Colax. Dyscolus.
Colax.
How farre they sinne against humanity
That use you thus! Believe me 'tis a Symptom
Of Barbarisme, and rudenesse so to vexe
A gentle, modest nature as yours is.

Dysco.
Why dost thou vexe me then?

Colax.
I? Heaven defend
My breeding has been better, I vexe you?
You that I know so vertuous, just, and wise,
So pious and religious, so admir'd
So lov'd of all?

Dysc.
Wilt thou not leave me then
Eternall Torture? could your cruelty find
No back but mine that you thought broad enough
To beare the load of all these Epithites?
Pious? Religious? he takes me for a foole.
Vertuous? and Iust? Sir, did I ever cheat you,
Cozen, or gull you; that you call me just
And vertuous? I am grown the common scoff
Of all the world; the scoff of all the world.

Colax.
The world is grown too vile then.

Dysc.
So art thou.
Heaven! I am tun'd ridiculous!

Colax.
You ridiculous?
But 'tis as impious Age; There was a time,
(And pitty 'tis so good a time had wings
To fly away,) when reverence was payd
To a gray head; 'twas held a sacriledge
Not expiable to deny respect
To one, Sir, of your years and Gravity.

Dysc.
My yeares and gravity! Why how old am I?
I am not rotten yet, or grown so ranke
As I should smell oth' grave: O Times and manners!
Well Colax, well; goe on: you may abuse me,
Poore dust, and ashes, wormes meat, yeares & gravity:
He takes me for a Carkasse! what see you
So crazy in me? I have halfe my Teeth:
I see with spectacles, doe I not? and can walke too
With th'benefit of my staffe: marke if I cannot!—
But you sir at your pleasure with years and gravity
Think me decrepit.

Colax.
How? Decrepit sir!
I see young roses bud within your cheeks;
And a quick active blood run free and fresh
Through your veines.

Dysco.
I am turn'd boy again!
A very stripling schooleboy! have I not
The Itch and kibes? am I not scabb'd and mangy
About the wrists and hams?

Colax.
Still Dyscolus—

Dysc.
Dyscolus! and why Dyscolus? when were we
Grown so familiar? Dyscolus! by my name
Sure we are Pylades and Orestes! are we not?
Speak good Pylades.

Colax.
Nay worthy Sir
Pardon my error, 'twas without intent
Of an offence. Ile finde some other name
To call you by—

Dysc.
What doe you mean to call mee?
Foole? Asse? or Knave? my name is not so bad
As that I am asham'd on't.

Colax.
Still you take all worse then it was meant,
You are too Ieaous.

Dysco.
Iealous? I ha'not cause for't: my wifes honest;
Dost see my hornes? Doest? if thou doest,
Write Cuckold in my forehead; doe, write Cuckold
With Aqua-fortis, doe. Iealous! I am jealous;
Free of the Company! wife, I am jealous.

Colax.
I mean suspitious.

Dysc.
How, suspitious?
For what? for Treason, Felony, or Murder?
Carry me to the Iustice: bind me over
For a suspitious person: hang me too
For a suspicious person! O, O, O
Some courteous plague ceaze me, and free my soule
From this immortall Torment! every thing
I meet with, is vexation, and this, this
Is the vexation of vexations,
The Hell of Hells, and Divell of all Divells.

Flow.
For pitty sake fret not the good old Gentleman.

Dysc.
O! have I not yet torments great enough,
But you must adde to my affliction?
Eternall silence ceaze you!

Colax.
Sir we strive
To please you, but you still misconstrue us.

Dysc.
I must be pleas'd! a very babe, an infant!
I must be pleas'd! give me some pappe, or plummes:
Buy me a rattle, or a hobby-horse,
To still me, doe! be pleas'd? wouldst have me get
A Parasite to be flatter'd?

Col.
How? a Parasite?
A cogging, flatt'ring, slavish Parasite?
Things I abhorre and hate. Tis not the belly
Shall make my brains a captive. Flatterers!
Soules below reason will not stoope so low
As to give up their Liberty; only flatterers
Move by anothers wheele. They have no passions
Free to themselves. All their affections,
Qualities, humors, appetites, desires,
Nay wishes, vowes, and prayers, discourse & thoughts
Are but anothers Bondman. Let me tugg
At the Turkes Gallies; be eternally
Damn'd to a Quarry: In this state my minde
Is free: A flatterer has nor soule nor body
What shall I say?—No I applaud your temper,
That in a generous bravenesse take distast
At such whose servile nature strives to please you.
Tis royall in you Sir.

Dysc.
Ha! Whats that?

Colax.
A feather stuck upon your cloak.

Dysc.
A feather!
And what have you to doe with my feathers?
Why should you hinder me from telling th'world
I doe not lye on flockbeds?

Colax.
Pray be pleas'd.
I brusht it off for meere respect I bare you.

Dysc.
Respect! a fine respect, Sir, is it not,
To make the world believe I nourish vermine?
O death, death, death, if that our graves hatch wormes
Without tongues to torment us, let 'um have
What teeth they will. I meet not here an object
But adds to my affliction! Sure I am not
A man; I could not then be so ridiculous:
My eares are overgrown, I am an Asse;
It is my eares they gaze at. What strange Harpy
Centaure, or Gorgon am I turn'd into?
What Circe wrought my Metamorphosis?
If I be beast, she might haue made me Lyon,
Or something not ridiculous! O Acteon,
If I doe branch like thee, it is my fortune!
Why look they on me else? There is with in
A Glasse they say, that has strange qualities in it;
That shall resolve me. I will in to see
Whether or no I man or Monster be.

Exit.

SCEN. II,

To them Deilus, Aphobus.
Bird.

Who be these? They look like Presumption and Despaire.

Rosc.

And such they are. That is Aphobius, one that
out of an impious confidence fears nothing. The other
Deilus, that from an Atheisticall distrust, shakes at the
motion of a reed. These are the Extreams of Fortitude,
that steeres an even course between over much dareing,
and overmuch fearing.

Flowr.
Why stayes this reprobate Colax?

Rosc.
Any vice
Yeelds work for Flattery.

Flow.
A good Doctrine marke it.

Deilus.
Is it possible? did you not fear it, say you?
To me the meere relation is an ague.
Good Aphobus no more such terrible stories;
I would not for a world lye alone to night:
I shall have such strange dreames!

Apho.
What can there be
That I should fear? The Gods? If they be good,
Tis sin to fear them; if not good, no Gods,
And then let them fear me. Or are they Divells
That must affright me?

Deilus.
Diuells! where good Aphobus?
I thought there was some conjureing abroad.
Tis such a terrible wind! O here it is;
Now it is here again! O still, still, still!

Apho.
Whats the matter?

Deilus.
Still it followes me!
The thing in black, behind; soone as the Sun
But shines, it haunts mee! Gentle spirit leave mee!
Cannot you lay him Aphobus? what an ugly looks it has!
With eyes as big as sawcers, nostrills wider
Then Barbers basons!

Apho.
Tis nothing Deilus
But your weak Phancy, that from every object
Drawes arguments of fear. This terrible black thing—

Deil.
Wher is it Aphobus?

Apho.
—Is but your shadow Deilus.

Deil.
And should not we fear shadowes?

Apho.
No! why should we?

Deil.
Who knows but they come learing after us
To steale away the substance? Watch him Aphobus.

Apho.
I nothing fear.

Colax.
I doe commend your valour,
That fixes your great soule fast as a Center,
Not to be mov'd with dangers, let slight cock-boats
Be shaken with a wave, while you stand firme
Like an undaunted rock, whose constant hardnesse
Rebeats the fury of the raging Sea,
Dashing it into froth. Base fear doth argue
A low degenerate soule.

Deil.
Now I fear every thing.

Colax.
Tis your discretion. Every thing has danger,
And therefore every thing is to be feared.
I doe applaud this wisdome: Tis a symptome
Of wary providence. His too confident rashnesse
Argues a stupid ignorance in the soule,
A blind and senselesse judgement; give me feare
To man the fort, 'tis such a circumspect
And wary sentinell—.

Flow.
Now shame take thee for
A Luke warme formalist.

Colax.
—But daring valour
Vncapable of danger sleepes securely,
And leaves an open entrance to his enemies.

Deil.
What are they landed?

Apho.
Who?

Deil.
The enemies.
That Colax talkes of.

Apho.
If they be I care not.
Though they be Gyants all, and arm'd with thunder.

Deil.
Why doe you not fear Thunder?

Apho.
Thunder? no!
No more then squibs and crackers.

Deil.
Squibs and crackers?
I hope there be none here! slid, squibs and crackers!
The meere Epitomies of the Gun-powder Treason,
Faux in a lesser volume.

Apho.
Let fooles gaze
At bearded starres, it is all one to mee
As if they had been shav'd—thus, thus would I
Out-beard a Meteour, for I might as well
Name it a prodigy when my candle blazes.

Deil.
Is there a Comet say you? Nay I saw it,
It reach'd from Pauls to Charing, and portends
Some certain imminent danger to th'inhabitants
Twixt those two places: I'le goe get a lodging
Out of its Influence.

Colax.
Will that serve?—I feare
It threatens generall ruine to the Kingdome.

Deil.
I'le to some other Country.

Colax.
There's danger too to crosse the Seas.

Deil.
Is there no way, good Colax,
To crosse the Sea by Land? O the scituation!
The horrible scituation of an Island

Colax.
You sir are farre above such frivolous thoughts.
You fear not death.

Apho.
Not I.

Col.
Not sudden death.

Apho.
No more then sudden sleepes: Sir I dare dye.

Deil.
I dare not; Death to me is terrible:
I will not dye.

Apho.
How can you Sir prevent it?

Deil.
Why I will kill my selfe.

Col.
A valiant course;
And the right way to prevent death indeed.
Your spirit is true Roman!—But yours greater
That fear not death, nor yet the manner of it,
Should Heaven fall—

Apho.
Why then we should have Larkes.

Deil.
I shall never eate Larkes again while I breath.

Col.
Or should the earth yawn like a sepulcher,
And with an open throat swallow you quick?

Apho.
T'would save me the expences of a grave.

Deil.
I'had rather trouble my Exequutors by 'the half.

Apho.
Canons to me are pot-guns.

Deil.
Potguns to me
Are Canons; the report will strike me dead.

Apho.
A rapier's but a bodkin.

Deil.
And a bodkin.
Is a most dangerous weapon; since I read
Of Iulius Cesars death, I durst not venture
Into a Tailors shop for fear of Bodkins.

Apho.
O that the valiant Gyants would again
Rebell against the Gods, and besiege Heaven,
So I might be their leader.

Col.
Had Enceladus
Been halfe so valiant, Iove had been his prisoner.

Apho.
Why should we think there be such things as dangers?
Scylla, Charybdis, Python are but fables.
Medeas Bull, and Dragon very tales.
See monsters, serpents, all Poeticall figments.
Nay Hell it selfe, and Acheron meere inventions.
Or were they true, as they are false, should I be
So timorous as to fear these Bugbeare Harpyes,
Medusa's, Centaurs, Gorgons?

Deil.
O good Aphobus.
Leave conjuring, or take me into th'circle.
What shall I doe good Colax?

Col.
Sir walke in,
There is they say a Looking-glasse, a strange one
Of admirable vertues, that will render you
Free from inchantments.

Dei.
How a Looking-glasse?
Dost think I can endure it? why there lies
A man within't in ambush to entrap me.
I did but lift my hand up, and he presently
Catcht at it.

Colax.
'Twas the shadow Sir of your selfe.
Trust me a meere reflection.

Deil.
I will trust thee.
Exit.

Apho.
What Glasse is that?

Colax.
A trick to fright the Idiot
Out of his wits, a glasse so full of dread
Rendring unto the eye such horrid spectacles
As would amaze even you. Sir I doe think
Your optick nerves would shrink in the beholding,
This if your eye endure, I will confesse you
The Prince of Eagles.

Apho.
Look to it eyes, if yee refuse this sight,
My nayles shall damne you to eternall night.
Exit.

Col.
Seing no hope of gain, I pack them hence,
'Tis gold gives flattery all her Eloquence.

Scen. 3.

Acolastus. Anaisthetus.
Rosci.

Temperance is the mediocrity of inioying pleasures,
when they are present, and a moderate desire of them
being absent; And these are the extreames of that vertue.
Acolastus a voluptuous Epicure, that out of an immoderate,
and untam'd desire seekes after all pleasures promiscuously,
without respect of honest or lawfull. The other
Anaisthetus a meere Anchorite that delights in nothing,
not in those legitimate recreations allow'd of by God and
nature.

Acolast.
O now for an eternity of eating!
Foole was he that wish'd but a cranes short neck.
Give me one, nature, long as is a Cable,
Or sounding line, and all the way a palate
To tast my meate the longer. I would have
My senses feast together; Nature envied us
In giving single pleasures; let me have
My eares, eyes, palate, nose, and touch, at once
Injoy their happinesse; lay me in a bed
Made of a summers cloud; to my embraces
Give me a Venus hardly yet fifteene,
Fresh, plump, and active; she that Mars enjoy'd
Is grown too stale: And then at the same instant
My Touch is pleas'd, I would delight my sight
With Pictures of Diana, and her Nymphs,
Naked, and bathing drawn by some Apelles;
By them some of our fairest Virgins stand;
That I may see whether 'tis Art or nature
Which heightens most my blood and appetite.
Nor cease I here. Give me the seven Orbes
To charme my eares with their cœlestiall lutes,
To which the Angells that doe move those spheares
Shall sing some amorous ditty; nor yet here
Fixe I my bounds; The sunne himselfe shall fire
The Phœnix nest to make me a perfume,
While I doe eate the Bird, and eternally
Quaffe of eternall Nectar. These single, are
But torments, but together; O together!
Each is a Paradice. Having got such objects
To please the senses, give me senses too
Fit to receive those objects: Give me therefore
An Eagles eye, a blood-hounds curious smell,
A staggs quick hearing, let my feeling be
As subtle as the spiders, and my tast
Sharpe as a Squirrils. Then I'le reade the Alcoran,
And what delights that promises in future
I'le practise in the present.

Bird.
Heathenish Glutton!

Flow.
Base belly-God, licentious Libertine!

Anai.
And I doe think there is no pleasure at all
But in contemning pleasures; Happy Niobe
And blessed Daphne, and all such as are
Turn'd stocks and stones: would I were Lawrell too,
Or marble, I, or any thing insensible.
It is a toyle for me to eate or drink,
Only for natures satisfaction;
Would I could live without it. To my eare
Musique is but a mandrake. To my smell
Nard sents of rue, and wormwood; And I tast
Nectar with as much loathing, and distast
As Gall, or aloes, or my Doctors potion.
My eye can meete no object but I hate it.

Acola.
Come Brother Stoique be not so melancholy.

Anai.
Be not so foolish Brother Epicure.

Aco.
Come wee'le goe see a Comedy, that will raise
Thy heavy spirits up.

Anai.
A Comedy?
Sure I delight much in those toyes; I can
With as much patience heare the Marriners
Chide in a storme.

Aco.
Then lets goe drinke a while.

Anai.
'Tis too much Labour; Happy Tantalus
That never drinks.

Aco.
A little Venery
Shall recreate thy soule.

Ana.
Yes like anitch,
For 'tis no better, I could wish an heire;
But that I cannot take the paines to get one.

Aco.
Why, marry, if your conscience be so tender,
As not to doe it otherwise; Then 'tis lawfull.

Ana.
True Matrimony's nothing else indeed
But fornication licens'd, lawfull Adultery.
O Heavens! how all my senses are wide sluces
To let in discontent and miseries!
How happy are the moles that have no eyes;
How blest the Adders that they have no eares.
They neither see, nor heare ought that afflicts them.
But happier they that have no sence all;
That neither see, nor heare, tast, smell, nor feele
Any thing to torment them: soules were given
To torture Bodyes, man has reason too
To adde unto the heape of his distractions.
I can see nothing without sense, and motion,
But I doe wish my selfe transform'd into it.

Colax.
Sir I cōmend this temperance; your arm'd soule
Is able to contemne these petty baits,
These slight temptations, which we title pleasures;
That are indeed but names; He'ven it selfe knows
No such like thing; the starres nor eate, nor drink,
Nor lye with one another; and you imitate
Those glorious bodies, by which noble abstinence
You gaine the names of moderate, chast, and sober;
While this effeminate gets the infamous termes
Of Glutton, Drunkard, and Adulterer;
Pleasures, that are not mans, as man is man,
But as his nature sympathies with beasts.
You shall be the third Cato. This grave look
And rigid eyebrow will become a censor.
But I will fit you with an object Sir,
My noble Anaisthetus that will please you.
It is a Looking-glasse, wherein at once
You may see all the dismall groves and caves,
The horrid vaults, darke cells, and barren deserts,
With what in Hell it selfe can dismall be.

Anais.
That is indeed a Prospect fit for mee.

Exit.
Acol.
He cannot see a stock or stone, but presently
He wishes to be turn'd to one of those.
I have another humor, I cannot see
A fat voluptuous sow with full delight
Wallow in dirt, but I doe wish my selfe
Transform'd into that blessed Epicure.
Or when I view the hot salacious sparrow
Renew his pleasures with fresh appetite,
I wish my selfe that little bird of Love.

Colax.
It shewes you a man of a soft moving clay,
Not made of flint; Nature has been bountifull
To provide pleasures, and shall wee be niggards
At plenteous boards? He's a discourteous guest
That will observe a diet at a feast.
When Nature thought the earth alone too little
To find us meat, and therefore stor'd the aire
With winged creatures, not contented yet
Shee made the water fruitfull to delight us.
Nay I believe the other Element too
Doth nurse some curious dainty for mans food,
If we would use the skill to catch the Salamander:
Did she doe this to have us eat with temperance?
Or when she gave so many different Odors
Of spices, unguents, and all sorts of flowers,
Shee cry'd not—stop your noses: would she give us
So sweet a quire of wing'd Musitians
To have us deafe? or when shee plac'd us here,
Here in a Paradice, where such pleasing prospects
So many ravishing colours entice the eye,
Was it to have us winke? when she bestow'd
So powrefull faces, such commanding beauties
On many glorious Nymphs, was it to say
Be chast and continent? Not to enjoy
All pleasures, and at full, were to make nature
Guilty of that she nere was guilty of,
A vanity in her works.

Acol.
A learned Lecture!
Tis fit such grave and solid arguments
Have their reward—here—halfe of my estate
T'invent a pleasure never tasted yet,
That I may be the first shall make it stale.

Col.
Within Sir is a Glasse, that by reflexion
Doth shew the image of all sorts of pleasures
That ever yet were acted, more variety
Then Aretines pictures.

Aco.
Ile see the Iewell;
For though to doe, most moves my appetite,
I love to see, as well as act delight.
Exit.

Bird.
These are the things indeed the stage doth teach,
Dear heart, what a foule sinke of sinnes runne here!

Flow.
Insooth it is the common shore of lewdnesse.

Scen. 4.

Asotus. Aneleutherus.
Rosc.

These are Aneleutherus an illiberall Niggardly
Vsurer, that will sell heaven to purchase Earth. That, his
sonne Asotus, a profuse Prodigall, that will sell earth to
buy Hell. The extreames of Liberality which prescribes
a mediocrity in the Geting and Spending of Riches.

Aneleu.
Come boy, goe with me to the Scriveners, goe,

Asot.
I was in hope you would have said a Bawdy house.

Anel.
Thence to th'exchange.

Asot.
No, to the Taverne Father.

Anel.
Be a good husband boy, follow my counsell.

Asot.
Your counsell? No dad, take you mine
And be a good fellow—shall we goe and roare?
Slid Father I shall never live to spend
That you have got already—Poxe of atturneys,
Merchants, and Scriveners, I would heare you talke
Of Drawers, Punks, and Panders.

Anel.
Prodigall child!
Thou dost not know the sweets of getting wealth.

Asot.
Nor you the pleasure that I take in spending it.
To feed on Caveare, and eate Anchoves!

Anel.
Asotus, my dear sonne, talke not to me
Of your Anchoves, or your Caveare.
No, feed on Widdowes, have each meale an Orphan
Serv'd to your Table, or a glibbery heire
With all his lands melted into a morgage.
The Gods themselves feed not on such fine dainties,
Such fatting, thriving diet.

Asot.
Trust me Sir,
I am asham'd la—now to call you Father,
Ne're trust me now I'am, come be a Gentleman:
One of your haveings, and thus carke and care?
Come, I will send for a whole coach or two
Of Bankside Ladies, and wee will be Ioviall!
Shall the World say you pine and pinch for nothing?
Well doe your pleasure, keep me short of monies,
When you are dead, as dye I hope you must,
Ile make a shift to spend one halfe at least
Ere you are coffin'd, and the other halfe
Ere you are fully laid into your grave.
Were not you better help away with some of it?
But you will starve your selfe, that when y'are rotten,
One—Have at all of mine may set it flying.
And I will have your bones cut into dice,
And make you guilty of the spending of it:
Or I will get a very handsome bowle
Made of your scull, to drink't away in healths.

Aneil.
That's not the way to thrive! No sit and brood
On thy estate, as yet it is not hatch'd
Into maturity.

Asot.
Marry I will brood upon it,
And hatch it into chickens, capons, hens,
Larks, thrushes, quailes, wood-cocks, snites & phesants
The best that can be got for love or mony.
There is no life to drinking!

Anel.
O yes, yes,
Exaction, usury, and oppression.
Twenty i'th' hundred is a very Nectar.
And wilt thou, wast full lad, spend in a supper
What I with sweat and labour, care and industrie
Have been an age a scraping up together?
No, no Asotus, trust gray-head experience;
As I have been an oxe, a painfull oxe,
A diligent, toy ling, and laborious oxe
To plow up Gold for thee; so I would have thee—

Asot.
Be a fine silly Asse to keepe it.

Anel.
Be a good watchfull Dragon to preserve it.

Colax.
Sir, I overheard your wise instructions,
And wonder at the gravitie of your counsell.
This wild unbridled boy is not yet grown
Acquainted with the world; He has not felt
The weight of need, that want is vertue's clog;
Of what necessity, respect and value
Wealth is; how base and how contemptible
Poverty makes us. Liberality
In some circumstances may be allow'd;
As when it has no end but honesty,
With a respect of person, quantity,
Quality, time and place; but this profuse,
Vaine, injudicious spending speaks him Ideot.
And yet the best of liberalitie
Is to be liberall to our selves; and thus
Your wisdome is most liberall, and knowes
How fond a thing it is for discreet men
To purchase with the losse of their estate
The name of one poore vertue liberalitie.
And that too only from the mouth of beggers.
One of your judgment would not I am sure
Buy all the vertues at so deare a rate.
Nor are yo sir, J dare presume, so fond
As for to weigh your gains by the strict scale
Of equity, and Iustice; Names invented
To keepe us beggers! I would counsell now
Your son to tread no steps but yours, for they
Will certainly direct him the broad way
That leads unto the place wher Plenty dwels,
And shee shall give him honour.

Anel.
Your tongue is pow'rfull:
Pray read this Lecture to my sonne; I goe
To find my scriv'ner, who is gone I heare
To a strange Glasse wherein all things appeare.

Exit.
Asot.
To see if it can shew him his lost eares.
Now to your Lecture.

Col.
And to such a one
As you will be a willing Pupill to.
Think you I meant all that I told your father?
No, 'twas to blind the eyes of the old Huncks.
I love a man like you that can make much
Of his blest Genius: Miracle of Charity!
That open hand becomes thee; Let thy Father
Scrape like the Dunghill cock the dirt, and mire,
To find a pretious Gemme for thee, the Chicken
Of the white Hen to weare. It is a wonder
How such a generous branch as you, could spring
From that old root of damned avarice!
For every widdowes house the father swallowes,
The sonne should spue a Taverne. How are we
Richer then others, not in having much,
But in bestowing;
And that shines glorious in you. The chuffs crownes
Imprison'd in his rusty chest me thinkes
I heare groan out, and long till they be thine,
In hope to see the light againe. Thou canst not
Stand in a flood of Nectar up to th'chin,
And yet not dare to sup it; nor canst suffer
The Golden Apples dangle at thy lips,
But thou wilt tast the fruit. 'Tis generous this!

Asot.
Gramercy, thou shalt be Doctor o'th' chaire.
Here—'tis too little, but 'tis all my store,
I'le in to pumpe my dad, and fetch thee more.
Exit.

Colax.
How like you now my art? is't not a subtle one?

Flow.
Now out upon thee thou lewd reprobate!
Thou man of sinne, and shame, that sowest cushions
Vnto the elbowes of iniquity.

Colax.
I doe commend this zeale; you cannot be
Too fervent in a cause so full of goodnesse.
There is a generall frost hath ceas'd devotion,
And without such like ardent flames as these
There is no hope to thaw it. The word, Puritane,
That I doe glorify, and esteeme rev'erend,
As the most sanctified, pure, and holiest Sect
Of all professours, is by the profane
Vs'd for a name of infamy, a by-word, a slander,
That I sooth vice I doe but flatter them,
As we give children plums to learn their praiers,
T'entice them to the truth, and by faire meanes
Work out their reformation.

Bird.
'Tis well done,
I hope hee'le become a brother, and make
A Separatist!

Flow.
You shall have the devotions
Of all the Elders. But this foppinesse
Is weary some, I could at our Saint Antlings,
Sleeping and all, sit twenty times as long,

Rosc.
Goe in with me to recreate your spirits,
As Musique theirs, with some refreshing song,
Whose patience our rude Scene hath held too long.

Exeunt.