Chapter V: Part 5

_Heng._ 'Faith, uncle, grown a Soldier, a great Soldier;
For by the virtue of your charging-staff,
And a strange fighting face I put upon't,
I have out-brav'd hunger.

_Car._ That's my boy, my sweet boy.
Here, here's a _Roman's_ head for thee.

_Heng._ Good provision.
Before I starve, my sweet-fac'd Gentleman,
I'll trie your favour.

_Car._ A right compleat Soldier.
Come, chicken, let's go seek some place of strength
(The Countrey's full of Scouts) to rest a while in,
Thou wilt not else be able to endure
The journey to my Countrey, fruits, and water,
Must be your food a while, boy.

_Heng._ Any thing:
I can eat moss, I can live on anger,
To vex these _Romans_. Let's be wary, Uncle.

_Car._ I warrant thee; come chearfully.

_Heng._ And boldly.

_Scæna Tertia._

_Enter_ Penyus, Drusus, _and_ Regulus.

_Reg._ The soldier shall not grieve ye.

_Pen._ Pray ye forsake me;
Look not upon me, as ye love your Honors;
I am so cold a coward, my infection
Will choke your virtues like a damp else.

_Dru._ Dear Captain.

_Reg._ Most honour'd Sir.

_Pen._ Most hated, most abhor'd;
Say so, and then ye know me, nay, ye please me.
O my dear credit, my dear credit.

_Reg._ Sure
His mind is dangerous.

_Dru._ The good gods cure it.

_Pen._ My honour got thorow fire, thorow stubborn breaches
Thorow Batte[l]s that have been as hard to win as heaven,
Thorow death himself, in all his horrid trims,
Is gone for ever, ever, ever, Gentlemen,
And now I am left to scornfu[l] tales and laughters,
To hootings at, pointing with fingers, That's he,
That's the brave Gentleman forsook the battel,
The most wise _Penyus_, the disputing coward.
O my good sword, break from my side, and kill me;
Cut out the coward from my heart.

_Reg._ Ye are none.

_Pen._ He lyes that says so: by ---- he lyes, lyes basely,
Baser than I have done. Come, soldiers, seek me,
I have robb'd ye of your virtues: Justice, seek me,
I have broke my fair obedience, lost: shame take me,
Take me, and swallow me, make ballads of me;
Shame, endless shame: and pray do you forsake me.

_Dru._ What shall we do?

_Pen._ Good Gentlemen forsake me:
You were not wont to be commanded. Friends, pray do it,
And do not fear; for as I am a coward
I will not hurt my self: when that mind takes me,
I'll call to you, and ask your help. I dare not.

_Enter_ Petillius.

_Petill._ Good morrow, Gentlemen; where's the Tribune?

_Reg._ There.

_Dru._ Whence come ye, good _Petillius_?

_Petill._ From the General.

_Dru._ With what, for heavens sake?

_Petill._ With good counsel, _Drusus_,
And love, to comfort him.

_Dru._ Good _Regulus_
Step to the Soldier, and allay his anger;
For he is wild as winter.

[_Exeunt_ Drusius _and_ Regulus.

_Petill._ O, are ye there? have at ye. Sure he's dead,
It cannot be he dare out-live this fortune:
He must die, 'tis most necessary; men expect it;
And thought of life in him, goes beyond coward.
Forsake the field so basely? fie upon't:
So poorly to betray his worth; so coldly
To cut all credit from the soldier? sure
If this man mean to live, as I should think it
Beyond belief, he must retire where never
The name of _Rome_, the voice of Arms, or Honour
Was known or heard of yet: he's certain dead,
Or strongly means it; he's no Soldier else,
No _Roman_ in him; all he has done, but outside,
Fought either drunk or desperate. Now he rises.
How does Lord _Penyus_?

_Pen._ As ye see.

_Petill._ I am glad on't;
Continue so still. The Lord General,
The valiant General, great _Swetonius_--

_Pen._ No more of me is spoken; my name's perish'd.

_Petill._ He that commanded fortune and the day
By his own valour and discretion,
When, as some say, _Penyus_ refused to come,
But I believe 'em not, sent me to see ye.

_Pen._ Ye are welcome; and pray see me; see me well,
Ye shall not see me long.

_Petill._ I hope so, _Penyus_;
The gods defend, Sir.

_Pen._ See me, and understand me: This is he
Left to fill up your triumph; he that basely
Whistled his honour off to th' wind; that coldly
Shrunk in his politick head, when _Rome_ like reapers
Sweat blood, and spirit, for a glorious harvest,
And bound it up, and brought it off: that fool,
That having gold and copper offer'd him,
Refus'd the wealth, and took the wast: that soldier
That being courted by loud fame and fortune,
Labour in one hand, that propounds us gods,
And in the other, glory that creates us,
Yet durst doubt, and be damned.

_Petill._ It was an errour.

_Pen._ A foul one, and a black one.

_Petill._ Yet the blackest
May be washt white again.

_Pen._ Never.

_Petill._ Your leave, Sir,
And I beseech ye note me; for I love ye,
And bring [along] all comfort: Are we gods,
Alli'd to no infirmities? are our natures
More than mens natures? when we slip a little
Out of the way of virtue, are we lost?
Is there no medicine called Sweet mercy?

_Pen._ None, _Petillius_;
There is no mercy in mankind can reach me,
Nor is it fit it should; I have sinn'd beyond it.

_Petill._ Forgiveness meets with all faults.

_Pen._ 'Tis all faults,
All sins I can commit, to be forgiven:
'Tis loss of whole man in me, my discretion
To be so stupid, to arrive at pardon.

_Petill._ O but the General--

_Pen._ He's a brave Gentleman,
A valiant, and a loving; and I dare say
He would, as far as honor durst direct him,
Make even with my fault, but 'tis not honest,
Nor in his power: examples that may nourish
Neglect and disobedience in whole bodies.
And totter the estates and faiths of armies,
Must not be plaid withall; nor out of pitty
Make a General forget his duty:
Nor dare I hope more from him than is worthy.

_Petill._ What would ye do?

_Pen._ Dye.

_Petill._ So would sullen children,
Women that want their wills, slaves, disobedient,
That fear the law, die. Fie, great Captain; you
A man to rule men, to have thousand lives
Under your Regiment, and let your passion
Betray your reason? I bring you all forgiveness,
The noblest kind commends, your place, your honour.

_Pen._ Prethee no more; 'tis foolish: didst not thou?
By ---- thou didst, I over-heard thee, there,
There where thou standst now, deliver me for rascal,
Poor, dead, cold coward, miserable, wretched,
If I out-liv'd this ruine?

_Petill._ I?

_Pen._ And thou di[d]st it nobly,
Like a true man, a souldier: and I thank thee,
I thank thee, good _Petillius_; thus I thank thee.

_Petill._ Since ye are so justly made up, let me tell ye,
'Tis fit ye dye indeed.

_Pen._ O how thou lov'st me!

_Petill._ For say he had forgiven ye; say the peoples whispers
Were tame again, the time run out for wonder,
What must your own Command think, from whose Swords
Ye have taken off the edges, from whose valours
The due and recompence of Arms; nay, made it doubtful
Wh[e]ther they knew obedience? must not these kill ye?
Say they are won to pardon ye, by meer miracle
Brought to forgive ye; what old valiant Souldier,
What man that loves to fight, and fight for _Rome_,
Will ever follow you more? dare ye know these ventures?
If so, I bring ye comfort; dare ye take it?

_Pen._ No, no, _Petillius_, no.

_Petill._ If your mind serve ye,
Ye may live still; but how? yet pardon me,
You may outwear all too, but when? and certain
There is a mercy for each fault, if tamely
A man will take't upon conditions.

_Pen._ No, by no means: I am only thinking now, Sir,
(For I am resolved to go) of a most base death,
Fitting the baseness of my fault. I'll hang.

_Petill._ Ye shall not; y'are a Gentleman I honor,
I would else flatter ye, and force ye live,
Which is far baser. Hanging? 'tis a dogs death,
An end for slaves.

_Pen._ The fitter for my baseness.

_Petill._ Besides, the man that's hang'd, preaches his end,
And sits a sign for all the world to gape at.

_Pen._ That's true: I'll take a fitter poison.

_Petill._ No,
'Tis equal ill; the death of rats and women,
Lovers, and lazie boys, that fear correction,
Die like a man.

_Pen._ Why my sword then.

_Petill._ I, If your Sword be sharp, Sir,
There's nothing under heaven that's like your Sword;
Your Sword's a death indeed.

_Pen._ It shall be sharp, Sir.

_Petill._ Why _Mithridates_ was an arrant asse
To dye by poison, if all _Bosphorus_
Could lend him Swords: your Sword must do the deed:
'Tis shame to dye choak'd, fame to dye and bleed.

_Pen._ Thou hast confirmed me: and, my good _Petillius_,
Tell me no more I may live.

_Petill._ 'Twas my Commission;
But now I see ye in a nobler way,
A way to make all even.

_Pen._ Fare-well, Captain:
Be a good man, and fight well: be obedient:
Command thy self, and then thy men. Why shakest thou?

_Petill._ I do not Sir.

_Pen._ I would thou hadst, _Petillius_:
I would find something to forsake the world with
Worthy the man that dies: a kind of earth-quake
Through all stern valors but mine own.

_Petill._ I feel now
A kind of trembling in me.

_Pen._ Keep it still,
As thou lov'st virtue, keep it.

_Petill._ And brave Captain,
The gr[ea]t and honoured _Penyus_.

_Pen._ That again:
O how it heightens me! again, _Petillius_.

_Petill._ Most excellent Commander.

_Pen._ Those were mine,
Mine, only mine.

_Petill._ They are still.

_Pen._ Then to keep 'em
For ever falling more, have at ye, heavens,
Ye everlasting powers, I am yours: The work's done,

[_Kills himself._

That neither fire nor age, nor melting envy
Shall ever conquer. Carry my last words
To the great General: kiss his hands and say,
My soul I give to heaven, my fault to justice
Which I have done upon my self: my virtue,
If ever there was any in Poor _Penyus_,
Made more, and happier, light on him. I faint.
And where there is a foe, I wish him fortune.
I dye: lye lightly on my ashes, gentle earth.

_Petill._ And on my sin. Farewell, great _Peny[u]s_,

[_Noise within._

The souldier is in fury. Now I am glad
'Tis done before he comes. This way, for me,
The way of toile; for thee, the way of honor. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Drusus _and_ Regulus _with Souldiers._

_Sould._ Kill him, kill him, kill him.

_Dru._ What will ye do?

_Reg._ Good soldiers, honest soldiers.

_Sould._ Kill him, kill him, kill him.

_Dru._ Kill us first; we command too.

_Reg._ Valiant Soldiers,

Consider but whose life ye seek. O _Drusus_,
Bid him be gone, he dies else. Shall _Rome_ say
(Ye most approved Souldiers) her dear children
Devoured the fathers of the fights? shall rage
And stubborn fury guide those swords to slaughter,
To slaughter of their own, to civil ruine?

_Dru._ O let 'em in: all's done, all's ended, _Regulus,_
_Penyus_ has found his last eclipse. Come, Souldiers,
Come, and behold your miseries: come bravely,
Full of your mutinous and bloody angers,
And here bestow your darts. O only _Romane_,
O father of the Wars.

_Reg._ Why stand ye stupid?
Where be your killing furies? whose sword now
Shall first be sheath'd in _Penyus_? do ye weep?
Howl out, ye wretches, ye have cause: howl ever.
Who shall now lead ye fortunate? whose valor
Preserve ye to the glory of your Countrey?
Who shall march out before ye, coy'd and courted
By all the Mistrisses of War, care, counsel,
Quick-ey'd experience, and victory twin'd to him?
Who shall beget ye deeds beyond inheritance
To speak your names, and keep your honors living,
When children faill, and time that takes all with him,
Build houses for ye to oblivion?

_Dru._ O ye poor desperate fools: no more now, souldiers;
Go home, and hang your arms up; let rust rot 'em;
And humble your stern valors to soft prayers;
For ye have sunk the frame of all your virtues;
The sun that warm'd your bloods is set for ever:
I'll kiss thy honor'd cheek. Farewell, great _Penyus_,
Thou thunder-bolt, farewell. Take up the body:
To morrow morning to the Camp convey it.
There to receive due Ceremonies. That eye
That blinds himself with weeping, gets most glory.

[_Exeunt with a dead march._

_Scæna Quarta._

_Enter_ Swetonius, Junius, Decius, Demetrius, Curius, _and_
Souldiers: Bonduca, _two Daughters, and_ Nennius, _above_.
_Drum and Colours._

_Swet._ Bring up the Catapults and shake the wall,
We will not be [out-brav'd] thus.

_Nen._ Shake the earth,
Ye cannot shake our souls. Bring up your Rams,
And with their armed heads, make the Fort totter;
Ye do but rock us into death. [_Exit Nennius._

_Jun._ See, Sir,
See the _Icenian_ Queen in all her glory
From the strong battlements proudly appearing,
As if she meant to give us lashes.

_Dec._ Yeild, Queen.

_Bond._ I am unacquainted with that language, _Roman_.

_Swet._ Yield honour'd Lady, and expect our mercy, [_Exit Decius._
We love thy nobleness.

_Bond._ I thank ye, ye say well;
But mercy and love are sins in _Rome_ and hell.

_Swet._ Ye cannot scape our strength; ye must yield, Lady,
Ye must adore and fear the power of _Rome_.

_[B]ond._ If _Rome_ be earthly, why should any knee
With bending adoration worship her?
She's vitious; and your partial selves confess,
Aspires the height of all impiety:
Therefore 'tis fitter I should reverence
The thatched houses where the _Britains_ dwell
In careless mirth, where the blest houshold gods
See nought but chast and simple purity.
'Tis not high power that makes a place divine,
Nor that the men from gods derive their line.
But sacred thoughts in holy bosoms stor'd,
Make people noble, and the place ador'd.

_Swet._ Beat the wall deeper.

_Bond._ Beat it to the center,
We will not sink one thought.

_Swet._ I'll make ye.

_Bond._ No.

_2. Dau._ O mother, these are fearful hours: speak gently.

_Enter_ Petillius.

To these fierce men, they will afford ye pitty.

_Bond._ Pitty? thou fearful girl; 'tis for those wretches
That misery makes tame. Wouldst thou live less?
Wast not thou born a Princess? Can my blood,
And thy brave fathers spirit, suffer in thee
So base a separation from thy self,
As mercy from these Tyrants? Thou lov'st lust sure,
And long'st to prostitute thy youth and beauty
To common slaves for bread. Say they had mercy;
The divel a relenting conscience:
The lives of Kings rest in their Diadems,
Which to their bodies lively souls do give,
And ceasing to be Kings, they cease to live.
Show such another fear, and ----
I'll fling thee to their fury.

_Swet._ He is dead then?

_Petill._ I think so certainly; yet all my means, Sir,
Even to the hazzard of my life--

_Swet._ No more:
We must not seem to mourn here.

_Enter_ Decius.

_Dec._ There's a breach made,
Is it your will we charge, Sir?

_Swet._ Once more mercy,
Mercy to all that yield.

_Bond._ I scorn to answer:
Speak to him girl; and hear thy Sister.

_1. Dau._ General,
Hear me, and mark me well, and look upon me
Directly in my face, my womans face.
Whose only beauty is the hate it bears ye;
See with thy narrowest eyes, thy sharpest wishes,
Into my soul, and see what there inhabits;
See if one fear, one shadow of a terror,
One paleness dare appear but from my anger,
To lay hold on your mercies. No, ye fools,
Poor fortunes fools, we were not born for triumphs,
To follow your gay sports, and fill your slaves
With hoots and acclamations.

_Petill._ Brave behaviour.

_1. Dau._ The children of as great as _Rome_, as noble,
Our names before her, and our deeds her envy;
Must we guild ore your Conquest, make your State,
That is not fairly strong, but fortunate?
No, no, ye _Romans_, we have ways to scape ye,
To make ye poor again, indeed our prisoners,
And stick our triumphs full.

_Petill._ 's death, I shall love her.

_1. Dau._ To torture ye with suffering, like our slaves;
To make ye curse our patience, wish the world
Were lost again, to win us only, and esteem
The end of all ambitions.

_Bond._ Do ye wonder?
We'll make our monuments in spite of fortune,
In spight of all your Eagles wings: we'll work
A pitch above ye; and from our height we'll stoop
As fearless of your bloody soars; and fortunate,
As if we prey'd on heartless doves.

_Swet._ Strange stiffness.
_Decius_, go charge the breach. [_Exit Decius._

_Bond._ Charge it home, _Roman_,
We shall deceive thee else. Where's _Nennius_?

_Enter_ Nennius.

_Nen._ They have made a mighty breach.

_Bond._ Stick in thy body,
And make it good but half an hour.

_Nen._ I'll do it.

_1. Dau._ And then be sure to dye.

_Nen._ It shall go hard else.

_Bond._ Fare well with all my heart; we shall meet yonder,
Where few of these must come.

_Nen._ Gods take thee, Lady. [_Exit Nennius._

_Bond._ Bring up the swords, and poison.

_Enter one with Swords, and a great Cup._

_2. Dau._ O my fortune!

_Bond._ How, how, ye whore?

_2. Dau._ Good mother, nothing to offend ye.

_Bond._ Here, wench:
Behold us, _Romans_.

_Swet._ Mercy yet.

_Bond._ No talking:
Puff, there goes all your pitty. Come, short prayers,
And let's dispach the business: you begin,
Shrink not; I'll see ye do't.

_2. Dau._ O gentle mother,
O _Romans_, O my heart; I dare not.

_Swet._ Woman, woman,
Unnatural woman.

_2. Dau._ O perswade her, _Romans_:
Alass, I am young, and would live. Noble mother,
Can ye kill that ye gave life? are my years
Fit for destruction?

_Swet._ Yield, and be a Queen still,
A mother and a friend.

_Bond._ Ye talk: come, hold it,
And put it home.

_1. Dau._ Fie, sister, fie,
What would you live to be?

_Bond._ A whore still.

_2. Dau._ Mercy.

_Swet._ Hear her, thou wretched woman.

_2. Dau._ Mercy, mother:
O whither will you send me? I was once
Your darling, your delight.

_Bond._ O gods,
Fear in my family? do it, and nobly.

_2. Dau._ O do not frown then.

_1. Daugh._ Do it, worthy Sister:
'Tis nothing, 'tis a pleasure; we'll go with ye.

_2. Daugh._ O if I knew but whither.

_1. Daugh._ To the blessed,
Where we shall meet our Father.

_Swet._ Woman.

_Bond._ Talk not.

_1. Daugh._ Where nothing but true joy is.

_Bond._ That's a good wench, mine own sweet girl; put it close to thee.

_2. Daugh._ Oh comfort me still for heavens sake.

_1. Daugh._ Where eternal
Our youths are, and our beauties; where no Wars come,
Nor lustful slaves to ravish us.

_2. Daugh._ That steels me:
A long farewel to this world.

_Bond._ Good: I'll help thee.

_1 Daugh._ The next is mine.
Shew me a _Roman_ Lady in all [y]our stories,
Dare do this for her honor: they are cowards,
Eat coals like compell'd Cats: your great Saint _Lucrece_
Dy'd not for honor; _Tarquin_ topt her well,
And mad she could not hold him, bled.

_Petil._ By ----
[I] am in love: I would give an hundred pound now
But to lie with this womans behaviour. Oh the devil.

_1 Daugh._ Ye shall see me example, All your _Rome_,
If I were proud and lov'd ambition;
If I were lustful, all your ways of pleasure;
If I were greedy, all the wealth ye conquer--

_Bond._ Make haste.

_1 Daugh._ I will. Could not intice to live
But two short hours this frailty: would ye learn
How to die bravely _Romans_, to fling off
This case of flesh, lose all your cares for ever?
Live as we have done, well, and fear the gods,
Hunt Honor, and not Nations with your swords,
Keep your minds humble, your devotions high;
So shall ye learn the noblest part, to die. [_Dies._

_B[o]nd._ I come, wench; to ye all Fates hangmen; you
That ease the aged destinies, and cut
The threds of Kingdoms, as they draw 'em: here,
Here's the draft would ask no less than _Cæsar_
To pledge it for the glories sake.

_Cur._ Great Lady.

_Swet._ Make up your own conditions.

_Bond._ So we will.

_Swet._ Stay.

_Dem._ Stay.

_Swet._ Be any thing.

_Bond._ A Saint, _Swetonius_,
When thou shalt fear, and die like a slave. Ye fools,
Ye should have ti'd up death first, when ye conquer'd,
Ye sweat for us in vain else: see him here,
He's ours still, and our friend; laughs at your pities;
And we command him with as easie reins
As do our enemies. I feel the poison.
Poor vanquish'd _Romans_, with what matchless tortures
Could I now rack ye! But I pittie ye,
Desiring to die quiet: nay, so much
I hate to prosecute my victory,
That I will give ye counsel e'r I die.
If you will keep your Laws and Empire whole,
Place in your _Romans_ flesh, a _Britain_ soul. [_Dies._

_Enter_ Decius.

_Swet._ Desperate and strange.

_Dec._ 'Tis won, Sir, and the _Britains_
All put to th' sword.

_Swet._ Give her fair Funeral;
She was truly noble, and a Queen.

_Pet._ ---- Take it,
A Love-mange grown upon me? what, a spirit?

_Jun._ I am glad of this, I have found ye.

_Petil._ In my belly,
Oh how it tumbles!

_Jun._ Ye good gods, I thank ye. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Caratach _upon a rock, and_ Hengo _by him, sleeping_.

_Car._ Thus we afflicted _Britains_ climb for safeties,
And to avoid our dangers, seek destructions;
Thus we awake to sorrows. O thou Woman,
Thou agent for adversities, what curses
This day belong to thy improvidence!
To _Britanie_ by thy means, what sad millions
Of Widows weeping eyes! The strong mans valour
Thou hast betraid to fury; the childs fortune
To fear and want of friends: whose pieties
Might wipe his mournings off, and build his sorrows
A house of rest by his blest Ancestors:
The Virgins thou hast rob'd of all their wishes,
Blasted their blowing hopes, turn'd their songs,
Their mirthful marriage-son[g]s to funerals,
The Land thou hast left a wilderness of wretches.
The boy begins to stir: thy safety made,
Would my soul were in Heaven.

_Heng._ O noble Uncle,
Look out: I dream'd we were betrai'd.

[_A soft dead march within._

_Car._ No harm, boy;
'Tis but thy emptiness that breeds these fancies:
Thou shalt have meat anon.

_Heng._ A little, Uncle,
And I shall hold out bravely. What are those?
Look, Uncle, look, those multitudes that march there?
They come upon us stealing by.

_Car._ I see 'em;
And prethee be not fearful.

_Heng._ Now ye hate me,
Would I were dead.

_Car._ Thou know'st I love thee dearly.

_Heng._ Did I e'r shrink yet, Uncle? were I a man now;
I should be angry with ye.

_Enter_ Drusus, Regulus, _and_ Soldiers,
_with_ Penyus's Herse, _Drums and Colours_.

_Car._ My sweet chicken,
See, they have reach'd us, and as it seems they bear
Some soldiers body, by their solemn gestures,
And sad solemnities; it well appears too
To be of eminence. Most worthy Soldiers,
Let me intreat your knowledge to inform me
What noble Body that is which you bear
With such a sad and ceremonious grief,
As if ye meant to wooe the World and Nature
To be in love with death? Most honorable
Excellent _Romans_, by your antient valours,
As ye love Fame, resolve me.

_Sold._ 'Tis the Body
Of the great Captain _Penyus_, by himself
Made cold and spiritless.

_Car._ O stay, ye _Romans_,
By the Religion which you owe those gods
That lead ye on to Victories, by those glories
Which made even pride a virtue in ye.

_Dru._ Stay:
What's thy Will, _Caratach_?

_Car._ Set down the body,
The body of the noblest of all _Romans_,
As ye expect an offering at your Graves
From your friends sorrows, set it down awhile.
That with your griefs an enemy may mingle;
A noble enemy that loves a Soldier;
And lend a tear to virtue, even your foes,
Your wild foes, as you call'd us, are yet stor'd
With fair affections, our hearts fresh, our spirits,
Though sometime stubborn, yet when virtue dies,
Soft and relenting as a Virgins prayers,
Oh set it down.

_Dru._ Set down the body, so[l]diers.

_Car._ Thou hallowed relique, thou rich Diamond
Cut with thine own dust; thou for whose wide fame
The world appears too narrow, mans all thoughts,
Had they all tongues, too silent; thus I bow
To thy most honour'd ashes: though an enemy,
Yet friend to all thy worths: sleep peaceably;
Happiness crown thy soul, and in thy earth
Some Lawrel fix his seat, there grow, and flourish,
And make thy grave an everlasting triumph.
Farewell all glorious Wars, now thou art gone,
And honest Arms adieu: all noble battels
Maintain'd in thirst of honour, not of bloud,
Farewell for ever.

_Heng._ Was this _Roman_, Uncle,
So good a man?

_Car._ Thou never knew'st thy Father.

_Heng._ He dy'd before I was born.

_Car._ This worthy _Roman_
Was such another piece of endless honor,
Such a brave soul dwelt in him: their proportions
And faces were not much unlik, boy, excellent nature,
See how it works into his eyes, mine own boy.

_Heng._ The multitudes of these men, and their fortunes,
Could never make me fear yet: one mans goodness--

_Car._ O now thou pleasest me: weep still, my child,
As if thou saw'st me dead; with such a flux
Or flood of sorrow: still thou pleasest me.
And worthy soldiers, pray receive these pledges,
These hatchments of our griefs, and grace us so much
To place 'em on his Hearse. Now if ye please,
Bear off the noble burden; raise his pile
High as _Olympus_, make heaven to wonder
To see a star upon earth out-shining theirs.
And ever loved, ever living be
Thy honoured and most sacred memory.

_Dru._ Thou hast done honestly, good _Caratach_,
And when thou diest, a thousand virtuous _Romans_
Shall sing thy soul to heaven. Now march on, soldiers.

[_Exeunt. A dead march._

_Car._ Now dry thine eyes, my boy.

_Heng._ Are they all gone?
I could have wept this hour yet.

_Car._ Come, take cheer,
And raise thy spirit, child: if but this day
Thou canst bear out thy faintness, the night coming
I'll fashion our escape.

_Heng._ Pray fear not me;
Indeed I am very hearty.

_Car._ Be so still;
His mischiefs lessen, that controuls his ill. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Petillius.

_Pet._ What do I ail, i'th' name of heaven I did but see her,
And see her die: she stinks by this time strongly,
Abominably stinks: she was a woman,
A thing I never car'd for: but to die so,
So confidently, bravely, strongly; Oh the devil,
I have the bots, by ---- she scorn'd us strangely,
All we could do, or durst do; threatned us
With such a noble anger, and so governed
With such a fiery spirit ----; the plain bots;
A ---- upon the bots, the love-bots: hang me,
Hang me even out o'th' way, directly hang me.
Oh penny pipers, and most painful penners
Of bountiful new Ballads, what a subject,
What a sweet subject for your silver sounds,
Is crept upon ye!

_Enter_ Junius.

_Jun._ Here he is; have at him. [_Sings._

_She set the sword unto her Breast,_
_great pity it was to see,_
_That three drops of her Life-warm bloud,_
_run trickling down her knee._

Art thou there, bonny boy? and i'faith how dost thou?

_Petil._ Well, gramercie, how dost thou? h'as found me,
Sented me out: the shame the devil ow'd me.
H'as kept his day with. And what news, _Junius_?

Jun. _It was an old tale ten thousand times told,_
_Of a young Lady was turned into mold,_
_Her life it was lovely, her death it was bold._

_Pet._ A cruel rogue, now h'as [drawn pursue on] me,
He hunts me like a devil. No more singing;
Thou hast got a cold: come, let's go drink some Sack, boy.

_Jun._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

_Pet._ Why dost thou laugh?
What Mares nest hast thou found?

_Jun._ Ha, ha, ha.
I cannot laugh alone: _Decius_, _Demetrius_,
_Curius_, oh my sides, Ha, ha, ha,
The strangest jest.

_Petil._ Prethee no more.

_Jun._ The admirablest fooling.

_Pet._ Thou art the prettiest fellow.

_Jun._ Sirs.

_Pet._ Why _Junius_;
Prethee away, sweet _Junius_.

_Jun._ Let me sing then.

_Pet._ Whoa, here's a stir now: sing a song o' six pence,
By ---- (if) prethee; ---- on't: _Junius_.

_Jun._ I must either sing; or laugh.

_Pet._ And what's your reason?

_Jun._ What's that to you?

_Pet._ And I must whistle.

_Jun._ Do so.
Oh, I hear 'em coming.

_Pet._ I have a little business.

_Jun._ Thou shall not go, believe it: what a Gentleman
Of thy sweet conversation?

_Pet._ Captain _Junius_,
Sweet Captain, let me go with all celerity;
Things are not always one: and do not question,
Nor jeer, nor gybe: none of your doleful Ditties,
Nor your sweet conversation, you will find then
I may be anger'd.

_Jun._ By no means, _Petillius_;
Anger a man that never knew passion?
'Tis most impossible: a noble Captain,
A wise [and] generous Gentleman?

_Pet. Tom Puppie._
Leave this way to abuse me: I have found ye,
But for your mothers sake I will forgive ye.
Your subtil understanding may discover
(As you think) some trim toy to make you merry;
Some straw to tickle ye; but do not trust to't;
Y' are a young man, and may do well: be sober:
Carry your self discreetly.

_Enter_ Decius, Demetrius, Curius.

_Jun._ Yes forsooth.

_Dem._ How does the brave _Petillius_?

_Jun._ Monstrous merry:
We two were talking what a kind of thing
I was when I was in love; what a strange monster
For little Boys and Girls to wonder at;
How like a fool I lookt.

_Dec._ So they do all,
Like great dull slavering fools.

_Jun. Petillius_ saw too.

_Pet._ No more of this, 'tis scurvie, peace.

_Jun._ How nastily,
Indeed, how beastly all I did became me!
How I forgot to blow my nose! there he stands,
An honest and a wise man; if himself
(I dare avouch it boldly, for I know it)
Should find himself in love--

_Petill._ I am angry.

_Jun._ Surely his wise self would hang his beastly self,
His understanding-self so mawl his ass-self--

_Dec._ He's bound to do it; for he knows the follies,
The poverties, and baseness that belongs to't,
H'as read upon the reformations long.

_Petill._ He has so.

_Jun._ 'Tis true, and he must do't:
Nor is it fit indeed any such coward--

_Petill._ You'll leave prating.

_Jun._ Should dare come near the Regiments, especially
Those curious puppies (for believe there are such)
That only love behaviours: those are dog-whelps,
Dwindle away, because a Woman dies well;
Commit with passions only: fornicate
With the free spirit merely: you, _Petillius_,
For you have long observ'd the World.

_Petill._ Dost thou hear?
I'll beat thee damnably within these three hours:
Go pray; may be I'll kill thee. Farewel Jack-daws. [_Exit._

_Dec._ What a strange thing he's grown!

_Jun._ I am glad he is so;
And stranger he shall be before I leave him.

_Cur._ Is't possible her mere death--

_Jun._ I observ'd him,
And found him taken, infinitely taken
With her bravery, I have follow'd him,
And seen him kiss his sword since, court his scabbard,
Call dying, dainty deer; her brave mind, Mistriss;
Casting a thousand ways, to give those forms,
That he might lie with 'em, and get old Armors:
He had got me o' th' hip once: it shall go hard, friends,
But he shall find his own coin.

_Enter_ Macer.

_Dec._ How now _Macer_?
Is Judas yet come in? [_Enter_ Judas.

_Mac._ Yes, and has lost
Most of his men too. Here he is.

_Car._ What news?

_Jud._ I have lodg'd him; rouze him he that dares.

_Dem._ Where, _Judas_?

_Jud._ On a steep rock i'th' woods, the boy too with him,
And there he swears he will keep his _Christmas_ Gentlemen,
But he will come away with full conditions,
Bravely, and like a _Britain_: he paid part of us.
Yet I think we fought bravely: for mine own part,
I was four several times at half sword with him,
Twice stood his partizan: but the plain truth is,
He's a meer devil, and no man; i'th' end he swing'd us,
And swing'd us soundly too, he fights by Witchcraft:
Yet for all that I see him lodg'd.

_Jun._ Take more men,
And scout him round. _Macer_, march you along.
What victuals has he?

_Jud._ Not a piece of Bisket,
Not so much as will stop a tooth; nor Water,
More than they make themselves: they lie
Just like a brace of Bear-whelps, close, and crafty,
Sucking their fingers for their food.

_Dec._ Cut off then
All hope of that way: take sufficie[n]t forces.

_Jun._ But use no foul play, on your lives: that man
That does him mischief by deceit, I'll kill him.

_Macer._ He shall have fair play, he deserves it.

_Jud._ Hark ye.
What should I do there then? you are brave Captains,
Most valiant men; go up your selves; use virtue,
See what will come on't: pray the Gentleman
To come down, and be taken. Ye all know him,
I think ye have felt him too: there ye shall find him,
His sword by his side, plums of a pound weight by him
Will make your chops ake: you'll find it a more labour
To win him living, than climbing of a Crows-nest.

_Dec._ Away, and compass him; we shall come up
I am sure within these two hours. Watch him close.

_Macer._ He shall flee thorow the air, if he escape us.

[_A sad noise within._

_Jun._ What's this loud lamentation?

_Mac._ The dead body
Of the great _Penyus_ is new come to the Camp, Sir.

_Dem._ Dead!

_Macer._ By himself, they say.

_Jun._ I fear'd that fortune.

_Cur._ Peace guide him up to heaven.

_Jun._ Away good _Macer_. [_Exeunt_ Macer _and_ Judas.

_Enter_ Swetonius, Drusus, Regulus, Petillius.

_Swet._ If thou be'st guilty,
Some sullen plague thou hat'st most light upon thee:
The Regiment return on _Junius_,
He well deserves it.

_Petill._ So.

_Swet._ Draw out three Companies,
Yours _Decius_, _Junius_, and thou _Petillius_,
And make up instantly to _Caratach_,
He's in the Wood before ye; we shall follow
After due ceremony done to the dead,
The noble dead: Come: let's go burn the Body.

[_Exeunt_ all but _Petillius_.

_Petill._ The Regiment given from me; disgrac'd openly;
In love too with a trifle to abuse me?
A merry world, a fine world: serv'd seven years
To be an ass o' both sides, sweet _Petillius_,
You have brought your hogs to a fine market; you are wise, Sir,
Your honourable brain-pan full of crotchets,
An understanding Gentleman; your projects
Cast with assurance ever: wouldst not thou now
Be bang'd about the pate, _Petillius_
Answer to that sweet soldier; surely, surely,
I think ye would; pull'd by the nose, kick'd; hang thee,
Thou art the arrant'st Rascal: trust thy wisdom
With any thing of weight; the wind with feathers.
Out ye blind puppie; you command? you govern?
Dig for a groat a day, or serve a Swine-herd;
Too noble for thy nature too. I must up;
But what I shall do there, let time discover. [_Exit._

_Scæna Tertia._

_Enter_ Macer _and_ Judas, _with meat and a bottle_.

_Mac._ Hang it o'th' side o'th' rock, as though the _Britains_
Stole hither to relieve him; who first ventures
To fetch it off, is ours. I cannot see him.

_Jud._ He lies close in a hole above, I know it,
Gnawing upon his anger: ha? no, 'tis not he.

_Macer._ 'Tis but the shaking of the boughs.

_Jud._ ---- Shake 'em,
I am sure they shake me soundly. There.

_Macer._ 'Tis nothing.

_Jud._ Make no noise if he stir, a deadly tempest
Of huge stones fall upon us: 'tis done: away close. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Caratach.

_Car._ Sleep still, sleep sweetly child, 'tis all thou feedst on.
No gentle _Britain_ near; no valiant charity
To bring thee food? poor knave, thou art sick extreme sick,
Almost grown wild for meat; and yet thy goodness
Will not confess, nor shew it. All the woods
Are double lin'd with soldiers; no way left us
To make a noble scape: I'll sit down by thee,
And when thou wak'st, either get meat to save thee,
Or lose my life i'th' purchase, Good gods comfort thee.

_Enter_ Junius, Decius, Petillius, Guide.

_Guide._ Ye are not far off now, Sir.

_Jun._ Draw the Companies
The closest way thorow the woods; we'll keep on this way.

_Guide._ I will Sir: half a furlong more you'll come
Within the sight o'th' Rock; keep on the left side,
You'll be discover'd else: I'll lodge your Companies
In the wild Vines beyond ye.

_Dec._ Do ye mark him?

_Jun._ Yes, and am sorry for him.

_Petill. Junius_,
Pray let me speak two words with you.

_Jun._ Walk afore,
I'll overtake ye straight.

_Dec._ I will. [_Exit._

_Jun._ Now, Captain.

_Petill._ You have oft told me, you have lov'd me, _Junius_.

_Jun._ Most sure I told you truth then.

_Petill._ And that love
Should not deny me any honest thing.

_Jun._ It shall not.

_Petill._ Dare ye swear it?
I have forgot all passages between us
That have been ill, forgiven too, forgot you.

_Jun._ What would this man have? By ---- I do, Sir,
So it be fit to grant ye.

_Pet[i]ll._ 'Tis most honest.

_Jun._ Why, then I'll do it.

_Petill._ Kill me.

_Jun._ How?

_Petill._ Pray kill me.

_Jun._ Kill ye?

_Pet._ I, kill me quickly, suddenly,
Now kill me.

_Jun._ On what reason? ye amaze me.

_Pet._ If ye do love me, kill me, ask me not why:
I would be killed, and by you.

_Jun._ Mercy on me,
What ails this man? _Petillius._

_Petill._ Pray ye dispatch me,
Ye are not safe whilst I live: I am dangerous,
Troubled extreamly, even to mischief, _Junius_,
An enemy to all good men: fear not, 'tis justice;
I shall kill you else.

_Jun._ Tell me but the cause,
And I will do it.

_Petill._ I am disgrac'd, my service
Slighted, and unrewarded by the General,
My hopes left wild and naked; besides these,
I am grown ridiculous, an ass, a folly
I dare not trust my self with: prethee kill me.

_Jun._ All these may be redeem'd as easily
As you would heal your finger.

_Petill._ Nay--

_Jun._ Stay, I'll do it,
You shall not need your anger: But first, _Petillius_,
You shall unarm your self; I dare not trust
A man so bent to mischief.

_Petill._ There's my sword;
And do it handsomely.

_Jun._ Yes, I will kill ye,
Believe that certain: but first I'll lay before ye
The most extreme fool ye have plaid in this,
The honor purpos'd for ye, the great honor
The General intended ye.

_Petill._ How?

_Jun._ And then I'll kill ye,
Because ye shall die miserable. Know Sir,
The Regiment was given me, but till time
Call'd ye to do some worthy deed, might stop
The peoples ill thoughts of ye, for Lord _Penyus_,
I mean his death. How soon this time's come to ye,
And hasted by _Swetonius_? Go, says he,
_Junius_ and _Decius_, and go thou _Petillius_;
Distinctly, thou _Petillius_, and draw up,
To take stout _Caratach_; there's the deed purpos'd,
A deed to take off all faults, of all natures:
And thou _Petillius_; Mark it, there's the honor,
And that done, all made even.

_Petill._ Stay.

_Jun._ No, I'll kill ye.
He knew thee absolute, and full in soldier,
Daring beyond all dangers, found thee out
According to the boldness of thy spirit,
A Subject, such a Subject.

_Petill._ Harke ye _Junius_,
I will live now.

_Jun._ By no means. Wooed thy worth,
Held thee by the chin up, as thou sunk'st, and shew'd thee
How Honor held her arms out: Come, make ready,
Since ye will die an ass.

_Petill._ Thou wilt not kill me?

_Jun._ By ---- but I will, Sir: I'll have no man dangerous
Live to destroy me afterward. Besides, you have gotten
Honor enough, let young men rise now. Nay,
I do perceive too by the General, (which is
One main cause ye shall die) howe'r he carry it,
Such a strong doting on ye, that I fear,
You shall command in chief: how are we paid then?
Come, if you will pray, dispatch it.

_Petill._ Is there no way?

_Jun._ Not any way to live.

_Petill._ I will do any thing,
Redeem my self at any price: good _Junius_,
Let me but die upon the Rock, but offer
My life up like a Soldier.

_Jun._ You will seek then
To out-doe every man.

_Petill._ Believe it _Junius_,
You shall goe stroke by stroke with me.

_Jun._ You'll leave off too,
As you are noble, and a soldier,
For ever these mad fancies.

_Petill._ Dare ye trust me?
By all that's good and honest.

_Jun._ There's your sword then,
And now come on a new man: Virtue guide thee. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Caratach, _and_ Hengo _on the Rock_.

_Car._ Courage my Boy, I have found meat: look _Hengo_,
Look where some blessed _Britain_, to preserve thee,
Has hung a little food and drink: cheer up Boy,
Do not forsake me now.

_Hengo._ O Uncle. Uncle,
I feel I cannot stay long: yet I'll fetch it,
To keep your noble life: Uncle, I am heart-whole,
And would live.

_Car._ Thou shalt, long I hope.

_Hen._ But my head, Uncle:
Methinks the Rock goes round.

_Enter_ Macer _and_ Judas.

_Ma._ Mark 'em well, _Judas_.

_Jud._ Peace, as you love your life.

_Hen._ Do not you hear
The noise of Bels?

_Car._ Of Bels Boy? 'tis thy fancie,
Alas, thy bodies full of wind.

_Hen._ Methinks, Sir,
They ring a strange sad knell, a preparation
To some near funeral of State: nay, weep not,
Mine own sweet Uncle, you will kill me sooner.

_Car._ Oh my poor chicken.

_Hen._ Fie, faint-hearted Uncle:
Come, tie me in your Belt, and let me down.

_Car._ I'll go my self Boy.

_Hengo._ No, as ye love me, Uncle;
I will not eat it, if I do not fetch it;
The danger only I desire: pray tie me.

_Car._ I will, and all my care hang o'r thee: come child,
My valiant child.

_Hen._ Let me down apace, Uncle,
And ye shall see how like a Daw I'll whip it
From all their policies: for 'tis most certain
A _Roman_ train: and ye must hold me sure too,
You'll spoil all else. When I have brought it Uncle,
We'll be as merry--

_Car._ Go i'th' name of heaven, Boy.

_Hen._ Quick, quick, Uncle, I have it. Oh.

[Judas _shoots_ Hengo.

_Car._ What ail'st thou?

_Hen._ O my best Uncle, I am slain.

_Car._ I see ye, and heaven direct my hand: destruction

[Caratach _kills_ Judas _with a stone from the rock_.

Go with thy coward soul. How dost thou Boy?
Oh villain, pocky villain.

_Hen._ Oh Uncle, Uncle,
Oh how it pricks me: am I preserv'd for this?
Extremely pricks me.

_Car._ Coward, rascal Coward,
Dogs eat thy flesh.

_Hen._ Oh I bleed hard: I faint too, out upon't,
How sick I am! the lean Rogue, Uncle.

_Car._ Look Boy,
I have laid him sure enough.

_Hen._ Have ye knockt his brains out?

_Car._ I warrant thee for stirring more: cheer up, child.

_Hen._ Hold my sides hard, stop, stop, oh wretched fortune,
Must we part thus? Still I grow sicker, Uncle.

_Car._ Heaven look upon this noble child.

_Hen._ I once hop'd
I should have liv'd to have met these bloody _Romans_
At my swords point, to have reveng'd my Father,
To have beaten 'em: oh hold me hard. But Uncle--

_Car._ Thou shalt live still I hope Boy. Shall I draw it?

_Hen._ Ye draw away my soul then, I would live
A little longer; spare me heavens, but only
To thank you for your tender love. Good Uncle,
Good noble Uncle weep not.

_Car._ Oh my chicken,
My dear Boy, what shall I lose?

_Hen._ Why, a child,
That must have died however: had this scap'd me,
Feaver or famine--I was born to die, Sir.

_Car._ But thus unblown, my boy?

_Hen._ I go the straighter
My journey to the gods: Sure I shall know ye
When ye come, Uncle.

_Car._ Yes, Boy.

_Hen._ And I hope
We shall enjoy together that great blessedness
You told me of.

_Car._ Most certain, child.

_Hen._ I grow cold,
Mine eyes are going.

_Car._ Lift 'em up.

_Hen._ Pray for me;
And noble Uncle, when my bones are ashes,
Think of your little Nephew. Mercy.

_Car._ Mercy.
You blessed Angels take him.

_Hen._ Kiss me: so.
Farewel, farewel. [_Dies._

_Car._ Farewel the hopes of _Britain_,
Thou Royal graft, Farewel for ever. Time and Death,
Ye have done your worst. Fortune now see, now proudly
Pluck off thy vail, and view thy triumph: Look
Look what thou hast brought this Land to. Oh fair flower,
How lovely yet thy ruines show, how sweetly
Even death embraces thee! The peace of heaven,
The fellowship of all great souls be with thee.

_Enter_ Petillius _and_ Junius _on the rock_.

Hah? dare ye _Romans_? ye shall win me bravely.
Thou art mine. [_Fight._

_Jun._ Not yet, Sir.

_Car._ Breath ye, ye poor _Romans_,
And come up all, with all your antient valors,
Like a rough wind I'll shake your souls, and send 'em--

_Enter_ Swetonius, _and all the_ Roman _Captains_.

_Swet._ Yield thee bold _Caratach_; by all ----
As I am Soldier, as I envie thee,
I'll use thee like thy self, the valiant _Britain_.

_Pet._ Brave soldier yield; thou stock of Arms and Honor,
Thou filler of the World with Fame and Glory.

_Jun._ Most worthy man, we'll wooe thee, be thy prisoners.

_Swet._ Excellent _Britain_, do me but that Honor,
That more to me than Conquests, that true happiness,
To be my friend.

_Car._ Oh _Romans_, see what here is:
Had this Boy liv'd--

_Swet._ For Fames sake, for thy Swords sake,
As thou desirest to build thy virtues greater:
By all that's excellent in man, and honest--

_Car._ I do believe: Ye have had me a brave foe;
Make me a noble friend, and from your goodness,
Give this Boy honourable earth to lie in.

_Swet._ He shall have fitting Funeral.

_Car._ I yield then.
Not to your blows, but your brave courtesies.

_Petill._ Thus we conduct then to the arms of Peace
The wonder of the World.

_Swet._ Thus I embrace thee, [_Flourish._
And let it be no flattery that I tell thee,
Thou art the only Soldier.

_Car._ How to thank ye,
I must hereafter find upon your usage.
I am for _Rome_.

_Swet._ Ye must.

_Car._ Then _Rome_ shall know
The man that makes her spring of glory grow.

_Swet. Petillius_, you have shown much worth this day,
redeem'd much error,
Ye have my love again, preserve it, _Junius_,
With you I make him equal in the Regiment.

_Jun._ The elder and the nobler: I'll give place, Sir.

_Swet._ Ye shew a friends soul.

* * * * *

March on, and through the Camp in every tongue,
The Virtues of great _Caratach_ be sung. [_Exeunt._

The Knight of the Burning Pestle.

_To the Readers of this COMEDY._

_Gentlemen_, the World is so nice in these our times, that
for Apparel, there is no fashion, For Musick, which is a rare
Art, (though now slighted) No Instrument; For Diet, none but
the _French_ Kickshoes that are delicate; and for Plaies, no
invention but that which now runneth an invective way, touching
some particular persons, or else it is contemned before it is
throughly understood. This is all that I have to say, That the
Author had no intent to wrong any one in this _Comedy_, but as
a merry passage, here and there interlaced it with delight,
which he hopes will please all, and be hurtful to none.

The PROLOGUE.

_Where the Bee can suck no Honey, she leaves her sting behind;_
_and where the Bear cannot find_ Origanum _to heal his grief,
he blasteth all other leaves with his breath. We fear it is
like to fare so with us; that seeing you cannot draw from our_
_labours sweet content, you leave behind you a sower mis-like,
and with open reproach blame our good meaning, because you
cannot reap the wonted mirth. Our intent was at this time
to move inward delight, not outward lightness; and to breed
(if it might be) soft smiling, not loud laughing: knowing
it (to the wise) to be a great pleasure, to hear Counsel
mixed with Wit, as to the foolish to have sport mingled with
rudeness. They were banished the Theater of_ Athens, _and from_
Rome _hissed, that brought Parasites on t[h]e Stage with
apish actions, or Fools with uncivil habits, or Courtezans_
_with immodest words. We have endeavoured to be as far from
unseemly speeches, to make your ears glow, as we hope you
will be free from unkind reports, or mistaking the Authors
intention (who never aimed at any one particular in this
Play,) to make our cheeks blush. And thus I leave it, and
thee to thine own censure, to like, or dislike._ Vale.

* * * * *

_The Actors Names._

The Prologue.
Then a Citizen.
The Citizens wife, and _Ralph_ her man, sitting below amidst
the Spectators.
A rich Merchant.
_Jasper_ his Apprentice.
Master _Humphrey_, a friend to the Merchant.
_Luce_, the Merchants Daughter.
Mistress _Merry-thought_, _Jaspers_ Mother.
_Michael_, a second Son of Mistriss _Merry-thought_.
Old M. _Merry-thought_.
A Squire.
A Dwarfe.
A Tapster.
A Boy that Danceth and Singeth.
An Host.
A Barber.
Two Knights.
A Captain.
A Sergeant.
Soldiers.

_Enter_ Prologue.

From all that's near the Court, from all that's great
Within the compass of the City-walls
We now have brought our Scene.

_Enter_ Citizen.

_Cit._ Hold your peace good-man boy.

_Pro._ What do you mean Sir?

_Cit._ That you have no good meaning: These seven years there
hath been Plays at this House, I have observed it, you have
still girds at Citizens; and now you call your Play _The_
_London Merchant_. Down with your Title, Boy, down with your
Title.

_Pro._ Are you a member of the noble City?

_Cit._ I am.

_Pro._ And a Free-man?

_Cit._ Yea, and a Grocer.

_Pro._ So Grocer, then by your swe[e]t favour, we intend no
abuse to the City.

_Cit._ No sir,
Yes sir,
If you were not resolv'd to play the Jacks,
What need you study for new subjects,
Purposely to abuse your betters?
Why could not you be contented,
As well as others,
With the Legend of _Whittington_,
Or the life and death of Sir _Thomas Gresham_?
With the building of the _Royal Exchange_?
Or the storie of Queen _Elenor_,
With the rearing of _London bridge_ upon Woollsacks?

_Pro._ You seem to be an understanding man:
What would you have us do sir?

_Cit._ Why?
Present something notably
In honor of the Commons of the City.

_Pro._ Why,
What do you say, to the life and death of fat _Drake_,
Or the repairing of Fleet Privies?

_Cit._ I do not like that,
But I will have a Citizen,
And he shall be of my own Trade.

_Pro._ Oh,
You should have told us your mind
A month since,
Our Play is ready to begin now.

_Cit._ 'Tis all one for that,
I will have a Grocer,
And he shall do admirable things.

_Pro._ What will you have him do?

_Cit._ Marry I will have him--

_Wife._ Husband, Husband.

_Wife below, Ralph below._

_Ralph._ Peace, Mistriss.

_Wife._ Hold thy peace _Ralph_,
I know what I do,
I warrant ye.
Husband, Husband.

_Cit._ What say'st thou Conie?

_Wife._ Let him kill a Lion with a Pestle Husband,
Let him kill a Lion with a Pestle.

_Cit._ So he shall,
I'll have him kill a Lion with a pestle.

_Wife._ Husband,
Shall I come up Husband?

_Cit._ I Cony.
_Ralph_, help your Mistriss this way:
Pray Gentlemen make her a little room,
I pray you sir
Lend me your hand to help up my Wife:
I thank you sir.
So.

_Wife._ By your leave Gentlemen all,
I'm something troublesome,
I'm a stranger here,
I was ne'r at one of these Plays, [a]s they say, before;
But I should have seen _Jane Shore_ once,
And my Husband
Hath promised me any time this Twelvemonth,
To carrie me to the _Bold Beauchams_,
But in truth he did not;
I pray you bear with me.

_Cit._ Boy,
Let my Wife and I have a couple of stools,
And then begin,
And let the Grocer do rare things.

_Pro._ But sir,
We have never a Boy to play him,
Every one hath a part already.

_Wife._ Husband, Husband,
For gods sake let _Ralph_ play him,
Beshrew me if I do not think
He will go beyond them all.

_Cit._ Well remembred wife,
Come up _Ralph_,
I'll tell you Gentlemen,
Let them but lend him a suit of reparrel,
and necessaries,
And by gad,
If any of them all blow wind in the tail on him,
I'll be hang'd.