Beaumont and Fletcher's Works. Volume 9

Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima

Enter Rossella, Clarinda, Crocale, Juletta, HippolitaRos.I am deaf to all your intreaties: she that moves meFor pity or compassion to these Pirats,Digs up her Fathers, or her Brothers Tomb,And spurns about their ashes.Couldst thou remember what a Father thou hadst once,'Twould steel thy heart against all foolish pity.By his memory, and the remembrance of his dear embraces,I am taught, that in a Noble cause revenge is Noble;And they shall fall the sacrifices to appeaseHis wandring Ghost, and my incensed fury.Cla. The new come prisoner too!Ros. He too[. Y]et that we may learnWhether they are the same, or near ally'dTo those that forc'd me to this cruel course,Better their poor allowance, and permit 'emTo meet together and confer,Within the distance of your ear; perhapsThey may discover something that may killDespair in me, and be a means to save 'emFrom certain ruine.C[r]o. That shall be my charge.Ros. Yet to preventAll hope of rescue: for this new-come CaptainHath both a Ship and Men not far [off] from us,Though ignorant to find the only Port,That can yield entrance to our happy Island,Guard the place strongly, and e'r the next SunEnds his diurnal progress, I will beHappy in my revenge, or set 'em free.[Exeunt. Enter Crocale, Juletta, Hippolita. [A Table furnish'dCro. So serve it plentifully,And lose not time to enquire the cause;There is a main design that hangs upon this bounty.See the Table furnisht with Wine too,That discovers secrets which tortures cannot open:Open the doors too of the several prisons,And give all free entrance into this room.Undiscover'd I can here mark all. Enter Tib. MastHere's Captain careless, and the tough Ship-master,The slaves are nos'd like VulturesHow wild they look.Tib. Ha, the mistery of this,Some good Hobgoblin rise and reveal.Mast. I'm amazed at it: nor can I sound the intent.Tib. Is not this bread,Substantial bread, not painted?Mast. But take heed,You may be poisoned.Tib. I am sure I am famish'd;And famine, as the wise man says,Gripes the guts as much as any Mineral.This may be Treacle sent to preserve meAfter a long Fast: or be it Vipers spittle,I'll run the hazard.Mast. We are past all fear, I'll take part with ye.Tib. Do: and now i'faith, how d'ye feel your self?I find great ease in't. What's here;Wine, and it be thy Will;Strong lusty Wine. Well, fools may talkOf Mythridate, Cordials, and Elixirs.But from my youth this was my only Physick.Here's a colour, what Ladies cheek,Though cerus'd over, comes near it?It sparkles too: hangs out Diamonds.Oh my sweet-heart, how I will hug thee,Again, and again! They are poor drunkards,And not worth thy favors,That number thy moist kisses in these Crystals.Mast. But Mounsieur,Here are Suckets, and sweet dishes.Tib. Tush, boys meat,I am past it; here's strong food fit for men:Nectar, old lad. Mistriss of merry hearts,Once more I am bold with you.Mast. Take heed (man)Too much will breed distemper.Tib. Hast thou liv'd at SeaThe most part of thy life, where to be soberWhile we have Wine aboard, is capital Treason;And dost thou preach sobriety?Mast. Prethee forbear,We may offend in it; we know not for whomIt was provided.Tib. I am sure for me: therefore footra,When I am full, let 'em hang me, I care not. Enter Albert, Aminta, Raymond, Lamure, Morrillat, Franvile, severallyMast. This has been his temper ever.See, provoking dishes; candid Eringoes,And Potatoes.Tib. I'll not touch 'em, I will drink;But not a bit on a march, I'll be an Eunuch rather.Mast. Who are these?Tib. Marry, who you will;I keep my Text here.Alb. Raymond!Ray. Albert!Tib. Away, I'll be drunk alone;Keep off Rogues, or I'll belch ye into air;Not a drop here.Amint. Dear brother, put not in your eyes such anger;Those looks poison'd with fury, shot at him,Reflect on me. Oh brother, look milder, orThe Crystal of his temperanceWill turn 'em on your self.Alb. Sir, I have sought ye longTo find your pardon: you have plough'd the OceanTo wreak your vengeance on me, for the rapeOf this fair Virgin. Now our fortune guides usTo meet on such hard terms, that we need ratherA mutual pitty of our present state,Than to expostulate of breaches past,Which cannot be made up. And though it beFar from you[r] power, to force me to confess,That I have done ye wrong, or such submissionFailing to make my peace, to vent your anger;You being your self slav'd, as I to others:Yet for you[r] Sisters sake, her blessed sake,In part of recompence of what she has suffer'dFor my rash folly; the contagionOf my black actions, catching hold uponHer purer innocence, I crave your mercy;And wish however several motives kept usFrom being friends, while we had hope to live,Let death which we expect, and cannot fly from,End all contention.Tib. Drink upon't, 'tis a good motion;Ratifie it in Wine, and 'tis authentical.Ray. When I considerThe ground of our long difference, and look onOur not to be avoided miseries,It doth beget in me I know not howA soft Religious tenderness; which tells me,Though we have many faults to answer forUpon our own account, our Fathers crimesAre in us punish'd. Oh Albert, the courseThey took to leave us rich, was not honest,Nor can that friendship last, which virtue joyns not.When first they forc'd the industrious Portugals,From their Plantations in the Happy Islands.Cro. This is that I watch for.Ray. And did omit no tyranny, which men,Inured to spoil, and mischief could inflict,On the grie[v]'d sufferers; when by lawless rapineThey reap'd the harvest, which their Labou[rs] sow'd;And not content to force 'em from their dwelling,But laid for 'em at Sea to ravish from 'emThe last remainder of their wealth: then, then,After a long pursuit, each doubting other,As guilty of the Portugals escape,They did begin to quarrel, like [ill] men;(Forgive me piety, that I call 'em so)No longer love, or correspondence holds,Than it is cimented with prey or profit:Then did they turn these swords they oft had bloodi'dWith innocent gore, upon their wretched selves,And paid the forfeit of their crueltyShewn to Sebastian, and his Colonie,By being fatal enemies to each other.Thence grew Amintas rape, and my desireTo be reveng'd. And now observe the issue:As they for spoil ever forgot compassionTo women, (who should be exemptedFrom the extremities of a lawful War)We now, young able men, are fall'n intoThe hands of Women; that, against the softTenderness familiar to their Sex,Will shew no mercy. Enter CrocaleCro. None, unless you shew usOur long lost Husbands.We are those Portugals you talk'd of.Ray. Stay,I met upon the Sea in a tall ShipTwo Portugals, famish'd almost to death.Tib. Our Ship by this Wine.And those the rogues that stole her,Left us to famish in the barren Islands.Ray. Some such tale they told me,And something of a Woman, which I find,To be my Sister.Cro. Where are these men?Ray. I left 'em,Supposing they had deluded me with forg'd tales,In the Island, where they saidThey had liv'd many years the wretched ownersOf a huge mass of treasure.Alb. The same men: and that the fatal muckWe quarrell'd for.Cro. They were Portugals you say.Ray. So they profess'd.Cro. They may prove such men as may save your lives,And so much I am taken with fair hope,That I will hazard life to be resolv'd on't:How came you hither?Ray. My ship lies by the Rivers mouth,That can convey ye to these wretched men,Which you desire to see.Cro. Back to your prisons,And pray for the success: if they be thoseWhich I desire to find, you are safe;If not, prepare to die to morrow:For the world cannot redeem ye.Alb. However, we are arm'dFor either fortune.[Exit.Tib. What must become of me nowThat I am not dismiss'd?Cro. Oh Sir, I purposeTo have your company.Ti. Take heed wicked woman,I am apt to mischief now.Cro. You cannot be so unkind,To her that gives you liberty.Ti. No, I shall be too kind, that's the devil on't;I have had store of good wine: and when I am drunk,Joan is a Lady to me, and I shallLay about me like a Lord: I feel strange motions:Avoid me temptation.Cro. Come Sir, I'll help ye in.[Exeunt. Enter Sebastian and NicusaNicu. What may that beThat moves upon the Lake?Sebast. Still it draws nearer,And now I plainly can discern it.'Tis the French Ship.Nicu. In it a woman,Who seems to invite us to her.Sebast. Still she calls with signs of Love to hasten to her;So lovely hope doth still appear:I feel nor age, nor weakness.Nicu. Though it bring death,To us 'tis comfort: and deserves a meeting.Or else fortune tyr'd with what we have suffer'd,And in it overcome, as it may be,Now sets a period to our misery.[Exeunt. [Horid Musick. Enter severally, Raymond, Albert, AmintaRay. What dreadful sounds are these?Amint. Infernal Musick,Fit for a bloody Feast.Alb. It seems prepar'dTo kill our courages e'r they divorceOur souls and bodies.Ray. But they that fearless fall,Deprive them of their triumph.[An Altar prepar'd. Enter Rossillia, Clarinda, Juletta, Hippolita, &cAmin. See the furies,In their full trym of cruelty.Ros. 'Tis the lastDuty that I can pay to my dead Lord,Set out the Altar, I my self will beThe Priest, and boldly do those horrid RitesYou shake to think on, lead these Captains nearer,For they shall have the honor to fall firstTo my Sebastian's ashes: and now wretches,As I am taught already, that you are,And lately by your free confession,French Pirats, and the sons of those I hate,Even equal with the devil; hear with horror,What 'tis invites me to this cruel course,And what you are to suffer, no Amazons we,But women of Portugal that must have from youSebastian and Nicusa; we are theyThat groan'd beneath your fathers wrongs:We are those wretched women,Their injuries pursu'd, and overtook;And from the sad remembrance of our lossesWe are taught to be cruel; when we were forc'dFrom that sweet air we breathed in, by their rapine,And sought a place of being; as the SeasAnd Winds conspir'd with their ill purposes,To load us with afflictions in a stormThat fell upon us; the two ships that brought us,To seek new fortunes in an unknown worldWere severed: the one bore all the able men,Our Treasure and our Jewels: in the other,We Women were embarqu'd: and fell upon,After long tossing in the troubled main,This pleasant Island: but in few months,The men that did conduct us hither, died,We long before had given our Husbands lost:Remembring what we had suff'red by the FrenchWe took a solemn Oath, never to admitThe curs'd society of men: necessityTaught us those Arts, not usual to our Sex,And the fertile Earth yielding abundance to us,We did resolve, thus shap'd like AmazonsTo end our lives; but when you arriv'd here,And brought as presents to us, our own Jewels;Those which were boorn in the other Ship,How can ye hope to scape our vengeance?Amint. It boots not then to swear our innocence?Alb. Or that we never forc'd it from the owners?Ray. Or that there are a remnant of that wrack,And not far off?Ros. All you affirm, I know,Is but to win time; therefore prepare your throats,The world shall not redeem ye: and that your criesMay find no entrance to our ears,To move pity in any: bid loud Musick soundTheir fatal knells; if ye have prayers use 'em quickly,To any power will own ye; but ha! Enter Crocale, Sebastian, Nicusa, TibaltWho are these? what spectacles of misfortune?Why are their looksSo full of Joy and Wonder?Cro. Oh! lay byThese instruments of death, and welcomeTo your arms, what you durst never hope to imbrace:This is Sebastian, this Nicusa, Madam:Preserv'd by miracle: look up dear Sir,And know your own Rossella: be not lostIn wonder and amazement; or if natureCan by instinct, instruct you what it is,To be blessed with the name of Father,Freely enjoy it in this fair Virgin.Seb. Though my miseries,And many years of wants I have endur'd,May well deprive me of the memoryOf all joys past; yet looking on this building,This ruin'd building of a heavenly formIn my Rosilla; I must remember, I am Sebastian.Ros. Oh my joyes!Seb. And here,I see a perfect model of thy self,As thou wert when thy choice first made thee mine:These cheeks and fronts, though wrinkled now with timeWhich Art cannot restore: had equal pureness,Of natural white and red, and as much ravishing:Which by fair order and succession,I see descend on her: and may thy virtuesWind into her form, and make her a perfect dower:No part of thy sweet goodness wanting to her.I will not now Rosilla, ask thy fortunes,Nor trouble thee with hearing mine;Those shall hereafter serve to make glad hoursIn their relation: All past wrongs forgot;I'm glad to see you Gentlemen; but most,That [it] is in my power to save your lives;You say'd ours, when we were near starv'd at Sea,And I despair not, for if she be mine,Rosilla can deny Sebastian nothing.Ros. She does give up her self,Her power and joys, and all, to you,To be discharged of 'em as too burthensom;Welcome in any shape.Seb. Sir, in your looks,I read your sute of my Clarinda: she is yours:And Lady, if it be in me to confirmYour hopes in this brave Gentleman,Presume I am your servant.Alb. We thank you Sir.Amin. Oh happy hour!Alb. O my dear Aminta;Now all our fears are ended.Tib. Here I fix: she's mettle,Steel to the back: and will cut my leaden dagger,If not us'd with discretion.Cro. You are still no changling.Sebast. Nay,All look chearfully, for none shall beDeny'd their lawful wishes; when a whileWe have here refresh'd our selves; we'll returnTo our several homes; and well that voyage ends,That makes of deadly enemies, faithful friends.[Exeunt.

Wit at several weapons

A COMEDYThe Persons represented in the Play

Sir Perfidious Oldcraft, an old Knight, a great admirer of Wit.

Witty-pate Oldcraft, his Fathers own Son.

Sir Gregory Fopp, a witless Lord of Land.

Cunningham, a discreet Gen. Sir Gregories comrade and supplanter.

Sir Ruinous Gentry, a decayed Knight,} Two sharking

Priscian, a poor Scholar,} companions.

Pompey Doodle, a clown, Sir Gregories man, a piece of puff-paste, like his Master.

Mr. Credulous, Nephew to Sir Perfidio[u]s, a shallow-brain'd Scholar.

WOMEN

Neece to Sir Perfidious, a rich and witty Heir.

Lady Ruinous, Wife to Sir Ruinous.

Guardianess, to Sir Perfidious his Neece, an old doting Crone.

Mirabell, the Guardianesses Neece.

The Scene, London

Actus Primus. Scæna Prima

Enter Sir Perfidious Oldcraft an old Knight, and Witty-pate his SonWitty.Sir, I'm no boy, I'm deep in one and twenty,The second years approaching.Old K. A fine timeFor a youth to live by his wits then I should think,If e'er he mean to make account of any.Witty. Wits, Sir?Old K. I Wits Sir, if it be so strange to thee,I'm sorry I spent that time to get a Fool,I might have imploy'd my pains a great deal better;Thou knowst all that I have, I ha' got by my wits,And yet to see how urgent thou art too;It grieves me thou art so degenerateTo trouble me for means, I never offer'd itMy Parents from a School-boy, past nineteen once,See what these times are grown to, before twentyI rush'd into the world, which is indeedMuch like the Art of swiming, he that will attain to'tMust fall plump, and duck himself at first,And that will make him hardy and advent'rous,And not stand putting in one foot, and shiver,And then draw t'other after, like a quake-buttock;Well he may make a padler i'th' world,From hand to mouth, but never a brave Swimmer,Born up by th' chin, as I bore up my self,With my strong industry that never fail'd me;For he that lies born up with Patrimonies,Looks like a long great Ass that swims with bladders,Come but one prick of adverse fortune to himHe sinks, because he never try'd to swimWhen Wit plaies with the billows that choak'd him.Witty. Why is it not a fashion for a Father, Sir,Out of his yearly thousands to allowHis only Son, a competent brace of hundreds;Or such a toy?Old K. Yes, if he mean to spoil him,Or mar his wits he may, but never I,This is my humor, Sir, which you'll find constant;I love Wit so well, because I liv'd by't,That I'll give no man power out of my means to hurt it,And that's a kind of gratitude to my raiser,Which great ones oft forget; I admire muchThis Ages dulness, when I scarce writ man,The first degree that e'er I took in thriving,I lay intelligencer close for wenching,Could give this Lord or Knight a true CertificateOf all the Maiden-heads extant, how many lay'Mongst Chambermaids, how many 'mongst Exchange [Wenches,]Though never many there I must confessThey have a trick to utter Ware so fast;I knew which Lady had a mind to fall,Which Gentlewoman new divorc'd, which Tradesman breaking,The price of every sinner to a hair,And where to raise each price; which were the Tearmers,That would give Velvet Petticoats, Tissue Gowns,Which Pieces, Angels, Suppers, and Half Crowns;I knew how to match, and make my market.Could give intelligence where the Pox lay leidger,And then to see the Letchers shift a point,'Twas sport and profit too; how they would shunTheir ador'd Mistriss chambers, and run fearfully,Like Rats from burning houses, so brought IMy Clyents[a] the game still safe together,And noble gamesters lov'd me, and I felt it.Give me a man that lives by his wits, say I,And's never left a Groat, there's the true Gallant.When I grew somewhat pursie, I grew thenIn mens opinions too, and confidences,They put things call'd Executorships upon me,The charge of Orphans, little sensless creatures,Whom in their Childhoods I bound forth to Felt-makers,To make 'em lose, and work away their Gentry,Disguise their tender natures with hard custom,So wrought 'em out in time, there I rise ungently,Nor do I fear to discourse this unto thee,I'm arm'd at all points against treachery,I hold my humor firm, if I can see thee thrive byThy wits while I live, I shall have the more courageTo trust thee with my Lands when I dye; if not,The next best wit I can hear of, carries 'em:For since in my time and knowledge, so many rich childrenOf the City, conclude in beggery, I'de ratherMake a wise stranger my Executor, then a foolishSon my Heir, and to have my Lands call'd after myWit, than after my name; and that's my nature.Witty. 'Tis a strange harsh one, must I still shift then?I come brave Cheats, once to my trade agen.And I'll ply't harder now than e'er I did for't,You'll part with nothing then, Sir?Old K. Not a jot, Sir.Witty. If I should ask you blessing e'r I goe, Sir,I think you would not give't me.Old K. Let me but hear thou liv'st by thy wits onceThou shalt have any thing, thou'rt none of mine else,Then why should I take care for thee?Witty. 'Thank your bounty.[Exit.Old K. So wealth love me, and long life, I beseech it,As I do love the man that lives by his wits,He comes so near my nature; I'm grown old now,And even arriv'd at my last cheat I fear me,But 'twill make shift to bury me, by day-light too,And discharge all my Legacies, 'tis so wealthy,And never trouble any Interest money:I've yet a Neece to wed, over whose stepsI have plac'd a trusty watchful Guardianess,For fear some poor Earl steal her, 't has been threat'ned,To redeem mortgag'd Land, but he shall miss on't;To prevent which, I have sought out a match for her,Fop of Fop-Hall, he writes himself, I take it,The antient'st Fop in England, with whom I've privatelyCompounded for the third part of her portion. Enter Sir Gregory Fop, and CuninghamAnd she seems pleas'd, so two parts rest with me,He's come; Sir Gregory, welcome, what's he Sir?Sir Greg. Young Cuningam, a Norfolk Gentleman,One that has liv'd upon the Fops, my kindred,Ever since my remembrance; he's a wit indeed,And we all strive to have him, nay, 'tis certainSome of our name has gone to Law for him;Now 'tis my turn to keep him, and indeedHe's plaguy chargeable, as all your wits are,But I will give him over when I list,I ha' us'd wits so before.Old K. I hope when y'are married Sir, you'll shake him off. Sir Greg. Why what do you take me to be, old Fatheri'Law that shall be, do you think I'll have any of the Wits hang upon me, after I am married once? none of my kindred ever had before me; but where's this Neece? is't a fashion in London, to marry a woman and never see her?Old K. Excuse the niceness, Sir, that care's your frien[d],Perhaps had she been seen, you had never seen her;There's many a spent thing call'd, and't like your honor,That lies in wait for her, at first snap she's a Countess,Drawn with six Mares through Fleetstreet, and a Coachman,Sitting bare-headed to their Flanders buttocks,This whets him on.Sir Greg. Pray let's clap up the business, Sir,I long to see her, are you sure you have her,Is she not there already[?] Hark, oh hark.Old K. How now, what's that Sir?Sir Greg. Every Caroach goes by,Goes ev'n to th' heart of me.Old K. I'll have that doubt eas'd, Sir,Instantly eas'd, Sir Gregory, and now I think on'tA toy comes i' my mind, seeing your friend there,We'll have a little sport, give you but way to't,And put a trick upon her, I love Wit pretiously,You shall not be seen yet, we'll stale your friend first,If't please but him to stand for the Anti-mask.Sir Gr. Puh, he shall stand for any thing, why his supperLies i'my breeches here, I'll make him fast else.Old K. Then come you forth more unexpectedlyThe Mask it self, a thousand a year joynture,The cloud, your frien[d] will be then drawn away,And only you the beauty of the Play.Sir Gr. For Red and Black, I'll put down all your Fullers,Let but your Neece bring White, and we have three colours.[Exit Sir Greg.Old K. I'm given to understand you are a Wit, Sir.Cuning. I'm one that Fortune shews small favour to, Sir.Old K. Why there you conclude it, whether you will or no, Sir;To tell you truth, I'm taken with a Wit.Cun. Fowlers catch Woodcocks so, let not them know so much.Old K. A pestilence mazard, a Duke Humphrey sparkHad rather lose his dinner than his jest,I say I love a Wit the best of all things.Cun. Always except your self.Old K. Has giv'n't me twice now.Enter Neece and GuardianessAll with a breath, I thank him; but that I love a WitI should be heartily angry; cuds, my Neece,You know the business with her.Cun. With a Woman?'Tis ev'n the very same it was I'm sureFive thousand years ago, no fool can miss it.Old K. This is the Gentleman I promis'd Neece,To present to your affection.Cun. ['W]are that Arrow.Old K. Deliver me the truth now of your liking.Cun. I'm spoil'd already, that such poor lean GameShould be found out as I am.Old K. Go set to her Sir – ha, ha, ha.Cun. How noble is this virtue in you, Lady,Your eye may seem to commit a thousand slaughtersOn your dull servants which truly tastedConclude all in comforts.Old K. Puh.Neece. It rather shews what a true worth can make,Such as yours is.Old K. And that's not worth a groat,How like you him Neece?Neece. It shall appear how well, Sir,I humbly thank you for him.Old K. Hah? ha, good gullery, he does it well i'faith,Light, as if he meant to purchase Lip-land there:Hold, hold, bear off I say, slid your part hangs too long.Cun. My joys are mockeries.Neece. Y'have both exprest a worthy care and love, Sir,Had mine own eye been set at liberty,To make a publick choice (believe my truth, Sir)It could not ha' done better for my heartThan your good providence has.Old K. You will say so then,Alas sweet Neece, all this is but the scabbard,Now I draw forth the weapon.Neece. How?Old K. Sir Gregory,Approach thou lad of thousands. Enter Sir GregorySir Gr. Who calls me?Neece. What motion's this, the Model of Ninivie?Old K. Accost her daintily now, let me advise thee.Sir Gr. I was advis'd to bestow dainty cost on you.Neece. You were ill advis'd, back, and take better counsel;You may have good for an Angel, the least costYou can bestow upon a woman, SirTrebles ten Counsellors Fees in Lady-ware,Y'are over head and ears, e'r you be aware,Faith keep a batchelor still, and go to Bowls, Sir,Follow your Mistriss there, and prick and save, Sir;For other Mistresses will make you a slave, Sir.Sir Gr. So, so, I have my lerrepoop already.Old K. Why how now Neece, this is the man I tell you.Neece. He, hang him, Sir, I know you do but mock,This is the man you would say.Old K. The Devil rides I think.Cun. I must use cunning here.Old K. Make me not mad, use him with all respect,This is the man I swear.Neece. Would you could perswade me to that;Alass, you cannot go beyond me Uncle,You carry a Jest well, I must confess,For a man of your years, but —Old K. I'm wrought beside my self.Cun. I never beheld comliness till this minute.Guar. Oh good sweet Sir, pray offer not these wordsTo an old Gentlewoman.Neece. Sir.Cun. Away fifteen,Here's Fifty one exceeds thee.Neece. What's the business?Cun. Give me these motherly creatures, come, ne'er smother it,I know you are a teeming woman yet.Guard. Troth a young Gent. might do much I think, Sir.Cun. Go too then.Guard. And I should play my part, or I were ingrateful.Neece. Can you so soon neglect me!Cun. Hence I'm busie.Old K. This cross point came in luckily, impudent baggage.Hang from the Gentleman, art thou not asham'dTo be a Widows hind'rance?Cun. Are you angry, Sir?Old K. You're welcome, pray court on, I shall desireYour honest wise acquaintance; vex me notAfter my care and pains to find a match for thee,Lest I confine thy life to some out-chamber,Where thou shalt waste the sweetness of thy youth,Like a consuming Light in her own socket,And not allow'd a male creature about thee;A very Monky, thy necessityShall prize at a thousand pound, a Chimney sweeperAt Fifteen hundred.Neece. But are you serious, Uncle?Old K. Serious.Neece. Pray let me look upon the GentlemanWith more heed; then I did but hum him overIn haste, good faith, as Lawyers Chancery sheets;Beshrew my blood, a tollerable man,Now I distinctly read him.Sir Gr. Hum, hum, hum.Neece. Say he be black, he's of a very good pitch,Well ankled, two good confident calves, they lookAs if they would not shrink at the ninth child;The redness i'th face, why that's in fashion,Most of your high bloods have it, sign of greatness marry;'Tis to be taken down too with May-butter,I'll send to my Lady Spend-tail for her Medicine.Sir Gr. Lum te dum, dum, dum, de dum.Neece. He's qualified too, believe me.Sir Gr. Lum te dum, de dum, de dum.Neece. Where was my judgement?Sir Gr. Lum te dum, dum, dum, te dum, te dum.Neece. Perfections cover'd mess.Sir Gr. Lum te dum, te dum, te dum.Neece. It smoaks apparantly, pardon sweet Sir,The error of my Sex.Old K. Why, well [s]aid Neece,Upon submission you must pardon her now, Sir.Sir Gr. I'll do't by course, do you think I'm an ass, Knight?Here's first my hand, now't goes to the Seal-Office.Old K. Formally finisht, how goes this Suit forward?Cun. I'm taking measure of the Widows mind, Sir,I hope to fit her heart.Guard. Who would have dreamtOf a young morsel now? things come in minutes.Sir Gr. Trust him not Widow, he's a younger brother,He'll swear and lie; believe me he's worth nothing.Guard. He brings more content to a woman with that nothing,Than he that brings his thousands without any thing,We have presidents for that amongst great Ladies.Old K. Come, come, no language now shall be in fashion,But your Love-phrase, the bell to procreation.[Exeunt. Enter Sir Ruinous Gentry, Witty-pate, and PriscianWitty. Pox, there's nothing puts me besides my wits, but this fourth,This last illiterate share, there's no conscience in't.Ruin. Sir, it has ever been so, where I have practis'd, and must be.Still where I am, nor has it been undeserv'd at the yearsEnd, and shuffle the Almanack together, vacations andTerm-times, one with another, though I say't, my wife is aWoman of a good spirit, then it is no lay-share.Pris. Faith for this five year, Ego possum probare, I have hadA hungry penurious share with 'em, and she has had as muchAs I always.Witty. Present, or not present?Pris. Residens aut non residens, per fidem. Witty. And what president's this for me? because your Hic & hac, Turpis and Qui mihi discipulus brains (that never got any thing but by accidence and uncertainty) did allow it, therefore I must, that have grounded conclusions of wit, hereditary rules from my Father to get by —Ruin. Sir, be compendious, either take or refuse, I will 'bate no token of my wives share, make even the last reckonings, and either so unite, or here divide company.Pris. A good resolution, profecto, let every man beg his own way, and happy man be his dole.Witty. Well, here's your double share, and single brains Pol, œdipol, here's toward, a Castor ecastor for you, I will endure it a fortnight longer, but by these just five ends. —Pris. Take heed, five's odd, put both hands together, or severally, they are all odd unjust ends.Witty. Medius fi[d]ius, hold your tongue, I depose you from half a share presently else, I will make you a participle, and decline you, now you understand me, be you a quiet Conjunction amongst the undeclined; you and your Latine ends shall go shift, Solus cum solo together else, and then if ever they get ends of Gold and Silver, enough to serve that Gerundine maw of yours, that without Do will end in Di and Dum instantly. Enter Old Knight and Sir GregoryRuin. Enough, enough, here comes company, we lose five shares in wrangling about one.Witty. My Father, put on Priscian, he has Latine fragments too, but I fear him not, I'll case my face with a little more hair and relieve.Old K. Tush Nephew (I'll call you so) for if there beNo other obstacles than those you speak ofThey are but Powder-charges without pellets,You may safely front 'em; and warrant your own danger.Sir Gr. No other that I can perceive i'faith, Sir, for I put her to't, and felt her as far as I could, and the strongest repulse was, she said, she would have a little Soldier in me, that (if need were) should defend her reputation.Old K. And surely, Sir, that is a principleAmongst your principal Ladies, they requireValour, either in a friend or a Husband.Sir Gr. And I allow their requests i'faith, as well as any womans heart can desire, if I knew where to get valour, I would as willingly entertain it as any man that blows.Old K. Breaths, breaths Sir, that's the sweeter phrase.Sir Gr. Blows for a Soldier, i'faith Sir, and I'm inPractise that way.Old K. For a Soldier, I grant it.Sir Gr. 'Slid, I'll swallow some bullets, and good round ones too, but I'll have a little Soldier in me.Ruin. Will you on and beg, or steal and be hang'd.Sir Gr. And some Scholar she would have me besides,Tush, that shall be no bar, 'tis a quality in aGentleman, but of the least question.Pris. Salvete Domini benignissimi, munificentissimi.Old K. Salvete dicis ad nos? jubeo te salvere,Nay, Sir, we have Latine, and other metall in us too.Sir, you shall see me talk with this fellow now.Sir Gr. I could find in my heart to talk with him too,If I could understand him.Pris. Charissimi, Doctissimique, Domini, ex abundantia.Charitatis vestræ estote propitii in me jejunumMiserum, pauperem, & omni consolatione exulem.Old K. A pretty Scholar by my faith, Sir, but I'll to him agen.Sir Gr. Does he beg or steal in this Language, can you tell Sir?He may take away my good name from me, and I ne'erThe wiser.Old K. He begs, he begs, Sir.Pris. Ecce, ecce, in occulis lachrymarum flumen, in oreFames sitisq; ignis in vultu, pudor & impudentia,In omni parte necessitas & indigentia.Old K. Audi tu bonus socius, tu es Scholasticus, sic intelligo,Ego faciam argumentum, mark now Sir, now I fetchHim up.Sir Gr. I have been fetcht up a hundred times for this,Yet I could never learn half so much.Old K. Audi, & responde, hoc est Argumentum, nomen estNomen, ergo, quod est tibi nomen? Responde nunc,Responde argumentum meum. Have I not put him to't, Sir?Sir Gr. Yes Sir, I think so.Witty. Step in, the rascal is put out of his pen'd Speech,And he can go no farther.Old K. Cur non respondes?Pris. Oh Domine, tanta mea est miseria.Witty. So, he's almost in agen.Pris. Ut nocte mecum pernoctat egestas, luce quotidiePaupertas habitat.Old K. Sed quod est tibi nomen: & quis dedit? RespondeArgumentum.Pris. Hem, hem.Witty. He's dry he hems, on quickly.Ruin. Courteous Gentlemen, if the brow of a Military face may not be offensive to your generous eye-balls, let his wounds speak better than his words, for some branch or small sprig of charity to be planted upon this poor barren soil of a Soldier.Old K. How now, what Arms and Arts both go a begging?Ruin. Such is the Post-progress of cold charity now a-days, who (for heat to her frigid Limbs) passes in so swift a motion, that two at the least had need be to stay her.Sir G. Sir, lets reward um I pray you, and be gone. If any quarrel should arise amongst us, I am able to answer neither of them, his Iron and Steel tongue is as hard as the t'others Latine one.Old K. Stay, stay Sir I will talk a little with him first,Let me alone with both, I will try whether theyLive by their wits or no; for such a man I love,And what? you both beg together then?Pris. Conjunctis manibus, profecto, Domine.Ruin. With equal fortunes, equal distribution, there's not the breadth of a swords point uneven in our division.Sir Gr. What two qualities are here cast away upon two poor fellows, if a man had um that could maintain um? what a double man were that, if these two fellows might be bought and sodden, and boil'd to a jelly, and eaten fasting every morning, I do not think but a man should find strange things in his stomach.Old K. Come Sir, joyn your charity with mine, and we'll make up a couple of pence bewixt us. Sir Gr. If a man could have a pennyworth for his penny, I would bestow more money with 'em.Witty. Save you Gentlemen, how now? what are you encount'red here? what fellows are these?Old K. Faith Sir, here's Mars and Mercury, a pair of poor Planets it seems, that Jupiter has turn'd out to live by their wits, and we are e'en about a little spark of charity to kindle um a new fire.Witty. Stay, pray you stay Sir, you may abuse your charity, nay, make that goodness in you no better than a vice; so many deceivers walk in these shadows now a days; that certainly your bounties were better spilt than reserv'd to so lewd and vicious uses; which is he that professes the Soldier?Ruin. He that professes his own profession, Sir, and the dangerous life he hath led in it, this pair of half score years.Witty. In what services have you been, Sir?Ruin. The first that flesht me a Soldier, Sir, was that great battel at Alcazar in Barbary, where the noble English Stukely fell, and where that royal Portugal Sebastian ended his untimely days.Witty. Are you sure Sebastian died there?Ruin. Faith Sir, there was some other rumour hop't amongst us, that he, wounded, escap'd, and toucht on his Native shore agen, where finding his Countrey at home more distrest by the invasion of the Spaniard, than his loss abroad, forsook it, still supporting a miserable and unfortunate life, which (where he ended) is yet uncertain.Witty. By my faith Sir, he speaks the nearest fame of truth in this.Ruin. Since Sir, I serv'd in France, the Low Countreys, Lastly, at that memorable skirmish at Newport, where the forward and bold Scot there spent his life so freely, that from every single heart that there fell, came home from his resolution, a double honor to his Countrey.Witty. This should be no counterfeit, Sir.Old K. I do not think he is, Sir.Witty. But Sir, me thinks you do not shew the marks of a Soldier, could you so freely scape, that you brought home no scarrs to be your chronicle? Ruin. Sir, I have wounds, and many, but in those parts where nature and humanity bids me shame to publish.Witty. A good Soldier cannot want those badges.Sir Greg. Now am not I of your mind in that, for I hold him the best soldier that scapes best, alwaies at a Cock-fencing I give him the best that has the fewest knocks.Witty. Nay, I'll have a bout with your Scholar too,To ask you why you should be poor (yet richly learn'd)Were no question, at least, you can easilyAnswer it; but whether you have learning enough,To deserve to be poor or no (since poverty isCommonly the meed of Learning) is yet to be tryed;You have the Languages, I mean the chief,As the Hebrew, Syriack, Greek, Latine, &c.Pris. Aliquantulum, non totaliter, Domine.Old K. The Latine I have sufficiently tried him in,And I promise you Sir, he is very well grounded.Witty. I will prove him in some of the rest.Toi[s] miois fatherois iste Cock-scomboy?Pris. Kay yonkeron nigitton oy fouleroi Asinisoy.Witty. Cheateron ton biton?Pris. Tous pollous strikerous, Angelo to peeso.Witty. Certainly Sir, a very excellent Scholar in the Greek.Old K. I do note a wondrous readiness in him.Sir Greg. I do wonder how the Trojans could hold out ten years siege (as 'tis reported) against the Greeks, if Achilles spoke but this tongue? I do not think but he might have shaken down the Walls in a seven-night, and ne'er troubled the wooden horse.Witty. I will try him so far as I can in the Syriack. Kircom bragmen, shag a dou ma dell mathou.Pris. Hashagath rabgabosh shobos onoriadka.Witty. Colpack Rubasca, gnawerthem shig shag.[Pris.] Napshamothem Ribs[h]e bongomosh lashemech nagothi.Witty. Gentlemen I have done, any man that can, go farther, I confess my self at a Nonplus.Sir Greg. Faith not I, Sir, I was at my farthest in my natural language, I was never double-tongu'd, I thank my hard fortune.Witty. Well Gentlemen, 'tis pity, (walk farther off a little my friends) I say, 'tis pity such fellows so endow'd, so qualified with the gifts of Nature and Arts, yet should have such a scarcity of fortune's benefits, we must blame our Ironhearted age for it.Old K. 'Tis pity indeed, and our pity shall speak a little, for 'em; Come Sir, here's my groat.Witty. A Groat Sir? oh fie, give nothing rather, 'twere better you rail'd on 'em for begging, and so quit your self, I am a poor Gentleman, that have but little but my wits to live on.Old K. Troth and I love you the better, Sir.Witty. Yet I'll begin a better example than so, here fellows, there's between you, take Purse and all, and I would it were here heavier for your sakes, there's a pair of Angels to guide you to your lodgings, a poor Gentleman's good Will.Pris. Gratias, maximas gratias, benignissime Domine.Old K. This is an ill example for us, Sir, I would this bountiful Gentleman had not come this way to day.Sir Gr. Pox, we must not shame our selves now, Sir, I'll give as much as that Gentleman, though I never be Soldier or Scholar while I live; here friends, there's a piece, that if he were divided, would make a pair of Angels for me too, in the love I bear to the Sword and the Tongues.Old K. My largess shall be equal too, and much good do you, this bounty is a little abatement of my wit, though I feel that.Ruin. May soldiers ever defend such charities.Pris. And Scholars pray for their increase.Old K. Fare you well, Sir, these fellows may pray for you, you have made the Scholars Commons exceed to day, and a word with you, Sir, you said you liv'd by your wits, if you use this bounty, you'll begger your wits, believe it.Witty. Oh Sir, I hope to encrease 'em by it, this seed never wants his harvest, fare you well, Sir.[Exit.Sir Gr. I think a man were as good meet with a reasonable Thief, as an unreasonable Begger sometimes, I could find in my heart to beg half mine back agen, can you change my piece my friends?Pris. Tempora mutantur, & nos mutamur in illis.Sir Gr. My Gold is turn'd into Latine. Enter Witty-pateLook you good fellows, here's one roundShilling more that lay conceal'd.Old K. Sir, away, we shall be drawn farther into damage else.Sir Gr. A pox of the Fool, he live by his wits? if his wits leave him any money, but what he begs or steals very shortly, I'll be hang'd for him.[Exeunt the two Knights.Ruin. This breakfast parcel was well fetcht off i'faith.Witty. Tush, a by-blow for mirth, we must have better purchase, we want a fourth for another project that I have ripen'd.Ruin. My wife she shares, and can deserve it.Witty. She can change her shape, and be masculine.Ruin. 'Tis one of the free'st conditions, she fears not the crack of a Pistol, she dares say Stand to a Grazier.Pris. Probatum fuit, profecto Domine.Witty. Good, then you Sir Bacchus, Apollo shall be dispatcht with her share, and some contents to meet us to morrow (at a certain place and time appointed) in the Masculine Gender, my Father has a Nephew, and I an own Cosin coming up from the University, whom he loves most indulgently, easie Master Credulous Oldcraft, (for you know what your meer Academique is) your Carrier never misses his hour, he must not be rob'd (because he has but little to lose) but he must joyn with us in a devise that I have, that shall rob my Father of a hundred pieces, and thank me to be rid on't, for there's the ambition of my wit, to live upon his profest wit, that has turn'd me out to live by my wits.Pris. Cum hirundinis alis tibi regratulor.Witty. A male habit, a bag of an hunder'd weight, though it be Counters (for my Alchimy shall turn 'em into Gold of my Fathers) the hour, the place, the action shall be at large set down, and Father, you shall know, that I put my portion to use, that you have given me to live by;And to confirm your self in me renate,I hope you'll find my wits legitimate.[Exeunt.