book I

am obliged to Dr Douglas's excellent treatise, called "The Criterion," p. 191, &c.

[188] Alluding to the old way of biting the wax, usually red, in sealing deeds.--_Pegge._

The form usually was this--

"And to witness this is sooth, I bite the wax with my wang tooth."

See Cowell's "Interpreter," 1607.

[189] Better.--_T._

[190] Do.--_T._

[191] An allusion to the effects of water on cloth ill-woven.

[192] [A proverb, or bye-word.]

[193] _i.e._, Those who write the customary verses during the Lent season at Oxford.--_Steevens._

[194] _i.e._, Scraps of anything; ~analegô~, colligo. Every one has heard of the _collectanea_ and _analecta poetarum_.--_Steevens._

[195] [The reading of the old copy is _humble_, which does not appear to agree at all with the context, since the parson addresses Andrew in a half-satirical strain of respect.]

[196] Robert Wisdom, a translator of the Psalms. Wood ("Athenæ Oxonienses," vol. i., "Fasti," p. 57) says he was "a good Latin and English poet of his time, and one that had been in exile in Queen Mary's reign. He was also rector of Settrington in Yorkshire, and died in 1568, having been nominated to a bishopric in Ireland in the time of Edward the 6th." His version of the Psalms is ridiculed in the "Remains of Samuel Butler," 1759, p. 41--

"Thence, with short meal and tedious grace, In a loud tone and public place, Sings _Wisdom's_ Hymns, that trot and pace As if Goliah scann'd 'em."

Again, p. 230: "Besides, when Rouse stood forth for his trial, _Robin Wisdom_ was found the better poet." [Further particulars of Wisdom are to be found in Warton's Poetry, by Hazlitt, iv. 131.]

[197] [Old copy, _my_.]

[198] [Of these books the two former are not at present known by such titles. The third, the "Life of Mistress Katherine Stubs," by her husband, the celebrated Philip Stubs, was originally published in 1591, and went through many editions.] The Author observes, in the opening of the tract: "At fifteen years of age, her father being dead, her mother bestowed her in marriage upon one Master Philip Stubbes, with whom she lived four years and almost a half, very honestly and godly."

Richard Brome, in his play of "The Antipodes," act iii. sc. 2, mentions one of them in the following manner--

"A booke of the godly _life and death_ _Of Mistress Katherine Stubs_, which I have turn'd Into sweet meetre, for the vertuous youth, To woe an ancient lady widow with."

Again, Bishop Corbet in his "Iter Boreale," says--

"And in some barn hear cited many an author, _Kate Stubbs_, Anne Ascue, or the Ladies Daughter."

[199] _i.e._, Been the mediator. The stickler now is called the _sidesman_. So in "Troilus and Cressida," act v. sc. 8--

"And, _stickler_-like, our armies separates."

--_Steevens._

[200] "_Moot_ is a term used in the Inns-of-Court, and signifies the handling or arguing a case for exercise."--_Blount._

For the regulations of _Mooting_ and _Reading-Days_, see Dugdale's "Origines Juridiciales."

[201] This was Dr _Matthew Sutcliff_, Dean of Exeter, in the reign of King James I.; a person who had been one of the opponents of Parsons the Jesuit, in defence of the Reformed Religion. In the year 1616 he procured an Act of Parliament for incorporating himself and other divines to be provost and fellows of a college then founded at Chelsea, for promoting the study of polemic divinity, and vindicating the doctrines of the Reformation against all Popish writers. To carry this design into execution, he settled on the college four farms in Devonshire, of the value of £300 per annum, and the benefit of an extent on a statute, acknowledged by Sir Lewis Stukely, for £4000. By the Act of Parliament, the college was empowered to bring a stream of water from the river Lee for the use of the city of London a scheme similar to that then lately executed by Sir Hugh Middleton. This foundation, although patronised both by King James and his sons, Prince Henry and Charles I., yet fell to decay. One range of building only, scarce an eighth of the intended edifice, was erected by Dr Sutcliff, at the expense of £3000. After lingering some time, suits were commenced about the title to the very ground on which the college stood, and by a decree of the Court of Chancery, in the time of Lord Coventry, three of the four farms were returned to Dr Sutcliff's heir. See "The Glory of Chelsey Colledge Revived," by John Darly, 4o, 1662. _Sutcliff's wit_ seems almost to have been proverbial. Beaumont, in his letter to Ben Jonson, says--

"'Tis liquor that will find out _Sutcliff's wit_, Lie where he will, and make him write worse yet."

## ACT IV., SCENE I.

CREDULOUS, HEARSAY, SLICER.

CRE. _My name's not Tribulation,_ _Nor holy Ananias:_ _I was baptiz'd in fashion,_ _Our vicar did hold bias._

HEAR. What! how now, Master Credulous? so merry?

CRE. Come, let's be mad: by yea and nay, my son Shall have the Turkish monarchy; he shall Have it directly. The twelve companies Shall be his kickshaws.

HEAR. Bashaws, sir, you mean.

CRE. Well, sir, what if I do? Andrew the Great Turk? I would I were a pepper-corn,[202] if that It sounds not well. Does't not?

SLICER. Yes, very well.

CRE. I'll make it else great Andrew Mahomet, Imperious Andrew Mahomet Credulous-- Tell me which name sounds best.

HEAR. That's as you speak 'em.

CRE. Oatmealman Andrew! Andrew Oatmealman.

HEAR. Ottoman, sir, you mean.

CRE. Yes, Ottoman. Then, Mistress Jane, Sir Thomas Bitefig's daughter, That may be the She-Great-Turk, if she please me.

SLICER. The sign o' th' half-moon, that hangs at your door Is not for nought.

CRE. That's the Turk's arms, they say; The empire's destin'd to our house directly. Hang shop-books; give us some wine! Hey for a noise[203] Of fiddlers now!

HEAR. The Great Turk loves no music.

CRE. Does he not so? Nor I. I'll light tobacco With my sum-totals; my debt-books shall sole[204] Pies at young Andrew's wedding; cry you mercy, I would say, gentlemen, the Great Turk's wedding. My deeds shall be slic'd out in tailors' measures; They all employed in making Mistress Mahomet New gowns against the time. Hang dirty wealth!

SLICER. What should the Great Turk's father do with wealth?

CRE. 'Snigs, I would fain now hear some fighting news.

_Enter_ CASTER.

SLICER. There's one will furnish you, I warrant you.

CAS. Pox! plague! hell! death! damn'd luck! This 'tis! The devil take all fortunes! Never man Came off so: quite and clean defunct, by heaven! Not a piece left.

CRE. What, all your ordnance lost?

CAS. But one to bear and lose it! All the world Was, sure, against me.

CRE. 'Snigs, how many fell?

CAS. He threw twice twelve.

CRE. By'r Lady, a shrewd many!

CAS. The devil, sure, was in his hand, I think.

CRE. Nay, if the devil was against you, then----

CAS. But one for to be hit in all the time, And that, too, safe enough, to any one's thinking: 'T stood on eleven.

CRE. 'Slid, a mighty slaughter; But did he stand upon eleven at once?

CAS. The plague take all impertinences. Peace!

CRE. These soldiers are so choleric, there is No dealing with 'em. Then they've lost the day?

CAS. 'Twas ten to one, by heaven, all the while.

CRE. And yet all kill'd at last! Hard fortune, faith! What news from Brussels or the Hague? D' y' hear Ought of the Turk's designs?

CAS. I'll make thee news for the Coranti, dotard.

CRE. Ay, the Coranti; what doth that say?

CAS. O hell! Thou foolish thing, Keep in that tongue of thine; or----

SLICER. Good now, peace: He's very furious when he's mov'd.

HEAR. This 'twas. You must be venturing without your fancy-man.

CRE. What officer's that fancy-man, lieutenant? Some great commander, sure.

CAS. Pox! let it go; I'll win't again: 'twas but the relics of An idle hundred.

CRE. 'Snigs, and well-remember'd. You did receive the hundred that I sent you To th' race this morning by your man, my bailiff?

CAS. Take him away, his wine speaks in him now.

CRE. Godsnigs! the farm is mine, and must be so.

SLICER. Debate these things another time, good friends.

_Enter_ HAVE-AT-ALL.

Come, come, have patience. Od's my life, away! There's Master Have-at-all is mad; he'll spit you If he but know you are a usurer.

CRE. A plot, a plot, to take away my life and farm!

[_Exit._

HAVE. Fight, as I live, with any one. Lieutenant, Do not come near me now, nor yet thou, Caster: It works, 'fore Mars, it works; I'll take my walk, And if I do find any one, by Jove----

[_Exit_ HAVE-AT-ALL.[205]

CAS. What, 's he fox'd too? Some drunken planet reigns, And works upon the world. Provide my fancy, Good noble patron; I'll win soberly, I itch till I have beggar'd all the city. [_Exit_ CASTER.

HEAR. Till that you have undone yourself, you mean.

_Enter_ MOTH.

MOTH. Ey save you both; for dern love sayen soothly Where is thylk amebly franklin, cleped Meanwell?

HEAR. He's gone abroad.

MOTH. Lere me whylk way he wended.

SLICER. He is gone o'er the fields.

HEAR. To the knight's house.

MOTH. Why laugh you every dele? So mote I gone, This goeth not aright; I dread some covin. [_Exit_ MOTH.

SLICER. Now will he meet with Have-at-all; there'll be A combat worthy chronicle. Let's go, And see how this grave motion[206] will bestir him. [_Exeunt_.

## SCENE II.

HAVE-AT-ALL: _after a while_, MOTH; SLICER _and_ HEARSAY _watching_.

HAVE. What, no man yet march by? Whoe'er comes next, I'll give him one rap more for making me Stay here so long.

So, so, here he is; how shall I do to know whe'r he be a gentleman, Or yeoman, or servingman. I think I'd best suppose him all, and beat him through Every degree; and so I shall not wrong him. What? Who goes there?

MOTH. Waes-heal,[207] thou gentle knight.

HAVE. Waes-heal, thou gentle knight? Speak, what art thou? Speak quickly do. Villain, know'st thou not me?

MOTH. Now, by my troth, I know not your name; Whider I shall call you my Lord Dan John, Or Dan Thomas, or Dan Robert, or Dan Albon. I vow to God thou hast a full fair chine. Upon my faith, art some officer.

HAVE. Have you the pox, sir? speak.

MOTH. No.

HAVE. No, nor yet An ache in your bones?

MOTH. No.

HAVE. No! why then you are No gentleman; Lieutenant Slicer says so. This cudgel then serves turn.

MOTH. You will not foin,[208]

HAVE. I will not foin, but I will beat you, sir.

MOTH. Why intermete[209] of what thou hast to done;[210] So leteth me alone, 't shall be thy best.

HAVE. I fanci'd you a beating; you must have it. You shall not say but I will show you favour: Choose whether you will be hacked with my sword, Or bruis'd by my battoon.

MOTH. Dre not thy true And poynant[211] morglay[212] out of shete. Lo, thus Eftsoons, sir knight, I greet thee lowting low.

HAVE. Down lower yet.

MOTH. Reuth[213] on my grey haires.

HAVE. Yet lower. So, then, thus I do bestride thee.

MOTH. Tubal the sonne of Lamech did yfind Music by knocking hammers upon anviles. Let go thine blows; thylke art is no compleat.[214]

HAVE. Dost thou make me a smith, thou rogue? a Tubal?

MOTH. Harrow[215] alas! Flet, Englond, flet, Englond! Dead is Edmond.

HAVE. Take that for history. O brave lieutenant, now thy dinner works!

MOTH. I nis not Edmond Ironside, God wot.

HAVE. More provocation yet? I'll seal thy lips.

MOTH. A twenty-devil way! So did the Saxon[216] Upon thylke plain of Sarum done to death By treachery the lords of merry Englond, Nem esur Saxes.

HAVE. Villain, dost abuse me In unbaptized language? Do not answer: [MOTH _entreats by signs_. If that thou dost, by Jove, I'll strangle thee. Do you make mouths, you rascal, thus at me? You're at dumb-service now. Why, this is more Unsufferable than your old patch'd gibberish: This silence is abuse. I'll send thee to The place of it, where thou shalt meet with Oswald, Vortigern, Harold, Hengist, Horsa, Knute, Alured, Edgar, and Cunobeline. [SLICER, HEARSAY _step in_. Thus, thus I sheathe my sword.

SLICER. Redoubted knight Enough: it is thy foe doth vanquish'd lie Now at thy mercy. Mercy not withstand; For he is one the truest knight alive, Though conquer'd now he lie on lowly ground.

HAVE. Thou ow'st thy life to my lieutenant, caitiff: Breathe and be thankful.

MOTH. I rech[217] not thine yeft;[218] Maugre[219] thine head; algate[220] I suffer none. I am thine lefe, thine deere, mine Potluck Joan.

## SCENE III.

ANDREW, PRISCILLA.

AND. Fairest of things, tralucent creature--Hang me, If I do know what's next.

PRIS. This meant to me?

AND. Fairest of things, tralucent creature, rather, Obscured deity--'Tis gone again. Lady, will you eat a piece of gingerbread?

PRIS. You might have better manners, than to scoff One of my breeding.

AND. Hark! Indeed I love you.

PRIS. Alas!

AND. I vow, I burn in love, as doth A penny fagot.

PRIS. Heigho!

AND. And I shall Blaze out, sir reverence, if ye do not quench me.

PRIS. Indeed now?

AND. Though I say't that should not say't, I am affected towards you strangely.

PRIS. Now, Who'd have thought it?

AND. There's a thing each night Comes to my bed's head, and cries, _Matrimony,_ _Matrimony, Andrew_.

PRIS. God forbid!

AND. It is Some spirit that would join us.

PRIS. Goodly, goodly.

AND. Then do I shake all over.

PRIS. Doth it so?

AND. Then shake again.

PRIS. I pray you now.

AND. Then cry, Fairest of things, tralucent creature, rather, Obscured deity, sweet Mistress Jane, I come, I come.

PRIS. Sweet sir, you are deceiv'd; I'm but her woman. Here she comes herself.

_Enter_ MISTRESS JANE.

AND. Now, as my father saith, I would I were A cucumber, if I know what to do.

JANE. Why, how now, Pris.? Who's that that useth you So lovingly?

AND. Fairest of things--'tis one Tralucent creature--'tis--ay, that it is, One----

PRIS. That would willingly run out of doors, If that he had but law enough.

AND. I say----

JANE. Nay, ben't afraid; here's none shall do you harm.

AND. 'Tis one that brought his pigs to the wrong market. You keep your woman here so fine, that I Had like t' have made a proper business on't, Before I was aware. If anything Do prove amiss, indeed, la, you shall be The father on't. But know, tralucent creature, I am come off entire, and now am yours, Whole Andrew Credulous, your servant's servant.

JANE. Methinks you contradict yourself: how can you Be wholly mine, and yet my servant's servant?

AND. I do but compliment in that (I see Downright's the best way here); if thou canst love, I can love too. La, thee there, now! I'm rich.

JANE. I use not to look after riches; 'tis The person that I aim at.

AND. That is me: I'm proper, handsome, fair, clean-limb'd--I'm rich.

JANE. I must have one that can direct and guide me: A guardian rather than a husband; for I'm foolish yet.

AND. Now see the luck on't, lady; So am I too, i' faith.

JANE. And whoe'er hath me, Will find me to be one of those things, which His care must first reform.

AND. Do not doubt that; I have a head for reformation: This noddle here shall do it. I am rich.

JANE. Riches create no love: I fear you mean To take me for formality only; As some staid piece of household stuff, perhaps, Fit to be seen 'mongst other ornaments: Or, at the best, I shall be counted but A name of dignity; not entertain'd For love, but state; one of your train; a thing Took to wipe off suspicion from some fairer, To whom you have vow'd homage.

AND. Do not think I've any plots or projects in my head. I will do anything for thee, that thou Canst name or think on.

PRIS. Pray you try him, mistress. By my virginity, I think he'll flinch.

AND. By my virginity (which is as good As yours, I'm sure)--by my virginity, If that we men have any such thing (as We men have such a thing), I do believe I will not flinch. Alas! you don't know Andrew.

JANE. Can you obtain but so much respite from Your other sovereign's service, as to keep Your eye from gazing on her for awhile?

AND. If I do look on any woman--nay, If I do cast a sheep's eye upon any But your sweet self, may I lose one of mine! Marry, I'll keep the other howsoe'er.

JANE. I know not how I may believe you: you'll Swear you ne'er cast a glance on any, when Your eye hath baited at each face you met.

AND. Blind me, good, now: being you mistrust, I will Be blinded with this handkerchief; you shall See that I love you now. So, let me have But any reasonable thing to lead me home, I do not care, though't be a dog, so that He knows the way, or hath the wit t' inquire it.

JANE. That care, sir, shall be mine. [_Exeunt_ JANE _and_ PRISCILLA.

AND. I doubt not but I shall be in the Chronicle for this, Or in a ballad else. This handkerchief Shall be hung up i' th' parish church, instead Of a great silken flag to fan my grave: With my arms in't, portray'd in good blue thread, With this word underneath--_This, this was he_ _That shut his eyes because he would not see._ Hold, who comes there?

_Enter_ MEANWELL, SHAPE.

MEAN. One, sir, to lead you home.

AND. Who? tutor Meanwell?

[SHAPE _counterfeits_ MISTRESS JANE'S _voice_.

SHAPE. Yes, I do commit you Unto your trusty friend: if you perform This vow, we may----

AND. I'll say your sentence out-- Be man and wife.

SHAPE. If you'll do something else That I'll propose.

AND. Pray make your own conditions.

SHAPE. You'll promise me you'll not be jealous of me?

AND. Do what you will, I'll trust you.

SHAPE. Never hire Any to tempt me?

AND. By this light (I would say, By this darkness), I never will.

SHAPE. Nor mark On whom I laugh?

AND. No.

SHAPE. Nor suspect my smiles, My nods, my winks?

AND. No, no.

SHAPE. Nor yet keep count From any gallant's visit?

AND. I'll ne'er reckon: You shall do what you will.

SHAPE. You'll never set Great chests and forms against my chamber-door; Nor pin my smock unto your shirt a-nights, For fear I should slip from you ere you wake?

AND. As I do hope for day, I will not.

SHAPE. Give me Some small pledge from you to assure your love; If that you yet prove false, I may have something To witness your inconstancy. I'll take This little ruby--this small blushing stone From your fair finger.

AND. Take it, sweet. There is A diamond in my band-string; if you have A mind to that, I pray, make use of't too.

SHAPE. In troth, a stone of lustre. I assure you, It darts a pretty light, a veget spark,[221] It seems an eye upon your breast.

AND. Nay, take it, For love's sake, take it then: leave nothing that Looks like an eye about me.

SHAPE. My good Andrew, 'Cause of thy resolution, I'll perform This office for thee. Take my word for't, this Shall ne'er betray thee. [_Exit_ SHAPE.

AND. Farewell, honest Jany; I cannot see to thank thee, my sweet Jany. Tutor, your hand; good tutor, lead me wisely.

MEAN. Take comfort, man; I have good news for thee: Thine eyes shall be thine own before next morning. [_Exeunt._

## SCENE IV.

SHAPE, CHIRURGEON, MERCER.

SHAPE. He's a good friend of mine, and I presume Upon your secrecy.

CHIR. O sir, the deed By which it came was not more close. D' y' think I would undo myself by twitting? 'Twere To bring the gallants all about mine ears, And make me mine own patient. I'm faithful And secret, though a barber.

SHAPE. Nay, but hear me; He's very modest: 'twas his first attempt Procur'd him this infirmity. He will Be bashful, I am sure, and won't be known Of any such thing at the first. You must Be sure to put him to't.

CHIR. Let me alone: He knows not yet the world, I do perceive. It is as common now with gentlemen, As 'tis to follow fashion: only here Lieth the difference, that they keep in this A little longer. I shall have so much Upon your word, sir?

SHAPE. If you do perform The cure by that time, twenty pieces, sir: You are content?

MER. Yes, sir.

CHIR. It shall be done [_Exit_ SHAPE. According to your own prescription. Sit down, I pray you, sir: this gentleman Is a good friend of yours.

MER. Indeed he is a very honest man, As any one can wish to deal with, verily.

CHIR. Believe't, he loves you very well.

MER. I am most ready To do him any service truly. Pray you, Good brother, don't delay me: I'm in haste.

CHIR. _Indeed-and truly-verily-good brother!_ How could these milksop words e'er get him company That could procure the pox? [_Aside_.] Where do you feel You[r] grief most trouble you?

MER. I'm very well: what mean you, brother?

CHIR. Nay, be not so modest: 'Tis no such heinous fault, as that you should Seek thus to hide it; mere ill-fortune only--

MER. Surely you do forget yourself.

CHIR. Come, come, He told me you'd be shamefac'd: you must be Wary hereafter.

MER. I do perceive He is a little mad indeed: the gentleman Told me so much just as I came along. [_Aside._ Yes, yes, I will be wary; I'll take heed. Come, pray y', despatch me.

CHIR. So, I like you now. It is the custom of most gentlemen Not to confess until they feel their bones Begin t' admonish 'em.

MER. You are i' th' right. Good friend, make haste; I've very urgent business.

CHIR. Not rashly neither. Is your gristle sound? Methinks 'tis very firm as yet to the touch. You fear no danger there as yet, sir, do you?

MER. No, I'll assure you. He must have his humour: I see he is not to be cross'd. [_Aside._

CHIR. When did you Feel the first grudging on't? 'Tis not broke out In any place?

MER. No, no: I pray y', despatch me.

CHIR. These things desire deliberation; Care is requir'd.

MER. Good brother, go t' your chest.

CHIR. How can I know what med'cines to apply, If that you tell me not where lies your grief?

MER. Nay, good, now let me go.

CHIR. I must not, sir, Nor will not, truly. Trust me, you will wish You had confess'd, and suffer'd me in time, When you shall come to dry-burnt racks of mutton, The syringe, and the tub.[222]

MER. So: now enough. Pray fetch me what you promis'd.

CHIR. Are you wild Or mad? I do protest, I ne'er did meet A gentleman of such perverseness yet. I find you just as I was told I should.

MER. I lose the taking, by my swear, of[223] As much, whiles that I am receiving this.

CHIR. I will not hinder you, if that you do Prefer your gain before your health.

MER. Well then, I pray you tell it out: we tradesmen are not Masters of our own time.

CHIR. What would you have?

MER. What would I have? as if you did not know! Come, come, leave jesting now at last, good brother.

CHIR. I am in earnest, sir.

MER. Why, I would have My money, sir; the twenty pieces that The gentleman did give you order now To pay me for the velvet that he bought This morning of me.

CHIR. O, the gentleman----

MER. You should not make a laughingstock, good brother, Of one that wrongs you not; I do profess I wont be fubb'd, ensure yourself.

CHIR. The gentleman! O, O, the gentleman! Is this the cure I should perform? Truly I dare not venture Upon such desperate maladies.

MER. You are but merrily dispos'd?

CHIR. Indeed, they are Too high for my small quality. Verily Perhaps, good brother, you might perish under Mine hands truly. I do profess, I am not Any of your bold mountebanks in this.

MER. You're still dispos'd----

CHIR. To laugh at you, good brother. Gull'd, by my swear: by my swear, gull'd! he told me You had a small infirmity upon you, A grief of youth or two: and that I should Have twenty pieces for the cure. He ask'd you, If that you were content? you answered, yes. I was in hope I had gain'd a patient more. Your best way is to make haste after him.

MER. Now could I beat myself for a wise fool That I was, thus to trust him. [_Exit._

CHIR. B' w' y', brother. 'Fore God, a good one. O, the gentleman! [_Exit laughing._

## SCENE V.

RHYMEWELL, BAGSHOT, CATCHMEY, SIR CHRISTOPHER: _a song at a window, congratulating_ (_as_ _they think_) MASTER MEANWELL'S _marriage_.

1. _Whiles early light springs from the skies_ _A fairer from your bride doth rue;_ _A brighter day doth thence appear,_ _And makes a second morning there._ _Her blush doth shed_ _All o'er the bed_ _Clean shamefac'd beams,_ _That spread in streams,_ _And purple round the modest air._

2. _I will not tell what shrieks and cries,_ _What angry pishes, and what fies,_ _What pretty oaths then newly born,_ _The list'ning taper heard there sworn:_ _Whiles froward she_ _Most peevishly_ _Did yielding fight_ _To keep o'er night,_ _What she'd have proffer'd you ere morn._

3. _Fair, we know, maids do refuse_ _To grant what they do come to lose._ _Intend a conquest, you that wed;_ _They would be chastely ravished._ _Not any kiss_ _From Mistress Pris,_ _If that you do,_ _Persuade and woo:_ _Know pleasure's by extorting fed._

4. _O, may her arms wax black and blue_ _Only by hard encircling you:_ _May she round about you twine,_ _Like the easy-twisting vine;_ _And whiles you sip_ _From her full lip_ _Pleasures as new_ _As morning dew,_ _Let those soft ties your hearts combine._

SINGER. God give you joy, Master Meanwell! God give your worship good morrow!

RHYME. Come, let's be going.

CHRIS. Hold, a blow I'll have, One jerk at th' times, wrapp'd in a benediction O' th' spouse's teeming, and I'll go with you.

_A Song._

_Now thou, our future brother,_ _That shalt make this spouse a mother,_ _Spring up, and Dod's blessing on't.[224]_ _Show thy little sorrel pate,_ _And prove regenerate,_ _Before thou be brought to the font._

_May the parish surplice be_ _Cut in pieces quite for thee,_ _To wrap thy soft body about;_ _So 'twill better service do,_ _Reformed thus into_ _The state of an orthodox clout._

_When thou shalt leave the cradle,_ _And shalt begin to waddle,_ _And trudge in thy little apron;_ _May'st thou conceive a grace_ _Of half an hour's space,_ _And rejoice in thy Friday capon._

_For an error that's the flock's,_ _Name Master Paul, but urge St Knox;[225]_ _And at every reform'd dinner,_ _Let cheese come in, and preaching,_ _And by that third course teaching_ _Confirm an unsatisfi'd sinner._

_Thence grow up to hate a ring,_ _And defy an offering;_ _And learn to sing what others say._ _Let Christ-tide be thy fast,_ _And Lent thy good repast;_ _And regard not an holy-day._

_Enter_ CONSTABLE _and Assistants_.

CON. Lay hold on them! lay hold on them, I say! I'll hamper them.

CATCH. Hell take your headlong zeal! You must be jerking at the times, forsooth. I am afraid the times will 'scape, and we, The men of them, shall suffer now the scourge.

CON. Let none escape.

CHRIS. 'Twas godliness, verily: It was a hymn I warbled.

CON. Thou dost lie, It was no hymn, it was a song. Is this Your filthy rendezvous? you shall be taught Another tune.

CHRIS. I do beseech you, show Merciful cruelty, and as 'twere a kind Of pitiful hard-heartedness. I'm strong.

[_They bring in_ ANDREW _and_ PRISCILLA.

CON. I'm glad you told me so, I will provide Your ward accordingly. Drag 'em out both.

AND. Let me but send to th' ordinary.

CON. You shall not; The ord'nary hath sent to you. No bail: I will take none. I'll suffer no such sneaks As you to offend this way: it doth belong T'your betters, sir.

AND. Here's a sufficient man, I do assure you; take my word for that.

CON. This staff was made to knock down sin. I'll look There shall be no advoutry[226] in my ward, But what is honest. I'll see justice done As long as I'm in office. Come along. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[202] So Falstaff says ("First Part Henry IV.," act iii. sc. 3): "An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, _I am a pepper-corn_, a brewer's horse."

[203] A _noise_ of fiddlers is _a company or concert of them_; as in Ben Jonson's "Epicæne," act iii. sc. 3: "The smell of the venison, going through the street, will invite _one noise of fiddlers_ or other."

So in "Bartholomew Fair," act iii. sc. 6: "Cry you mercy, sir; will you buy a _fiddle_ to fill up _your noise_?"

In Marmyon's "Fine Companion," act iv. sc. 1: "He come but with a troope of wenches, and _a noyse of fidlers_; and play thee backe like Orpheus."

Again, in Dekker's "Belman of London," 1608, sig. G 2: "To bee up more earely then _a noyse of shrugging fidlers_."

And in "Miscellaneous State Papers from 1501 to 1726," vol. i. p. 87: "After the which they had a very notable banquet; the heavenly _noise_ that was there, as well with strange instruments of music as otherwise, I cannot declare."

See also the examples in Mr Steevens's note on "Henry IV.,