Ben: Jonson Page

The New Inn.

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N E W   I N N:

O R,

The Light Heart.

A   C O M E D Y.

As it was never Acted, but most negligently Play'd by some, the
K I N G S  S E R V A N T S.

And more squeamishly Beheld and Censured by others, the
K I N G S  S U B J E C T S.

Now at last set at Liberty to the R E A D E R S,  His Majesty's Servants
and Subjects, to be judg'd of. 1631.

By the Author, B. Johnson.

——— Me lectori credere Mallem:
Quàm spectatoris fastidiis ferre superbi.

The  D E D I C A T I O N  to the  R E A D E R.

F thou be such, I make thee my Patron, and

dedicate the Piece to thee: If not so much, would I had been at the Charge of thy better Litterature. Howsoever, if thou canst but spell, and join my Sense, there is more hope of thee, than of a Hundred fastidious
Impertinents, who were there present the first Day, yet never made piece of their Prospect the right way. What did they come for, then? thou will't ask me. I will as punctually answer: To see, and to be seen: To make a general muster of themselves in their Clothes of Credit: and possess the Stage against the Play: To dislike all, but mark nothing. And by their confidence of rising between the Acts, in Oblique Lines, make Affidavit to the whole House, of their not understanding one Scene. Arm'd with this Prejudice, as the Stage-furniture, or Arras-cloaths, they were there, as Spectators, away. For the Faces in the Hangings, and they beheld alike; so I wish they may do ever, and do trust my self and my Book, rather to thy rustick Candor, than all the Pomp of their Pride, and solemn Ignorance to boot. Fare thee well, and fall too. Read period omitted

B E N.  J O N S O N.    

   But first
The  A R G U M E N T.                     

        A a a a aZ z z z



A R G U M E N T.


He Lord F R A M P U L, a Noble Gentleman, well educated, and

bred a Schollar in Oxford, was married young, to a Vertuous Gentlewoman, Sylly's Daughter of the South, whose worth (though he truly enjoy'd) he never could rightly value; but, as many green Husbands (given over to their extravagant Delights, and some peccant Humors of their own) occasion'd in his over loving Wife, so deep a Melancholy, by his leaving her in the time of her lying in of her second Daughter, she having brought him only two Daughters, Frances and Lætitia: and (out of her hurt Fancy) interpreting that to be a Cause of her Husband's coldness in Affection, her not being blest with a Son, took a Resolution with her self, after her Months time, and Thanksgiving rightly in the Church, to quit her home, with a Vow never to return, till by reducing her Lord, she could bring a wish'd happiness to the Family.
   He in the mean time returning, and hearing of this departure of his Lady, began, though over-late, to resent the Injury he had done her: and out of his Cock-braind Resolution, entred into as solemn a quest of her. Since when, neither of them had been heard of. But the eldest Daughter Frances, by the Title of Lady Frampul, enjoyed the Sate,Estate her Sister being lost young, and is the sole Relict of the Family.
Act I. Here begins our Comedy.
   This Lady, being a Brave, Bountiful Lady, and enjoying this free, and plentiful Estate, hath an ambitious Disposition to be esteemed the Mistress of many Servants, but loves none. And hearing of a famous New-Inn, that is kept by a merry Host, call'd Good-stock in Barnet, invites some Lords and Gentlemen to wait on her thither, as well to see the Fashions of the Place, as to make themselves merry, with the Accidents on the by. It happens, there is a melancholick Gentleman, one Master Lovel, hath been lodg'd there some days before in the Inn, who, (unwilling to be seen) is surpriz'd by the Lady, and invited by Prudence, the Ladies Chamber-maid, who is elected Governess of the Sports in the Inn for that day, and instal'd their Soveraign. Lovel is perswaded by the Host, and yields to the Ladies invitation, which concludes the First Act. Having reveal'd his Quality before to the Host.
In the SecoudSecond Act.
   Prudence and her Lady express their Anger conceiv'd at the Taylor, who had promised to make Prudence a new Suit, and bring it home, as on the Eve, against this day. But he failing of his word, the Lady had commanded a Standard of her own best Apparel to be brought down; and Prudence is so fitted. The Lady being put in mind, that she is there alone without other Company of Women, borrows (by the advice of Pru) the Hosts Son of the House, whom thethey dress with the Hosts consent, like a Lady, and send out the Coachman, with the empty Coach, as for a Kinswoman of her Ladiships, Mistress Lætitia Sylly, to bear her Company: Who attended with his Nurse, an old Chair-woman in the Inn, drest oddly by the Hosts Council, is believed to be a Lady of Quality, and so receiv'd, entertain'd, and Love made to her by the young Lord Beaufort, &c. In the mean time the Fly of the Inn is discover'd to Colonel Glorious, with the Militia of the House, below the Stairs, in the Drawer, Tapster, Chamberlain, and Hostler, inferiour Officers; with the CoochmanCoachman Trundle, Ferret, &c. And, the preparation is made, to the Ladies design upon Lovel, his upon her, and the Soveraigns upon both.
Here begins, at the Third Act, the Epitasis, or business of the Play.
   Lovel, by the dexterity and wit of the Soveraign of the Sports, Prudence; having two hours assigned him, of free Colloquy, and Love-making to his Mistress, one after Dinner, the other after Supper; the Court being set, is demanded by the Lady Frampul, what Love is? as doubting if there were any such Power, or no. To whom he first by Definition, and after by Argument answers, proving and describing the effects of Love, so vively, as she who had derided the Name of Love before, hearing his Discourse, is now so taken both with the Man and his Matter, as she confesseth her self enamour'd of him, and, but for the ambition she hath to enjoy the other Hour, had presently declar'd her self: which gives both him and the Spectators occasion to think she yet dissembles, notwithstanding the payment of her kiss, which he Celebrates. And the Court dissolves, upon a news brought, of a new Lady, a newer Coach, and a new Coachman call'd Barnaby.
   Act. IV. The House being put into a noise, with the Rumor of this new Lady, and there being drinking below in the Court, the Colonel, Sir Glorious, with Bat Burst, a broken Citizen, and Hodge Huffle his Champion; she falls into their Hands, and being attended but with one Foot-man, is uncivilly entreated by them, and a Quarrel commenc'd, but is rescued by the Valour of Lovel; which beheld by the Lady Frampul, from the Window, she is invited up for safety, where coming, and conducted by the Host, her Gown is first discover'd to be the same with the whole Suit, which was bespoken for Pru, and she her self, upon examination, found to be Pinnacia Stuff, the Taylors Wife, who was wont to be preoccupied in all his Customers best Clothes, by the Foot-man her Husband. They are both condemn'd and censur'd, she stript like a Doxey, and sent home a foot. In the interim, the second hour goes on, and the question, at sute of the Lady Frampul, is chang'd from Love to Valour; which ended, he receives his second kiss, and by the Rigor of the Soveraign, falls into a Fit of Melancholy, worse, or more desperate than the first.
   The Fifth and last Act is the Catastrophe, or knitting up of all, where Fly brings word to the Host, of the Lord Beauforts being married privately in the New-stable, to the suppos'd Lady, his Son; which the Host receives as an omen of Mirth; But complains that Lovel is gone to Bed melancholick, when Prudence appears drest in the new Suit, applauded by her Lady, and employ'd to retrive Lovel. The Host encounters them, with this relation of L. Beaufort's marriage, which is seconded by the L. Latimer, and all the Servants of the House. In this while, L. Beaufort comes in, and professes it, calls for his Bed and Bride-bowl, to be made ready, the Host forbids both, shews whom he hath married, and discovers him to be his Son, a Boy. The Lord Bridegroom confounded, the Nurse enters like a frantick Bedlam, cries out on Fly, says she is undone in her Daughter, who is confessed to be the Lord Frampul's Child, Sister to the other Lady, the Host to be their Father, She his Wife. He finding his Children, bestows them one on Lovel, the other on the Lord Beaufort, the Inn upon Fly, who had been a Gipsey with him; offers a Portion with Prudence, for her Wit, which is refused; and she taken, by the Lord Latimer, to Wife; for the Crown of her Vertue and Goodness. And all are contented.


B   A   R   N   E   T.
The  P E R S O N S  of the  PLAY.

With some short Characterism of the Chief Actors.


Ood-stock, the Host (plaid well) alias,
 the Lord Frampul. He pretends to be a
 Gentleman and a Scholar, neglected by
 the Times, turns
Host, and keeps an Inn,
the Sign of the Light Heart in
Barnet: is supposed
to have one only Son, but is found to have none, but
two Daughters,
Frances and Lætitia, who was lost
   Lovel. A compleat Gentleman, a Soldier and a
Scholar, is a melancholy Guest in the Inn: first quar-
rell'd, after much honour'd and belov'd by the
He is known to have been
Page to the old Lord Beau-
fort, follow'd him in the French Wars, after a Com-
panion of his Studies, and left
Guardian to his Son.
He is assisted in his Love to the Lady
Frampul, by the
Host, and the Chambermaid Prudence. He was one
that acted well too.

   Ferret. Who is also called Stote and Vermin, is
Lovel's Servant, a Fellow of a quick nimble Wit,
knows the Manners and Affections of People, and can
make profitable and timely discoveries of them.

   Frank. Suppos'd a Boy, and the Hosts Son, bor-
rowed to be drest for a
Lady, and set up as a stale by
Prudence, to catch Beaufort or Latimer, proves to
Lætita, Sister to Frances, and Lord Frampul's
younger Daughter, stoln by a Beggar-woman, shorn,
put into Boys Apparel, sold to the
Host, and brought up
by him as his Son.

   Nurse. A poor Chair-woman in the Inn, with one
Eye, that tends the Boy, is thought the Irish Beggar
that sold him, but is truly the Lady
Frampul, who left
her home melancholick, and jealous that her Lord lov'd
her not, because she brought him none but Daughters,
and lives unknown to her Husband, as he to her.

   Frances. Supposed the Lady Frampul, being repu-
ted his sole Daughter and Heir, the
Barony descend-
ing upon her, is a Lady of great Fortunes, and Beau-
ty, but phantastical: thinks nothing a felicity, but to
have a multitude of Servants, and be call'd
by them, comes to the Inn to be merry, with a Chamber-
maid only, and her Servants her Guests,
   Prudence. The Chamber-maid is elected Sove-
reign of the Sports in the Inn, Governs all, Commands,
and so orders, as the Lord
Latimer is exceedingly ta-
ken with her, and takes her to his Wife, in conclusion.

   Lord Latimer and Lord Beaufort, are a pair of
Lords, Servants and Guests to the Lady Fram-
pul, but as Latimer falls enamour'd of Prudence, so
Beaufort on the Boy, the Hosts Son, set up for Læ-
titia, the younger Sister, which she proves to be indeed.
   Sir Glorious Tipto. A Knight, and Colonel, hath
the luck to think well of himself, without a Rival,
talks gloriously of any thing, but very seldom is in the
right. He is the Ladies Guest, and her Servant too;

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but this day utterly neglects his Service, or that him.
For he is so enamour'd on the
Fly of the Inn, and the
Militia below Stairs, with Hodge Huffle, and Bat
Burst, Guests that come in, and Trundle, Barnabe,
&c. as no other Society relisheth with him.
   Fly. Is the Parasite of the Inn, Visiter general of
the House, one that had been a strolling
Gipsee, but
now is reclam'd, to be Inflamer of the Reckonings.

   Peirce. The Drawer, Knighted by the Colonel,
stil'd Sir
Pierce, and young Anone, one of the
chief of the Infantry.

   Jordan. The Chamberlain, another of the Militia,
and an Officer, Commands the
Tertia of the Beds.
   Jug. The Tapster, a Through-fare of News.
   Peck. The Hostler.
   Bat Burst. A broken Citizen, an in and in Man.
   Hodge Huffle. A Cheater, his Champion.
   Nick Stuff. The Ladies Taylor.
   Pinnacia Stuff. His Wife.
   Trundle. A Coachman.
   Barnabe. A hir'd Coachman.
   Staggers. The Smith.
   Tree. The Sadler.
} Only talk'd on.

The  P R O L O G U E.

Ou are welcome, welcome all to the New Inn;
 Though the old House, we hope our Chear will win
Your Acceptaion:Acceptation we ha' the same Cook
Still, and the fat, who says, you sha' not look
Long for your Bill of Fare, but every Dish
Be serv'd in i' the time, and to your wish:
If any thing be set to a wrong taste,
'Tis not the Meat, there, but the Mouth's displac'd,
Remove but that sick Palate, all is well.
For this, the secure Dresser bad me tell,
Nothing more hurts just Meetings, than a Croud;
Or, when the Expectation's grown too loud:
That the nice Stomach would ha' this or that,
And being ask'd, or urg'd, it knows not what:
When sharp or sweet, have been too much a Feast,
And both out liv'd the Palate of the Guest.
Beware to bring such Appetites to the Stage,
They do confess a weak, sick, queasie Age;
And a shrew'd grudging too of Ignorance,
When Clothes and Faces 'bove the Men advance:
Hear for your Health, then, But at any hand,
Before you judge, vouchsafe to understand,
Concoct, digest: if then, it do not hit,
Some are in a
Consumption of Wit,
Deep, he dares say, he will not think, that all --
Hecticks are not Epidemical.

T H E                  
       Z z z z 2



N E VV   I N N.

Act I.    Scene I.

Host, Ferret.


 Am not pleas'd, indeed, you are i' the right;
 Nor is my House pleas'd, if my Sign could speak,
 The Sign o' the Light-Heart. There you may
      read it;
So may your Master too, if he look on't.
A Heart weigh'd with a Feather, and out weigh'd too:
A Brain-child o' my own! and I am proud on't!
And if his Worship think, here, to be melancholy,
In spight of me or my Wit, he is deceiv'd;
I will maintain the Rebus 'gainst all Humours,
And all Complexions i' the Body of Man,
That's my word, or i' the Isle of Britain!
   Fer. You have Reason good mine Host.   Hos. Sir I have Rhime too.
Whether it be by chance or Art,
A heavy Purse makes a light Heart.
There 'tis exprest! first, by a Purse of Gold,
A heavy Purse, and then two Turtles, makes,
A Heart with a Light stuck in't, a Light-heart!
Old Abbot Islip could not invent better,
Or Prior Bolton with his Bolt and Ton.
I am an Inn-keeper, and know my Grounds,
And study 'em; Brain o' Man, I study 'em:
I must ha' jovial Guests to drive my Ploughs,
And whistling Boys to bring my Harvest home,
Or I shall hear no Flails thwack. Here, your Master
And you ha' been this Fortnight, drawing Fleas
Out of my Mats, and pounding 'em in Cages
Cut out of Cards, and those rop'd round with Pack-thred,
Drawn thorow Birdlime! a fine subtilty!
Or poring through a Multiplying-glass,
Upon a captiv'd Crab-louse, or a Cheese-mite
To be dissected, as the Sports of Nature,
With a neat Spanish Needle! Speculations
That do become the Age, I do confess!
As measuring an Ants Eggs, with the Silk-worms,
By a Phantastick Instrument of Thred,
Shall give you their just difference to a Hair!
Or else recovering o' dead Flies with Crums!
(Another quaint conclusion i' the Physicks)
Which I ha' seen you busie at, through the Key-hole —
But never had the Fate to see a Fly ———  Ent. Lovel.stage direction, for '[Enter Lovel.'
Alive i' your Cups, or once heard, drink mine Host,
Or such a chearful chirping Charm come from you.

Act I.    Scene II.

Lovel, Ferret, Host.

Hat's that? what's that?   Fer. A buzzing of mine Host
 About a Fly! a murmur that he has.
   Host. Sir I am telling your Stote here, Monsieur Ferret,
(For that I hear's his Name) and dare tell you, Sir,
If you have a mind to be melancholy, and musty,
There's Footmans Inn, at the Towns end, the Stocks,

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Or Carriers Place, at Sign o' the broken Wain,
Mansions of State! Take up your Harbour there,
There are both Flies and Fleas, and all variety
Of Vermin, for inspection or dissection.
   Lov. We ha' set our rest up here, Sir, i' your Heart.
   Host. Sir set your Heart at rest, you shall not do it:
Unless you can be jovial. Brain o' Man,
Be jovial first, and drink, and dance, and drink.
Your lodging here, and wi' your daily dumps,
Is a meer Libel 'gain my House and me;
And, then, your scandalous Commons.   Lov. How, mine Host?
   Host. Sir, they do scandal me, upo' the Road, here.
A poor quotidian Rack o' Mutton, roasted
Dry to be grated! and that driven down
With Bear and Butter-Milk, mingled together,
Or clarified Whey instead of Claret!
It is against my Free-hold, my Inheritance,
My Magna Charta, Cor lætificat,
To drink such Balder-dash, or Bonny-clabbee!'Bonny-clabber' i.e., buttermilk
Gi' me good Wine, or Catholick, or Christian,
Wine is the Word that glads the Heart of Man:
And mine's the House of Wine, Sack, says my Bush,
Be merry, and drink Sherry; that's my Poesie!
For I shall never joy i' my Light-heart,
So long as I conceive a sullen Guest,
Or any thing that's earthy!   Lov. Humorous Host.
   Host. I care not if I be.   Lov. But airy also,
Not to defraud you of your Rights, or trench
Upo' your Privileges, or great Charter,
(For those are every Hostlers Language now)
Say, you were born beneath those smiling Stars,
Have made you Lord, and owner of the Heart,
Of the Light-heart in Barnet; suffer us
Who are more Saturnine, t' enjoy the Shade
Of your round Roof yet.   Host. Sir I keep no Shades
Nor Shelters, I: for either Owls or Rere-mice.

Act I.    Scene III.

Ferret, Host, Lovel.

E'll make you a Bird of Night, Sir.   Host. Bless you Child,
 You'll make your selves such.
Lov. That your Son, mine Host? { En. Fra. (the Host speaks
to his Child o' the by.

   Host. He's all the Sons I have, Sir.   Lov. Pretty Boy!
Goes he to School?   Fer. O Lord, Sir, he prates Latin
And 'twere a Parrot, or a Play-boy.   Lov. Thou ——
Commend'st him fitly.   Fer. To the pitch, he flies, Sir,
He'll tell you what is Latin for a Looking-glass,
A Beard-brush, Rubber, or Quick-warming Pan.
   Lov. What's that?   Fer. a'A' Wench, i' the Inn-phrase, is all these;
    { A Looking-Glass in her Eye,
A Beard-brush with her Lips,
A Rubber with her Hand,
And a Warming-pan with her Hips.

   Host. This, in your scurril Dialect. But my Inn
Knows no such Language.   F. That's because, mine Host,
You do profess the teaching him your self.
Host. Sir,                    

              The New Inn. 725

   Host. Sir, I do teach him somewhat. By degrees,
And with a Funnel, I make shift to fill
The narrow Vessel, he is but yet a Bottle.
   Lov. O let him lose no time though.   Hos. Sir, he do's not.
   Lov. And less his manners.   Hos. I provide for those, too.
Come hither Frank, speak to the Gentleman
In Latin: He is melancholy; say,
I long to see him merry, and so would treat him.
   Fra. Subtristis visu' es esse aliquantulùm patri,
Qui te lautè excipere, etiam ac tractare gestit.
   Lov. Pulchrè.
   Host. Tell him, I fear it bodes us some ill luck,
His too reservedness.   Fra. Veretur pater,
Ne quid nobis mali ominis apportet iste
Nimis præclusus vultus.
   Lov. Bellè. A fine Child!
You wo' not part with him, mine Host?   H. Who told you
I would not?   Lov. I but ask you.   Hos. And I answer,
To whom? for what?   Lov. To me, to be my Page.
   Host. I know no mischief yet the Child hath done,
To deserve such a destiny.   Lov. Why?   Ho. Go down Boy,
And get your Breakfast. Trust me, I had rather
Take a fair Halter, wash my Hands, and hang him
My self, make a clean riddance of him, than —   Lo. What?
   Host. Than damn him to that desperate course of Life.
   Lov. Call you that desperate, which by a Line
Of Institution, from our Ancestors,
Hath been deriv'd down to us, and receiv'd
In a Succession, for the Noblest way
Of breeding up our Youth, in Letters, Arms,
Fair Mein, Discourses, civil Exercise,
And all the Blazon of a Gentleman?
Where can he learn to vault, to ride, to fence,
To move his Body gracefuller? to speak
His Language purer? or to tune his Mind,
Or Manners, more to the harmony of Nature,
Than in these Nurseries of Nobility? —
   Host. I that was, when the Nurseries self was Noble,
And only Vertue made it, not the Market,
That Titles were not vented at the Drum,
Or common out-cry; Goodness gave the Greatness,
And Greatness Worship: Every House became
An Academy of Honour, and those Parts —
We see departed, in the Practice, now,
Quite from the Institution.   Lov. Why do you say so?
Or think so enviously? do they not still
Learn there the Centaures Skill, the Art of Thrace,
To ride? or Pollux Mystery, to Fence?
The Pyrrhick Gestures, both to Dance and Spring
In Armour, to be active for the Wars?
To study Figures, Numbers, and Proportions,
May yield 'em great in Counsels, and the Arts
Grave Nestor, and the wise Ulysses practis'd?
To make their English sweet upon their Tongue!
As Rev'rend Chaucer says?   Host. Sir you mistake,
To play Sir Pandarus my Copy hath it,
And carry Messages to Madam Cresside.
Instead of backing the brave Steed, o' Mornings,
To mount the Chambermaid; and for a leap
O' the vaulting Horse, to ply the vaulting House:
For exercise of Arms, a Bale of Dice,
Or two or three Packs of Cards to shew the Cheat,
And nimbleness of Hand: mistake a Cloak
From my Lords back, and pawn it. Ease his Pockets
Of a superfluous Watch. Or geld a Jewel
Of an odd Stone or so. Twinge three or four Buttons
From off my Ladies Gown. These are the Arts,
Or Seven liberal deadly Sciences
Of Pagery, or rather Paganism,
As the Tides run. To which, if he apply him,
He may, perhaps, take a degree at Tyburn,
A year the earlier: come to read a Lecture
Upon Aquinas at S. Thomas a Waterings,
And so go forth a Laureat in Hemp circle!
   Lov. You're tart, mine Host, and talk above your seasoning,
O're what you seem: it should not come, methinks,

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Under your Cap, this Vein of salt and sharpness!
These strikings upon Learning, now and then?
How long have you, (if your dull Guest may ask it,)
Drove this quick Trade, of keeping the Light-heart,
Your Mansion, Palace here, or Hostelry?
   Host. Troth, I was born to somewhat, Sir, above it.
   Lov. I easily suspect that: Mine Host, your Name.
   Hos. They call me Good-stock.   Lov. Sir, and you confess it,
Both i' your Language, Treaty, and your Bearing.
   Hos. Yet all, Sir, are not Sons o' the white Hen;
Nor can we, as the Songster says, come all
To be wrapt soft and warm in Fortunes Smock:
When she is pleas'd to trick or tromp Mankind,
Some may be Coats, as in the Cards; but, then
Some must be Knaves, some Varlets, Bauds, and Ostlers,
As Aces, Duizes, Cards o'ten, to face it
Out i' the Game, which all the World is.   Lov. But,
It being i' your free will (as 'twas) to choose
What Parts you would sustain, methinks, a Man
Of your sagacity, and clear Nostril, should
Have made, another choise, than of a Place
So sordid, as the keeping of an Inn:
Where every jovial Tinker, for his Chink,
May cry, mine Host, to Crambe, give us Drink;
And do not slink, but skink, or else you stink
Rogue, Baud,
and Cheater, call you by the Surnames,
And known Synonyma of your Profession.
   Hos. But if I be no such; who then's the Rogue,
In understanding, Sir, I mean? who errs?
Who tinkleth then? or Personates Thom Tinker?
Your Weazil here may tell you I talk baudy,
And teach my Boy it; and you may believe him:
But Sir, at your own Peril, if I do not:
And at his too, if he do lye, and affirm it.
No Slander strikes, less hurts, the Innocent.
If I be honest, and that all the Cheat
Be of my self, in keeping this Light Heart,
Where, I imagine all the World's a Play;
The State, and Mens Affairs, all Passages
Of Life, to spring new Scenes; come in, go out,
And shift, and vanish; and if I have got
A Seat, to sit at ease here, i' mine Inn,
To see the Comedy; and laugh, and chuck
At the variety and throng of Humors
And Dispositions, that come justling in,
And out still, as they one drove hence another:
Why, will you envy me my happiness?
Because you are sad and lumpish; carry a Load-stone
I' your Pocket, to hang Knives on; or jet Rings,
T' entice light Straws to leap at 'em; are not taken
With the alacrities of an Host! 'Tis more,
And justlier, Sir, my wonder, why you took
My House up, Fidlers Hall, the Seat of noise,
And mirth, an Inn here, to be drousie in,
And lodge your Lethargy in the Light Heart,
As if some Cloud from Court had been your Harbinger,
Or Cheap-side Debt-Books, or some Mistress charge,
Seeing your Love grow corpulent, gi' it a Dyet,
By absence, some such mouldy Passion!
   Lo. 'Tis guess'd unhappily.   Fe. Mine Host, yo're call'd.
H.'Host.' speech prefix, 
line should be indented I come, Boys.   L. Ferret, have not you been ploughing
With this mad Ox, mine Host? Nor he with you?
   Fer. For what Sir?   Lov. Why, to find my Riddle out.
   Fer. I hope, you do believe, Sir, I can find
Other Discourse to be at, than my Master
With Hosts and Hostlers.   Lov. If you can, 'tis well.
Go down, and see, who they are come in, what Guests;
And bring me word.


726 The New Inn.                   

Act I.    Scene IV.


 Love, what Passion art thou!
 So tyrannous! and treacherous! first t'enslave,
And then betray, all that in truth do serve thee!
That not the wisest, nor the wariest creature,
Can more dissemble thee, than he can bear
Hot burning Coals, in his bare Palm, or Bosom!
And less, conceal, or hide thee, than a flash
Of enflam'd Powder, whose whole light doth lay it
Open to all discovery, even of those
Who have but half an eye, and less of nose!
An Host, to find me! who is, commonly,
The Log, a little o' this side the Sign-post!
Or at the best some round grown thing, a Jug,
Fac'd with a Beard, that fills out to the Guests,
And takes in fro' the fragments o' their Jests?
But I may wrong this out of sullenness,
Or my mistaking Humour? Pray thee, Phant'sie,
Be lay'd again. And gentle Melancholy,
Do not oppress me, I will be as silent,
As the tame Lover should be, and as foolish.

Act I.    Scene V.

Host, Ferret, Lovel.

Y Guest, my Guest, be jovial, I beseech thee.
 I have fresh golden Guests, Guests o' the Game:
Three Coach full! Lords! and Ladies! new come in.
And I will cry them to thee, and thee to them,
So can I spring a Smile, but i'this Brow,
That like the rugged Roman Alderman ———
[Enter Ferret.
Old Master Gross, surnam'd 'AgelastoV
Was never seen to laugh, but as an Ass.
   Fer. Sir, here's the Lady Frampul.  Lov. How!  Fer. And her train,
Lord Beaufort, and Lord Latimer, the Colonel
Tipto', with Mrs. Cis,Pru the Chamber-maid:
Trundle, the Coachman —   Lov. Stop, discharge the House:
And get my Horses ready, bid the Groom
Bring them to the back Gate.   Hos. What mean you, Sir?
   Lov. To take fair leave, mine Host.   Hos. I hope, my Guest,
Though I have talked somewhat above my share,
At large, and been i'the Altitudes, th'Extravagants,
Neither my self, nor any of mine have gi'n you
The cause to quit my House thus on the sudden.
   Lov. No, I affirm it on my Faith. Excuse me
From such a rudeness; I was now beginning
To taste and love you: and am heartily sorry,
Any occasion should be so compelling,
To urge my abrupt departure thus. But ——
Necessity is a Tyrant, and commands it.
   Hos. She shall command me first to fire my Bush;
Then break up House: Or, if that will not serve,
To break with all the World. Turn Country Bankrupt,
I' mine own Town, upo' the Market-day,
And be protested for my Butter and Eggs,
To the last Bodge of Oats, and Bottle of Hay;
Ere you shall leave me I will break my Heart:
Coach, and Coach-horses, Lords, and Ladies Pack?
All my fresh Guests shall stink! I'll pull my Sign down,
Convert mine Inn to an Alms-house! or a Spittle
For Lazers, or Switch-sellers! Turn it to
An Academy o' Rogues! or g'it away
For a Free-School to breed up Beggars in,
And send 'em to the canting Universities
Before you leave me.   Lov. Troth, and I confess
I am loth, mine Host, to leave you: your Expressions
Both take and hold me. But, in case I stay,
I must enjoin you and your whole Family
To privacy, and to conceal me. For,

[column break]

The Secret is, I would not willingly
See, or be seen, to any of this Ging,
Especially the Lady.   Hos. Brain o' man,
What Monster is she? or Cocatrice in Velvet,
That kills thus?   Lov. O good words, mine Host. She is
A noble Lady! great in Blood and Fortune!
Fair! and a Wit! but of so bent a Phant'sie,
As she thinks naught a Happiness, but to have
A multitude of Servants! and to get them,
(Though she be very honest) yet she ventures
Upon these Precipices, that would make her
Not seem so, to some prying, narrow natures.
We call her, Sir, the Lady Frances Frampul,
Daughter and Heir to the Lord Frampul.   Hos. Who?
He that did love in Oxford, first a Student,
And after, married with the Daughter of--   Lov. Silly.
   Hos. Right, of whom the Tale went, to turn Puppet-master.
   Lov. And travel with young Goose, the Motion-man.
   Hos. And lie, and live with the Gipsies half a year
Together, from his Wife.   Lov. The very same:
The mad Lord Frampul! And this same is his Daughter!
But as Cock-brain'd as ere the Father was!
There were Two of 'em, Frances and Lætitia;
But Lætice was lost young; and, as the Rumour
Flew then, the Mother upon it lost her self.
A fond weak Woman, went away in a Melancholy,
Because she brought him none but Girls, she thought
Her Husband lov'd her not. And he, as foolish,
Too late resenting the cause giv'n, went after,
In quest of her, and was not heard of since.
   Hos. A strange division of a Family!
   Lov. And scattered as i' the great confusion!
   Hos. But yet the Lady, th' Heir, enjoys the Land.
   Lov. And takes all lordly ways how to consume it
As nobly as she can; if Clothes, and Feasting,
And the authoriz'd means of Riot will do it.
[Enter Ferret.

   Host. She shews her Extract, and I honour her for it.

Act I.    Scene VI.

Ferret, Lovel, Host, Cicelie.Prudence

Our Horses, Sir, are ready; and the House
 Dis —   Lov. Pleas'd thou think'st?
   Fer. I cannot tell, discharg'd
I'm sure it is.   Lov. Charge it again good Ferret.
And make unready the Horses: Thou knowest how.
Chalk, and renew the Rondels, I am now
Resolv'd to stay.   Fer. I easily thought so,
When you should hear what's purpos'd.   Lov. What?   Fer. To throw
The House out o'the Windo'?   Host. Brain o' man,
I shall ha' the worst o' that! will they not throw
My Houshold-stuff out first, Cushions, and Carpets,
Chairs, Stools, and Bedding? is not their sport my ruin?
   Lov. Fear not, mine Host, I am not o' the Fellowship.
   Fer. I cannot see, Sir, how you will avoid it;
They know already, all, you are i'the House.
   Lov. Who know?   F. The Lords: they have seen me, and enquir'd it.
   Lov. Why wherewere you seen?   Fer. Because indeed I had
No Med'cine, Sir, to go invisible:
No Fern-seed in my Pocket; nor an Opal
Wrapt in a Bay-leaf i'my left Fist,
To charm their Eyes with.   H. He does give you reasons
As round as Giges Ring: Which, say the Ancients,
Was a hoop Ring; and that is, round as a Hoop.
   Lov. You will ha' your Rebus still, mine Host.   Hos. I must.
   Fer. My Lady too, look't out o'the windo', and call'd me.
And see where Secretary Pru. comes from her.
[Enter Prudence.

Employ'd upon some Embassy unto you ——
   Host. I'll meet her if she come upon Employment;
Fair Lady, welcome, as your Host can make you.
   Pru. Forbear, Sir, I am first to have mine Audience,

              The New Inn. 727

Before the Complement. This Gentleman
Is my Address to.   Host. And it is in state.
   Pru. My Lady, Sir, as glad o' the encounter
To find a Servant here, and such a Servant,
Whom she so values; with her best respects,
Desires to be remembred: and invites
Your Nobleness, to be a part, to day,
Of the Society, and Mirth intended
By her, and the young Lords, your Fellow-servants.
Who are alike ambitious of enjoying
The fair request; and to that end have sent
Me, their imperfect Orator, to obtain it:
Which if I may, they have Elected me,
And Crown'd me, with the Title of a Soveraign
Of the days Sports devised i' the Inn,
So you be pleas'd to add your suffrage to it.
   Lov. So I be pleas'd, my gentle Mistress Prudence;
You cannot think me of that course Condition,
T' envy you any thing.   Host. That's nobly said!
And like my Guest!   Lov. I gratulate your Honour;
And should, with chear, lay hold on any Handle
That could advance it. But for me to think,
I can be any Rag or Particle
O' your Ladies care, more than to fill her List,
She being the Lady, that professeth still
To love no Soul or Body, but for ends;
Which are her Sports: And is not nice to speak this,
But doth proclaim it, in all Companies:
Her Ladiship must pardon my weak Counsels,
And weaker will, if it decline t' obey her.
   Pru. O Master Lovel, you must not give credit
To all that Ladies publickly profess,
Or talk, o' th' Volle, unto their Servanrs.Servants
Their Tongues and Thoughts oft times lye far asunder.
Yet, when thethey please, they have their Cabinet-counsels,
And reserv'd Thoughts, and can retire themselves
As well as others.   Host. I, the subtlest of us!
All that is born within a Ladies Lips ——
   Pru. Is not the Issue of their Hearts, mine Host.
   Hos. Or kiss, or drink afore me.   Pru. Stay, excuse me;
Mine Errand is not done. Yet, if her Ladiships
Slighting, or disesteem, Sir, of your Service,
Hath formerly begot any distaste,
Which I not know of: here, I vow unto you,
Upon a Chamber-maids simplicity,
Reserving, still, the Honour of my Lady,
I will be bold to hold the Glass up to her,
To shew her Ladiship where she hath err'd,
And how to tender satisfaction:
So you vouchsafe to prove, but the days venture.
   Hos. What say you Sir? where are you? are you within?
   Lov. Yes, I will wait upon her, and the Company.
   Hos. It is enough, Queen Prudence; I will bring him:
And, o' this kiss. I long'd to kiss a Queen!
   Lov. There is no Life on Earth, but being in Love!
There are no Studies, no Delights, no Business,
No entercourse, or trade of Sense, or Soul,
But what is Love! I was the laziest Creature,
The most unprofitable sign of nothing,
The veriest Drone, and slept away my Life
Beyond the Dormouse, till I was in Love!
And, now, I can out wake the Nightingale,
Out-watch an Usurer, and Out-walk him too,
Stalk like a Ghost, that haunted 'bout a Treasure,
And all that phant'si'd Treasure, it is Love!
   Host. But is your name Love-ill, Sir, or Love-well?
I would know that.   Lov. I do not know't my self,
Whether it is. But it is Love hath been
The Hereditary Passion of our House,
My gentle Host, and, as I guess, my Friend;
The truth is, I have lov'd this Lady long,
And impotently, with desire enough,
But no success: for I have still forborn
To express it, in my Person, to her.   Hos. How then?

[column break]

   Lov. I ha' sent her Toys, Verses, and Anagram's,
Trials o' Wit, mere Trifles she has commended,
But knew not whence they came, nor could she guess.
   Host. This was a pretty ridling way of wooing!
   Lov. I oft have been, too, in her Company;
And look'd upon her, a whole day; admir'd her;
Lov'd her, and did not tell her so; lov'd still,
Look'd still, and lov'd; and lov'd, and look'd, and sigh'd;
But, as a Man neglected, I came off,
And unregarded —   Hest.Host. Could you blame her, Sir,
When you were silent, and not said a word?
   Lov. O but I lov'd the more; and she might read it
Best, in my silence, had she been —   Host. As melancholick
As you are. 'Pray you, why would you stand mute, Sir?
   Lov. O thereon hangs a History, mine Host.
Did you ever know, or hear, of the Lord Beaufort,
Who serv'd so bravely in France? I was his Page,
And ere he dy'd, his Friend! I follow'd him,
First, i' the Wars, and i' the times of Peace,
I waited on his Studies; which were right.
He had no Arthurs, nor no Rosicleer's,
No Knights o' the Sun, nor Amadis de Gauls,
and Pantagruel's, publick Nothings;
Abortives of the Fabulous, dark Cloyster,
Sent out to poison Courts and infest Manners:
But great Achilles, Agamemnons Acts,
Sage Nestors Counsels, and Ulysses Slights,
Tydides Fortitude, as Homer wrought them
In his immortal Phant'sie, for Examples
Of the Heroick Vertue. Or, as Virgil,
That Master of the Epick Poem, limn'd
Pious Æneas, his religious Prince,
Bearing his aged Parent on his Shoulders,
Rapt from the Flames of Troy, with his young Son.
And these he brought to practise, and to use.
He gave me first my Breeding, I acknowledge,
Then showr'd his Bounties on me, like the Howres,
That open-handed sit upon the Clouds,
And press the Liberality of Heaven
Down to the Laps of thankful Men! But then!
The trust committed to me, at his death,
Was above all! and left so strong a tye
On all my Powers! as time shall not dissolve!
Till it dissolve it self, and bury all!
The care of his brave Heir, and only Son!
Who being a Vertuous, sweet, young, hopeful Lord,
Hath cast his first Affections on this Lady.
And though I know, and may presume her such,
As, out of Humor, will return no Love;
And therefore might indifferently be made
The Courting-stock, for all to practise on,
As she doth practise on all us, to scorn:
Yet, out of a Religion to my Charge,
And Debt profess'd, I ha' made a Self-decree,
Nere to express my Person, though my Passion
Burn me to Cinders.   Host. Then yo'are not so subtil,
Or half so read in Love-craft, as I took you.
Come, come, you are no Phœnix, an' you were,
I should expect no Miracle from your Ashes.
Take some advice. Be still that Rag of Love,
You are. Burn on till you turn Tinder.
This Chamber-maid may hap to prove the Steel,
To strike a sparkle out o' the Flint, your Mistress
May beget Bonfires yet, you do not know,
What light may be forc'd out, and from what darkness.
   Lov. Nay, I am so resolv'd, as still I'll love
Tho' not confess it.   Host. That's, Sir, as it chances:
We'll throw the Dice for it: Chear up.   Lov. I do.


728 The New Inn.                   

Act II.    Scene I.

Lady, Prudence.

Ome Wench, this Suit will serve: dispatch, make ready.
 It was a great deal with the biggest for me;
Which made me leave it off after once wearing.
How do's it fit? wilt come together?   Pru. Hardly.
   Lad. Thou must make shift with it. Pride feels no Pain.
Girt thee hard, Pru. Pox o' this erranderrant Taylour,
He angers me beyond all mark of Patience.
These base Mechanicks never keep their word,
In any thing they promise.   Pru. 'Tis their Trade, Madam,
To swear and break, they all grow rich by breaking,
More then their Words; their Honesties, and Credits,
Are still the first Commodity they put off.
   Lad. And worst, it seems, which makes 'em do't so often.
If he had but broke with me, I had not car'd,
But, with the Company, the Body Politick —
   Pru. Frustrate our whole design, having that time,
And the Materials in so long before?
   Lad. And he to fail in all, and disappoint us?
The Rogue deserves a torture —   Pru. To be crop'd
With his own Scizzars.   Lad. Let's devise him one.
   Pru. And ha' the Stumps sear'd up with his own searing Candle?

   Lad. Close to his Head, to trundle on his Pillow?
I'll ha' the Lease of his House cut out into Measures.
   Pru. And he be strangl'd with 'em?   Lad. No, no Life
I would ha' toucht, but stretch'd on his own Yard
He should be a little, ha' the strappado!   Pru. Or an Ell of Taffata
Drawn thorough his Guts, by way of Glister, & fir'd
With Aqua vitæ?   Lad. Burning i' the Hand
With the pressing Iron cannot save him.   Pru. Yes,
Now I have got this on: I do forgive him,
What Robes he should ha' brought.   Lad. Thou art not cruel,
Although streight-lac'd, I see, Pru!   Pru! speech prefix, exclamation mark 
should be replaced with a period This is well.
   Lad. 'Tis rich enough! But 'tis not what I meant thee!
I would ha' had thee braver then my self,
And brighter far. 'Twill fit the Players yet,
When thou hast done with it, and yield thee somewhat.
   Pru. That were illiberal, Madam, and mere sordid
In me, to let a Suit of yours come there.
   Lad. Tut, all are Players, and but serve the Scene, Pru,
Dispatch; I fear thou dost not like the Province,
Thou art so long a fitting thy self for it.
Here is a Scarf, to make thee a Knot finer.
   Pr. You send me a feasting, Madam.   La. Wear it Wench.
   Pru. Yes, but, with leave o' your Ladiship, I would tell you
This can but bear the Face of an odd Journey.
   Lad. Why Pru?   Pru. A Lady of your Rank and Quality,
To come to a publick Inn, so many Men,
Young Lords, and others, i' your Company!
And not a Woman but my self, a Chamber-maid!
   Lad. Thou doubt'st to be over-laid Pru? Fear it not,
I'll bear my Part, and share with thee, i' the Venture.
   Pru. O but the Censure, Madam, is the main,
What will they say of you? or judge of me?
To be translated thus, 'bove all the bound
Of fitness, or decorum?   Lad. How, now! Pru!
Turn'd Fool upo' the sudden, and talk idly
I' thy best Clothes! shoot Bolts and Sentences
T' affright Babies with? as if I liv'd
To any other Scale than what's my own?
Or fought my self, without my self, from home?
   Pru. Your Ladiship will pardon me, my fault,
If I have over shot, I'll shoot no more.
   Lad. Yes shoot again, good Pru, I'll ha thee shoot,
And aim, and hit: I know 'tis love in thee,
And so I do interpret it.   Pru. Then Madam,
I'ld crave a farther leave.   Lad. Be it to Licence,
It sha' not want an Ear, Pru, Say, what is it?
   Pru. A Toy I have, to raise a little Mirth

[column break]

To the design in hand.   Lad. Out with it Pru.
If it but chime of Mirth.   Pru. Mine Host has, Madam,
A pretty Boy i' the House, a dainty Child,
His Son, and is of your Ladiships Name too, Frances,
Whom if youyour Ladiship would borrow of him,
And give me leave to dress him, as I would,
Should make the finest Lady and Kinswoman,
To keep you Company, and deceive my Lords,
Upo' the Matter, with a Fountain o' sport.
   Lad. I apprehend thee, and the source of Mirth
That it may breed, but is he bold enough,
The Child? and well assur'd?   Pru. As I am, Madam,
Have him in no suspicion, more than me.
Here comes mine Host; will you but please to ask him,
Or let me make the Motion?   Lad. Which thou wilt, Pru.

Act II.    Scene II.

Host, Lady, Prudence, Frank.

Our Ladiship, and all your Train are welcome.
   Lad. I thank my hearty Host.   Hos. So is your Soveraignty,
Madam, I wish you joy o' your new Gown.
   Lad. It should ha' been, my Host, but Stuff; our Taylor
Has broke with us, you shall be o' the Counsel.
   Pru. He will deserve it, Madam, my Lady has heard
You have a pretty Son, mine Host, she'ld see him.
   Lad. I very fain, I pr'y thee let me see him, Host.
   Host. Your Ladiship shall presently:
Bid Frank come hither, anon, unto my Lady,
It is a bashful Child, homely brought up,
In a rude Hostelry. But the Light Heart
Is his Fathers, and it may be his.
Here he comes. Frank, salute my Lady.   Fra. I do.
What, Madam, I am design'd to do, by my Birth-right,
As Heir of the Light Heart, bid you most welcome.
   Lad. And I believe you most, my pretty Boy,
Being so emphased by you.   Fra. Your Ladiship,
If you believe it such, are sure to make it.
   Lad. Prettily answer'd! Is your Name Francis?   Fra. Yes, Madam.
   Lad. I love mine own the better.   Fra. If I knew yours,
I should make haste to do so too, good Madam.
   Lad. It is the same with yours.   Fra. Mine then acknowledgeth

The Lustre it receives, by being nam'd after.
   Lad. You will win upon me in Complement.   Fra. By silence.
   Lad. A modest and fair well-spoken Child.
   Hos. Her Ladiship shall have him, Soveraign Pru,
Or what I have beside; divide my Heart
Between you and your Lady. Make your use of it:
My House is yours, my Son is yours. Behold,
I tender him to your Service; Frank, become
What these brave Ladies would ha' you. Only this,
There is a Chair-woman i' the House, his Nurse,
An Irish Woman, I took in a Beggar,
That waits upon him; a poor silly Fool,
But an impertinent and sedulous one
As ever was; will vex you on all occasions,
Never be off, or from you, but in her sleep;
Or drink which makes it; She doth love him so,
Or rather doat on him. Now, for her, a shape,
As we may dress her (and I'll help) to fit her,
With a Tuft Taffata-Cloak, an old French Hood,
And other Pieces, heterogene enough.
   Pru. We ha' brought a Standard of Apparel down,
Because this Taylor fail'd us i' the main.
   Hos. She shall advance the Game.   Pru. About it then.
And send but Trundle hither, the Coachman, to me.
   Hos. I shall: But Pru, let Lovel ha' fair quarter.
   Pru. The best.   Lad. Our Host (me thinks) is very gamesom!
   Pru. How like you the Boy?   Lad. A Miracle!   Pru. Good Madam,
But take him in, and sort a Suit for him,
I'll give our Trundle his Instructions;
And wait upon your Ladiship i' the Instant.
Lad. But      

              The New Inn. 729

   Lad. But Pru, what shall we call him when we ha' drest him?
   Pr. My Lady-No-body, any thing, what you will.
   Lad. Call him Lætitia, by my Sisters name,
And so 'twill mind our Mirth too we have in hand.

Act II.    Scene III.

Prudence, Trundle.

Ood Trundle you must straight make ready the Coach,
 And lead the Horses out but half a Mile,
Into the Fields, whetherwhither you will, and then
Drive in again, with the Coach-leaves put down,
At the back Gate, and so to the back Stairs,
As if you brought in some body to my Lady,
A Kinswoman that she sent for. Make that answer,
If you be ask'd; and give it out i'the House so.
   Tru. What Trick is this, good Mistress Secretary,
You'ld put upon us?   Pru. Us? Do you speak plural?
   Tru. Me and my Mares are us.   Pru. If you so join 'em.
Elegant Trundle, you may use your Figures:
I can but urge, it is my Ladies Service.
   Tru. Good Mistress Prudence, you can urge enough.
I know you are Secretary to my Lady,
And Mistress Steward.   Pru. You'll still be trundling,
And ha' your Wages stopt, now at the Audite.
   Tru. Tis true, you're Gentlewoman o'the Horse too;
Or what you will beside, Pru. I do think it:
My best t'obey you.   Pru. And I think so too, Trundle.

Act II.    Scene IV.

Beaufort, Latimer, Host.

Hy, here's return enough of both our Venters,
 If we do make no more discovery.   Lat. What?
Then o'this Parasite?   Bea. O he's a dainty one.
The Parasite o'the House.   Lat. Here comes mine Host.
   Host. My Lords you both are welcome to the Heart.
  Bea. To the light heart we hope.   Lat. And merry I swear.
We never yet felt such a fit of Laughter,
As your glad heart hath offered us sin' we entred.
   Bea. How came you by this property?   Hos. who!'Who' my Fly?
   Bea. Your Fly, if you call him so.   Hos. Nay, he is that;
And will be still.   Beau. In every Dish and Pot?
   Hos. In every Cup and Company, my Lords,
A Creature of all Liquors, all Complexions,
Be the Drink what it will he'll have his sip.
   Lat. He's fitted with a Name.   Hos. And he joys in't.
I had him when I came to take the Inn here,
Assign'd me over in the Inventory,
As an old Implement, a piece of Houshold-stuff,
And so he doth remain.   Bea. Just such a thing
We thought him.   Lat. Is he a Scholar?   Hos. Nothing less.
But colours for it, as you see: wear's black,
And speaks a little tainted, fly-blown Latin,
After the School.   Bea. Of Stratford o' the Bow:
For Lillies Latin is to him unknown.
   Lat. What calling has he?   Hos. Only to call in still,
Enflame the reckoning, bold to charge a Bill,
Bring up the Shot i'the rear, as his own word is.
   Bea. And do's it in the discipline of the House?
As Corporal o' the Field, Maestro del Campo,comma should be replaced with question mark
   Hos. And Visiter general of all the Room:
He has form'd a fine Militia for the Inn too.
   Bea. And means to publish it?   Hos. With all his Titles;
Some call him Deacon Fly, some Doctor Fly;
Some Captain, some Lieutenant: But my Folks
Do call him Quarter-master Fly, which he is.

[column break]

Act II.    Scene V.

Tipto, Host, Fly, L. Beaufort, L. Latimer.

Ome Quarter-master Fly.   Hos. Here's one already
 Hath got his Titles.   Tip. Doctor!   Fly. Noble Colonel!
No Doctor, yet, a poor professor of Ceremony,
Here i' the Inn, retainer to the Host,
I discipline the House.   Tip. Thou read'st a Lecture
Unto the Family here: when is the Day?
   Fly. This is the day.   Tip. I'll hear thee, and I'll ha' thee a Doctor,
Thou shalt be one, thou hast a Doctors look!
A face, disputative of Salamanca.
   Hos. Who's this?   Lat. The glorious Colonel Tipto, Host.
   Bea. One talks upon his Tiptoes, if you'll hear him.
   Tip. Thou hast good Learning in thee, macte Fly.
   Fly. And I say macte to my Colonel.
   Host. Well macted of 'em both.   Bea. They are match'd i'faith.
   Tip. But Fly, why macte?   Fly. Quasi magis aucte,
My honourable Colonel.   Tip. What a Critique?
   Host. There's another accession, Critique Fly.
   Lat. I fear a taint here i'the Mathematicks.
They say, Lines parallel do never meet;
He has met his parallel in Wit and School-craft.
   Bea. They side, not meet man, mend your Metaphor,
And save the credit of your Mathematicks.
   Tip. But Fly, how cam'st thou to be here, committed
Unto this Inn?   'Fly.' speech prefix omittedUpon suspicion o' drink Sir.
I was taken late one night here with the Tapster,
And the Under-Officers, and so deposited.
   Tip. I will redeem thee, Fly, and place thee better,
With a fair Lady.   Fly. A Lady, sweet Sir Glorious!
   Tip. A Sov'reign Lady. Thou shalt be the Bird
To Sovereign Pru, Queen of our Sports, her Fly,
The Fly in houshold and in ordinary;
Bird of her Ear, and she shall wear thee there!
A Fly of Gold, enamell'd, and a School-Fly.
   Host. The School then, are my Stables, or the Cellar,
Where he doth study deeply, at his Hours,
Cases of Cups, I do not know how spic'd
With Conscience, for the Tapster and the Hostler; as
Whose Horses may be cousen'd? or what Jugs
Fill'd up with Froth? that is his way of Learning.
   Tip. What antiquated Feather's that that talks?
   Fly. The worshipful Host, my Patron, Mr. Good-stock,
A merry Greek, and cants in Latin comly,
Spins like the Parish Top.   Tip. I'll set him up then.
Art thou the Dominus?   Host. Fac-totum here, Sir.
   Tip. Host real o'the House? and Cap of Maintenance?
   Host. The Lord o'the light Heart, Sir, Cap a pie;
Whereof the Feather is the Emblem, Colonel,
Put up with the Ace of Hearts!   Tip. But why in Cuerpo?
I hate to see an Host, and old, in Cuerpo.
   Host. Cuerpo? what's that.   Tip. Light skipping Hose and Doublet.
The Horse-boys Garb! poor blank, and half blank
They relish not the gravity of an Host,
Who should be the King at Arms, and Ceremonies Cuerpo,
In his own House! know all, to the Gold weights.
   Bea. Why that his Fly doth for him here, your Bird.
   Tip. But I would do it my self were I my Host,
I would not speak unto a Cook of quality,
Your Lordships Footman, or my Ladies Trundle,
In Cuerpo! If a Dog but stay'd below,
That were a Dog of Fashion, and well nos'd,
And could present himself; I would put on
The Savoy Chain about my Neck, the Ruff
And Cuffs of Flanders, then the Naples Hat,
With the Rome Hatband, and the Florentin Agate,
The Millan Sword, the Cloak of Genoa set
With Brabant Buttons; all my given Pieces
Except my Gloves, the Natives of Madrid,
To entertain him in; and complement
With a tame Coney, as with a Prince that sent it.
A a a a a                         Host.                         

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   Host. The same deeds, though, become not every man;
That fits a Colonel, will not fit an Host.
   Tip. Your Spanish Host is never seen in Cuerpo,
Without his Paramento's Cloak and Sword.   Fly. Sir he has the father
Of Swords, within a long Sword; Blade cornish stil'd
Of Sir Rud Hughdebras.
   Tip. And with a long Sword, bully Bird? thy sence?
   Fly. To note him a tall Man, and a Master of Fence.
   Tip. But doth he teach the Spanish way of Don Lewis?
   Fly. No, the Greek Master he.
   Tip. What call you him?   Fly. Euclide.
   Tip. Fart upon Euclide, he is stale and antick.
Gi'me the Moderns.   Fly. Sir, he minds no Moderns,
Go by, Hieronimo!   Tip. What was he?   Fly. The Italian,
That plaid with Abbot Antony i' the Fryars,
And Blinkin-sops the bold.   Tip. I marry, those,
Had fencing Names, what's become o' them?
   Host. They had their times, and we can say, they were.
So had Caranza his: so had Don Lewis.
   Tip. Don Lewis of Madrid, is the sole Master
Now of the World.   Host. But this o'the other World
Euclide demonstrates! he! Hee's for all!
The only Fencer of Name, now in Elysium.
   Fly. He do's it all by Lines and Angles, Colonel;
By Parallels and Sections, has his Diagrams!
   Bea. Wilt thou be flying, Fly?   Lat. At all, why not?
The Air's as free for a Fly as for an Eagle.
   Bea. A Buzzard! he is in his contemplation!
   Tip. Euclide a Fencer, and in the Elysium!
   Host. He play'd a Prize last week with Archimedes,
And beat him I assure you.   Tip. Do you assure me?
For what?   Hos. For four i' the hundred. Gi' me five,
And I assure you again.   Tip. Host, Peremptory,
You may be tane, but where? whence had you this?
   Hos. Upo' the Road, A Post that came from thence,
Three days ago, here, left it with the Tapster.
   Fly. Who is indeed a Thorough-fare of news,
Jack Jug with the broken Belly, a witty fellow!
   Hos. Your Bird here heard him.   Tip. Did you hear him, Bird?
   Hos. Speak i' the faith of a Fly.   Fly. Yes, and he told us,
Of one that was the Prince of Oranges Fencer,comma should be replaced with a period
   Tip. Stevinus?   Fly. Sir, the same had challeng'd Euclide
At thirty weapons more than Archimedes
E'er saw, and Engines; most of his own Invention.
   Tip. This may have credit, and chimes reason, this!
If any man endanger Euclide, Bird,
Observe, that had the Honour to quit Europe
This forty years, 'tis he. He put down Scaliger.
   Fly. And he was a great Master.   Bea. Not of Fence, Fly.
   Tip. Excuse him, Lord, he went o' the same grounds.
   Bea. On the same earth I think, with other Mortals?
   Tip. I mean, sweet Lord, the Mathematicks. Basta!
When thou know'st more, thou wilt take less green honour.
He had his Circles, Semicircles, Quadrants —
   Fly. He writ a Book o' the quadrature o'the Circle,comma should be replaced with a dash
   Tip. Cyclometria, I read —   Bea. The Title only.
   Lat. And Indice.   Bea. If it had one of that quære,
What insolent, half-witted things these are?
   Lat. So are all Smatterers, insolent, and impudent.
   Bea. They lightly go together.   Lat. 'Tis my wonder
Two Animals should hawk at all discourse thus!
Flie every Subject to the Mark, or retrieve ——
   Bea. And never ha' the luck to be i'the right?
   Lat. 'Tis some folks fortune!   Bea. Fortune's a Bawd,
And a blind Beggar: 'tis their vanity!
And shews most vilely!   Tip. I could take the heart now
To write unto Don Lewis into Spain,
To make a progress to the Elysium Fields
Next Summer —   Bea. And perswade him die for fame,
Of fencing with a shadow! Where's mine Host?
I would he had heard this Bubble break, i'faith.

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Act II.    Scene VI.

Host, Tipto, Prudence, Beaufort, Latimer, Franck,
Nurse, Lady, Fly, Lovel.

Ake place, stand by, for the Queen Regent, Gentlemen.

   Tip. This is thy Queen that shall be, Bird, our Soveraign.

   Bea. Translated Prudence!   Pru. Sweet my Lord, hand off;
It is not now, as when plain Prudence liv'd
And reach'd her Ladiship —   Host. The Chamber-pot.
   Pru. The Lookinglass, mine Host, loose your House Metaphor?
You've a negligent Memory indeed;
Speak the Host's Language. Here's a young Lord
Will make't a precedent else.   Lat. Well acted Pru.
   Host. First minute of her Reign! what will she do
Forty year hence? God bless her!   Pru. If you'll kiss,
Or complement, my Lord, behold a Lady,
A stranger, and my Ladies Kinswoman.
   Bea. I do confess my rudeness, that had need
To have mine Eye directed to this Beauty.
   Fra. It was so little, as it ask'd a Perspicill.
   Bea. Lady, your name?   Fra. My Lord, it is Lætitia.
   Bea. Lætitia! a fair Omen! and I take it.
Let me have still such Lettice for my Lips:
But that o' your Family, Ladyquestion mark omitted   Fra. Silly, Sir.
   Bea. My Ladies Kinswoman?   Fra. I am so honour'd.
   Host. Already, it takes!   Lad. An excellent fine Boy.
   Nur. He is descended of a right good Stock, Sir.
   Bea. What's this? an Antiquary?   Host. An Antiquity,
By th'dress, you'ld swear! An old Welsh Heralds widdow:
She's a wild-Irish born! Sir, and a Hybride,
That lives with this young Lady, a mile off here,
And studies Vincent against York.   Bea. She'll conquer
If she read Vincent. Let me study her.
   Host. She's perfect in most Pedigrees, most Descents.
   Bea. A Baud, I hope, and knows to blaze a Coat.
   Host. And judgeth all things with a single Eye.
Fly, come you hither; no discovery
Of what you see, to your Colonel Toe, or Tip here,
But keep all close, tho' you stand i' the way o' preferment,
Seek it off from the Road; no Flattery for't:
No Lick-foot, pain of loosinglosing your proboscis:
My Liquorish Fly.   Tip. What says old Velvet-head?
   Fly. He will present me himself, Sir, if you will not.
   Tip. Who? he present? what? whom? An Host? A Groom?

Divide the thanks with me? share in my Glories?
Lay up. I say no more.   Host. Then silence Sir,
And hear the Sov'raign.   Tip. Hostlers? to usurp
Upon my Sparta or Province, as they say?
No Broom but mine?   Host. Still Colonel you mutter!
   Tip. I dare speak out, as Cuerpo.   Fly. Noble Colonel —
   Tip. And carry what I ask —   Hos. Ask what you can Sir,
So't be i'th House.   Tip. I ask my Rights and Priviledges;
And though for form I please to call it a Suit,
I have not been accustomed to repulse.
   Pru. No, sweet Sir Glorious, you may still command —
   Host. And go without.   Pru. But yet, Sir, being the first,
And call'd a Suit, you'll look it shall be such
As we may grant.   Lad. It else denies it self.
   Pru. You hear the opinion of the Court.   Tip. I mind
No Court Opinions.   Pru. 'Tis my Ladies though.
   Tip. My Lady is a Spinster at the Law,
And my Petition is of right.   Pru. What is it?
   Tip. It is for this poor learned Bird.   Host. The Fly?
   Tip. Professor in the Inn, here, of small matters.
   Lat. How he commends him!   Host. As to save himself in him.

   Lad. So do all Politicks in their Commendations.
   Host. This is a State-bird, and the verier Fly;

Tip. But          

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   Tip. Hear him problematize.   Pru. Bless us, what's that?
   Tip. Or syllogize, elenchize.   Lad. Sure, petard's,
To blow us up.   Lat. Some inginous strong words!
   Hos. He means to erect a Castle i' the Air,
And make his Fly an Elephant to carry it.
   Tip. Bird of the Arts he is, and Fly by Name!
   Pru. Buz.   Hos. Blow him off good Pru, they'll mar all else.
   Tip. The Soveraign's Honour is to cherish Learning.
   Pru. What in a Fly?   Tip. In any thing industrious.
   Pr. But Flies are busie!   Lad. Nothing more troublesom,
Or importune!   Tip. There's nothing more domestick,
Tame or familiar then your Fly in Cuerpo.
   Hos. That is when his Wings are cut, he is tame indeed, else
Nothing more impudent and greedy; licking:
   Lad. Or sawcy, good Sir Glorious.   Pru. Leave your Advocate-ship
Except that we shall call you Orator Fly,
And send you down to the Dresser and the Dishes.
   Hos. A good flap, that!   Pru. Commit you to the Steem!
   Lad. Or else condemn you to the Bottles.   Pr. And Pots.
There is his quarry.   Hos. He will chirp far better,
Your Bird, below.   Lad. And make you finer Musick.
   Pru. His Buz will there become him.   Tip. Come away,
Buz, in their Faces: Give 'em all the Buz,
in their Ears and Eyes, Hum, Dor, and Buz!
I will statuminate and under-prop thee.
If they scorn us, let us scorn them — We'll find
The Thorough-fare below, and Quære him,
Leave these Relicts, Buz; they shall see that I,
Spight of their jears, dare drink, and with a Fly.
   Lat. A fair remove at once, of two Impertinents!
Excellent Pru! I love thee for thy Wit,
No less then State.   Pru. One must preserve the other.
   Lad. Who's here?   Pru. O Lovel, Madam, your sad Servant.
   Lad. Sad? he is sullen still, and wears a Cloud
About his Brows; I know not how to approach him.
   Pru. I will instruct you, Madam, if that be all,
Go to him and kiss him.   Lad. How, Pru?   Pru. Go, and
   kiss him,
I do command it.   Lad. Th'art not wild, Wench!   Pru. No,
Tame, and exceeding tame, but still your Sov'raign.
   Lad. Hath too much bravery made thee mad?   Pru. Nor proud.
Do what I do enjoyn you. No disputing
Of my Prerogative, with a front or frown;
Do not detract; you know th' Authority
Is mine, and I will exercise it swiftly,
If you provoke me.   Lad. I have woven a Net
To snare my self in! Sir, I am enjoyn'd
To tender you a kiss; but do not know
Why, or wherefore, only the Pleasure Royal
Will have it so, and urges — Do not you
Triumph on my Obedience, seeing it forc'd thus.
There 'tis.   Lov. And welcome. Was there ever kiss
That relish'd thus! or had a Sting like this,
Of so much Nectar, but, with Aloes mixt.
   Pru. No murmuring, nor repining, I am fixt.
   Lov. It had, me thinks, a quintessence of either,
But that which was the better, drown'd the bitter.
How soon it pass'd away! how unrecovered!
The distillation of another Soul
Was not so sweet! and till I meet again,
That kiss, those Lips, like relish, and this taste.
Let me turn all Consumption, and here wast.
   Pru. The Royal Assent is past, and cannot alter.
   Lad. You'll turn a Tyran.   Pru. Be not you a Rebel,
It is a Name is alike odious.
   Lad. You'll hear me?   Pru. No, not o' this Argument.
Would you make Laws, and be the first that break 'em?
The Example is pernicious in a Subject,
And of your quality, most.   Lat. Excellent Princess!
   Host. Just Queen!   Lat. Brave Sov'raign.   Host. A she Trajan! this!

   Bea. What is't? Proceed incomparable Pru!
I am glad I am scarce at leisure to applaud thee.
   Lat. It's well for you, you have so happy Expressions.

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   Lad. Yes, cry her up; with Acclamations, do,
And cry me down, run all with Soveraignty:
Prince, Power will never want her Parasites.
   Pru. Nor Murmur her Pretences: Master Lovel,
For so your Libel here, or Bill of Complaint,
Exhibited, in our High Court of Sov'raignty,
At this first hour of our Reign, declares
Against this noble Lady, a dis-respect
You have conceiv'd, if not receiv'd, from her.
   Host. Received, so the Charge lies in our Bill.
   Pru. We see it, his learned Council, leave your planing.
We that do love our Justice, above all
Our other Attributes; and have the nearness,
To know your extraordinary Merit,
As also to discern this Ladies Goodness;
And find how loth she'd be to lose the Honour,
And Reputation, she hath had, in having
So worthy a Servant, though but for few Minutes.
Do here Enjoyn.   Hos. Good!   Pru. Charge, Will and Command
Her Ladiship, pain of our high Displeasure,
And committing an extream Contempt,
Unto the Court, our Crown and Dignity.
   Host. Excellent Soveraign! And egregious Pru!
   Pru. To entertain you for a pair of Hours,
(Choose, when you please, this day) with all respects,
And valuation of a principal Servant,
To give you all the Titles, all the Priviledges,
The Freedoms, Favours, Rights, she can bestow.
   Hos. Large, ample Words, of a brave Latitude!
   Pru. Or can be expected, from a Lady of Honour,
Or Quality, in Discourse, Access, Address.   (left bracket '(' should be omittedHos. Good.
   Pru. Not to give Ear, or admit Conference
With any Person but your self. Nor there,
Of any other Argument but Love,
And the Companion of it, gentile Courtship,
For which your two hours Service, you shall take
Two kisses.   Hos. Noble!   Pru. For each hour a kiss,
To be tane freely, fully, and legally,
Before us: in the Court here, and our Presence.   Hos. Rare!
   Pru. But those hours past, and the two kisses paid,
The binding Caution is, never to hope
Renewing of the Time, or of the Suit,
On any Circumstance.   Hos. A hard Condition!
   Lat. Had it been easier, I should have suspected
The Sov'raign's Justice.   Hos. O you are Servant,
My Lord, unto the Lady, and a Rival:
In point of Law, my Lord, you may be challeng'd.
   Lat. I am not jealous!   Host. Of so short a time
Your Lordship needs not, and being done, in foro.
   Pru. What is the answer?   Host. He craves respite, Madam,

To advise with his Learned Council.   Pru. Be you he,
And go together quickly.   Lad. You are no Tyran?
   Pru. If I be Madam, you were best appeal me!
   Lat. Beaufort —   Bea. I am busie, pr'ythee let me alone:
I have a Cause in hearing too.   Lat. At what Bar?
   Bea. Love's Court o' Requests!   Lat. Bring't into the Soveraignty:
It is the Nobler Court, afore Judge Pru,
The only Learned Mother of the Law!
And Lady o' Conscience, too!   Bea. 'Tis well enough
Before this Mistress of Requests, where it is.
   Host. Let 'em not scorn you. Bear up Master Lovel,
And take your Hours and Kisses, They are a Fortune.
   Lov. Which I cannot approve, and less make use of.
   Host. Still i' this Cloud! why cannot you make use of?
   Lov. Who would be rich to be so soon undone?
The Beggars best is Wealth, he doth not know:
And, but to shew it him, inflames his want:
   Host. Two hours at height?   Lov. That Joy is too too narrow.
Would bound a Love, so infinite as mine:
And being past, leaves an eternal loss.
Who so prodigiously affects a Feast,
To forfeit Health and Appetite, to see it?
Or but to taste a Spoon-full, would forgo
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All gust of Delicacy ever after?
   Host. These, yet, are hours of hope.   Lov. But all hours following
Years of Despair, ages of Misery!
Nor can so short a happiness, but spring
A World of fear, with thought of loosinglosing it;
Better be never happy, then to feell
A little of it, and then looselose it ever.
   Host. I do confess, it is a strict injunction;
But then the hope is, it may not be kept.
A thousand things may intervene, we see
The Wind shift often, thrice a day sometimes;
Decrees may alter upon better motion,
And riper hearing. The best Bow may start,
And th' Hand may vary. Pru may be a Sage
In Law, and yet not sour, sweet Pru, smooth Pru,
Soft, debonaire, and amiable Pru,
May do as well as rough and rigid Pru;
And yet maintain her, Venerable Pru,
Majestick Pru, and Serenissimous Pru.
Try but one hour first, and as you like
The looseloss o' that, draw home and prove the other.
   Lov. If one hour could, the other happy make,
I should attempt it.   Hos. Put it on: and do.
   Lov. Or in the blest Attempt that I might dye!
   Hos. I marry, there were happiness indeed;
Transcendent to the Melancholy, meant.
It were a Fate above a Monument,
And all Inscription, to die so. A Death
For Emperors to enjoy! And the Kings
Of the Rich East to pawn their Regions for;
To sow their Treasure, open all their Mines,
Spend all their Spices to embalm their Corps,
And wrap the Inches up in Sheets of Gold,
That fell by such a Noble destiny!
And for the wrong to your Friend, that fear's away,
He rather wrongs himself, following fresh Light,
New Eyes to swear by. If Lord Beaufort change,
It is no Crime in you to remain constant.
And upon these Conditions, at a Game
So urg'd upon you.   Pru. Sir youyour Resolution ——
   Hos. How is the Lady affected?   Pru. Sov'raigns use not
To ask their Subjects suffrage where 'tis due;
But where Conditional.   Host. A Royal Sov'raign!
   Lat. And a rare States-woman. I admire her bearing
In her new Regiment.   Host. Come choose your hours,
Better be happy for a part of time,
Then not the whole: and a short Part, then never.
Shall I appoint 'em, pronounce for you?   Lov. Your pleasure.

   Host. Then he designs his first hour after Dinner;
His second after Supper. Say ye? Content?
   Pru. Content.   Lad. I am content.   Lat. Content.   Fra. Content.

   Bea. What's that? I am content too.   Lat. You have reason,
You had it on the by, and we observ'd it.
   Nur. Trot I am not content: in fait' I am not.
   Host. Why art not thou content, Good shelee-nien?
   Nur. He tauk so desperate, and so debausht,
So baudy like a Courtier and a Lord,
God bless him, one that tak'th Tobacco.   Host. Very well mixt.
What did he say?   Nur. Nay, nothing to the purposh,
Or very little, nothing at all to purposh.
   Host. Let him alone Nurse.   Nur. I did tell him of Serly
Was a great Family come out of Ireland,
Descended of O Neal, Mac Con, Mac Dermot,
Mac Murrogh,
but he mark'd not.   Host. Nor do I,
Good Queen of Heralds, ply the Bottle, and sleep.

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Act III.    Scene I.

Tipto, Fly, Jug, Peirce, Jordan, Ferret, Trundle.

 Like the Plot of your Militia, well!
 It is a fine Militia, and well order'd!
And the Division's neat! 'Twill be desir'd
Only, the Expressions were a little more Spanish:
For there's the best Militia o' the World!
To call 'em Tertias. Tertia of the Kitchin,
The Tertia of the Cellar, Tertia of the Chamber,
And Tertia of the Stables.   Fly. That I can Sir,
And find out very able, fit Commanders.
In every Tertia.   Tip. Now you are i' the right!
As i' the Tertia o' the Kitchin, your self
Being a Person, elegant in Sawces,
There to Command, as prime Maestro del Campo,
Chief Master of the Palate, for that Tertia;
Or the Cook under you, 'cause you are the Marshal;
And the next Officer i' the Field, to the Host.
Then for the Cellar, you have young Anon,
Is a rare Fellow, what's his other Name?
   Fly. Pierce, Sirperiod omitted   Tip. Sir Pierce, I'll ha' him a Cavalier.
Sir Pierce Anon, will peirce us a new Hogs-head!
And then your Thorow-fare, Jug here, his Alferez:
An able Officer, gi' me thy Beard, round Jug,
I take thee by this Handle, and do love
One of thy Inches! I' the Chambers, Jordan, here!
He is the Don, del Campo o' the Beds.
And for the Stables, what's his Name?   Fly. Old Peck.
   Tip. Maestro del Campo, Peck! His name is curt,
A Monosyllable, but Commands the Horse well.
   Fly. O, in a Inn, Sir, we have other Horse,
Let those Troops rest a while. Wine is the Horse,
That we must charge with here.   Tip. Bring up the Troops,
Or call sweet Fly, 'tis an exact Militia,
And thou an exact Professor, Lipsius Fly,
Thou shalt be call'd, and Jouse: Jack Ferret, welcome,
Old Trench-master, and Colonel o' the Pyoneers,
What canst thou bolt us now? a Coney? or two
Out of Tom. Trundle's Burrow, here, the Coach?
This is the MastMaster of the Carriages!
How is thy driving Tom. good, as 'twas?
   Tru. It serves my Lady, and our Officer Pru.
Twelve Mile an hour! Tom has the old Trundle still.
   Tip. I am taken with the Family, here, fine Fellows?question mark should be replaced with an exclamation mark
Viewing the Muster-roll.   Tru. They are brave Men!
   Fer. And of the Fly-blown discipline all, the Quarter-Master!
   Tip. The Fly's a rare Bird, in his Profession!
Let's sip a private Pint with him, I would have him
Quit this Light Sign of the Light Heart, my Bird:
And lighter House. It is not for his tall
And growing Gravity so Cedar-like,
To be the second to an Host in Cuerpo,
That knows no Elegancies, use his own
Dictamen, and his Genius, I would have him
Fly high, and strike at all. Here's young Anon, too.
   Pei. What Wine is't Gentlemen, White or Claret?
   Tip. White. My brisk Anon.
   Pei. I'll draw you Juno's Milk
That died the Lillies, Colonel.   Tip. Do so Pierce.
   Pec.Peck, who enters the scene A Plague of all Jades, what a Clap he has gi'n me?question mark should be replaced with an exclamation mark
   Fly. Why, how now Cousen?   Tip. Who's that?
   Fer. The Hostler.
   Fly. What ail'st thou Cousen Peck?   Pec. O me, my hanches!
As sure as you live, Sir, he knew perfectly
I meant to couzen him. He did leer so on me,
And then he snear'd. As who would say take heed Sirrah;
And when he saw our Half-peck, which you know
Was but an old Court-dish, Lord how he stampt!
I thought, 't had been for Joy. When suddenly
He cuts me a back Caper with his Heels,
And takes me just o' the Crooper. Down come I

              The New Inn. 733

And my whole Ounce of Oats! Then he neighed out,
As if he had a Mare by the Tail.   Fly. Troth Cousen,
You are to blame to use the poor dumb Christians
So cruelly, defraud 'em o' their dimensum.
Yonder's the Colonels Horse (there I look'd in)
Keeping our Ladies Eve! The Devil a bit
He has got, sin' he came in yet! There he stands,
And looks and looks, but 'tis your pleasure, Couss,
He should look lean enough.
   Pec. He has Hay before himperiod omitted
   Fly. Yes, but as gross as Hemp, and as soon will choak him,
Unless he eat it butter'd. H' had four Shooes,
And good ones, when he came in: It is a wonder,
With standing still he should cast three.   Pec. Troth Quarter-Master,

This Trade is a kind of Mystery, that corrupts
Our standing Manners quickly: Once a Week,
I meet with such a Brush to mollifie me.
Sometimes a Brace, to awake my Conscience,
Yet still, I sleep securely.   Fly. Cousin Peck,
You must use better dealing, faith you must.
   Pec. Troth to give good Example to my Successors,
I could be well content to steal but two Girts,
And now and then a Saddle cloth, change a Bridle,
For Exercise: and stay there.   Fly. If you could
There were some hope, on you, Couss. But the Fate is
You're drunk so early, you mistake whole Saddles:
Sometimes a Horse.   Pec. I there's ——
   Fly. The Wine, come Couss, I'll talk with you anon.
   Pec. Do, looselose no time, good Quarter-Master.
   Tip. There are the Horse, come, Fly.
   Fly. Charge, in Boys, in; Lieutenant o' the Ordnance,
Tobacco and Pipes.   Tip. Who's that? Old Jordan, good!
A comely Vessel, and a necessary.
New-scour'd he is: Here's to thee, Martial Fly.
In Milk, my young Anon says.   Pei. Cream o' the Grape!
That dropt from Juno's Breasts, and sprung the Lilly!
I can recite your Fables, Fly, Here is, too,
The Blood of Venus, Mother o' the Rose!
   Jor. The Dinner is gone up.   Jug. I hear the Whistle.
   Jor. I, and the Fidlers. We must all go wait.
   Pei. Pox o' this waiting, Quarter-Master, Fly.
   Fly. When Chambermaids are Soveraigns, wait their Ladies.

Fly scorns to breath.   Pec. Or blow upon them, he.
   Pei. Old Parcel Peck! Art thou there? how now? lame?
   Pec. Yes faith: it is ill halting afore Criples,
I ha' got a dash of a Jade, here, will stick by me.
   Pei. O you have had some Phant'sie, fellow Peck,
Some Revelation —   Pec. What?   Pei. To steal the Hay,
Out o' the Racks again.   Fly. I told him so,
When the Guests backs were turn'd.   Pei. Or bring his Peck
The bottom upwards, heap'd with Oats; and cry,
Here's the best Measure upon all the Road! when
You know the Guest, put in his Hand, to feel,
And smell to the Oats, that grated all his Fingers
Upo' the Wood---   Pec. Mum!   Pei. And found out your cheat.
   Pec. I ha' been i' the Cellar, Peirce.   Pei. You were then there,
Upo' your Knees; I do remember it:
To ha' the Fact conceal'd. I could tell more,
Soping of Saddles, cutting of Horse Tails,
And cropping — Pranks of Ale, and Hostelry ——
   Fly. Which he cannot forget, he says, young Knight:
No more then you can other Deeds of Darkness,
Done i' the Cellar.   Tip. Well said, bold Professor.
   Fer. We shall ha' some truth explain'd.   Pei. We are all mortal,

And have our Visions.   Pec. Truly it seems to me
That every Horse has his whole Peck, and tumbles
Up to the Ears in Litter,comma should be replaced with a period   Fly. When, indeed
There's no such Matter; not a smell of Provender.
   Fer. Not so much Straw as would tye up a Horse-tail!
   Fly. Nor any thing i' the Rack, but two old Cob-webs!
And so much rotten Hay as had been a Hens Nest!

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   Tru. And yet he's ever apt to sweep the Mangers!
   Fer. But puts in nothing.   Pei. These are Fitsa ndFits and Fancies.period should be replaced with a comma
Which you must leave, good Peck.   Fly. And you must pray
It may be reveal'd to you at some times,
Whose Horse you ought to cozen; with what Conscience;
The how; and when, a Parsons Horse may suffer —
   Pei. Who's Master's double Benefic'd; put in that.
   Fly. A little greasing i' the Teeth; 'tis wholesom;
And keeps him in a sober shuffle.   Pei. His Saddle too
May want a stirrop.   Fly. And, it may be sworn,
His learning lay o' one side, and so broke it,comma should be replaced with a period
   Pec. They have ever Oats i' their Cloak-bags, to affront us,comma should be replaced with a period
   Fly,speech prefix, comma should be replaced with a period And therefore 'tis an Office meritorious,
To tithe such soundly.   Pei. And a Graziers may.
   Fer. O they are pinching Puckfists!   Tru. And suspicious.
   Pei. Suffer before the Masters Face, sometimes.
   Fly. He shall think he sees his Horse eat half a Bushel,comma should be replaced with a period
   Pei,speech prefix, comma should be replaced with a period When the slight is, rubbing his Gums with Salt,
Till all the Skin come off, he shall but mumble,
Like an old Woman that were chewing Brawn,
And drop 'em out again.   Tip. Well argued Cavalier.
   Fly. It may do well: and go for an Example:
But Couss, have care of understanding Horses,
Horses with angry Heels, Nobility Horses,
Horses that know the World; let them have Meat
Till their Teeth ake; and rubbing till their Ribs
Shine like a Wenches Forehead. They are Divels else
Will look into your Dealings.   Pec. For mine own part,
The next I cozen o' the pampred breed,
I wish he may be found'red.   Fly. Foun-de-red.
Prolate it right.   Pec. And of all Four, I wish it,
I love no Crouper-complements.   Pei. Whose Horse was it?
   Pec. Why, Mr. Bursts.   Pei. Is Bat Burst come?
   Pec. An hour he has been here.
   Tip. What Burst?   Pei. Mas, Bartolmew Burst.
One that hath been a Citizen, since a Courtier,
And now a Gamester. Hath had all his Whirls,
And bouts of Fortune, as a Man would say,
Once a Bat and ever a Bat! a Rere-mouse,
And Bird o' Twilight, he has broken thrice.
   Tip. Your better Man, the Geno'way Proverb says,
Men are not made of Steel.   Pei. Nor are they bound
Always to hold.   Fly. Thrice Honourable Colonel!
Hinges will crack.   Tip. Though they be Spanish Iron.
   Pei. He is a Merchant still, Adventurer,
At in and in; and is our thorough-fares Friend.
   Tip. Who? Jugs?   Pei. The same: and a fine Gentleman
Was with him!   Pec. Mr. Huffle.   Pei. Who? Hodge Huffle?
   Tip. What's he?   Pei. A Cheater, and another fine Gentleman,

A Friend o' the Chamberlains! Jordans! Mr. Huffle.
He is Burst's Protection.   Fly. Fights, and vapours for him.
   Pei. He will be drunk so civily.   Fly. So discreetly —
   Pei. And punctually! just at his Hour.   Fly. And then,
Call for his Jordan, with that hum and state,
As if he piss'd the Politicks!   Pei. And sup
With his Tuft-taffata Night-gear, here, so silently!
   Fly. Nothing but Musick!   Pei. A dozen of bawdy Songs,comma should be replaced with a period
   Tip. And knows the General this?   Fl. O no, Sir Dormit
Dormit Patronus,
still, the Master sleeps.
They'll steal to Bed.   Pei. In private Sir, and pay,
The Fidlers with that modesty, next Morning.
   Fly. Take a disiune'dejeune' per Whalley of Muscadel and Eggs!
   Pei. And pack away i' their trundling Cheats, like Gipsies.
   Tru. Mysteries, mysteries, Ferret.   Fer. I we see, Trundle
What the great Officers in an Inn may do;
I do not say the Officers of the Crown,
But the Light-Heart.   Tip. I'll see the Bat and Huffle.
   Fer. I ha' some Business, Sir, I crave your Pardon —
   Tip. What?   Fer. To be sober.   Tip. Pox, go get you gone then.

Trundle shall stay.   Tru. No I beseech you Colonel,
YouYour Lordship has a mind to be drunk private,
With these brave Gallants; I will step aside

734 The New Inn.                   

Into the Stables, and salute my Mares.
   Pei. Yes, do, and sleep with 'em, let him go, base Whip-stock.

He's as drunk as a Fish now, almost as dead.
   Tip. Come I will see the flicker Mouse, my Flie.

Act III.    Scene II.

Prudence usher'd by the Host, takes her Seat of Judicature,
   Nurse, Frank, the Two Lords, Beaufort, and Latimer,
   assist of the Bench: The
Lady and Lovel are brought in,
   and sit on the Two sides of the Stage, confronting each the

Ferret, Trundle.

Ere set the hour; but first produce the parties;
 And clear the Court. The time is now of price.
   Host. Jug, get you down, and Trundle get you up,
You shall be Crier. Ferret, here, the Clerk.
Jordan, smell you without, till the Ladies call you;
Take down the Fiddlers too, silence that noise,
Deep, i'the Cellar, safe.   Pru. Who keeps the Watch?
   Host. Old Sheelinin here, is the Madam Tell-clock.
   Nur. No fait and trot, sweet Maister, I shall sleep;
I fait I shall.   Bea. I prithee do then, Scrich-Owl.
She brings to mind the Fable o'the Dragon,
That kept the Hesperian Fruit. Would I could charm her.
   Host. Trundle will do it with his Hum. Come Trundle.
Precede him Ferret, i'the form.
   Fer. O yes, O yes, O yes,
Whereas there hath been awarded,
By the Queen Regent of Love.
In this high Court of Soveraignty,
Two special hours of Address,
To Herebert Lovel, Appellant,
Against the Lady Frampul, Defendant.
Herebert Lovel, Come into the Court,
Make challenge to thy first hour,
And save thee and thy Bail.
   Tru. O yes, &c.
Whereas, &c.
By the Queen, &c.
In this high, &c.
Two special, &c.
To Herebert, &c.
Against the, &c.
Herebert Lov. &c.
Make, &c.
And save, &c.

   Host. Lo, louting where he comes into the Court!
Clerk of the Soveraignty take his appearance.
And how accoutred, how design'd he comes!
   Fer. T's done. Now Cryer, call the Lady Frampul,
And by the name of,
Frances, Lady Frampul, Defendant,
Come into the Court,
Make answer to the Award,
And save thee and thy Bail.
   Tru. Francis, &c.
Come into the, &c.
Make answer, &c.
And save thee, &c.

Enter Lady.

   Host. She makes a noble, and a just Appearance.
Set it down likewise, and how arm'd she comes.
   Pru. Usher of Loves Court give 'em their Oath,
According to the Form, upon Loves Missal.
   Host. Arise and lay your hands upon the Book.
   Herebert Lovel, Appellant, and Lady Frances Frampul,
Defendant, you shall swear upon the Liturgy of Love,
Ovid de arte amandi, That you neither have, ne will
have, nor in any wise bear about you, thing, or things,
pointed, or blunt, within these Lists, other than what
are natural and allow'd by the Court: No inchanted
Arms, or Weapons, Stones of Vertue, Herb of Grace,
Charm, Character, Spell, Philtre, or other Power than
Loves only, and the justness of your Cause. So help you
Love, his Mother, and the Contents of this Book: Kiss
it. Return unto your Seats. Crier bid silence.
   Tru. O yes, O yes, O yes.
   Fer. I'the name o'the Soveraign of Love,
Notice is given by the Court,
To the Appellant, and Defendant,
That the first hour of Address proceeds.
And Love save the Soveraign.
Tru. I'the &c.
Notice is, &c.
To the Ap. &c.
That the, &c.
And love, &c.

   Tru. Every man or woman keep silence pain of imprisonment.

[column break]

   Pru. Do your endeavours in the name of Love.
   Lov. To make my first Approaches, then, in Love.
   Lad. Tell us what Love is, that we may be sure
There is such a thing, and that it is in nature.
   Lov. Excellent Lady, I did not expect
To meet an Infidel! much less an Atheist!
Here in Love's Lists! of so much unbelief!
To raise a Question of his being —— Host. Well charg'd!
   Lov. I rather thought, and, with Religion, think,
Had all the Character of Love been lost,
His Lines, Demensions, and whole Signature
Raz'd and defac'd, with dull humanity:
That both his Nature, and his Essence might
Have found their mighty instauration here,
Here where the confluence of Fair and Good,
Meets to make up all Beauty. For, what else
Is Love, but the most noble, pure affection
Of what is truly Beautiful and Fair?
Desire of union with the thing beloved?
   (Bea. Have the Assistants of the Court their Votes,
And writ of Priviledge, to speak them freely?)
   Pru. Yes, to assist; but not to interrupt.
  Bea. Then I have read somewhere, that man and woman,
Were, in the first Creation, both one piece,
And being cleft asunder, ever since,
Love was an appetite to be rejoin'd.
As for Example —   Nur. Cramo-cree! what mean'sh tou?
   Bea. Only to kiss, and part.   Host. So much is lawful.
   Lat. And stands with the Prerogative of Loves Court!
   Lov. It is a Fable of Plato's, in his Banquet,
And uttered there by Aristophanes.
   Host. 'Twas well remembred here, and to good use.)right bracket should be omitted
But on with your Description, what Love is.
Desire of union with the thing belov'd.
   Lov. I meant a Definition. For I make
The efficient cause, what's Beautiful, and Fair.
The formal cause, the appetite of Union.
The final cause the union it self.
But larger, if you'll have it, by description:
It is a flame and ardour of the mind,
Dead, in the proper Corps, quick in another's:
Transfers the Lover into the Loved.
That he or she, that loves, engraves, or stamps
Th' Idea of what they love, first in themselves:
Or, like to Glasses, so their minds take in
The Forms of their belov'd, and them reflect.
It is the likeness of Affections,
Is both the parent and the nurse of Love.
Love is a spiritual coupling of two Souls,
So much more excellent, as it least relates
Unto the Body; circular, eternal;
Not fain'd, or made, but born: And then, so precious,
As nought can value it, but it self. So free
As nothing can command it but it self.
And in it self so round, and liberal,
As where it favours, it bestows it self.
   (Bea. And that do I; here my whole self I tender,
According to the practice o'the Court.
   Nur. I'tish a naughty practish, a lewd Practish,
Be quiet man, dou shalt not leip her here.
   Bea. Leap her? I lip hercomma omitted foolish Queen at Arms,
Thy Blazon's false: wilt thou blaspheme thine Office?)
   Lov. but we must take and understand this Love
Along still as a name of Dignity:
Not pleasure.   (Host. Mark you that, my light young Lord?)
   Lov. True love hath no unworthy thought, no light,
Loose unbecoming Appetite, or Strain.
But fixed, constant, pure, immutable.
   (Bea. I relish not these Philosophical Feasts;
Give me a Banquet o' Sense, like that of Ovid:
A Form to take the Eye; a Voice mine Ear;
Pure Aromaticks, to my Scent; a soft,
Smooth, dainty Hand to touch; and, for my taste,
Ambrosiack Kisses to melt down the Palat.)

              The New Inn. 735

   Lov. They are the earthly, lower form of Lovers,
Are only taken with what strikes the Senses!
And love by that loose scale. Altho I grant,
We like what's fair and graceful in an Object,
And (true) would use it, in them all we tend to,
Both of our civil and domestick deeds,
In ordering of an Army, in our Stile,
Apparel, Gesture, Building, or what not?
All arts and actions do affect their Beauty.
But put the case, in travel I may meet
Some gorgeous Structure, a brave Frontispiece,
Shall I stay Captive i' the outer Court,
Surpriz'd with that, and not advance to know
Who dwells there, and inhabiteth the House?
There is my Friendship to be made, within;
With what can love me again: not with the Walls,
Doors, Windows, Architrabes, the Frieze, and Coronice.
My End is lost in loving of a Face,
An Eye, Lip, Nose, Hand, Foot, or other part,
Whose all is but a Statue, if the Mind
Move not, which only can make the return.
The End of Love is, to have Two made One
In will, and in affection, that the Minds
Be first inoculated, not the Bodies.
   Bea. Gi' me the Body, if it be a good one.
   Fra. Nay, sweet, my Lord, I must appeal the Soveraign
For better Quarter, if you hold your practice.
   Tru. Silence, pain of Imprisonment: Hear the Court.
   Lov. The Bodies Love is frail, subject to change,
And alter still with it: The Mind's is firm,
One and the same, proceedeth first from weighing,
And well examining what is fair and good;
Then what is like in Reason, fit in Manners;
That breeds good will: good will desire of Union.
So Knowledge first begets Benevolence,
Benevolence breeds Friendship, Friendship loves:
And where it starts or steps aside from this,
It is a meer degenerous appetite,
A lost, oblique, deprav'd affection,
And bears no mark or character of Love.
   Lad. How am I changed! By what Alchimy
Of Love, or Language, am I thus translated!
His Tongue is tip'd with the Philosophers Stone,
And that hath touch'd me through every Vein!
I feel that transmutation o' my Blood,
As I were quite become another creature,
And all he speaks, it is Projection!
   Pru. Well feign'd, my Lady: now her Parts begin!
   Lat. And she will act 'em subtilly.
   Pru. She fails me else.
   Lov. Nor do they trespass within bounds of pardon,
That giving way, and license to their love,
Divest him of his noblest Ornaments,
Which are his Modesty, and Shamfac'dness:
And so they do, that have unfit designs
Upon the Parties they pretend to love.
For what's more monstrous, more a Prodigy,
Than to hear me protest truth of affection
Unto a person that I would dishonour?
And what's a more dishonour, than defacing
Another's good with forfeiting mine own?
And drawing on a Fellowship of sin;
From note of which, tho (for a while) we may
Be both kept safe, by caution, yet the Conscience
Cannot be cleans'd. For what was hitherto
Call'd by the Name of Love, becomes destroy'd
Then, with the Fact; the Innocency lost,
The bating of affection soon will follow:
And Love is never true that is not lasting.
No more than any can be pure or perfect,
That entertains more than one Object, Dixi.
   Lad. O speak, and speak for ever! let min' ear
Be feasted still, and filled with this Banquet!
No sense can ever surfeit on such truth!

[column break]

It is the Marrow of all Lovers Tenents!
Who hath read Plato, Heliodore, or Tatius,
Sidney, D' Ursé,
or all Loves Fathers, like him?
He, is there the Master of the Sentences,
Their School, their Commentary, Text, and Gloss,
And breathes the true Divinity of Love!
   Pru. Excellent Actor! how she hits this Passion!
   Lad. Where have I liv'd, in Heresie, so long
Out o' the Congregation of Love,
And stood irregular, by all his Canons?
   Lat. But do you think she plays?
   Pru. Upo' my Soveraignty,
Mark her anon.
   Lat. I shake, and am half jealous.
   Lad. What Penance shall I do to be receiv'd,
And reconcil'd to the Church of Love?
Go on Procession, bare-foot, to his Image,
And say some hundred penitential Verses,
There, out of Chaucers Troilus, and Cresside?
Or to his Mothers Shrine, vow a Wax-Candle
As large as the Town May-Pole is, and pay it!
Enjoyn me any thing this Court thinks fit,
For I have trespass'd, and blasphemed Love:
I have, indeed, despis'd his Deity,
Whom (till this Miracle wrought on me) I knew not.
Now I adore Love, and would kiss the Rushes
That bear this Reverend Gentleman, his Priest,
If that would expiate ——— but I fear it will not.
For, tho he be somewhat struck in years, and old
Enough to be my Father, he is wise,
And only wise men love, the other covet.
I could begin to be in love with him,
But will not tell him yet, because I hope
T' enjoy the other Hour with more delight,
And prove him farther.
   Pru. Most Socratick Lady!
Or, if you will Ironick! gi' you joy
O' your Platonick Love here, Mr. Lovel.
But pay him his first Kiss, yet, i' the Court,
Which is a Debt, and due: for the Hour's run.
   Lad. How swift is Time, and slily steals away
From them would hug it, value it, embrace it?
I should have thought it scarce had run ten minutes,
When the whole Hour is fled. Here, take your Kiss, Sir,
Which I most willing tender you in Court.
   (Bea. And we do imitate ——— )
   Lad. And I could wish,
It had been twenty — so the Soveraigns
Poor narrow Nature had decreed it so ——
But that is past, irrevocable, now:
She did her kind, according to her latitude —
   Pru. Beware, you do not conjure up a Spirit
You cannot lay.
   Lad. I dare you, do your worst,
Shew me but such an injustice: I would thank you
To alter your award.
   Lat. Sure she is serious!
I shall have another fit of Jealousie!
I feel a grudging!
   Host. Chear up, Noble Ghest,variant spelling of 'Guest'
We cannot guess what this may come to yet;
The Brain of Man, or Woman, is uncertain!
   Lov. Tut, she dissembles! all is personated,
And counterfeit comes from her! If it were not,
The Spanish Monarchy, with both the Indies,
Could not buy off the treasure of this Kiss,
Or half give balance for my happiness.
   Host. Why, as it is yet, it glads my light Heart
To see you rouz'd thus from a sleepy humor
Of drouzy, accidental melancholy;
And all those brave parts of your Soul awake,
That did before seem drown'd, and buried in you!
That you express your self, as you had back'd
The Muses Horse! or got Bellerophons arms!

736 The New Inn.                   

What news with Fly?
   Fly. News of a newer Lady,
A finer, fresher, braver, bonnier Beauty,
A very bona Roba, and a Bouncer!
In yellow, glistering, golden Satten.   Lad. Pru,
Adjourn the Court.
   Pru. Cry, Trundle ——   Tru. O yes,
Any Man, or Woman, that hath any personal attendance
To give unto the Court; Keep the Second Hour,
And Love save the Sov'raign.

Act IV.    Scene I.

Jug, Barnabe, Jordan.

 Barnabe!   Jor. Welcome, Barnabe? Where hast
          thou been?
   Bar. I' the foul weather.
   Jug. Which has wet thee, Ban.
   Bar. As dry as a chip! Good Jug, a cast o' thy Name,
As well as thy Office: two Jugs!
   Jug. By and by.
   Jor. What Lady's this thou hast brought here?
   Bar. A great Lady!
I know no more; one that will try you, Jordan.
Shee'll find your Gage, your Circle, your Capacity.
How do's Old Staggers the Smith, and Tree the Sadler?
Keep they their Penny-Club still?
   Jor. And th' old Catch too,
Of whoop Barnaby.   Bar. Do they sing at me?
   Jor. They are reeling at it in the Parlour now.
   Bar. I'll to 'em: Gi' me a drink first.
   Jor. Where's thy Hat?
   Bar. I lost it by the way — Gi' me another.
   Jug. A Hat?   Bar. A drink.
   Jug. Take heed of taking cold, Ban ————
   Bar. The wind blew't off at High-gate, and my Lady
Would not endure me light to take it up,
But made me drive bare-headed i' the Rain.
   Jor. That she might be mistaken for a Countess?
   Bar. Troth, like enough! She might be an ore-grown
For ought I know.
   Jug. What! with one Man!   Bar. At a time,
They carry no more, the best of 'em.
   Jor. Nor the bravest.
   Bar. And she is very brave!
   Jor. A stately Gown!
And Petticoat, she has on!
   Bar. Ha' you spy'd that, Jordan?
You are a notable Peerer, an old Rabbi,
At a Smocks-hem, Boy.
   Jug. As he is Chamberlain,
He may do that by his Place.
   Jor. What's her Squire?
   Bar. A toy, that she allows Eight Pence a day.
A slight Man-net, to port her up and down.
Come, shew me to my Play-fellows, Old Staggers,
And Father Tree.
   Jor. Here, this way, Barnabe.

Act IV.    Scene II.

Tipto, Burst, Huffle, Fly.

Ome, let us take in Fresco, here, one Quart.
   Bar.Bur. Two Quarts, my Man of War, let us not be
   Huf. Advance three Jordans, Varlet o' the House.
   Tip. I do not like your Burst Bird; He is sawcy:
Some Shop-keeper he was?
   Fly. Yes, Sir.   Tip. I knew it,

[column break]

 A broke-wing'd Shop-keeper? I nose 'em streight.
He had no Father, I warrant him, that durst own him;
Some Foundling in a Stall, or the Church-porch;
Brought up i' the Hospital; and so bound Prentice;
Then Master of a Shop; then one o' th' Inquest;
Then breaks out Bankrupt, or starts Alderman:
The Original of both is a Church-Porch ——
   Fly. Of some, my Colonel.
   Tip. Good Faith, of most!
O' your Shop-Citizens, th' are rude animals!
And let 'em get but ten mile out a Town,
Th' out swagger all the Wapen-take.
   Fly. What's that?
   Tip. A Saxon word to signifie the Hundred.
   Bar.Bur. Come let us drink, Sir Glorious, some brave
Upon our tip-toes.   Tip. To the Health o' the Bursts.
   Bur. Why Bursts?   Tip. Why Tipto's?
   Bur. O' I cry you mercy!
   Tip. It is sufficient.
   Huf. What is so sufficient?
   Tip. To drink to you is sufficient.
   Huf. On what terms?
   Tip. That you shall give Security to pledge me.
   Huf. So you will name no Spaniard, I will pledge you.
   Tip. I rather chuse to thirst; and will thirst ever,
Than leave that Cream of Nations un-cry'd up.
Perish all Wine, and gust of Wine.
   Huf. How! spill it?
Spill it at me?   Tip. I wreck not, but I spilt it.
   Fly. Nay, pray you be quiet, Noble Bloods.
   Bur. No Spaniards,
I cry, with my Cozen Huffle.
   Huf. Spaniards? Pilchers?
   Tip. Do not provoke my patient Blade. It sleeps,
And would not hear thee: Huffle, thou art rude,
And dost not know the Spanish composition.
   Bur. What is the Recipe? Name the Ingredients.
   Tip. Valour.   Bur. Two Ounces!
   Tip. Prudence.   Bur. Half a Dram!
   Tip. Justice.   Bur. A Penny weight!
   Tip. Religion.   Bur. Three Scruples!
   Tip. And of Gravidâd.   Bur. A Face-full!
   Tip. He carries such a Dose of it in his Looks,
Actions, and Gestures, as it breeds Respect
To him from Savages, and Reputation
With all the Sons of Men.
   Bur. Will it give him Credit
With Gamesters, Courtiers, Citizens, or Tradesmen?
   Tip. He'll borrow Money on the stroke of his Beard!
Or turn offof his Mustaccio! His meer Cuello,
Or Ruff about his Neck, is a Bill of Exchange
In any Bank in Europe! Not a Merchant
That sees his Gate,alternate spelling of 'Gait' but straight will furnish him
Upon his Pase!alternate spelling of 'Pace'
   Huf. I have heard the Spanish Name
Is terrible, to Children, in some Countries;
And us'd to make them eat their Bread and Butter,
Or take their Worm-seed.
   Tip. Huffle, you do shuffle:

—— To them, Stuffe, Pinnacia.

   Bur. 'Slid here's a Lady!
   Huf. And a Lady gay!
   Tip. A well-trimm'd Lady!
   Huf. Let's lay her aboard.
   Bur. Let's hail her first.
   Tip. By your sweet Favour, Lady.
   Stu. Good Gentlemen be civil, we are Strangers.
   Bur. And you were Flemings, Sir!
   Huf,comma should be replaced with a period Or Spaniards!
   Tip. They are here, have been at Sevil i' their days,
And at Madrid too!   Pin. He is a foolish Fellow,
I pray             

              The New Inn. 737

I pray you mind him not, he is my Protection.
   Tip. In your protection he is safe, sweet Lady.
So shall you be in mine.
   Huf. A share, good Coronel.
   Tip. Of what?
   Huf. Of your fine Lady! I am Hodge,
My Name is Huffle.
   Tip. Huffling Hodge, be quiet.
   Bur. And I pray you, be you so, Glorious Coronel
Hodge Huffle
shall be quiet.
   Huf. A Lady gay, gay:
For she is a Lady gay, gay, gay. For she's a Lady gay.
   Tip. Bird o' the Vespers, Vespertilio, Burst;
You are a Gentleman o' the first Head.
But that Head may be broke, as all the Body is ——
Burst, if you tie not up your Huffle quickly.
   Huf. Tie Dogs, not Man.
   Bur. Nay, pray thee, Hodge, be still.
   Tip. This Steel here rides not on this Thigh in vain.
   Huf. Shew'st thou thy Steel and Thigh, thou glorious

Then Hodge sings Sampson, and no ties shall hold.

[to them.
          ———— Peirce, Jug, Jorden.

   Peir. Keep the Peace, Gentlemen: what do you
   Tip. I will not discompose my self for Huffle.
   Pin. You see what your Entreaty and Pressure still
Of Gentlemen, to be civil, doth bring on?
A Quarrel? and perhaps Man-slaughter? You
Will carry your Goose about you still? your Planing-
Your Tongue to smooth all! is not here fine stuff?
   Stu. Why Wife?
   Pin. Your Wife? Ha' not I forbidden you that?
Do you think I'll call you Husband i' this Gown,
Or any thing in that Jacket, but Protection?
Here tie my Shooe, and shew my Velvet Petticoat,
And my Silk Stocking! why do you make me a Lady,
If I may not do like a Lady, in fine Cloathes.
   Stu. Sweet Heart, you may do what you will with me.
   Pin. I: I knew that at home; what to do with you;
But why was I brought hither? to see Fashions?
   Stu. And wear them too, Sweet Heart, but this wild
          Company ——
   Pin. Why do you bring me in wild Company?
You'd ha' me tame, and civil, in wild Company?
I hope I know, wild Company are fine Company,
And in fine Company, where I am fine my self,
A Lady may do any thing, deny nothing
To a fine Party, I have heard you say't.

—— To them Peirce.

   Peir. There are a Company of Ladies above
Desire your Ladiships Company, and to take
The Surety of their Lodgings from the affront
Of these half Beasts, were here e'en now, the Centaures.
   Pin. Are they fine Ladies?
   Peir. Some very fine Ladies.
   Pin. As fine as I?
   Peir. I dare use no Comparisons,
Being a Servant, sent ————
   Pin. Spoke, like a fine Fellow!
I would thou wert one; I'd not then deny thee:
But, thank mythy Lady.

———— To them Host.

   Hos. Madam, I must crave you
To afford a Lady a Visit, would excuse
Some Harshness o' the House, you have receiv'd
From the brute Ghests.

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   Pin. This's a fine Old Man!
I'ld go with him an' he were a little finer!
   Stu. You may, Sweet Heart, it is mine Host.
   Pin. Mine Host!
   Host. Yes, Madam, I must bid you welcome.
   Pin. Do then.
   Stu. But do not stay,comma should be replaced with a period
   Pin. I'll be advis'd by you; yes!

Act IV.    Scene III.

—— To them Latimer, Beaufort, Lady, Pru. Frank,
Host, Pinnacia, Stuffe.

Hat more than Thracian Barbarism was this!
   Bea. The Battel o' the Centaures, with the
   Lad. There is no taming o' the Monster Drink.
   Lat. But what a glorious Beast our Tipto shew'd!
He would not discompose himself, the Don!
Your Spaniard ne'er doth discompose himself.
   Bea. Yet, how he talkt, and roar'd i' the beginning!
   Pru. And ran as fast as a knock'd Marro'bone.
   Bea. So they did all at last, when Lovel went down,
And chas'd 'em 'bout the Court.
   Lat. For all's Don Lewis!
Or fencing after Euclide!   Lad. I ne'er saw
A lightning shoot so, as my Servant did,
His Rapier was a Meteor, and he wav'd it
Over 'em, like a Comet, as they fled him!
I mark'd his Manhood! every stoop he made
Was like an Eagles at a Flight of Cranes!
(As I have read somewhere.)
   Bea. Bravely exprest.
   Lat. And like a Lover!
   Lad. Of his Valour, I am!
He seem'd a Body, rarifi'd to air!
Or that his Sword, and arm were of a peice,
They went together so! Here comes the Lady.
   Bea. A bouncing Bona roba! as the Fly said.
   Fra. She is some Giantess! I'll stand off,
For fear she swallow me.
   La. Is not this our Gown, Pru?
That I bespoke of Stuffe?
   Pru. It is the Fashion!
   Lad. I, and the Silk! Feel: sure it is the same!
   Pru. And the same Petticoat, Lace, and all!
   Lad. I'll swear it.
How came it hither? make a Bill of Inquiry.
   Pru. Yo' have a fine Sute on, Madam! and a rich oneexclamation mark omitted
   Lad. And of a curious making!
   Pru. And a new!
   Pin. As new as Day.
   Lat. She answers like a Fish-Wife!
   Pin. I put it on since Noon, I do assure you.
   Pru. Who is your Taylor?
   Lad. 'Pray you, your Fashioners Name.
   Pin. My Fashioner is a certain Man o' mine own,
He is i' the House: no matter for his Name.
   Host. O, but to satisfie this bevy of Ladies,
Of which a Brace, here, long'd to bid you welcome.
   Pin. He is one, in truth, I title my Protection:
Bid him come up.
   Host. Our new Ladies Protection!
What is your Ladiships Stile?
   Pin. Countess Pinnacia.
   Host. Countess Pinnacia's Man, come to your Lady!
   Pru. Your Ladiships Taylor! Mass, Stuffe!
   Lad. How Stuffe! He the Protection!
   Hos. Stuffe looks like a Remnant.
   Stu. I am undone, discover'd!
   Pru. 'Tis the Suit, Madam,
Now, without Scruple! and this some Device
To bring it home with.
B b b b b                                Pin.   

738 The New Inn.                   

   Pin. Why upon your Knees?
Is this your Lady Godmother?
   Stu. Mum, Pinnacia.
It is the Lady Frampul; my best Customer.
   Lad. What Shew is this that you present us with?
   Stu. I do beseech your Ladiship forgive me.
She did but say the Suit on.   Lad. Who? Which she?
   Stu. My Wife, forsooth.
   Lad. How? Mistress Stuffe? Your Wife!
Is that the Riddle?   Pru. We all look'd for a Lady,
A Dutchess, or a Countess at the least.
   Stu. She is my own lawfully begotten Wife,
In Wedlock. We ha' been coupled now seven years.
   Lad. And why thus masqu'd? You like a Footman, ha!
And she your Countess!   Pin. To make a Fool of himself,
And of me too.   Stu. I pray thee, Pinnace, peace.
   Pin. Nay, it shall out, since you have call'd me Wife,
And openly dis-Ladied me! though I am dis-Countess'd
I am not yet dis-countenanc'd. These shall see.
   Hos. Silence!
   Pin. It is a foolish trick, Madam, he has;
For though he be your Taylor, he is my Beast.
I may be bold with him, and tell his Story.
When he makes any fine Garment will fit me,
Or any rich thing that he thinks of price,
Then must I put it on, and be his Countess,
Before he carry it home unto the Owners.
A Coach is hir'd, and Four Horses; he runs
In his Velvet Jacket thus, to Rumford, Croyden,
or Barnet, the next bawdy Road:
And takes me out, carries me up, and throw's me
Upon a Bed.   Lad. Peace, thou immodest Woman.
She glories in the Bravery o' the Vice.
   Lat. 'Tis a queint one!   Bea. A fine species,
Of fornicating with a Man's own Wife,
Found out by (what's his Name?)
   Lat. Mr. Nic. Stuffe.
   Host. The very Figure of Preoccupation
In all his Customers best Cloathes.   Lat. He lies
With his own Succuba, in all your Names.
   Bea. And all your Credits.
   Host. I, and at all their costs.
   Lat. This Gown was then bespoken for the Soveraign?
   Bea. I, marry was it.   Lat. And a main Offence
Committed 'gainst the Soveraignty; being not brought
Home i' the time. Beside, the prophanation,
Which may call on the Censure of the Court.
   Host. Let him be blanketed. Call up the Quarter-
Deliver him o'er to Fly.   Stu. O good, my Lord.
   Host. Pillage the Pinnace.   Lad. Let his Wife be stript.
   Bea. Blow off her Upper Deck.
   Lat. Tear all her Tackle.
   Lad. Pluck the polluted Robes over her Ears;
Or cut them all to peices, make a fire o' them.
   Pru. To Rags and Cinders, burn th' idolatrous Vestures.
   Hos. Fly, and your Fellows, see that the whole censure
Be throughly executed.   Fly. We'll toss him bravely,
Till the stuff stink again.
   Host. And send her home,
Divested to her Flannel, in a Cart.
   Lat. And let her Footman beat the Bason afore her.
   Fly. The Court shall be obey'd.
   Hos. Fly, and his Officers,
Will do it fiercely.   Stu. Merciful Queen Pru.
   Pru. I cannot help you.
   Bea. Go thy ways, Nic. Stuffe,
Thou hast nickt it for a Fashioner of Venery!
   Lat. For his own Hell, though he run ten mile for't.
   Pru. O, here comes Lovel, for his second Hour.
   Bea. And after him the type of Spanish Valour.

[column break]

Act IV.    Scene IV.

Lady, Lovel, Tipto, Latimer, Beaufort, Pru, Frank,
Nurse, Host.

Ervant, what have you there?   Lov. A Meditation,
 Or rather a Vision, Madam, and of Beauty,
Our former Subject.   Lad. Pray you let us hear it.

   Lov. It was a Beauty that I saw
So pure, so perfect, as the frame
Of all the Universe was lame,
To that one Figure could I draw,
Or give least line of it a law!

A Skein of Silk without a Knot!
A fair March made without a Halt!
A curious Form without a Fault!
A printed book without a blot.
All beauty, and without a spot.

   Lad. They are gentle Words, and would deserve a
Set to 'em, as gentle.   Lov. I have try'd my Skill.
To close the second Hour, if you will hear them,
My Boy by that time will have got it perfect.
   Lad. Yes, gentle Servant. In what calm he speaks,
After this noise and tumult, so unmov'd,
With that serenity of countenance,
As if his thoughts did acquiesce in that
Which is the Object of the second Hour,
And nothing else.   Pru. Well then, summon the Court.
   Lad. I have a Sute to the Soveraign of Love,
If it may stand with the Honour of the Court,
To change the Question but from Love to Valour,
To hear it said, but what true Valour is,
Which oft begets true Love.   Lat. It is a Question
Fit for the Court to take true knowledge of,
And hath my just assent.   Pru. Content.   Bea. Content.
   Fra. Content. I am content, give him his Oath.
   Host. Herebert Lovel, Thou shalt swear upon the Testa-
ment of Love, To make Answer to this Question propounded
to thee by the Court, What true Valour is? And therein to tell
the Truth, the whole Truth, and nothing but the Truth. So
help thee Love, and thy bright Sword at need.

   Lov. So help me Love, and my good Sword at need.
It is the greatest Vertue, and the Safety
Of all Mankind, the Object of it is danger.
A certain Meen 'twixt Fear and Confidence:
No inconsiderate Rashness, or vain appetite
Of false encountring formidable things;
But a true Science of distinguishing
What's good or evil. It springs out of Reason,
And tends to perfect Honesty, the Scope
Is always Honour, and the Publick Good:
It is no Valour for a private Cause.
   Bea. No? not for Reputation?
   Lov. That's Man's Idol,
Set up against God, the Maker of all Laws,
Who hath commanded us we should not kill;
And yet we say, we must for Reputation.
What honest Man can either fear his own,
Or else will hurt another's Reputation?
Fear to do base, unworthy things, is Valour;
If they be done to us, to suffer them,
Is Valour too. The Office of a Man
That's truly Valiant, is considerable
Three ways: The first is in respect of Matter,
Which still is danger; in respect of Form,
Wherein he must preserve his Dignity;
And in the End, which must be ever lawful.
   Lat. But Men, when they are heated, and in passion,
Cannot consider.   Lov. Then it is not Valour.
I ne-              

              The New Inn. 739

I never thought an angry person valiant:
Vertue is never aided by a Vice.
What need is there of anger, and of tumult?
When reason can do the same things, or more?
   Bea. O yes, 'tis profitable, and of use,
It makes us fierce, and fit to undertake.
   Lov. Why, so will Drink make us both bold and rash,
Or phrensie if you will, do these make valiant?
They are poor helps, and Vertue needs them not.
No Man is valianter by being angry,
But he that could not valiant be without:
So that it comes not in the aid of Vertue,
But in the stead of it.   Lat. He holds the right.
   Lov. And 'tis an odious kind of Remedy,
To owe our health to a disease.   Tip. If Man
Should follow the Dictamen of his Passion,
He could not scape ———
   Bea. To discompose himself.
   Lat. According to Don Lewis!
   Host. Or Caranza!
   Lov. Good Colonel Glorious, whilst we treat of Valour,
Dismiss your self.   Lat. You are not concern'd.
   Lov. Go drink,
And congregate the Hostlers and the Tapsters,
The Under-Officers o' your Regiment;
Compose with them, and be not angry valiant?
[Tipto goes out.

   Bea. How do's that differ from true Valour?
   Lov. Thus.
In the Efficient, or that which makes it:
For it proceeds from Passion, not from Judgment:
Then brute beasts have it, wicked persons: there
It differs in the Subject; in the Form,
'Tis carried rashly, and with Violence:
Then i' the End, where it respects not Truth,
Or Publick Honesty; but meer Revenge.
Now confident, and undertaking Valour,
Sways from the true, two other ways, as being
A trust in our own Faculties, Skill, or Strength,
And not the Right, or Conscience o' the Cause,
That works it: Then i' the End, which is the Victory,
And not the Honour.
   Bea. But the ignorant Valour,
That knows not why it undertakes, but doth it
T' escape the Infamy meerly ———
   Lov. Is worst of all:
That Valour lies i' the Eyes o' the lookers on;
And is call'd Valour with a witness.   Bea. Right.
   Lov. The things true Valour is exercis'd about,
Are Poverty, Restraint, Captivity,
Banishment, loss of Children, long Disease:
The least is Death. Here Valour is beheld,
Properly seen; about these it is present:
Not trivial things, which but require our Confidence.
And, yet to those, we must object our selves,
Only for Honesty: if any other
Respect be mixt, we quite put out her light.
And as all Knowledge, when it is remov'd,
Or separate from Justice, is call'd Craft,
Rather than Wisdom: So a Mind affecting,
Or undertaking dangers, for ambition,
Or any Self-Pretext, not for the Publick,
Deserves the Name of Daring, not of Valour.
And over-daring is as great a Vice,
As over-fearing.   Lat. Yes, and often greater.
   Lov. But as it is not the meer Punishment,
But Cause, that makes a Martyr, so it is not
Fighting, or dying; but the manner of it
Renders a Man himself. A Valiant Man
Ought not to undergo, or tempt a danger,
But worthily, and by selected ways
He undertakes with Reason, not by Chance.
His Valour is the Salt to his other Vertues,
They are all unseason'd without it. The Waiting-maids,

[column break]

Or the Concomitants of it, are his Patience,
His Magnanimity, his Confidence,
His Constancy, Security, and Quiet;
He can assure himself against all Rumor!
Despairs of nothing! laughs at Contumelies!
As knowing himself advanced in a height
Where injury cannot reach him, nor aspersion
Touch him with Soyle!
   Lad. Most manly utter'd all:
As if Achilles had the Chair in Valour,
And Hercules were but a Lecturer!
Who would not hang upon those lips for ever!
That strike such Musick? I could run on them;
But Modesty is such a School-mistriss,
To keep our Sex in awe.
   Pru. Or you can fain; my
Subtle and dissembling Lady Mistriss.
   Lat. I fear she means it, Pru, in too good earnest!
   Lov. The purpose of an Injury 'tis to vex
And trouble me: now nothing can do that
To him that's valiant. He that is assectedaffected
With the least Injury, is less than it.
It is but reasonable to conclude
That should be stronger, still, which hurts, than that
Which is hurt. Now no Wickedness is stronger
Than what opposeth it: Not Fortunes self,
When she encounters Vertue, but comes off
Both lame and less! Why should a Wise Man then
Confess himself the weaker, by the feeling
Of a Fool's wrong? There may an Injury
Be meant me. I may chuse, if I will take it.
But we are, now come to that delicacy
And tenderness of sense, we think an insolence
Worse than an injury, bare words worse than deeds;
We are not so much troubled with the wrong,
As with the Opinion of the wrong; like Children,
We are made afraid with Visors! Such poor sounds
As is the lie, or common words of Spight.
Wise Laws thought never worthy a Revenge;
And 'tis the narrowness of Humane Nature,
Our Poverty, and Beggery of Spirit,
To take exception at these things. He laugh'd at me!
He broke a Jest! a third took place of me!
How most ridiculous Quarrels are all these?
Notes of a queasie, and sick Stomach, labouring
With want of a true injury! the main part
Of the wrong, is our Vice of taking it.
   Lat. Or our interpreting it to be such.
   Lov. You take it rightly. If a Woman, or Child
Give me the Lie, would I be angry? No,
Not if I were i' my Wits, sure I should think it
No spice of a disgrace. No more is theirs,
If I will think it, who are to be held
In as contemptible a Rank, or worse.
I am kept out a Masque, sometime thrust out,
Made wait a day, two, three, for a great Word,
Which (when it comes forth) is all frown, and forehead!
What laughter should this breed, rather than anger!
Out of the tumult of so many Errors,
To feel, with contemplation, mine own quiet!
If a great Person do me an affront,
A Giant of the time, sure I will bear it
Or out of Patience, or Necessity!
Shall I do more for Fear, than for my Judgment?
For me now to be angry with Hodge Huffle,
Or Burst (his broken charge,) if he be saucy,
Or our own type of Spanish Valour, Tipto,
(Who were he now necessitated to beg
Would ask an Alms, like Conde Olivares)
Were just to make my self, such a vain Animal
As one of them. If light wrongs touch me not,
No more shall great; if not a few, not many.
There's nought so sacred with us but may find
A sacrilegious Person, yet the thing is
B b b b b 2                              No

740 The New Inn.                   

No less divine, 'cause the prophane can reach it.
He is Shot-free, in Battel is not hurt,
Not he that is not hit. So he is Valiant,
That yields not unto wrongs; not he that scapes 'em:
They that do pull down Churches, and deface
The holiest Altars, cannot hurt the God-head.
A calm wise Man may shew as much true Valour,
Amid'st these popular provocations,
As can an able Captain shew security,
By his brave Conduct, through an Enemies Country.
A wise Man never goes the Peoples way,
But as the Planets still move contrary
To the World's Motion; so doth he, to Opinion:
He will examine, if those accidents
(Which common Fame calls injuries) happen to him
Deservedly, or no? Come they deservedly,
They are no Wrongs then, but his Punishments:
If undeservedly, and he not guilty,
The doer of them, first, should blush, not he.
   Lat. Excellent!   Bea. Truth, and right!   Fra. An Oracle
Could not have spoken more!
   Lad. Been more believ'd!
   Pru. The whole Court runs into your Sentence, Sir!
And see, your second hour is almost ended.
   Lad. It cannot be! O clip the Wings of Time,
Good Pru, or make him stand still with a Charm.
Distil the Gout into it, Cramps, all Diseases
T' arrest him in the Foot, and fix him here:
O, for an Engine, to keep back all Clocks!
Or make the Sun forget his Motion!
If I but knew what Drink the Time now lov'd,
To set my Trundle at him, mine own Barnabe!
   Pru. Why? I'll consult our Shelee nien, To-mas.
   Nur. Er grae Chreest.
   Bea. Wake her not.   Nur. Tower een Cuppan
D'usque bagh doone.
   Pru. Usque bagh's her Drink.
But 'twi' not make the time drunk.
   Host. As't hath her.
Away with her, my Lord, but marry her first, Pru.
   Pru. I, that 'll be sport anon too for my Lady.
But she hath other Game to fly at yet:
The Hour is come, your Kiss.
   Lad. My Servants Song, first.
   Pru. I say the Kiss, first; and I so enjoyn'd it:
At your own peril, do, make the contempt.
   Lad. Well, Sir, you must be pay'd, and legally.
   Pru. Nay, nothing, Sir, beyond.
   Lov. One more ——— I except.
This was but half a Kiss, and I would change it.
   Pur. The Court's dissolv'd, remov'd, and the Play
No sound, or air of Love more, I decree it.
   Lov. From what a Happiness hath that one Word
Thrown me into the Gulf of Misery?
To what a bottomless Despair? how like
A Court removing, or an ended Play
Shews my abrupt precipitate Estate,
By how much more my vain hopes were increas'd
By these false Hours of Conversation?
Did not I prophesie this of my self,
And gave the true Prognosticks? o' my Brain!
How art thou turned! and my Blood congeal'd!
My Sinews slackned! and my Marrow melted!
That I remember not where I have been,
Or what I am? Only my tongue's on fire;
And burning downward, hurls forth Coals and Cinders,
To tell, this Temple of Love, will soon be ashes!
Come Indignation, now, and be my Mistress,
No more of Love's ingrateful tyranny.
His Wheel of Torture, and his Pits of Bird-lime,
His Nets of Nooses, Whirl-pools of Vexation,
His Mils, to grind his Servants into Powder ———
I will go catch the Wind first in a Sieve,
Weigh Smoak, and measure Shadows, plough the Water.period should be replaced with a comma

[column break]

And sow my Hopes there, e're I stay in Love.
   Lat. My Jealousie is off, I am now secure.
   Lov. Farewel the craft of Crododiles,Crocodiles Womens Piety,
And practise of it, in this art of flattering,
And fooling Men, I ha' not lost my Reason,
Though I have lent my self out for two hours,
Thus to be baffl'd by a Chambermaid,
And the good Actor, her Lady, afore mine Host,
Of the light Heart, here, that hath laught at all —
   Host. Who I?
   Lov. Laugh on, Sir, I'll to bed, and sleep,
And dream away the Vapour of Love, if th' House
And your leere Drunkards let me.
   Lad. Pru.   Pru. Sweet Madam.
   Lad. Why would you let him go thus?
   Pru. In whose power
Was it to stay him, prop'rer than my Ladies!
   Lad. Why, in her Ladies? Are not you the Soveraign?
   Pru. Would you, in conscience, Madam, ha' me vex
His Patience more?   Lad. Not but apply the cure,
Now it is vex't.   Pru. That's but one bodies work:
Two cannot do the same thing handsomely.
   Lad. But had not you the authority absolute?
   Pru. And were not you i' rebellion, Lady Frampul,
From the beginning?
   Lad. I was somewhat froward,
I must confess, but frowardness sometime
Becomes a Beauty, being but a Visor
Put on. You'll let a Lady wear her Masque, Pru.
   Pru. But how do I know, when her Ladiship is pleas'd
To leave it off, except she tell me so?
   Lad. You might ha' known that by my looks, and
Had you been or regardant, or observant.
One Woman, reads anothers Character,
Without the tedious trouble of deciphering:
If she but give her mind to't, you knew well,
It could not sort with any Reputation
Of mine, to come in first, having stood out
So long, without Conditions for mine Honour.
   Pru. I thought you did expect none, you so jeer'd him
And put him off with scorn ———
   Lad. Who, I, with scorn?
I did express my Love to Idolatry rather,
And so am justly plagu'd, not understood.
   Pru. I swear, I thought you had dissembled, Madam,
And doubt you do so yet.
   Lad. Dull, stupid, Wench!
Stay i' thy state of ignorance still, be damn'd,
An Idiot Chambermaid! Hath all my Care,
My breeding thee in Fashion, thy Rich Clothes,
Honours, and Titles wrought no brighter Effects
On thy dark Soul than thus? Well! go thy ways,
Were not the Taylor's Wife, to be demolish'd,
Ruin'd, uncas'd, thou should'st be she, I vow.
   Pru. Why, take your spangled Properties, your Gown
And Scarfs.   Lad. Pru. Pru. What dost thou mean?
   Pru. I will not buy this Play-boy's Bravery,
At such a Price, to be upbraided for it,
Thus, every minute.   Lad. Take it not to Heart so.
   Pru. The Taylor's Wife? There was a word of scorn!
   Lad. It was a word fell from me, Pru, by chance.
   Pru. Good Madam, please to undeceive your self,
I know when words do slip, and when they are darted
With all their bitterness: uncas'd, demolish'd?
An Idiot — Chambermaid, stupid, and dull?
Be damn'd for ignorance? I will be so;
And think I do deserve it, that, and more,
Much more I do.
   Lad. Here comes mine Host! No crying!
Good Pru. Where is my Servant Lovel, Host?
   Hos. Yo' ha' sent him up to bed, would you would
            follow him!
And make my House amends!
Lad. Would         

              The New Inn. 741

   Lad. Would you advise it?
   Hos. I would I could command it. My light Heart
Should leap till midnight.
   Lad. Pray thee be not sullen,
I yet must ha' thy counsel. Thou shalt wear, Pru,
The new Gown yet.
   Pru. After the Taylor's Wife?
   Lad. Come, be not angry, or griev'd: I have a Project.
   Hos. Wake Sheleenien Thomas! Is this your Heraldry?
And keeping of Records, to lose the main?
Where is your Charge?
   Nor.Nur. Gra chreest!   Hos. Go ask th' Oracle
O' the Bottle, at your Girdle, there you lost it:
You are a sober setter of the Watch.

Act V.    Scene I.

Host, Fly.

Ome Fly, and Legacy, the Bird o' the heart:
 Prime Insect of the Inn, Professor, Quarter-master,
As ever thou deserved'st thy daily Drink,
Padling in Sack, and licking i' the same,
Now shew thy self an Implement of Price,
And help to raise a Nap to us, out of nothing.
Thou saw'st 'em married?
   Fly. I do think I did,
And heard the words, Philip, I take thee, Lætice.
I gave her too, was then the Father Fly,
And heard the Priest do his part, far as five Nobles
Would lead him i' the Lines of Matrimony.
   Host. Where were they married?
   Fly. I' the new Stable.   Hos. Ominous!
I ha' known many a Church been made a Stable,
But not a Stable made a Church till now:
I wish 'em Joy. Fly, was he a full Priest?
   Fly. He belly'd for it, had his Velvet Sleeves,
And his branch'd Cassock, a side sweeping Gown,
All his Formalities, a good cramm'd Divine!
I went not far to fetch him, the next Inn,
Where he was lodg'd, for the action.
   Hos. Had they a License!
   Fly. License of Love, I saw no other, and Purse,
To pay the Duties both of Church and House;
The Angels flew about.
   Host. Those Birds send luck:
And Mirth will follow. I had thought to ha' sacrific'd,
To merriment to night, i' my light Heart, Fly,
And like a Noble Poet, to have had
My last act best: but all fails i' the Plot.
Lovel is gone to bed; the Lady Frampull
And Soveraign Pru fall'n out: Tipto and his Regiment
Of Mine-men, all drunk dumb, from his Whoop Barnaby,
To his Hoop Trundle: They are his two Tropicks.
No project to rear laughter on, but this,
The Marriage of Lord Beaufort, with Lætitia.
Stay! what's here! The Sattin Gown redeem'd!
And Pru restor'd in't, to her Ladies Grace!
   Fly. She is set forth in't! rig'd for some Imployment!
   Hos. An Embassy at least!
   Fly. Some treaty of State!
   Host. 'Tis a fine tack about! and worth the observing.

Act V.    Scene II.

Lady, Prudence, Host, Fly.

Weet Pru, I, now thou art a Queen indeed!
 These Robes do royally! and thou becom'st 'em!
So they do thee! rich Garments only fit
The Parties they are made for! they shame others.
How did they shew on Gooddy Taylor's back!

[column break]

Like a Caparison for a Sow, God save us!
Thy putting 'em on hath purg'd, and hallow'd 'em
From all pollution, meant by the Mechanicks.
   Pru. Hang him, poor Snip, a Secular Shop-wit!
H' hath nought but his Sheers to claim by, and his
His Prentice may as well put in for his Needle,
And plead a stitch.   Lad. They have no taint in 'em
Now o' the Taylor.   Pru. Yes, of his Wives Hanches.
Thus thick of Fat; I smell 'em, o' the say.
   Lad. It is restorative, Pru! with thy but chasing it,
A barren Hinds Grease may work Miracles,
Find but his Chamber-door, and he will rise
To thee! or if thou pleasest, fain to be
The wretched Party her self, and com'st unto him
In forma pauperis, to crave the aid
Of his Knight-Errant Valour, to the rescue
Of thy distressed Robes! name but thy Gown,
And he will rise to that!   Pru. I'll fire the Charm first,
I had rather die in a Ditch, with Mistress Shore,
Without a Smock, as the pittiful matter has it,
Than owe my Wit to Cloathes, or ha' it beholden.
   Host. Still Spirit of Pru!
   Fly. And smelling o' the Soveraign!
   Pru. No, I will tell him, as it is indeed;
I come from the fine, froward, Frampul Lady,
One was run mad with Pride, wild with self-love,
But late encountring a wise Man, who scorn'd her,
And knew the way to his own Bed, without
Borrowing her Warming-pan, she hath recover'd
Part of her Wits; so much as to consider
How far she hath trespass'd, upon whom, and how.
And now sits penitent and solitary,
Like the forsaken Turtle, in the Volary
Of the light Heart, the Cage, she hath abus'd,
Mourning her Folly, weeping at the height
She measures with her Eye, from whence she is fall'n,
Since she did branch it, on the top o' the Wood.
   Lad. I pr'y thee, Pru, abuse me enough, that's use me
As thou thinkest fit, any course way, to humble me,
Or bring me home again, or Lovel on:
Thou doest not know my sufferings, what I feel,
My fires and fears are met; I burn and freeze,
My Liver's one great Coal, my Heart shrunk up
With all the fivers,alternate spelling of 'fibres' or 'fibers' and the Mass of Blood
Within me, is a standing lake of fire,
Curl'd with the cold Wind of my gelid Sighs,
That drive a drift of Sleet through all my Body,
And shoot a February through my Veins.
Until I see him, I am drunk with thirst,
And surfeited with hunger of his Presence.
I know not where I am, or no, or speak,
Or whether thou dost hear me.   Pru. Spare Expressions.
I'll once more venture for your Ladiship,
So you will use your Fortunes reverendly.
   Lad. Religiously, dear Pru, Love and his Mother,
I'll build them several Churches, Shrines and Altars,
And over head, I'll have, in the Glass Windows,
The story of this Day be painted, round,
For the poor Laity of Love to read.
I'll make my self their Book, nay, their Example,
To bid them take Occasion by the Forelock,
And play no after-games of Love, hereafter.
   Host. And hear your Host, and's Fly, witness your Vows,
And like two lucky Birds, bring the Presage
Of a loud Jest: Lord Beaufort married is.   Lad. Ha!
   Fly. All to be married.   Pru. To whom, not your Son?
   Host. The same Pru. If her Ladiship could take truce
A little with her Passion, and give way
To their Mirth now running.
   Lad. Run's it Mirth, let'slet't come,
It shall be well receiv'd and much made of it.
   Pru. We must of this, it was our own conception.


742 The New Inn.                   

Act V.    Scene III.

[To them.
      ———— Latimer.

Oom for green Rushes, raise the Fidler's Cham-
Call up the House in arms.   Host. This will rouze Lovel.
   Fly. And bring him on too.   Lat. Sheelee-nien.
Runs like a Heifer, bitten with the Brieze,
About the Court, crying on Fly, and cursing.
   Fly. For what, my Lord?
   Lat. Yo' were best hear that from her,
It is no Office, Fly, fits my Relation.
Here come the happy Couple! Joy, Lord Beaufort.
   Fly. And my young Lady too.
   Hos. Much Joy, my Lord!

Act V.    Scene IV.

[To them.
         Beaufort, Frank, Servant.

 Thank you all; I thank thee, Father Fly.
 Madam, my Cousin, you look discompos'd,
I have been bold with a Sallad, after Supper,
O' your own Lettice here.   Lad. You have, my Lord.
But Laws of Hospitality, and fair Rites,
Would have made me acquainted.
   Bea. I' your own House,
I do acknowledge: Else I much had trespass'd.
But in an Inn, and publick, where there is License
Of all Community: a Pardon o' course
May be su'd out.   Lat.perhaps this should be 'Lad.' though both 
Whalley and Gifford leave it assigned to 'Lat.' It will, my Lord, and carry it.
I do not see, how any storm, or tempest
Can help it now.   Pru. The thing being done, and past,
You bear it wisely, and like a Lady of Judgment.
   Bea. She is that Secretary Pru.   Pru. Why Secretary,
My wise Lord? is your Brain lately married!
   Bea. Your Reign is ended, Pru, no Sovereign now:
Your date is out, and Dignity expir'd.
   Pru. I am annull'd, how can I treat with Lovel,
Without a new Commission?
   Lad. Thy Gown's Commission.
   Host. Have Patience, Pru, expect, bid the Lord Joy.
   Pru. And this brave Lady too. I wish them Joy.
   Pei. Joy.   Jor. Joy.   Jug. All Joy.
   Hos. I, the House full of Joy.
   Fly. Play the Bels; Fidlers, crack your strings with Joy.
   Pru. But Lady Letice, you shewd a neglect
Un-to-be-pardon'd, to'ards my Lady, your Kinswoman
Not to advise with her.   Bea. Good politick Pru,
Urge not your State-advice, your after-wit;
'Tis near upbraiding. Get our Bed ready, Chamberlain,
And Host, a Bride-cup, you have rare Conceits,
And good Ingredients; ever an old Host
Upo' the Road, has his provocative Drinks.
   Lat. He is either a good Baud, or a Physician.
   Bea. 'Twas well he heard you not, his back was turn'd.
A bed, the Genial Bed, a brace of Boys
To night I play for.   Pru. Give us Points, my Lord.
   Bea. Here, take 'em, Pru, my Cod-piece Point, and all.
I ha' Clasps, my Letice arms, here take 'em, boys.
What, is the Chamber ready? Speak, why stare you
On one another?   Jor. No, Sir.   Bea. And why no?
   Jor. My Master has forbid it. He yet doubts
That you are married.   Bea. Ask his Vicar General,
His Fly, here.
   Fly. I must make that good, they are married.
   Host. But I must make it bad, my hot young Lord.
Gi' him his Doublet again, the air is piercing;
You may take cold, my Lord. See whom you ha' mar-
Your Host's Son, and a Boy.   Fly. You are abus'd.
   Lad. Much Joy, my Lord.   Pru. If this be your Lætitia,

[column break]

She'll prove a counterfeit Mirth, and a clip'd Lady.
   Ser. A Boy, a Boy; my Lord has married a Boy.
   Lat. Raise all the House in shout, and laughter, a Boy!
   Host. Stay, what is here! peace, Rascals, stop your

Act V.    Scene V.

[To them.
               —— Nurse.

Hat Maggot, Worm, that Insect! O my Child,
 My Daughter! where's that Fly? I'll fly in his face,
The Vermin, let me come to him.
   Fly. Why Nurse Sheelee?
   Nur. Hang thee, thou Parasite, thou Son of Crumbs,
And Orts, thou hast undone me, and my Child,
My Daughter, my dear Daughter.
   Host. What means this?
   Nur. O Sir, my Daughter, my dear Child is ruin'd,
By this your Fly, here, married in a stable,
And sold unto a Husband.   Host. Stint thy cry,
Harlot, if that be all, did'st thou not sell him
To me for a Boy? and brought'st him in Boys Rags
Here to my door, to beg an alms of me?
   Nur. I did, good Master, and I crave your pardon;
But 'tis my Daughter, and a Girl.
   Host. Why said'st thou
It was a Boy, and sold'st him then to me
With such intreaty, for Ten Shillings, Carlin?
   Nur. Because you were a charitable man
I heard, good Master, and would breed him well,
I would ha' giv'n him you, for nothing gladly.
Forgive the lie o' my mouth, it was to save
The Fruit o' my Womb. A Parents needs are urgent,
And few do know that tyrant o're good Natures.
But you reliev'd her, and me too, the Mother,
And took me into your House to be the Nurse,
For which Heaven heap all blessings on your Head,
Whilst there can one be added.   Host. Sure thou speak'st
Quite like another creature than th' hast liv'd,
Here, i' the House, a Sheelee-neen Thomas,
An Irish Beggar.   Nur. So I am, God help me.
   Host. What art thou? Tell: The match is a good match,
For ought I see: Ring the Bells once again.
   Bea. Stint, I say, Fidlers.
   Lad. No going off, my Lord.
   Bea. Nor coming on, sweet Lady, things thus standing!
   Fly. But what's the heinousness of my Offence?
Or the degrees of wrong you suffer'd by it?
In having your Daughter match't thus happily,
Into a noble House, a brave young Blood,
And a prime Peer o' the Realm?
   Bea. Was that your Plot, Fly?
Gi' me a Cloak, take her again among you.
I'll none o' your Light-Heart Fosterlings, no Inmates,
Supposititious Fruits of an Host's Brain,
And his Fly's hatching, to be put upon me.
There is a Royal Court o' the Star-Chamber,
Will scatter all these mists, disperse these Vapours,
And clear the truth. Let Beggars match with Beggars,
That shall decide it. I will try it there.
   Nur. Nay then, my Lord, it's not enough, I see
You are licentious, but you will be wicked.
Yo' are not alone content to take my Daughter,
Against the Law; but having taken her,
You would repudiate, and cast her off,
Now, at your pleasure, like a Beast of Power,
VVithout all Cause, or colour of a Cause,
That, or a Noble, or an Honest Man,
Should dare t' except against her Poverty.
Is Poverty a Vice?   Bea. Th' age counts it so.
   Nur. God help your Lordship, and your Peers that
          think so,
If any be: if not, God bless them all,

              The New Inn. 743

And help the number o' the vertuous,
If Poverty be a Crime. You may object
Our Beggery to us, as an accident,
But never deeper, no inherent baseness.
And I must tell you, now, young Lord of Dirt,
As an incensed Mother, she hath more
And better Blood, running i' those small Veins,
Than all the Race of Beauforts have in mass,
Though they distil their drops from the left Rib
Of John o' Gaunt.   Host. Old Mother o' Records,
Thou know'st her Pedigree then: whose Daughter is she?
   Nur. The Daughter and Co-heir to the Lord Frampul,
This Ladies Sister!   Lad. Mine? what is her Name?
   Nur. Lætitia.   Lad. That was lost!
   Nur. The true Lætitia.
   Lad. Sister, O gladness! Then you are our Mother?
   Nur. I am, dear Daughter.
   Lad. On my Knees I bless
The light I see you by.   Nur. And to the author
Of that blest light, I ope my other Eye,
Which hath almost, now, seven year been shut,
Dark, as my Vow was, never to see light,
Till such a light restor'd it, as my Children,
Or your dear Father, who (I hear) is not.
   Bea. Give me my Wife, I own her now, and will
         have her.
   Host. But you must ask my leave first, my young Lord.
Leave is but light. Ferret, go bolt your Master,
Here's Gear will startle him. I cannot keep
The Passion in me, I am e'en turn'd Child,
And I must weep. Fly, take away mine Host,
My Beard, and Cap here, from me, and fetch my Lord.
I am her Father, Sir, and you shall now
Ask my Consent, before you have her. Wife!
My dear and loving Wife! my honour'd Wife!
Who here hath gain'd but I? I am Lord Frampul,
The cause of all this trouble?question mark should be replaced with a semi-colon I am he
Have measur'd al the Shires of England over:
Wales, and her Mountains, seen those wilder Nations,
Of People in the Peak, and Lancashire;
Their Pipers, Fidlers, Rushers, Puppet-masters,
Juglers and Gypsies, all the sorts of Canters,
And Colonies of Beggars, Tumblers, Ape carriers;
For to these Savages I was addicted,
To search their Natures, and make odd Discoveries!
And here my Wife, like a she-Mandevile,
Ventred in disquisition after me.
   Nur. I may look up, admire, I cannot speak
Yet to my Lord.
   Host. Take heart, and breath, recover,
Thou hast recover'd me, who here had coffin'd
My self alive, in a poor Hostelry,
In penance of my wrongs done unto thee,
Whom I long since gave lost.   Nur. So did I you,
Till stealing mine own Daughter from her Sister,
I lighted on this Error hath cur'd all.
   Bea. And in that cure, include my trespass, Mother,
And Father, for my Wife ———
   Host. No, the Star-Chamber.
   Bea. Away with that, you sour the sweetest Lettice
Was ever tasted.   Host. Gi' you Joy, my Son,
Cast her not off again. O call me Father,
Lovel, and this your Mother, if you like:
But take your Mistress, first, my Child: I have power
To give her now, with her consent, her Sister
Is given already to your Brother Beaufort.
   Lov. Is this a Dream now, after my first Sleep?
Or are these phant'sies made i' the light Heart?
And sold i' the New Inn?   Host. Best go to bed,
And dream it over all. Let's all go sleep,
Each with his Turtle. Fly, provide us Lodgings.
Get Beds prepar'd: yo' are Master now o' the Inn,
The Lord o'the light Heart, I give it you.
Fly was my Fellow-Gypsey. All my Family,

[column break]

Indeed, were Gypseys, Tapsters, Ostlers, Chamberlains,
Reduced Vessels of Civility.
But here stands Pru, neglected, best deserving
Of all that are i' the House, or i' my Heart,
Whom though I cannot help to a fit Husband,
I'll help to that will bring one, a just Portion:
I have two thousand pound in bank for Pru,
Call for it when she will.   Bea. And I as much.
   Host. There's somewhat yet, four thousand pound!
         that's better,
Then sounds the Proverb, Four bare legs in a bed.
   Lov. Me, and her Mistress, she hath power to coyn
Up into what she will.   Lad. Indefinite Pru.
   Lat. But I must do the crowning act of Bounty!
   Host. What's that, my Lord?
   Lat. Give her my self, which here
By all the holy Vows of Love I do.
Spare all your promis'd Portions; she is a Dowry
So all-sufficient in her Vertue and Manners,
That Fortune cannot add to her.   Pru. My Lord,
Your Praises are Instructions to mine Ears,
Whence you have made your Wife to live your Servant.
   Host. Lights: get us several Lights.
   Lov. Stay, let my Mistress
But hear my Vision sung, my Dream of Beauty,
VVhich I have brought, prepar'd, to bid us Joy,
And light us all to bed, 'twill be instead
Of airing of the Sheets with a sweet Odour.
   Host. 'Twill be an Incense to our Sacrifice
Of Love to night, where I will woo afresh,
And like Mecænas, having but one VVife,
I'll marry her every hour of life hereafter.

They go out, with a Song.

E P I L O G u E.

Lays in themselves have neither Hopes nor Fears;
   Their Fate is only in their Hearers Ears:
If you expect more than you had to night,
   The Maker is sick, and sad. But do him right;
He meant to please you: for he sent things fit,
   In all the Numbers both of Sense and Wit;
If they ha' not miscarried! if they have,
   All that his faint and faltring Tongue doth crave,
Is, that you not impute it to his brain,
   That's yet unhurt, although set round with pain,
It cannot long hold out. All strength must yield.
   Yet Judgment would the last be i' the field,
With a true Poet. He could have hal'd in
   The Drunkards, and the noises of the Inn,
In his last Act; if he had thought it fit
   To vent you Vapors in the place of Wit:
But better 'twas that they should sleep, or spue,
   Than in the Scene to offend or him or you.
This he did think; and this do you forgive:
   When e're the Carcass dies, this Art will live.
And had he liv'd the care of King and Queen,
   His Art in something more yet had been seen;
But Mayors and Sheriffs may yearly fill the Stage:
   A King's, or Poet's birth do ask an age.

Another Epilogue there was, made for the
   Play, in the Poet's Defence, but the Play liv'd
   not, in Opinion, to have it spoken.

 Jovial Host, and Lord of the New Inn,
   Clep't the light Heart, with all that past therein,


744 The New Inn.                   

Hath been the Subject of our Play to night,
   To give the
King and Queen, and Court delight.
But then we mean the
Court above the Stairs,
   And past the Guard; Men that have more of Ears
Then Eyes to judge us: Such as will not hiss
   Because the Chambermaid was named
We think it would have serv'd our
Scene as true,
   If, as it is, at first we'd call'd her
For any Mystery we there have found,
   Or magick in the Letters or the sound.
She only meant was for a Girl a wit,
   To whom her
Lady did a Province fit:
Which she would have discharg'd, and done as well,
   Had she been christned
Joyce, Grace, Doll, or Nell.

The Just Indignation the Author took at the
   vulgar Censure of his
Play, by some malici-
Spectators, begat this following Ode to

Ome leave the lothed Stage,
 And the more loathsome Age;
Where Pride and impudence (in Faction knit)
                Usurp the Chair of Wit!
Indicting and arraigning every day
                Something they call a Play.
       Let their fastidious, vain
       Commission of the Brain
Run on and Rage, sweat, censure and condemn:
They were not made for thee, less thou for them.

       Say that thou pour'st them Wheat,
       And they will Acorns Eat:
'Twere simple Fury still thy self to wast
                On such as have no tast.
To offer them a surfeit of pure Bread,
                Whose Appetites are dead!
       No, give them Grains their Fill,
       Husks, Draff to drink and swill.
If they love Lees, and leave the lusty Wine,
Envy them not their Palat's with the Swine.

[column break]

       No doubt so mouldy Tale,
       Like Pericles, and stale
As the Sheriffs Crusts, and nasty as his Fish-
                Scraps, out every Dish
Thrown forth, and rak'd into the common Tub,
                May keep up the Play-Club:
       There Sweepings do as well
       As the best order'd Meal.
For who the Relish of these Guests will fit,
Needs set them but the Alms-basket of Wit.

       And much good do't you then:
       Brave Plush, and Velvet-men,
Can feed on Ort: and safe in your Stage-cloths,
                Dare quit upon your Oaths,
The Stagers and the Stage-wrights too (your Peers)
                Of larding your large Ears
       With their foul comick Socks;
       Wrought upon twenty Blocks:
Which if they are torn, and turn'd, and patch't enough,
The Gamesters share your Gilt, and you their Stuff.

       Leave things so prostitute,
       And take the Alcaick Lute;
Or thine own Horace, or Anacreon's Lyre;
                Warm thee by Pindare's Fire:
And though thy Nerves be shrunk, and Blood be cold,
                Ere Years have made thee old;
       Strike that disdainful heat
       Throughout, to their defeat:
As curious Fools, and envious of thy Strain,
May blushing swear no Palsie's in thy Brain.

       But when they hear thee sing
       The Glories of thy King,
His Zeal to God, his just awe o'er Men:
                They may blood-shaken then,
Feel such a Flesh-quake to possess their Powers
                As they shall cry like ours.
       In sound of Peace or Wars,
       No Harp ere hit the Stars,
In tuning forth the Acts of his sweet Reign:
And raising Charles his Chariot, 'bove his Waine.


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The Holloway Pages Ben: Jonson Page

© 2003 by Clark J. Holloway.