The Vntrussing of the Humorous Poet.
COme bedfellow come, strew apace, strew, strew: in good troth tis pitty that these flowers must be trodden vnder feete as they are like to bee anon.
Pitty, alacke pretty heart, thou art sorry to see any good thing fall to the ground: pitty? no more pitty, then to see an Innocent Mayden-head deliuered vp to the ruffling of her new-wedded husband. Beauty is made for vse, and hee that will not vse a sweet soule well, when she is vnder his fingers I pray Venus he may neuer kisse a faire and a delicate, soft, red' plump-lip.
Amen, and that's torment enough.
Pitty? come foole fling them about lustily; flowers neuer dye a sweeter death, than when they are smoother'd to death in a Louers bosome, or else paue the high wayes, ouer which these pretty, simpring, ietting things, call'd brides, must trippe.
I pray thee tell mee, why doe they vse at weddings to furnish all places thus, with sweet hearbes and flowers?
One reason is, because tis—ô a most sweet thing to lye with a man.
I thinke tis a O more more more more sweet to lye with a woman.
I warrant all men are of thy minde: another reason is, because they sticke like the scutchions of madame chastity, on the sable ground, weeping in their stalkes, and wincking with theyr yellow-sunke eyes, as loath to beholde the lamentable fall of a Maydenhead: what senceles thing in all the house, that is not nowe as melancholy, as a new set-vp Schoolemaster?
Troth I am.
Troth I thinke thou mournst, because th'ast mist thy turne, I doe by the quiuer of Cupid: you see the torches melt themselues away in teares: the instruments weare theyr heart stringes out for sorrow: and the Siluer Ewers weepe most pittifull Rosewater: fiue or sixe payre of the white innocent wedding gloues, did in my sight choose rather to be torne in peeces than to be drawne on; and looke this Rosemary, (a fatall hearbe) this dead-mans nose-gay, has crept in amongst these flowers to decke [...] th'nuisible coarse of the Brides Maydenhead, when (oh how much do we poore wenches suffer) about eleuen or twelue, or one a clock at midnight at furthest, it descends to purgatory, to giue notice that Caelestine (hey ho) will neuer come to lead Apes in hell.
I see by thy sighing thou wilt not.
If I had as many Mayden-heads, as I haue hayres on my head I'de venture them all rather then to come into so hot a place; prethy strew thou, for my little armes are weary.
I am sure thy little tongue is not.
No faith that's like a woman bitten w t fleas, it neuerlyes stil: [...]ye vpont, what a miserable thing tis to be a noble Bride, there's such delayes in rising, in fitting gownes, in tyring, in pinning Rebatoes, in poaking, in dinner, in supper, in Reuels, & last of all in cursing the poore nodding fidlers, for keeping Mistris Bride so long vp from sweeter Reuels; that, oh I could [Page] neuer endure to put it vp without much bickering.
Come th'art an odde wench, hark, harke, musicke? nay then the Bride's vp.
Is she vp? nay then I see she has been downe: Lord ha mercy on vs, we women fall and fall still, and when we haue husbands we play vpon them like Virginall Iackes, they must ryse and fall to our humours, or else they'l neuer get any good straines of musicke out of vs; but come now, haue at it for a mayden-head.
Come knaues, night begins to be like my selfe, an olde man; day playes the theefe and steales vpon vs; O well done wenches, well done, well done, you haue couered all the stony way to church with flowers, tis well, tis well, ther's an Embleame too, to be made out of these flowers and stones, but you are honest wenches, in, in, in.
When we come to your yeares, we shal learne what honesty is, come pew-fellow.
Is the musicke come yet? so much to do! Ist come?
Come sir.
Haue the merry knaues pul'd their fiddle cases ouer their instruments eares?
As soone as ere they entred our gates, the noyse went, before they came nere the great Hall, the faint hearted villiacoes sounded at least thrice.
Thou shouldst haue reuiu'd them with a Cup of burnt wine and sugar; sirra, you, horse-keeper, goe, bid them curry theyr strings: Is my daughter vp yet?
Vp sir? she was seene vp an houre a goe.
Shee's an early sturrer, ah sirra.
Shee'l be a late sturrer soone at night sir.
Goe too Peeter Flash, you haue a good sodaine flash of braine, your wittes husky, and no maruaile, for tis like one of our Comedians beards, stillith stubble: about your busines, and looke you be nymble to flye from the wine, or the nymble wine will catch you by the nose.
If your wine play with my nose Sir, Ile knocke's coxcombe.
Doe Peeter, and weare it for thy labour; Is my Sonne in Law Sir Walter Terell ready yet?
Ready sir.
One of you attend him: Stay Flash, where's the note of the guestes you haue inuited?
Here Sir, Ile pull all your guestes out of my bosome; the men that will come, I haue crost, but all the Gentlewomen haue at the tayle of the last letter a pricke, because you may read them the better.
My spectacles, lyght, lyght, knaues: Sir Adam Prickshaft, thou hast crost him, heele come.
I had much a doe sir, to draw Sir Adam Prickeshaft home, because I tolde him twas early, but heele come.
Iustice Crop, what will he come?
He tooke phisicke yesterday sir.
Oh then Crop cannot come.
O Lord yes, sir yes 'twas but to make more roome in his Crop for your good cheare, Crop will come.
Widdow M [...]neuer.
Shee's prickt you see sir, and will come.
Sir Vaughan ap Rees, oh hee [...]s crost twise, so, so, so, then all these Ladyes, that fall downewardes heere, will come I see, and all these Gentlemen that stand right before them.
All wil come.
Well sayd, heere, wryte them out agen, and put the men from the women; and Peeter, when we are at Church [Page] bring wine and cakes, be light & nimble good Flash, for your burden will be but light.
Prickeshaft God morrow, god morrow: goe, in, in, in, to the Bridegroome, taste a cup of burnt wine this morning, twill m [...]ke you flye the better all the day after.
You are an early styrrer Sir Quintilian Shorthose.
I am so, it behoues me at my daughters wedding, in, in, in; fellow put ou [...] thy torch, and put thy selfe into my buttery, the torch burnes ill in thy hand, the wine will burne better in thy belly, in in.
Ware there, roome for Sir Adam Prickeshaft: your Worship—
Sir Vaughan a [...]d Widdow, Mineuer, welcome, welcome, a thousand times: my lips Mistris Widdow shall bid you God morrow, in, in, one to the Bridegroome, the other to the Bride.
Why then Sir quiontilian Shorthose, I will step into mistris Bride, and Widdow Mineuer, shall goe vpon M. Bridegroome.
No pardon, for by my truely Sir Vaughan, Ile ha no dealings with any M. Bridegroomes.
In widdow in, in honest knight in.
I will vsher you mistris widdow.
Light there for sir Vaughan; your good Worship—
Drinke that shilling Ma. Peeter Flash, in your guttes and belly.
Ile not drinke it downe sir, but Ile turne it into that which shall run downe, oh merrily!
God morrow to these beauties, and Gentlemen, that haue Vshered this troope of Ladyes to my daughters wedding, welcome, welcome all; musick? nay then the bridegroome's comming, where are these knaues heere?
All here sir.
God morrow Ladies and fayre troopes of gallants, that haue depos'd the drowzy King of sleep, to Crowne our traine with your rich presences, I salute you all;
Where be these knaues? More Rose-mary and gloues, gloues, gloues: choose Gentlemen; Ladyes put on soft skins vpon the skin of softer hands; so, so: come mistris Bride take you your place, the olde men first, and then the Batchelors; Maydes with the Bride, Widdows and wiues together, the priset's at Church, tis time that we march thether
Deare Blunt at our returne from Church, take paines to step to Horace, for our nuptiall songs; now Father when you please.
Agreed, set on, come good Sir Vaughan, must we [Page] lead the way?
Peeter you goe too fast for Mistris pride: so, gingerly, gingerly; I muse why Sir Adam Prickeshaft sticks so short behinde?
Horace, Horace, my sweet ningle, is alwayes in labour when I come, the nine Muses be his midwiues I pray Iupiter: Ningle.
In flowing numbers fild with sprite and flame, To thee.
To me? I pledge thee sweet Ningle, by Bacchus quassing boule, I thought th'adst drunke to me.
It must haue been in the deuine lycour of Pernaessus, then in which, I know you would scarce haue pledg'd me, but come sweet roague, sit, sit, sit.
Ouer head and eares y [...]aith? I haue a sacke-full of newes for thee, thou shalt plague some of them, if God send vs life and health together.
Its no matter, empty thy sacke anon, but come here first honest roague, come.
Ist good, Ist good▪ pure Helicon ha?
Dam me ift be not the best that euer came from me, if I haue any iudgement, looke sir, tis an Epithalamium for Sir Walter Terrels wedding, my braines haue giuen assault to it but this morning.
Then I hope to see them flye out like gun-powder ere night.
Nay good roague marke, for they are the best lynes that euer I drew.
Heer's the best leafe in England, but on, on, Ile but tune this Pipe.
Marke, to thee whose fore-head swels with Roses.
O sweet, but will there be no exceptions taken, because fore-head and swelling comes together?
Push, away, away, its proper, besides tis an elegancy to say the fore head swels.
Wod this case were my last, if I did not marke, nay all's one, I haue alwayes a consort of Pypes about me, myne Ingle is all fire and water; I markt, by this Candle (which is none of Gods Angels) I remember, you started back at sprite and flame.
So doe I by Venus.
Yet with kisses wil they fee thee, my Muse has marcht (deare roagu [...]) no [...]arder yet: but how ist? how ist? nay prethee good Asini [...]s deale plainly, doe not flatter me, come, how?—
If I haue any iudgement:
Nay look you Sir, and the [...] follow a troope of other rich and labour'd conceipts, oh the end shall be admirable! but how ist sweet Bubo, how, how?
[Page] [...] [Page] [...]If I haue any Iudgement, tis the best stuffe that euer dropt from thee.
You ha seene my Acrosticks?
Ile put vp my pypes and then Ile see any thing.
Th'ast a Coppy of mine Odes to, hast not Bubo?
Your odes? O that which you spake by word a mouth at th'ordinary, when Musco the gull cryed Mew at it:
A pox on him poore braineles Rooke: and you remember, I tolde him his wit lay at pawne with his new Sattin sute, and both would be lost, for not fetching home by a day.
At which he would fai [...]e ha blusht but that his painted cheekes would not let him.
Nay sirra the Palinode, which I meane to stitch to my Reuels, shall be the best and ingenious peece that euer I swet for; stay roague, Ile fat thy spleane and make it plumpe with laughter.
Shall I? fayth Ningle, shall I see thy secrets?
Puh my friends.
But what fardle's that? what fardle's that?
Fardle, away, tis my packet; heere lyes intoomb'd the loues of Knights and Earles, heere tis, heere tis, heere tis, Sir Walter Terils letter to me, and my answere to him: I no sooner opened his letter, but there appeared to me three glorious Angels, whome I adorn'd, as subiectes doe their Soueraignes: the honest knight Angles for my acquaintance, with [...]uch golden baites—but why doost laugh my good roague? how is my answere, prethee, how, how?
Answere, as God iudge me Ningle, for thy wit thou mayst answer any Iustice of peace in England I warrant; thou writ'st in a most goodly big hand too, I like that, & readst as leageably as some that haue bin sau'd by their neck-verse.
But how dost like the Kinghts inditing?
If I haue any iudgement; a pox o [...]t, heer's worshipfull [Page] lynes indeed, heer's stuffe: but [...]ra Ningle, of what fashion is this knights wit, of what block [...]?
Why you see; wel, wel, an ordinary Ingenuity, a good wit for a knight, you know how, before God I am haunted with some the most pittyfull dry gallants.
Troth so I think; good peeces of lantskip, shew best a far off.
I, I, I, excellent sumpter horses, carry good cloaths; but honest roague, come, what news, what newes abroad? I haue heard a the horses walking a [...]h top of Paules.
Haye? why thē Captain Tucca rayles vpon you most preposterously behinde your backe, did you not heare him▪
A pox vpon him: by the white & soft hand of Minerua, Ile make him the most ridiculous: dam me if I bring not's humorath stage: &—scu [...]uy lymping tongu'd captaine, poor grea [...]ie buffe lerkin, hang him: tis out of his Element to traduce me: I am too well ranckt Asinius to bee stab'd with his dudgion wit: sirra, Ile compose an Epigram, vpon him, shall goe thus—
Nay I ha more news, ther's Crispinus & his Iorneyman Poet Demetrius Faninus too, they sweare they'll bring your life & death vpon'th stage like a Bricklayer in a play.
Bubo they must presse more valiant wits than theyr own to do it: me [...]th stage? ha, ha, Ile starte thence poore copper-lace workmasters, that dare play me: I can bring (& that they quake at) a prepar'd troope of gallants, who for my sake shal distaste euery vnsalted line, in their [...]y-blowne Comedies
Nay that [...]s certaine, ile bring 100. gallants of my ranke
That same Crispinus is the silliest Dor, and Faninus the slightest cob-web-lawne perce of a Poet, oh God! Why should I care what euery Dor doth buz. Incredulous eares, it is a crowne to me. That the best iudgements can report me wrong'd.
I am one of them that can report it:
S'lid do not Cri [...]cus Reuel in these lynes, ha Ningle ha?
Yes, they're mine owne.
Horrace.
Flaccus.
Horrace, not vp yet;
Peace, tread so [...]tly, hyde my Paper; who's this so early?
Horrace, Flac [...]us.
Who's there? st [...]ay, treade softly: Wat Terill on my life: who's there? my gowne sweete roague, so, come vp, come in.
God morrow Horrace.
O, God saue you gallants.
Asinius Bubo well met.
Nay I hope so Crispinus, yet I was sicke a quarter of a yeare a got of a vehement great tooth-atch: a pox o [...]t, it bit me vi [...]ye, as God same la [...] knew twas you by your knocking so soone as I saw you; Demetrius Fannius, wil you take a whiffe this morning? I haue tickling geare now, heer's that will play with your nose, and a pype of mine owne scowring too.
I, and a Hodgshead too of your owne, but that will neuer be scowred cleane I feare.
I burnt my pype yesternight, and twas neuer vsde since, if you will tis at your seruice gallants, and Tobacco too, tis right pudding I can tell you; a Lady or two, tooke a pype full or two at my hands, and praizde it for the Heauens, shall [Page] I fill Flannius?
Leaue haue you deare Ningle, marry for reading any book Ile take my death vpout (as my Ningle sayes) tis out of my Elemēt: no faith, eue [...] since I felt one hit me ith teeth that the greatest Clarkes are not the wisest men, could I abide to goe to Schoole, I was at As in present [...] and left there: yet because Ile not be counted a worle foole then I am, Ile turne ouer a new leafe.
By my troth heer's an excellent comfortable booke, it's most sweet reading in it.
Why, what does it smell of Bubo?
Mas it smels of Rose-leaues a little too.
Then it must needs be a sweet booke, he would faine perfume his ignorance.
I warrant he had wit in him that pen'd it.
Tis good yet a foole will confesse truth.
The whoorson made me meete with a hard stile in two or three places as I went ouer him.
I beleeue thee, for they had need to be very lowe & easie Stiles of wit that thy braines goe ouer.
Wher's this gallant? Morrow Gentlemen: what's, this deuise [...] yet Horace?
Gods so, what meane you to let this fellow dog you into my Chamber?
Oh, our honest Captayne, come, prethee let vs see.
Why you bastards of nine whoores, the Muses, why doe you walk heere in this gorgeous ga [...]le [...]y of gallant inuentions, with that whooreson poore lyme & hayre-rascall? why—
O peace good Tucca, we are all sworne friends,
Sworne, that Iudas yonder that walkes in Rug, will dub you Knights ath poste, if you serue vnder his band of oaths, the copper fact rascal wil for a good supper out sweare twelue dozen of graund Iuryes.
A pox ont, not done yet, and bin about it three dayes?
By Iesu within this houre, saue you Captayne Tucca.
Dam thee, thou thin bearded Hermaphrodite, dam thee, Ile saue my selfe for one I warrant thee, is this thy Tub Diogines?
Yes Captaine this is my poore lodging.
Morrow Captaine Tucca, will you whiffe this morning?
Art thou there goates pizzel; no goda [...]ercy Caine I am for no whiffs I, come hether sheep-skin-weauer [...]s [...]foote thou lookst as though th'adst beg'd out of a Iayle: drawe, I meane not thy face (for tis not worth drawing) but drawe neere: this way, martch, follow your commaunder you scoundrell: So, thou must run of an errand for mee Mephostophiles.
To doe you pleasure Captayne I will, but whether
To hell, thou knowst the way, to hell my fire and brimstone, to hell; dost stare my Sar [...]en [...]-head at Newgate? [Page] dost gl [...]ate? Ile march through thy [...] gu [...]s, for shooting iestes at me.
Deare Captaine but one word.
Out bench-whistler out, ile not take thy word for a dagger Pye: you browne-bread-mouth stinker, ile teach thee to turne me into Bankes his horse, and to tell gentlemen I am a Iugler, and can shew trickes.
Captaine Tucca, but halfe a word in your eare.
No you staru'd rascal, thou't bite off mine eares then, you must haue three or foure suites of names, when like a lowsie Pediculous vermin th'ast but one suite to thy backe: you must be call'd Asper, and Criticus, and Horace, thy tytle's longer a reading then the Stile a the big Turkes: Asper, Criticus, Quintus, Horatius, Flacu [...]s.
Captaine I know vpon what euen bases I stand, and therefore—
Bases? wud the roague were but ready for me.
Nay prethee deare Tucca, come you shall shake—
Not hands with great Hunkes there, not hands, but Ile shake the gull-groper out of his tan'd skinne.
For our sake Captaine, nay prethee holde.
Thou wrongst heere a good honest rascall Crispinus, and a poore varlet Demetrius Fanninus (bretheren in thine owne trade of Poetry) thou sayst Crispinus Sattin dublet is Reauel'd out heere, and that this penurious sneaker is out at elboes, goe two my good full mouth'd ban-dog, Ile ha thee friends with both.
With all my heart captaine Tucca, and with you too, Ile laye my hande [...] vnder your feete, to keepe them from aking.
Can you haue any more?
Saist thou me so, olde Coale come? doo't then; yet tis no matter neither, Ile haue thee in league first with these two [Page] rowly powlies: they shal be thy Damons and thou their Pithyasse; Crispinus shall giue thee an olde cast Sattin suite, and Demetrius shall write thee a Scene or two, in one of thy strong garlicke Comedies; and thou shalt take the guilt of conscience for [...]and sweare tis thine owne olde lad, tis thine owne: thou neuer yet fels't into the hands of sattin, didst?
Neuer Captaine I thanke God.
Goe too, thou shalt now King Gorboduck, thou shalt, because Ile ha thee damn'd, Ile ha thee all in Sattin: Asper, Criticus, Quintus, Horatius, Flaccus, Crispinus shal doo't, thou shalt doo't, heyre apparant of Helicon, thou shalt doo't.
Mine Ingle weare an olde cast Sattin suite?
I wa [...]er-fate your Ningle.
If he carry the minde of a Gentleman, he'll scorne it at's heeles.
Mary muffe, my man a ginger-bread, wilt eate any small coale?
No Captaine, wod you should well know it, great coale shall not fill my bellie.
Scorne it, dost scorne to be arrested at one of his olde Suit [...]s?
No Captaine, Ile weare any thing.
I know thou wilt, I know th'art an honest low minded Pigmey, for I ha seene thy shoulders lapt in a Plaiers old cast Cloake, like a Slie knaue as thou art: and when thou ranst mad for the death of Horatio: thou borrowedst a gowne of Roscius the Stager, (that honest Nicodemus) and sentst it home lowsie, didst not? Responde, didst not?
So, so, no more of this, within this houre—
If I can sound retreate to my wits, with whome this leader is in skirmish, Ile end within this houre.
What wut end? wut hang thy selfe now? has he not writ Finis yet Iacke? what will he bee fifteene weekes about this Cockatrices egge too? has hee not cackeld yet? not [Page] laide yet?
Not yet, hee sweares hee will within this houre.
His wittes are somewhat hard bound: the Puncke his Muse has sore labour ere the whoore bee deliuered: the poore saffron-cheeke Sun-burnt Gipsie wantes Phisicke; giue the hungrie-face pudding-pye-eater ten Pilles: ten shillings my faire Angelica, they' make his Muse as yare as a tumbler.
He shall not want for money if heele write.
Goe by Ieronimo, goe by; and heere, drop the ten shillings into this Bason; doe, drop, when Iacke [...] hee shall call me his Moecen [...]: besides, Ile dam vp's Ouen-mouth for rayling at's: So, i [...]t right Iacke? ist sterling? fall off now to the vauward of yonder foure Stinkers, and aske alowde if wee shall goe? the Knight shall defray Iacke, the Knight when it comes to Summa totalis, the Knyght, the Knight.—
Well Gentlemen, we'll leaue you, shall we goe Captaine? good Horrace make some hast.
Ile put on wings.
I neuer sawe mine Ingle so dasht in my life before.
Yes once Asinius.
Mas you say true, hee was dasht worse once going (in a rainy day) with a speech to'th Tilt-yard, by Gods lyd has call'd him names, a dog would not put vp, that had any discreation.
Holde, holde vp thy hand, I ha seene the day thou didst not scorne to holde vp thy golles: ther's a Souldiers Spur-royall, twelue pence: Stay, because I know thou canst not write without quick- [...]uer; vp agen, this goll agen, I giue thee double presse-money: Stay, because I know thou hast a noble head, ile deuide my Crowne, ô royall Porrex, ther's a [Page] teston more; goe, thou and thy Muse munch, d [...]e, munch; come my deare Mandrake, if Skeldring fall not to decay, thou shalt florish: farewell my sweet Amadis de Gaule, farewell.
Deare Captaine.
Come Iacke.
Nay Captaine stay, we are of your band.
March faire then:
Horace farewell, adue Asinius
Ningle lets goe to some [...]auerne, and dine together, for my stomacke rises at this scuruy leather Captaine.
No, they haue choakt me with mine owne disgrace, Which (fooles) ile spit againe euen in your face.
Knaues, Varlets, what Lungis, giue me a dozen of stooles there.
Sesu plesse vs all in our fiue sences a peece, what meane yee sir Kintilian Sorthose to stand so much on a dozen stooles, heere be not preeches inuffe to hyde a dozen stooles, vnlesse you wisse some of vs preake his sinnes.
I say sir Vaughan no shinne shal be broken heer▪ what lungis, a chayre with a stronge backe, and a soft belli [...], great with childe; with a cushion for this reuerend Lady.
God neuer gaue me the grace to be a Lady, yet I ha beene worshipt in my conscience to my face a thousand times, I cannot denye sir Va [...]ghan, but that I haue all implements, belonging to the vocation of a Lady.
I trust mistris Mineuer you haue all a honest oman shud haue?
Yes perdie, as my Coach, and my fan, and a man [Page] or two that [...] turne, and other things which Ide bee loath euery one should see, because they shal not be common, I am in manner of a Lady in one point.
I pray mistris Mineuers, let vs all see that point for our better vnderstanding.
For I ha somethinges that were fetcht (I am sure) as farre as some of the Low Countries, and I payde sweetly for them too, and they tolde me they were good for Ladies.
And much good do't thy good heart faire widdow with them.
I am fayre enough to bee a Widdow, Sir Quintilian.
In my soule and conscience, and well fauoured enough to be a Lady: heere is sir [...]ntilian Sorthose, and heere is sir Adam Prickshaft, a sentleman of a very good braine, and well headed: you see he shootes his bolt sildome, but when Adam lets goe, he hits: and heere is sir Vaughan ap Rees, and I beleeue if God sud take vs all from his mercy, as I hope hee will not yet; we all three loue you, at the bottome of our bellyes, and our hearts: and therefore mistris Mineuer, if you please, you shall be knighted by one of vs, whom you fall desire to put into your deuice and minde.
One I must haue sir Vaughan.
And one of vs thou shalt haue widdow.
One I must haue, for now euery one seekes to crow ouer me.
By Sesu and if I finde any crowing ouer you, & he were a cocke (come out as farre as in Turkeys country) tis possible to cut his combe off.
I muse why sir Adam Prickshaft flyes so farre from vs.
I am in a browne study, my deare, if loue should bee turned into a beast, what beast hee were fit to bee turned into.
I thinke Sir Adam an Asse, because of his bearing.
I thinke (sauing your reuerence) Sir Adam a puppy, for a dog is the most louing creature to a christian that is, vnles it be a childe.
No, I thinke if loue should bee turn'd away, and goe to serue any beast, it must bee an Ape, and my reason—
Sir Adam, an Ape? ther's no more reason in an Ape, than in a very plaine Monkey; for an Ape has no tayle, but we all know, or tis our duty to know, loue has two tailes; In my sudsment, if loue be a beast, that beast is a bunce of Reddis; for a bunce of Reddis is wise meate without Mutton, and so is loue.
Ther's the yawning Captaine (sauing your reuerence that has such a sore mouth) would one day needes perswade me, that loue was a Rebato; and his reason was (sauing your reuerence) that a Rebato was worne out with pinning too often; and so he said loue was.
And Master Captaine Tucca sayd wisely too, loue is a Rebato indeede: a Rebato must be poaked; now many women weare Rebatoes, and many that weare Rebatoes—
Must be poakt.
Sir Adam Prickshaft has hit the cloute
The Musicke speakes to vs, we'll haue a daunce before dinner.
I pray doe so, Musitions bestir your singers, that [Page] you may haue vs [...]
His Grace comes, a Hall [...], where be my men? blow, blow your colde [...] they sweate; tickle them till they sound agen.
Be [...]t goe meete his Grace.
Agreed.
Pray all stand bare, as well men as women: Sir Adam is best you hide your head for feare your wise braines take key-colde: on afore Sir Kintilian; Sentlemen fall in before [...]he Ladyes, in seemely order and fashion; so this is come [...]ye.
God blesse your Maiesty, and send you to be along King William Rufus ouer vs, when he sees his times & pleasures.
Wee thanke you good Sir Vaughan, wee will take your meaning not your words.
Lowde Musicke there.
I am glad, our Maiesty will take any thing at my hands; my words [...] trust in Sesu, are spoken betweene my soule and body together, and haue neither Felonies nor treasons about them, I hope.
Good words Sir Vau [...]han, I prethee giue vs leaue.
Good words sir Vaughan? thats by interpertation in english, you [...]r best giue good words sir Vaughan: god and his Ansells blesse me, what ayles his maiestye to be so tedious and difficult in his right mindes now, I holde my life that file rascall-rymer Horace hath puzd and puzd aboue a hundred merie tales and lyce, into his great and princely eares: by god and he vse it, his being Phoebus priest cannot saue him, if hee were his Sapline too ide prease vpon his coxcomb: good lord blesse me out of his maiesties celler: King Williams, I hope tis none offences to make a supplication to god a mightie for your long life: for by shesu I haue no meaning in't in all the world, vnles rascalls be here that will haue your grace take shalke for shees, and vnlesse Horace has sent ly [...]e to your maiesty.
Horace, what's he sir Vaughan?
As hard-fauourd a fellow as your maiestie has seene in a sommers day: he does pen, an't please your grace, toyes that will not please your grace; tis a Poet, we call them Bardes in our Countrie, singes ballads and rymes, and I was mightie sealous, that his Inke which is blacke and full of gall, had brought my name to your maiestie, and so lifted vp your hye and princely coller.
I neither know that Horace, nor mine anger, If as thou saist our high and princely choller Be vp, wee'l tread it downe with daunces; Ladies Loose not your men; faire measures must be tread, When by so faire a dauncer you are lead.
Mistris Miniuer:
Perdie sir Vaughan I cannot dance.
Perdie by this Miniuer cappe, and acording to his masesties leaue too, you sall be put in among theise Ladies, & daunce ere long I trest in god, the saking of the seetes.
If you flye out Ningle, heer's your Cloake; I thinke it raine [...] too.
Hide my shoulders in't.
Troth so th'adst neede, for now thou art in thy Pee and Kue; thou hast such a villanous broad backe, that I warrant th'art able to beare away any mans ie [...]es in England.
It's well Sir, I ha strength to beare yours mee thinkes; fore God you are growne a piece of a Critist, since you fell into my hands: ah little roague, your wit has pickt vp her crum [...] prettie and well.
Yes faith, I finde my wit a the mending hand Ningle; troth I doe not thinke but to proceede Poetaster next Commencement, if I haue my grace perfectlie: euerie one that confer with me now, stop their nose in merriment and sweare I smell somewhat of Horace; one calles me Horaces Ape, another Horaces Beagle, and such Poeticall names it passes. I was [Page] but at Barbers last day, and when he was rencing my face, did but crie out▪ fellow thou makst me [...] too long, & sayes he sayes hyee, Master Asinius Bub [...], you haue eene Horaces wordes as right as if he had spit them into your mouth.
VVell, away deare Asinius, deliuer this letter to the young Gallant Drus [...], he that fell so strongly in loue with mee yesternight.
It's a sweete Muske-cod, a pure spic [...]d-gull, by this feather I pittie his Ingenuities; but hast writ all this since Ningle? I know thou hast a good running head and thou listest.
Foh come, your great belly'd wit mu [...] long for euery thing too; why you R [...]oke, I haue a set of letters readie starcht to my hands, which to any fresh suited gallant that but newlie enters his name into my rowle, I send the next morning, ere his ten a clocke dreame has rize from him, onelie with claping my hand to't, that my Nouice shall start, ho and his haire stand an end, when hee sees the sodaine flash of my writing; what you prettie Diminitiue roague, we must haue false fiers to amaze these spangle babies, these true heires of Ma [...] Ius [...]ice Shallow.
I wod alwaies haue thee saw [...] a foole thus.
Away, and, stay: heere be Epigrams vpon Tucca, divulge these among the gallants; as for Crispinus, that Crispin-asse and Fannius his Play-dresser; who (to make the Muses beleeue, their subiects eares were staru'd and that there was a dearth of Poefie) cut an Innocent Moore i'th middle, to serue him in twice; & when he had done, made Poules-worke of it, as for these Twynnes these Poet- [...]:
VVell Ningle Ile trudge, but where's the Randeuow?
VVell thought off, marie at Sir Vaughans lodging the VVelsh knight, I haue compos'd a loue-letter for the gallants [Page] worship, to his Rosamond: the second, Mistris Miniuer, because she does not thinke so soundly of his [...]ame English as he could wish; I ha gull'd his Knight-ship heere to his face, yet haue giuen charge to his wincking vnderstanding not to perceiue it: nay Gods so, away deare Bubo.
I am gone.
O Sir Adam Prickshaft, you are a the bow hand wide, a long, yard I assure you: and as for Suitors, truelie they all goe downe with me, they haue all one flat answere.
All Widdow? not all, let Sir Adam bee your first man still.
Master Peter Flash, I will grope about Sir Quintilian, for his terminations touching and considering you.
I thanke your Worship, for I haue as good a stomacke to your Worship as a man could wish.
I hope in God a mightie, I shall fill your stomack Master Peter: What two vpon one Sentlemen; Mistris Miniuer, much good doo't you Sir Adam.
Sir Vaughan, haue you din'd well Sir Vaughan?
As good seere as would make any hungrie man (and a were in the vilest prison in the world) eate and hee had anie stomacke: One word Sir Quintilian in hugger mugger; heere is a Sentleman of yours, Master Peter Flash, is tesirous to haue his blew coate pul'd ouer his eares; and—
No Sir, my petition runs thus, that your worshippe would thrust mee out of doores, and that I may follow Sir Vaughan.
I can tell you Master Flash, and you follow mee I goe verie fast, I thinke in my conscience, I am one of the lightest knights in England.
It's no matter Sir, the Flashes haue euer bin knowne to be quicke and light enough.
Sir Vaughan, he shal follow you, he shall dog you good Sir Vaughan.
Why then Peter Flash I will set my foure markes a yeare, and a blew coate vpon you.
God a mercy to your worship, I hope you shall neuer repent for me.
You beare the face of an honest man, for you blush passing well Peter, I will quench the flame out of your name, [Page] and you shall be christned Peter Salamander.
The name's too good for me, I thanke your worship.
Are you come Master Horace, you sent mee the Coppie of your letters countenance, and I did write and read it; your wittes truelie haue done verie valliantlie: tis a good inditements, you ha put in enough for her ha you not?
According to my instructions.
Tis passing well, I pray Master Horace walke a little beside your selfe, I will turne vpon you incontinent.
VVhat Gentleman is this in the Mandilian, a soldyer?
No, tho he has a very bad face for a souldier, yet he has as desperate a wit as euer any Scholler went to cuffes for; tis a Sentleman Poet, he has made rimes called Thalamimums, for M. Pridegroome, on vrd widdow.
Is this he? welcome Sir, you name? pray you walke not so statelie, but be acquainted with me boldlie; your name Sir?
Quintus, Horacius, Flaccus.
Good Master Flappus welcome.
Mistris Miniuer, one vrde in your corner heere; I desire you to breake my armes heere, and read this Paper, you shall feele my mindes and affections in it, at full and at large.
Iletreceiue no Loue libels perdy, but by word a mouth.
By Sesu tis no libell, for heere is my hand to it.
Ile ha no hand in it Sir Vaughan, Ile not deale with you.
Why then widdow, Ile tell you by word a mouth my deuices.
Your deuices come not neere my mouth Sir Vaughan perdy, I was vpon a time in the way to marriage, but now I am turn'd a tother side, I ha sworne to leade a single and simple life.
She has answer'd you Sir Vaughan.
Tis true, but at wrong weapons Sir Adam; will you be an Asse Mistris Miniuers?
If I be you shall not ride me.
A simple life! by Sesu tis the life of a foole, a simple life!
How now Sir Vaughan?
My braines has a little fine quawme come vnder it, and therefore Sir Adam, and Sir Quintilian, and mistris Miniuer caps God bo'y.
Good Sir Vaughan.
Master Horace, your inuentions doe her no good in the Vniuersalities; yet heere is two shillings for your wittes; nay by Sesu you shall take it if't were more: yonder bald Adams, is put my nose from his ioynt; but Adam I will be euen to you: this is my cogitations, I will indite the Ladies & Miniuer caps to a dinner of Plumbes, and I shall desire you M. Horace, to speake or raile; you can raile I hope in God a mighty.
You meane to speake bitterlie:
Right, to spitte bitterly vpon baldnes, or the thinnes of haire; you [...]all eate downe Plumbes to sweeten your mouth, and heere is a good Ansell to defend you: Peter Salamander follow me.
With hue and crie and you will Sir.
Come M, Horace, I will goe pull out the Ladies.
And Ile set out my wits, Baldnes the Theame? My words shall flow hye in a siluer streame.
Wher's my most costly and sump [...]uous Sho [...]hose [...] ▪
Is the King risen from table Captaine Tucca?
How? risen? no my noble Quintilian, kings are greater men then we Knights and Cauallie [...]s, and therefore must eate more then lesser persons; Godamercy good Diues for these crummes: how now? has not Frier Tucke din'd yet? he falles so hard to that Oyster-pye yonder.
Oyster-pye Captaine? ha ha, he loues her, and I loue her and feare both shall goe without her.
Dost loue her, my finest and first part of the Mirrour of Knighthood? hange her she lookes like a bottle of ale, when the corke flyes out and the Ale fomes at mouth, shee lookes my good button-breech like the signe of Capricorne, or like Tiborne when it is couer'd with snow.
All's one for that, she has a vizard in a bagge, will make her looke like an Angell; I wod I had her, vpon condition, I gaue thee this chaine manlie Tucca.
I? saist thou so Friskin? I haue herath hip for some causes, I can sound her, she [...]ll come at my becke.
Wod I could sound her too Noble commaunder.
Thou shalt doo't; that Lady ath Lake is thine Sir Tristram, lend mee thy chaine, doe, lend it, Ile make her take it as a token, Ile lincke her vnto thee; and thou shalt weare her gloue in thy Worshipfull hat [...]e like to a leather broo [...]h; Nay and thou mistrusts thy coller, be tyed in't [...]ill.
Mi [...]rust Captaine no heere tis, giue it her if she'll take it, or weare it thy s [...]lfe, if shee'll take mee, Ile watch him well enough too.
No more, Il [...] shoote away yonder Prickshaft, and then belabour her, a [...]d flye you after yonder Cucko: dost heere me my noble Gold [...]n [...]h:—
No more.
How do [...] thou my smug Belimperia? how dost thou? hands off my little bald Derricke, hands off: harke hether Susanna, [Page] beware a these two wicked Elders, shall I speake well or [...]ll of thee?
Nay, eene as you please Captaine, it shal be at your choice.
Why well said, my nimble Short-hose.
I heare her, I heare her.
Art angry father time? art angrie because I tooke mother-Winter aside? Ile holde my life thou art strucke with Cupids Birde-bolt, my little prick shaft, art? dost loue that mother Mumble-crust, dost thou? dost long for that whim-wham?
Wod I were as sure to lye with her, as to loue her.
Haue I found thee my learned Dunce, haue I found thee? If I might ha my wil, thou shouldst not put thy spoone into that bumble-broth (for indeede Ide taste her my selfe) no thou shouldst not; yet if her beautie blinde thee, she's thine, I can doo't, thou heardst her say eene now, it should bee at my choice.
She did so, worke the match and Ile bestow—
Not a silke point vpon mee, little Adam shee shall bee thy Eeue, for lesse then an Apple; but send, bee wise, seud her some token, shee's greedie, shee shall take it, doe, send, thou shalt sticke in her (Prickeshaft) but fend.
Heer's a purse of golde, thinke you that wil be accepted?
Goe to, it shall bee accepted, and twere but siluer, when that Flea-bitten Short-hose steppes hence: vanish too, and let mee alone with my Grannam in Gutter-Lan [...] there, and this purse of golde doe, let me alone.
Stay Sir Quintilian, Ile be a waiter too.
Widdow wee'll trust that Captaine there with you.
Now, now, mother Bunch how dost thou? what dost frowne Queene Gwyniuer? dost wrinckle? what made these paire of Shittle-cockes heere? what doe they fumble for? Ile ha none of these Kites flutering about thy carks, for thou shalt bee my West Indyes, and none but trim Tucca shall discouer thee.
Discouer me? discouer what thou canst of me.
What I can? thou knowst what I can discouer, but I will not lay thee open to the world,
Lay me open to the world?
No I will not my moldie decay'd Chari [...]g-crosse, I will not.
Hang thee patch-pannell, I am none a thy Charing-crosse: I scorne to be Crosse to such a scab as thou makst thy selfe.
No, tis thou makst me so, my Long Meg a Westminster, thou breedst a fcab, thou—
I? dam thee filthie Captaine, dam thy selfe.
My little deuill a Dow-gate, Ile dam thee, (thou knowst my meaning) Ile dam thee vp; my wide mouth at Bishops-gate.
Wod I might once come to that damming.
Why thou shalt, my sweet dame Annis a cleere thou shalt, for Ile drowne my selfe in thee; I, for thy loue, Ile sinke, I, for thee.
So thou wilt I warrant, in thy abhominable sinnes; Lord, Lord, howe many filthy wordes hast thou to answere for.
Name one Madge-owlet, name one, Ile answer for none; my words shall be foorth comming at all times, & shall answer for them selues; my nimble Cat-a-mountaine: they shall Sislie Bum-trincket, for Ile giue thee none but Sugercandie [Page] wordes, I will not Pusse: goody Tripe-wife, I will not.
VVhy dost call mee such horrible vngodlie names then?
Ile name thee no more Mother Red [...]cap vpon paine of death, if thou wilt Grimalkin, Maggo [...] a-pye I will not.
Wod thou shouldst wel know, I am no Maggot, but a meere Gentlewoman borne.
I know thou art a Gentle, and Ile nibble at thee, thou shalt be my Cap-a-maintenance, & Ile carrie my naked sword before thee, my reuerend Ladie Lettice-cap.
Thou shalt carry no naked swords before me to fright me, thou—
Go too, let not thy tongue play so hard at hot-cockles; for, Gammer Gurton, I meane to bee thy needle, I loue thee, I loue thee, because thy teeth stand like the Arches vnder London Bridge, for thou't not turne Satyre & bite thy husband; No, come my little Cub, doe not scorne mee because I goe in Stag, in Buffe, heer's veluet too; thou seest I am worth thus much in bareveluet.
I scorne thee not, not I.
I know thou dost not, thou shat see that I could march with two or three hundred linkes before me, looke here what? I could shew golde too, if that would tempt thee, but I will not make my selfe a Gold-smithes stall I; I scorne to goe chain'd my Ladie ath Hospitall, I doe; yet I will and must bee chain'd to thee.
To mee? why Master Captaine, you know that I haue my choise of three or foure payre of Knights, and therefore haue small reason to flye out I know not how in a man of war.
A man a warre? come thou knowst not what a worshipfull focation tis to be a Captaines wife: three or four payre of Knights? why dost heare Ioane-a-bedlam, Ile enter into [Page] bond to be dub'd by what day thou wilt▪ when the next action is layde vpon me, thou shalt be Ladified.
You know I am offered that by halfe a dozen.
Thou shalt little Miniuer, thou shalt, Ile ha this frock turn'd into a foote-cloth; and thou shalt be carted, drawne I meane, Coacht, Coacht, thou shalt ryde Iigga-Iogge; a Hood shall flap vp and downe heere, and this shipskin-cap shall be put off.
Nay perdie, Ile put off my cap for no mans pleasure.
Wut thou be proude little Lucifer? well, thou shalt goe how thou wilt Maide-marian; come, busse thy little Anthony now, now, my cleane Cleopatria; so, so, goe thy waies Alexis secrets, th'ast a breath as sweet as the Rose, that growes by the Beare-garden, as sweete as the proud'st heade a Garlicke in England: come, wut march in, to the Gentle folkes?
Why true, shall not I get in my debts, nay and the roague write no better I care not, farewell blacke Iacke farewell.
Right, for heere Ilye now, open, open▪ to make my aduersarie come on; and then Sir, heere am I in's bosome: nay and this be the worst, I shal hug the poore honest face-maker, Ile loue the little Atheist, when he writes after my commendation, another whip? come yerke me.
Farewell stinckers, I smel thy meaning Screech-owle, I doe tho I stop my nose: and Sirra Poet, we'll haue thee vntrust for this; come, mother Mum-pudding, come.
Ladies▪ I am to put a verie easie suite vpon you all, and to desire you to fill your little pellies at a dinner of plums behinde noone; there be Suckets, and Marmilads, and Marchants, and other long white plummes that faine would kisse your delicate and sweet lippes; I indite you all together, and you especially my Ladie Pride; what doe you saie for your selles? for I indite you all.
I thanke yo [...] good Sir Vaughan, I will come.
Say Sentlewomen will you stand to me too?
Wee'll sit with you sweet Sir Vaughan.
God a mightie plesse your faces, and make your peauties last, when wee are all dead and rotten:—you all will come.
All will come.
Pray God that Horace bee in his right wittes to raile now.
Ladies and Sentlemen, you are almost all welcome, to this swe [...]t nuncions of Plums.
Almost all [...]ir Vaughan: why to which of vs are [Page] you so niggardly, that you cut her out but a peice of welcome.
My interpretations is that almost all are welcome, because I indited a brace or two more that is not come, I am sorrie my Ladie Pride is not among you.
Slid, he makes hounds of vs Ningle, a brace quoth a?
Peter Salamanders draw out the pictures of all the ioynt stooles, & Ladies sit downe vpon their wodden faces.
I warrant Sir, Ile giue euerie one of them a good stoole.
Master Horace, Master Horace, when I pray to God, and desire in hipocrit [...]es that bald Sir Adams were heer, then, then, then begin to make you ra [...]les at the pouertie and beggerly want of haire.
Leaue it to my iudg [...]ment.
M. Bubo sit there, you and I wil thinke vpon our ends at the Tables: M. Horace, put your learned bodie into the midst of these Ladies; so tis no matter to speake graces at nuncions, because we are all past grace since dinner.
Mas I thanke my destinie I am not past grace, for by this hand full of Carrawaies, I could neuer abide to say grace.
Mistris Miniuer, is not that innocent Gentleman a kinde of foole?
Why doe you aske Madam?
Nay for no harme, I aske because I thought you two had been of acquaintaine.
I thinke he's within an Inch of a foole.
Madam Philocalia, you sit next that spare Gentleman, wod you heard what Mistris Miniuer saies of you.
Why what saies she Madam Dicache.
Nay nothing, but wishes you were married to that s [...]all timber'd gallant.
Your wish and mine are twinnes, I wi [...] so too for [Page] Then I should be s [...]re to lead a merrie life.
Yes faith Ladie, Ide make yo [...] laugh, my bolts now and then should be soone shot; by these com [...]its, weed let all slide.
He takes the sweetest oathes that euer I heard a gallant of his pitch sweare; by these Comfits, & these Carrawaies, I warrant it does him good to sweare.
Peter Salamanders wine, I beseech you Master Asinius Bubo, not to sweare so deeplie, for there comes no fruite of your oathes; heere Ladies, I put you all into one corners together, you shall all drinke of one cup.
Peter I prethee fill me out too.
Ide fling you out too and I might ha my will, a pox of all fooles.
Mistris Miniuers, pray bee lustie, wod Sir Adams Prickshaft stucke by you.
Who, the balde Knight Sir Vaughan?
The same M. Horace, he that has but a remnant or parcell of haire, his crowne is clipt and par'd away; me thinkes tis an excellent quallitie to bee balde; for and there stucke a nose and two nyes in his pate, he might weare two faces vnder one hood.
As God saue me la, if I might ha my will, Ide rather be a balde Gentleman then a hairy; for I am sure the best and tallest Yeomen in England haue balde heads: me thinkes haire is a scuruie lowsie commodity.
Bubo, heerein you blaze your ignorance.
Pray stop and fill your mouthes, and giue M. Horace all your eares.
True M. Horace, for a bald reason, is a reason that has no haires vpon't, a scuruy scalded reason.
By my truely I neuer thought you could ha pickt such s [...]range things out of haire before.
Nay my Ningle can tickle it, when hee comes too't.
Troth I shall neuer bee enameld of a bare-headed man for this, what shift so euer I make.
Then Mistris Miniuer S. Adams Prickshaft must not hit you; Peter take vp all the cloathes at the table and the Plums.
Saue thee my little worshipfull Harper; how doe ye [...] my little cracknels? how doe ye?
Welcome M. Tucca, sit and shoote into yo [...]r belly some Suger pellets.
No, Godamercy Cadwallader, how doe you Horace?
Thankes good Captaine.
Wher's the Sering thou carriest about thee? O haue I found thee my scowring-sticke; what's my name Bubo?
Wod I were hang'd if I can call you any names but Captaine and Tucca.
No Fye'st, my name's Hamlet reuenge: thou hast been at Parris garden hast not?
Yes Captaine, I ha plaide Zulziman there.
Then M. Horace you plaide the part of an honest man.
Death of Hercules, he could neuer play that part well in's life, no Fulkes you could not: thou call'st Demetrius Iorneyman Poet, but thou putst vp a Supplication to be a poore Iorneyman Player, and hadst beene still so, but that thou couldst not set a good face vpon't: thou hast forgot how thou amblest (in leather pilch) by a play-wagon, in the high way, and took'st mad Ieronimoes part, to get seruice among [Page] the Mimickes: and when the Stagerites banisht thee into the Ile of Dogs▪ thou turn'dst Ban-dog (villanous Guy) & euer since bitest, therefore I aske if th'ast been at Parris-garden, because thou hast such a good mouth; thou ba [...]tst well, read, lege, saue thy selfe and read.
Why Captaine these are Epigrams compos'd on you.
Goe not out Farding Candle, goe not out, for trusty Damboys now the deed is done, Ile pledge this Epigram in wine, Ile▪ yallow i [...], I, yes.
God blesse vs, will be drunke with nittigrams now.
So, now arise sprite ath Buttry; no Herring-bone Ile not pull thee out, but arise deere Eccho rise, rise deuill or Ile con [...]ure thee vp.
Good Master Tucca lets ha no coniuring heere.
Vddes bloud you scald gouty Captaine, why come you to set encombrances heere betweene the Ladies.
Be not so tart my precious Metheglin, be not (my old whore a Babilon, sit fast.)
O Iesu it I know where abouts in London Babilon stands.
Feede and be fat my faire Calipolis, stir not my beauteous wriggle-tailes, Ile disease none of you, Ile take none of you vp, but onely this table-man, I must enter him into some filthy sincke point, I must.
Captaine, you doe me wrong thus to disgrace me.
Thou thinkst thou maist be as sawcy with me as my Buffe Ierkin to sit vpon me, dost?
Sblud, I, what cōputations can you lay to his [...]ge? answer, or by Se [...]u Ile canuas your coxcombe Tucky.
If they draw sweet hearts, let vs shift for our [...]elues.
My noble swaggerer, I wil not fall out with thee, I cannot [Page] my mad Cumrade▪ finde in my heart to shed thy bloud.
Cumrade by Sesu call me Cumrade againe, and ile Cumrade ye about the sinnes and shoulders; ownds, what come you to smell out heere? did you not dine and feede horribly well to day at dinner, but you come to munch h [...]ere, and giue vs winter-plummes? I pray depart, goe marse, marse, marse out a doores.
Adew Sir Eglamour, adew Lute-stringe, Curtin-rod, Goose-quill; heere, giue that full-nos'd Skinker, these rimes; & harke, Ile tagge my Codpeece point with thy legs, spout-pot Ile empty thee.
Dost threaten mee? Gods lid Ile binde thee to the good forbearing.
Will you amble Hobby-horse, will you trot and amble?
Raw Artichocke I shall sauce thee.
I pray you Master Tucca, will you send me the fiue pound you borrowed on me; O you cannot heare now, but Ile make you heare me and feele me too in another place, to your shame I warrant you, thou shalt not conny-catch mee for fiue pounds; he tooke it vp Sir Vaughan in your name, hee swore you sent for it to Mum withall, twas fiue pound in gold, as white as my kercher.
Ownds, fiue pound in my name to Mum about withall.
I, to Mum withall, but hee playes mum-budget with me.
Peter Salamander, tye vp your great and your little sword, by Sesu Ile goe sing him while tis hot, Ile beate fiue pound out of his leather pilch: Master Horace, let your wittes inhabite in your right places; if I fall sansomely vpon th [...] Widdow, I haue some cossens Garman at Court, shall beget you the reuersion of the Master of the Kings Reuels, or else be his Lord of Mis-rule nowe at Christmas: Come Ladyes, [Page] whoreson Stragling Captaine, Ile pound him.
How now? what ail'st tho [...], that thou look' [...]t so paie?
Nay not [...]ing, but I am afraide the Welsh Knight has giuen me nothing but purging Comfits: this Captaine▪ stickes pockily in my stomack; read this scroule, he saies they'r rimes, and bid me giue them you.
Rimes [...]tis a challenge sent to you.
To me?
He saies heere you divulg'd my Epigrams.
And for that dares he challenge me?
You see he dares but dare you answer him?
I date answer his challenge, by word of mouth, or by wr [...]ting, but I scorne to meete him, I hope he and I are no [...] Para [...]els.
Content, I owe God a death, and if he will make mee pay't against my will, Ile say tis hard dealing.
Did Apolloes Freeze gowne watch man (boy, dost heare Tu [...]kie-co [...]kes tayle haue an eye behinde, least the enemieassault [...] R [...]re-ward) on proceede Father Adam; did that same tiranicall-tongu'd rag-a-muffin Horace, turne baldpates out so naked?
Thy golde was accepted, it was, and she shall bring thee into her Paradice, she shall small Adam, she shall.
But how? but how Capten?
Thus, goe, couer a table with sweet meates, let all the Gentlewomen, and that same Pasquils-mad-cap (mother Bee there) nibble, bid them bite: they will come to gobble downe Plummes; then take vp that paire of Basket hiltes, with my commission, I meane C [...]spinus and Fannius; charge one of them to take vp the Bucklers, against that hayre-monger Horace, and haue about or two, in defence of balde-pates: let them cracke euerie crowne that has haire on't: goe, l [...]t them lift vp baldenes to the skie, and thou shalt see, twill turne Miniuers heart quite against the haire.
Excellent, why then M. Tucca—
Nay, wh [...]r, nymble Prickshaft; whir, away, I goe vpon life and death, away, flie Scanderbag flie.
Arme Captaine, arme, arme, arme, the foe is come downe.
Hold Capten Tucca holde, I am Bubo, & come to answer any thing you can lay to my ch [...]rge.
What, dost summon a parlie my little Drum-sticke? tis too late; thou seest my red flag is hung out, Ile fill thy guts with thine owne carrion carcas, and then eate them vp insteed of Sawsages.
Vse me how you will; I am resolute, for I ha made my Will.
Wilt fight Turke-a-ten-pence? wilt fight then?
Thou shalt finde Ile fight in a Godly quarrell, if I be once fir'd.
Thou shalt not want fire, Ile ha thee burnt when thou wilt, my colde Cornelius: but come: Respicefunem; looke, thou [...]eest; open thy selfe my little Cutlers Shoppe, I challenge thee thou slender Gentlem [...]n, at foure sundrie weapons.
Thy challenge was but at one, and Ile answere but one.
Thou shalt answer two, for thou shalt answer me and my Capten.
Well said Cockrell out-crowe him: art hardy noble Huon▪ art Magnanimious? licke-trencher; looke, search, least some lye in ambush; for this man at Armes, has paper in's bellie, or some friend in a corner, or else hee durst not bee so cranke.
Capten, Capten, Horace stands sneaking heere.
I smelt the foule-fisted Morter-treader, come my most damnable fastidious rascall, I haue a suite to both of you.
O holde, most pittifull Captaine holde.
Holde Capten, tis knowne that Horace is valliant, & a man of the sword.
A Gentleman or an honest Cittizen, shall not Sit in your pennie-bench Theaters, with his Squirrell by his side cracking nuttes; nor sneake into a Tauerne with his Mermaid; but he shall be Satyr'd, and Epigram'd vpon, and his humour must run vpo'th Stage▪ you'll ha Eu [...]ry Gentleman in's humour, and Euery Gentleman out on's humour: wee that are heades of Legions and Bandes, and feare none but these same shoulder-clappers, shall feare you, you Serpentine rascall.
Honour'd Capten.
Art [...]ot famous enough yet, my mad Horastratus, for killing a Player, but thou must ea [...]e men aliue? th [...] friends? Sirra wilde-man, thy Patrons? thou Anthropophagite, thy Mecaenas [...]s?
I know now th [...]ast a number of these Quiddits [...] binde men to'th peace: tis thy fashion to [...] Inke in euerie mans face; and then to craule into his bosome, and damne thy selfe to w [...]p [...]t off agen: yet to g [...]ue out abroad, that hee was glad to come to composition with thee: I know Monsieur Mac [...]iauell tis one a thy rules; My long-heel'd Troglodite, I could make thine eares burne now, by dropping into them, all those hot oathes, to which, thy selfe gau's [...] volun [...]rie [...]re, (whē thou wast the man in the Moon [...]) that thou wouldst neuer squib out any new Salt-p [...]t [...]r Ie [...] against honest Tucca, nor those Maligo-tasters, his Poetasters; I could Cino [...]phal [...]s, but I will not, yet thou knowst thou hast broke those oathes in print, my excellent infernall.
Capten.
Nay I smell what breath is to come from thee, thy answer is, that there's no faith to be helde wi [...]h Heritickes & Infidels, and therfore thou swear'st anie thing: but come lend m [...]e thy hand, thou and I hence forth will bee Alexander and [Page] Lodwicke, the G [...]mini: sworne brothers▪ thou shalt be Peritho [...]s and Tucca Theseus; b [...]t [...]le leaue thee [...]th lurch, when thou mak'st thy voiage into hell: till then, [...]hine [...]assure [...]ly.
With all my soule deare Capten.
Thou'lt shoo [...] thy quilles at mee, when my terrible backe's turn'd for all this, wilt not Porcupine? and bring me & my Heliconistes into thy Dialogues to make vs talke madlie, wut not Lucian?
Capten, if I doe—
Nay and thou dost, hornes of Lucifer, the Parce [...]l-Poet [...] shall Sue thy wrangling Muse, in the Court of Pernassus, and neuer leaue hunting her, till she pleade in Forma P [...]uperi: but I hope th'a [...]t more grace: come: friendes, clap [...]h [...]ndes tis a bargaine; am [...]able Bubo, thy fist [...]ust walke [...]oo: so, I loue thee, now I see th'art a little Hercules, and wilt fight; Ile S [...]icke thee now in my companie like a sprig of Rosemary.
Draw Sir Rees he's yonder shall I vpon him?
Vpon him? goe too, goe too Peter Sal [...]mander; holde, in Gods name holde; I will kill him to his face, because I meane he shall answer for i [...]; being an eye-witnes; one vrde Capten Tucky.
Ile giue thee ten thousand words and thou wilt, my little Thomas Thomasius.
By Sesu, tis best you giue good vrdes too, least I b [...]ate out your tongue, and make your vrde nere to bee taken more; doe you heare, fiue pounds, fiue pounds Tucky.
[...]hou shalt ha fiue, and fiue, and fiue and thou wantst money my Iob.
L [...]aue your fetches and your fegaries, you tough leather-Ierkins; leaue your quandaries, and trickes, and draw vpon me y'are best: you conny-catch Widdow Miniuer-caps [Page] for fiue pounds, and say tis for me to cry Mum, and make mee run vp and downe in dishonors, and discredites; is't not true, you winke-a-pipes rascall? is not true?
Right, true, guilty, I remember't now; for when I spake a good word to the Widdow for thee my young Sampson—
For fiue pounds you cheating scab, for 5. pounds, not for me.
For thee ô Caesar, for thee I tooke vp fiue pounds in golde, that lay in her lap, & [...]aid Ide giue it thee as a token from her: I did it but to smell out how she stood affected to thee, to feele her; I, and I know what she said, I know how I carried away the golde.
By Sesu, I ha not the mercy to fall vpon him now: M. Tucky, did widdow Miniuers part quietly from her golde, because you lyed▪ and said it was for me?
Quietly, in peace, without grumbling; made no noise, I know how I tempted her, in thy behalfe; my little Trang do.
Capten Tucky, I will pay back her 5. l. (vnles you be damn'd in lyes) & hold you, I pray you pocket vp this; by the crosse a this sword & dagger, Capten you shall take it.
Dost sweare by daggers? nay then Ile put vp more at thy hands then this.
Is the fray done si [...]?
Done Peter, put vp your s [...]eeter.
Come hether, my soure-fac'd Poet; fling away that beard-brush Bubo, casheere him and harke: Knight attend: So, that raw-head and bloudy-bones Sir Adam, has fee'd another brat (of those nine common wenches) to defend baldnes and to raile against haire: he'll haue a [...]ling at thee, my noble Cock-Sparrow.
At mee? will hee [...]ling the cudgels of his witte [...]t mee?
And at thy button-c [...]p too; but come, Ile be your leader [Page] you shall stand, heare all, & not be seene; cast off that blew coate away with that flawne, and follow, come:
Bubo, we follow Captaine.
Peter, leaue comming behinde me, I pray any longer for you and I must part Peter.
Sounds Sir, I hope you will not serue me so, to turne me away in this case.
Turne you into a fooles coate; I meane I will go solus, or in solitaries alone; ounds y-are best giue better words, or Ile turne you away indeed; where is Capten Tucky? come Horace; get you home Peter.
Ile home to your cost, and I can get into the Wine-Seller.
Remember where to meete mee.
Yes Ile meete; Tucca should ha found I dare meete.
By your leaue (Master Poet) but that Bush-naturall, is one a the trimmest, and most intanglingst beautie in a woman.
Th'art within a haire of it, my sw [...]t Wit whe [...]r wil [...] [Page] tho [...]? my delicate Poeticall Furie, th'a [...]t hit it to a haire.
By your fauour Master Tucky, his balde reasons are wide aboue two hayres, I besees you pardon mee Ladies, that I thrust in so malepartly among you, for I did but mych hee [...]e, and see how this cruell Poet did handle bald heades.
He gaue them but their due Sir Vaughan; Widdow did he not?
By my faith he made more of a balde head, than euer I shall be able: he gaue them their due truely.
Nay vds bloud, their due is to bee a the right haire as I am, and that was not in his fingers to giue, but in God a Mighties: Well, I will hyre that humorous and fantasticall Poet Master Horace, to breake your balde pate Sir Adam.
Breake my balde pate?
Dost heare my worshipfull block-head?
Patience Captaine Tucky, let me absolue him; I meane he shal pricke, pricke your head or sconce a little with his goose-quils, for he shal make another Thalimum, or crosse [...]tickes, or some Polinoddyes, with a fewe Nappy-grams in them that shall lift vp haire, and set it an end, with his learned and harty commendations.
This is excellent, all will come out now.
That same Horace me thinkes has the most vngodly face, by my Fan; it lookes for all the world, like a rotten russet Apple, when tis bruiz'd: Its better then a spoonefull of Sinamon water next my heart, for me to heare him speake; hee soundes it so i'th nose, and talkes and randes for all the world, like the poore fellow vnder Ludgate: oh fye vpon him.
By my troth sweet Ladies, it's Cake and pudding to me, to see his face make faces, when hee reades his Songs [Page] and Sonnets.
Ile face some of you for this, when you shall not budge.
Its the stinckingst dung-farmer—foh vpon him.
Foh? oundes you make him vrse than olde herring: foh? by Sesu I thinke he's as tidy, and as tall a Poet as euer drew out a long verse.
The best verse that euer I knew him hacke out, was his white necke-verse: noble Ap Rees thou wouldst scorne to laye thy lippes to his commendations, and thou smeldst him out as I doe, hee calles thee the burning Knight of the Salamander.
Right, Peter is my Salamander; what of him? but Peter is neuer burnt: howe now? so, goe too now.
And sayes because thou Clipst the Kinges English.
Oundes mee [...] that's treason: clip? horribl [...] treasons, Se [...]u holde my handes; clip? he baites mouse-trappes for my life.
Right little Twinckler, right: hee sayes because thou speak'st no better, thou canst not keepe a good tongue in thy head.
By God tis the best tongue, I can buy for loue or money.
He shootes at thee too Adam Bell, and his arrowes stickes heere; he calles thee bald-pate.
Oundes make him prooue these intollerabilities.
And askes who shall carry the vineger-bottle▪ & then he rimes too't, and sayes Prickshaft: nay Miniuer hee cromplesthy Cap too; and—
Come Tucca, come, no more; the man's wel knowne, thou needst not paint him, whom does he not wrong?
Mary himselfe, the vglie Po [...]e Boniface, pardons himselfe, and t [...]erefore my indgement is, that presently he bee had from hence, to his place of execution, and there bee Stab'd, Stab'd, Stab'd.
Oh gentlemen, I am slaine, oh s [...]ue art hyt'd to murder me, to murder me, to murder me?
Oh God!
Ounds Capten you haue put all Poetrie to the dint of sword, blow winde about him: Ladies for our Lordes sake you that haue smocks, teare off peeces▪ to shoote through his oundes: Is he dead and buried is he? pull his nose, pinch, rub, rub, rub, rub.
If he be not dead, looke heere; I ha the Stab and pippin for him: if I had kil'd him, I could ha pleas'd the great foole with an Apple.
I am glad M. Horace, to see you walking.
Gentlemen, I am blacke and blewe the breadth of a groate.
Breadth of a groate? there's a teston, hide thy infirmities, my scuruy Lazaru [...], doe, hide it, least it prooue a scab in time: hang thee desperation, hang thee, thou knowst▪ I cannot be sharpe set against thee: looke, feele (my light-vptailes all) feele my weapon.
O most pittifull a [...] [...] as my great thumbe.
By Sesu, as blunt as a Welsh bag-pudding.
As blunt as the top of Poules; tis not like thy Aloe, Cicatrine tongue▪ bitter: no▪ tis no s [...]abber▪ but like thy goodl [...] and glorious nose, blunt, blunt, blunt: dost roare bulchin? dost roare? th'ast a good roun [...]iuall voice to cry Lanthorne & Candle-light.
Two vrds Horace about your eares: how ch [...]nce it passes, that you bid God b [...]yg [...] to an [...]one [...]t trade of building Symneys, and laying downe Brickes, for a worse handicraftnes▪ to make nothing but rai [...]es; your Mu [...]e leanes vpon nothing but filthy rotten [...]ailes, such as stand on Poules head, how chance?
Sir Vaughan.
You lye s [...]r varlet sir [...]llaine, I am sir Salamanders, ounds, is my man Master Peter Salamanders face as vrse as mine? Sentlemen, all and Ladies, and you say once or twice Amen, I will lap this little Silde, this Booby in his blankets agen.
A blanket, these crackt Venice glasses shall fill him out, they shall tosse him, holde fa [...]t wag [...] tai [...]es: so, come, in, take this bandy with the racket of patience, why when? dost flampe mad Tambe [...]laine, do [...]t [...]tampe? thou thinkst th'ast Morter vnder thy [...], do [...] ▪
Why, would you make me thus the ball of scorne?
Ile tell thee why, because th [...]a [...]t en [...]ed A [...]lons of assault and battery, against a companie of honourable and worshipfull Fathers of the law: you wrangling ra [...]call, law is one of the pillers ath land, and if thou beest bound too't (as I hope [Page] thou shalt bee) thou't proo [...]e a skip-lacke, thou't be whipt. Ile tell thee why, because thy sputtering chappes yelpe, that Arrogance, and [...]mpudence, and Ignoraunce, are the essentiall parts of a Courtier.
You remember Horace they will puncke, and pincke, and pumpe you, and they catch you by the coxcombe: on I pray, one lash, a little more.
Ile tell thee why because thou [...]ryest ptrooh at worshipfull Cittizens, and cal' [...] them Flat-caps, Cuckolds, and banckrupts, and modest and vertuous wiues punckes & cockatrices. Ile tell thee why, because th'ast arraigned two Poets against all lawe and conscience; and not content with that, hast turn'd them amongst a company of horrible blacke Frye [...]s.
The same ha [...]d still, it is your owne another day, M. Horace, admonitions is good meate.
Thou art the true arraign'd Poet, and shouldst haue been hang'd, but for one of these part-takers, these charitable Copper-lac'd Christians▪ that fetcht thee out of Purgatory, (Players I meane) Theaterians pouch-mouth▪ Stage-walkers; for this Poet, for this, thou must lye with these foure wenches, in that blancket, for this—
And Iewels Master Horace, must be hang'd you know.
Good Pagans, well said, they haue sowed vp that broken seame-rent lye of thine, that Demetrius is out at Elbowes, and Cri [...]pinus is falne out with Sattin heere, they haue; but b [...]oate-herring dost heare?
Yes honour'd Captaine, I haue eares at will.
Ist not better be out at Elbowes, then to bee a bondslaue, and to goe all in Parchment as thou dost?
Parchment Captaine? tis Pe [...]petuana I assure you.
My Perpetuall pantaloone t [...]ue, but tis waxt ouer; th'art made out of Wax; thou must answere for this one day; thy Muse is a [...]gler, and weares cloathes vpon best-be-trust: th'art great in some bodies books for this▪ thou knowst where; thou wouldst bee out at Elbowes, and out at heeles too, but that thou lay [...]st about thee with a Bill for this, a Bill—
I confesse Capten, I followed this suite hard.
I know thou d [...]d [...], and therefore whilst we haue Hiren heere, speake my little dish-washers, a verdit Pissekitchins.
Blancket.
Holde I pray, holde, by Se [...]u I haue put vpon my heade, a fi [...]e deuice, to make you laugh, tis not [Page] your fooles Cap Master Horace, which you couer'd your Poetasters in, but a fine tricke, ha, ha▪ is iumbling in my braine.
Ile beate out thy braines, my whorson hansome dwarfe, but ile haue it out of thee.
What is it good Sir Vaughan?
To conclude, tis after this manners, because Ma. Horace is ambition, and does conspire to bee more hye and tall▪ as God a migh [...]e made him, wee'll ca [...]ry his terrible, person to Court, and there before his Masestie Dub, or what you call it, dip his Muse in some licour, and christen him, or dye him, into collours of a Poet.
Exceilent.
Super Super-excellent Reuellers goe, proceede you Masters of Arte in kissing these wenches, and in daunces, bring you the quiuering Bride to Court, in a Maske, come G [...]umboll, thou shalt Mum with vs; come, dogge mee skneakesbill.
O thou my Muse!
Call vpon God a mighty, and no Muses, your Muse I warrant is otherwise occupied, there is no de [...]ling with your Muse now, therefore I pray marse, marse, marse, oundes your Moose?
Ounds did you see him, I pray let all his Masesties [Page] most excellent dogs, be set at liberties, and haue their freedoms to smell him out.
Smell whom?
Whom? the Composer, the Prince of Poets, Horace, Horace, he's departed: in Gods name and the Kinges I sarge you to ring it out from all our eares, for Horaces bodie is departed: Master hue and crie shall—God blesse King Williams, I crie you mercy and aske forgiuenes, for mine eyes did not finde in their hearts to looke vppon your Maiestie.
What news with thee Sir Vaughan?
Newes? God tis as vrse newes as I can desire to bring about mee: our vnhansome-fac'd Poet does play at bo-peepes with your Grace, and cryes all-hidde as boyes doe.
Stand by, roome there, backe, roome for the Poet.
He's reprehended and taken, by Sesu I reioyce very neere as much as if I had discouer'd a New-found Land, or the North and East Indies.
So, tug, tug, pull the mad Bull in by'th hornes: So, baite one at that stake my place-mouth yelpers, and one at that stake Gurnets-head.
What busie fellow's this?
Saue thee, my most gracious King a Harts saue thee, all hats and caps are thine, and therefore I vaile: for but to thee great Sultane Soliman, I scorne to be thus put off or to deliuer vp [Page] this sconce I wud.
Sir Vaughan, what's this iolly Captaines name?
Has a very sufficient name, and is a man has do [...] God and his Country as good and as hot Seruice (in conquering this vile Monster-Poet) as euer did S. George his horsebacke about the Dragon.
I sweate for't, but Tawsoone, holde thy tongue Mon du, if thou't praise mee, doo't behinde my backe: I am my weighty Soueraigne one of thy graines, thy valliant vassaile; aske not what I am, but read, turne ouer, vnclaspe thy Chronicles: there thou shalt finde Buffe-Ierkin; there read my points of war; I am one a thy Mandilian-Leaders; one that enters into thy royall bands for thee; Pantilius Tucca; one of thy Kingdomes chiefest quarrellers; one a thy most faithfull—fy—fy—fy—
Drunkerds I holde my life.
No whirligig, one of his faithfull fighters; thy drawer ô royall Tamor Cham.
Goe too, I pray Captaine Tucca, giue vs all leaue to doe our busines before the King.
With all my heart, shi, shi, shi shake that Beare-whelp when thou wut.
Horace and Bubo, pray send an answere into his Masesties eares, why you goe thus in Ouids Morter-Morphesis and strange fashions of apparrell.
Cur why?
My Lords, I was drawne into this beastly suite by head and shoulders onely for loue I bare to my Ningle.
Speake Ningle, thy mouth's next, belch out, belch, why—
But to bite euery Motley-head vice by'th nose, you did it Ningle to play the Bug-beare Satyre, & make a Campe royall of fashion-mongers quake at your paper Bullets; you Nastie Tortois, you and your Itchy Poetry breake out like Christmas, but once a yeare, and then you keepe a Reuelling, & Araigning, & a Scratching of mens faces, as tho you were Tyber the long-tail'd Prince of Rattes, doe you?
Horace.
Silence, pray let all v [...]des be strangled, or held fast betweene your teeth.
Wel said my Poeticall huckster, now he's in thy handling rate him, doe rate him well.
O I beseech your Maiesty, rather then thus to be neted, Ile ha my Satyres coate pull'd ouer mine eares, and bee turn'd out a the nine Muses Seruice.
And I too, let mee be put to my shiftes with myne Ningle.
By Sesu so you shall M. Bubo; flea off this hairie skin M. Horace, so, so, so, vntrusse, vntrusse.
His Poeticall wreath my dapper puncke-fetcher.
Ooh—
Nay your oohs, nor your Callin- [...]es cannot serue your turne; your tongue you know is full of blisters with rayling, your face full of pockey-holes and pimples, with your fierie inuentions: and therefore to preserue your head from aking, this Biggin is yours,—nay by Sesu you shall bee a Poet, though not Lawrefyed, yet Nettlefyed, so:
Sirra stincker, thou'rt but vntruss'd now, I owe thee a whipping still, and Ile pay it: I haue layde roddes in Pisse and Vineger for thee: It shall not bee the Whipping [...] Satyre, nor the Whipping of the blinde-Beare, bnt of a counterfeit lugler, that steales the name of Horace.
How? counterfeit? does hee vsurpe that name?
Yes indeede ant please your Grace, he does sup vp that abhominable name.
Hee does O King Cambises, hee does: thou hast no part of Horace in thee but's name, and his damnable vices: thou hast such a terrible mouth, that thy beard's afraide to peepe out; but, looke heere you staring Leuiathan, heere's the sweete visage of Horace; looke perboylde-face, looke; Horace had a trim long-beard, and a reasonable good face for a Poet, (as faces goe now-a-dayes) Horace did not skrue and wriggle himselfe into great Mens famyliarity, (impudentlie) as thou do [...]st: nor weare the Badge of Gentlemens company, as thou doost thy Taffetie sleeues tackt too onely with some pointes of profit: No, Horace had not his face puncht full of Oylet-holes, like the couer of a warming-pan: Horace lou'd Poets well, and gaue Coxcombes to none but fooles; but thou lou'st [Page] none, neither Wisemen nor fooles, but thy selfe: Horace was a goodly Corpulent Gentleman, and not so leane a hollow-cheekt Scrag as thou art: No, heere's thee Coppy of thy countenance, by this will I learne to make a number of villanous faces more, and to looke scuruily vpon'th world, as thou dost.
Sir Vaughan will you minister their oath?
Master Afinius Bubo, you shall sweare as little as you can, one oath shall damme vp your Innocent mouth.
Any oath Sir, Ile sweare any thing.
You shall sweare by Phoebus (who is your Poets good Lord and Master,) that heere-after you will not hyre Horace, to giue you poesies for rings, or hand-kerchers, or kniues which you vnderstand not, nor to write your Loueletters; which you (in turning of a hand) set your markes vpon, as your owne: nor you shall not carry Lattin Poets about you, till you can write and read English at most; and lastlye that you shall not call Horace your Ningle.
By Phoebus I sweare all this, and as many oathes as you will, so I may trudge.
Trudge then, pay your legs for Fees, and bee dissarg'd.
Tprooth—runne Red-cap, ware hornes there.
Now Master Horace, you must be a more horrible swearer, for your oath must be (like your wittes) of many collours; and like a Brokers booke of many parcels.
Read, read; th'inuentory of his oath.
Ile sweare till my haire stands vpan end, to bee rid of this sting, oh this sting.
Tis not your sting of conscience, is it?
Vpon him: Inpri [...]is.
Inprimis, you shall sweare by Phoebus and the [Page] halfe [...] s [...]re M [...]ses lacking one▪ not to sweare to hang your selfe, if you thought any Man, Ooman or Silde, could write Playes and [...], as well-fauo [...]'d ones as your selfe.
Well, sayd, hast brought him toth gallowes already?
You shall sweare not to bumbast out a new Play, with the olde lynings of Iestes, stolne from the Temples Reuels.
To him olde Tango.
Moreouer▪ you shall not sit in a Gallery, when your Comedies and Enterludes haue entred their Actions, and there make vile and bad faces at euerie lyne, to make Sentlemen haue an eye to you, and to make Players afraide to take your part.
Thou shalt be my Ningle for this.
Besides you must for sweare to venter on the stage, when your Play is ended, and to exchange curtezies, and complements with Gallants in the Lordes roomes, to make all the house rise vp in Armes, and to cry that's Horace, that's he, that's he, that's he, that pennes and purges Humours and diseases.
There boy, agen.
Secondly, when you bid all your friends to the marriage of a poore couple, that is to say: your Wits and necessities, alias dictus, to the rifling of your Muse: alias, your Muses vp-sitting: alias a Poets Whitson-Ale; you shall sweare that within three dayes after, you shall not abroad, in Booke-binders shops, brag that your Vize-royes or Tributorie-Kings, haue done homage to you, or paide quarterage.
Ile bussethy head Holofernes.
Mo [...]eouer and Inpri [...]is, when a Knight or [Page] Sentlemen of vrship, does giue you his passe-p [...]t, to trauaile in and out to his Company, and giues you money for Gods sake; I trust in Sesu, you will sweare (tooth and nayle) not to make sealde and wry-mouth Iestes vpon his Knight-hood, will you not?
I neuer did it by Parnassus.
Wut sweare by Parnassus and lyetoo, Doctor Doddipol?
Thirdly, and last of all sauing one, when your Playes are misse-likt at Court, you shall not crye Mew like a Pusse-cat, and say you are glad you write out of the Courtiers Element.
Let the Element alone, tis out a thy reach.
In brieflynes, when you Sup in Tauer [...]es, amongst your betters, you shall sweare not to dippe your Manners in too much sawce, nor at Table to fling Epigrams, Embleames, or Play-speeches about you (lyke Hayle-stones) to keepe you out of the terrible daunger of the Shot, vpon payne to fit at the vpper ende of the Table, a'th left hand of Carlo Buffon: sweare all this, by Apollo and the eight or nine Muses.
By Apollo, Helicon, the Muses (who march three and three in a rancke) and by all that belongs to Pernassus, I sweare all this.
Kings-truce, my noble Hearbe-a-grace; my Princely sweet-William, a boone—Stay first, Ist a match or no match, Lady Furniuall Ist?
A match?
I, a match, since he hath hit the Mistris so often i'th fore-game, we'll eene play out a rubbers.
Take her for me.
Take her for thy selfe, not for me.
Play out your rubbers in Gods name, by Sesu Ile [...] boule more in your Alley, Iddow.
My Chaine.
My Purse.
Ile Chaine thee presently, and giue thee ten pound and a purse: a boone my Leige:—daunce ô my delicate Rufus, at my wedding with this reuerend Antiquary; ist done? [...]ut thou?
He glue thee Kingly honour: Night and Sleepe,