Chapter VI: Part 6

_Wife._ I pray you youth,
Let him have a suit of reparrel,
I'll be sworn Gentlemen,
My Husband tells you true,
He will act you sometimes at our house,
That all the neighbors cry out on him:
He will fetch you up a couraging part so in the Garret,
That we are all as fear'd I warrant you,
That we quake again:
We'll fear our children with him,
If they be never so unruly,
Do but cry,
_Ralph comes, Ralph comes_ to them,
And they'll be as quiet as Lambs.
Hold up thy head _Ralph_,
Shew the Gentlemen what thou canst do,
Speak a huffing part,
I warrant you the Gentlemen will accept of it.

_Cit._ Do _Ralph_, do.

_Ralph._ By heaven
(Methinks) it were an easie leap
To pluck bright honor from the pale-fac'd Moon,
Or dive into the bottom of the Sea,
Where never fathome line toucht any ground,
And pluck up drowned honor
From the lake of Hell.

_Cit._ How say you Gentlemen,
Is it not as I told you?

_Wife._ Nay Gentlemen,
He hath plaid before, my husband says, _Musidorus_
Before the Wardens of our company.

_Cit._ I, and he should have plaid _Jeronimo_
With a shoo-maker for a wager.

_Pro._ He shall have a suit of apparel,
If he will go in.

_Cit._ In _Ralph_, in _Ralph_,
And set out the Grocer[y] in their kind,
If thou lov'st me.

_Wife._ I warrant our _Ralph_ will look finely,
When he's drest.

_Pro._ But what will you have it call'd?

_Cit. The Grocers Honor._

_Pro._ Methinks _The Knight of the b[u]rning Pestle_ were better.

_Wife._ I'll be sworn Husband.
That's as good a name as can be.

_Cit._ Let it be so, begin, begin;
My Wife and I will sit down.

_Pro._ I pray you do.

_Cit._ What stately Musick have you?
You have Shawnes.

_Pro._ Shawns? no.

_Cit._ No?
I'm a thief if my mind did not give me so.
_Ralph_ plaies a stately part,
And he must needs have Shawns:
I'll be at the charge of them my self,
Rather than we'll be without them.

_Pro._ So you are like to be.

_Cit._ Why and so I will be,
There's two shillings,
Let's have the Waits of _Southwark_,
They are as rare fellows as any are in _England_;
And that will fetch them all o'r the water, with a vengeance,
As if they were mad.

_Pro._ You shall have them:
Will you sit down then?

_Cit._ I, come Wife.

_Wife._ Sit you merry all Gentlemen,
I'm bold to sit amongst you for my ease.

_Pro._ From all that's near the Court,
From all that's great
Within the compass of the City walls,
We now have brought our Scæne:
Flie far from hence
All private taxes, immodest phrases,
What e'r may but shew like vicious:
For wicked mirth never true pleasure brings,
But honest minds are pleas'd with honest things.
Thus much for that we do:
But for _Ralphs_ part
You must answer for your self.

_Cit._ Take you no care for _Ralph_,
He'll discharge himself I warrant you.

_Wife._ I'faith Gentlemen,
I'll give [my] word for _Ralph_.

_Actus Primus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Merchant _and_ Jasper _his Man_.

_Merch._ Sirrah, I'll make you know you are my Prentice,
And whom my charitable love redeem'd
Even from the fall of fortune; gave thee heat
And growth, to be what now thou art, new cast thee,
Adding the trust of all I have at home,
In forreign Staples, or upon the Sea
To thy direction, ti'de the good opinions
Both of [my]self and friends to thy endeavors,
So fair were thy beginnings: but with these
As I remember you had never charge,
To love your Masters Daughter, and even then,
When I had found a wealthy Husband for her,
I take it, Sir, you had not: but however,
I'll break the neck of that Commission,
And make you know you are but a Merchants Factor.

_Jasp._ Sir,
I do liberally confess I am yours,
Bound both by love and duty to your service;
In which my labor hath been all my profit;
I have not lost in bargain, nor delighted
To wear your honest gains upon my back,
Nor have I given a pension to my bloud,
Or lavishly in play consum'd your stock.
These, and the miseries that do attend them,
I dare with innocence, proclaim are strangers
To all my temperate actions: for your Daughter,
If there be any love to my deservings,
Born by her virtuous self, I cannot stop it:
Nor am I able to refrain her wishes.
She's private to her self, and best of knowledge,
Whom she'll make so happy as to sigh for.
Besides, I cannot think you mean to match her,
Unto a fellow of so lame a presence,
One that hath little left of _Nature_ in him.

_Mer._ 'Tis very well, Sir, I can tell your wisdom
How all this shall be cur'd.

_Jasp._ Your care becomes you.

_Merc._ And thus it shall be, Sir, I here discharge you,
My house, and service, take your liberty,
And when I want a Son I'll send for you. [_Exit._

_Jasp._ These be the fair rewards of them that love,
Oh you that live in freedom never prove
The travel of a mind led by desire.

_Enter_ Luce.

_Luce._ Why how now friend, struck with my Fathers thunder?

_Jasp._ Struck, and struck dead, unless the remedy
Be full of speed and virtue; I am now,
What I expected long, no more your father's.

_Luce._ But mine.

_Jasp._ But yours, and only yours I am,
That's all I have to keep me from the statute:
You dare be constant still?

_Luce._ O fear me not.
In this I dare be better than a woman.
Nor shall his anger, nor his offers move me,
Were they both equal to a Princes power.

_Jasp._ You know my Rival?

_Luce._ Yes, and love him dearly,
Even as I love an ague, or foul weather,
I prethee _Jasper_ fear him not.

_Jasp._ Oh no,
I do not mean to do him so much kindness,
But to our own desires you know the plot
We both agreed on.

_Luce._ Yes, and will perform
My part exactly.

_Jasp._ I desire no more,
Farewel, and keep my heart, 'tis yours.

_Luce._ I take it,
He must do miracles,
Makes me forsake it. [_Exeunt._

_Cit._ Fie upon 'em little infidels,
What a matter's here now?
Well, I'll be hang'd for a half-penny,
If there be not some abomination knavery in this Play,
Well, let 'em look to't,
_Ralph_ must come,
And if there be any tricks a brewing--

_Wife._ Let 'em brew and bake too Husband, a gods name,
_Ralph_ will find all out I warrant you,
And they were older than they are.
I pray my pretty youth, is _Ralph_ ready?

_Boy._ He will be presently.

_Wife._ Now I pray you make my commendations unto him,
And withal, carry him this stick of Licoras,
Tell him his Mistriss sent it him,
And bid him bite apiece,
'Twill open his pipes the better, say.

_Enter_ Merchant, _and Master_ Humphrey.

_Mer._ Come, Sir, she's yours, upon my faith she's yours,
You have my hand, for other idle letts
Between your hopes and her, thus, with a wind,
They are scattered, and no more: my wanton Prentice,
That like a bladder blew himself with love,
I have lett out, and sent him to discover
New masters yet unknown.

_Humph._ I thank you Sir,
Indeed I thank you, Sir, and e'r I stir,
It shall be known however you do deem,
I am of gentle blood and gentle seem.

_Mer._ Oh Sir, I know it certain.

_Hum._ Sir, my friend,
Although as Writers say, all things have end,
And that we call a Pudding, hath his two,
Oh let it not seem strange I pray to you,
If in this bloudy simile, I put
My love, more endless, than frail things or gut.

_Wife._ Husband,
I prethee sweet lamb tell me one thing,
But tell me truly:
Stay youths I beseech you,
Till I question my Husband.

_Cit._ What is it Mouse?

_Wife._ Sirrah,
Didst thou ever see a prettier child?
How it behaves it self, I warrant ye:
And speaks and looks, and pearts up the head?
I pray you brother with your favour,
Were you never none of Mr. _Moncasters_ Scholars?

_Cit._ Chickin,
I prethee heartily contain thy self,
The childer are pretty childer,
But when _Ralph_ comes, Lamb.

_Wife._ I when _Ralph_ comes, Conie,
Well my youth you may proceed.

_M[e]r._ Well Sir, you know my love, and rest, I hope
Assur'd of my consent; get but my daughters,
And wed her when you please: you must be bold,
And clap in close unto her, come, I know
You have language good enough to win a wench.

_Wife._ A whoresone tyrant,
Hath been an old stringer in his days,
I warrant him.

_Hum._ I take your gentle offer, and withal
Yield love again for love reciprocal.

_Enter_ Luce.

_M[e]r._ What _Luce_, within there?

_Luce._ Call'd you Sir?

_Mer._ I did
Give entertainment to this Gentleman,
And see you be not froward: to her, Sir:
My presence will but be an eye-soar to you. [_Exit._

_Hum._ Fair Mistriss _Luce_, how do you, are you well?
Give me your hand, and then I pray you tell,
How doth your little Sister, and your Brother?
And whether you love me or any other.

_Luce._ Sir, these are quickly answer'd.

_Hum._ So they are,
Where Women are not cruel: but how far
Is it now distant from the place we are in,
Unto that blessed place your Fathers Warren.

_Luce._ What makes you think of that, Sir?

_Hum._ Even that face,
For stealing Rabbets whilome in that place,
God _Cupid_, or the Keeper, I know not whether,
Unto my cost and charges brought you thither,
And there began.

_Lu[ce]._ Your game, Sir.

_Hum._ Let no game,
Or any thing that tendeth to the same,
Be evermore remembred, thou fair killer
For whom I sate me down and brake my Tiller.

_Wife._ There's a kind Gentleman, I warrant you, when will you
do as much for me _George_?

_Luce._ Beshrew me Sir, I am sorry for your losses,
But as the proverb says, _I cannot cry_,
I would you had not seen me.

_Hum._ So would I.
Unless you had more maw to do me good.

_Luce._ Why, cannot this strange passion be withstood,
Send for a Constable and raise the Town.

_Hum._ Oh no, my valiant love will batter down
Millions of Constables, and put to flight,
Even that great Watch of Midsummer day at night.

_Luce._ Beshrew me, Sir, 'twere good I yielded then,
Weak Women cannot hope, where valiant men
Have no resistance.

_Hum._ Yield then, I am full
Of pity, though I say it, and can pull
Out of my pocket thus a pair of Gloves.
Look _Lucy_, look, the dogs tooth, nor the Doves
Are not so white as these; and sweet they be,
And whipt about with silk, as you may see:
If you desire the price, sute from your eye,
A beam to this place, and you shall espie
_F. S._ which is to say my sweetest Honey,
They cost me three and two pence, or no money.

_Luce._ Well Sir, I take them kindly, and I thank you;
What would you more?

_Hum._ Nothing.

_Lu._ Why then farewel.

_Hum._ Nor so, nor so, for Lady I must tell,
Before we part, for what we met together,
God grant me time, and patience, and fair weather.

_Luce._ Speak and declare your mind in terms so brief.

_Hum._ I shall; then first and foremost for relief
I call to you, if that you can afford it,
I care not at what price, for on my word, it
Shall be repaid again, although it cost me
More than I'll speak of now, for love hath tost me
In furious blanket like a Tennis-ball,
And now I rise aloft, and now I fall.

_Luce._ Alas good Gentleman, alas the day.

_Hum._ I thank you heartily, and as I say,
Thus do I still continue without rest,
I' th' morning like a man, at night a beast,
Roaring and bellowing mine own disquiet,
That much I fear, forsaking of my diet,
Will bring me presently to that quandary,
I shall bid all adieu.

_Lu._ Now by _S. Mary_
That were great pity.

_Hum._ So it were beshrew me,
Then ease me lusty _Luce_, and pity shew me.

_Luce._ Why Sir, you know my will is nothing worth
Without my Fathers grant, get his consent,
And then you may with assurance try me.

_Hum._ The Worshipful your Sire will not deny me,
For I have ask'd him, and he hath reply'd,
Sweet Master _Humphrey_, _Luce_ shall be thy Bride.

_Luce._ Sweet Master _Humphrey_ then I am content.

_Hum._ And so am I in truth.

_Lu._ Yet take me with you,
There is another clause must be annext,
And this it is I swore, and will perform it,
No man shall ever joy me as his wife,
But he that stole me hence: if you dare venture,
I am yours; you need not fear, my father loves you:
If not, farewel for ever.

_Hum._ Stay Nymph, stay,
I have a double Gelding coloured bay,
Sprung by his Father from _Barbarian_ kind,
Another for my self, though somewhat blind,
Yet true as trusty tree.

_Luce._ I am satisfied,
And so I give my hand, our course must lie
Through _Waltham_ Forrest, where I have a friend
Will entertain us, so farewel Sir _Humphrey_. [_Exit_ Luce.
And think upon your business.

_Hum._ Though I die,
I am resolv'd to venture life and lim,
For one so young, so fair, so kind, so trim. [_Exit_ Hum.

_Wife._ By my faith and troth _George_, and as I am
virtuous, it is e'n the kindest young man that ever trode on
shooe-leather: well, go thy waies, if thou hast her not, 'tis
not thy fault 'ifaith.

_Cit._ I prethee Mouse be patient, a shall have her, or I'll
make some of 'em smoak for't.

_Wife._ Thats my good lamb _George_, fie, this stinking
Tobacco kills men, would there were none in _England_: now I
pray Gentlemen, what good does this stinking Tobacco do you?
nothing; I warrant you make chimneys a your faces: Oh Husband,
Husband, now, now there's _Ralph_, there's _Ralph_.

_Enter_ Ralph, _like a Groc[e]r in's shop, with_
_two Prentices, reading_ Palmerin _of_ England.

_Cit._ Peace fool, let _Ralph_ alone, hark you _Ralph_; do not
strain your self too much at the first, peace, begin _Ralph_.

_Ralph._ Then _Palmerin_ and _Trineus_ snatching their Lances
from their Dwarfs, and clasping their Helmets, gallopt amain
after the Giant, and _Palmerin_ having gotten a sight of
him, came posting amain, saying, Stay traiterous thief, for
thou maist not so carry away her, that is worth the greatest
Lord in the World, and with these words gave him a blow on
the Shoulder, that he struck him besides his Elephant; and
_Trineus_ coming to the Knight that had _Agricola_ behind him,
set him soon besides his horse, with his neck broken in the
fall, so that the Princess getting out of the throng, between
joy and grief said: All happy Knight, the mirror of all such
as follow Arms, now may I be well assured of the love thou
bearest me, I wonder why the Kings do not raise an Army of
fourteen or fifteen hundred thousand men, as big as the Army
that the Prince of _Portigo_ brought against _Rocicler_, and
destroy these Giants, they do much hurt to wandring Damsels,
that go in quest of their Knights.

_Wife._ Faith Husband, and _Ralph_ says true, for they say the
King of _Portugal_ cannot sit at his meat, but the Giants and
the Ettins will come and snatch it from him.

_Cit._ Hold thy tongue; on _Ralph_.

_Ralph._ And certainly those Knights are much to be commended,
who neglecting their possessions, wander with a Squire and a
Dwarfe through the Desarts, to relieve poor Ladies.

_Wife._ I by my faith are they _Ralph_, let 'em say what they
will, they are indeed: our Knights neglect their possessions
well enough, but they do not the rest.

_Ralph._ There are no such courteous, and fair well-spoken
Knights in this age, they will call one the Son of a whore,
that _Palmerin_ of _England_, would have called fair Sir; and
one that _Rosicler_ would have called Right beaut[eous] Damsel,
they will call Damn'd bitch.

_Wife._ I'll be sworn will they _Ralph_, they have called me so
an hundred times about a scurvy pipe of Tobacco.

_Ralph._ But what brave spirit could be content to sit in his
shop with a flapet of Wood, and a blew Apron before him selling
_Methridatam_ and _Dragons water_ to visited houses, that might
pursue feats of Arms, and through his noble atchievements,
procure such a famous History to be written [of his] Heroick
prowesse.

_Cit._ Well said _Ralph_, some more of those words _Ralph_.

_Wife._ They go finely by my troth.

_Ralph._ Why should [not I] then pursue this course, both for
the credit of my self and our company, for amongst all the
worthy Books of Atchievements, I do not call to mind, that I
yet read of a Grocer Errant. I will be the said Knight: Have
you heard of any that hath wandred unfurnished of his Squire
and Dwarfe? my elder Prentice _T[i]m_ shall be my trusty
Squire, and little _George_ my Dwarfe, hence my blew Apron, yet
in remembrance of my former Trade, upon my shield shall be
pourtraid a _Burning Pestle_, and I will be call'd the _Knight_
_of the burning Pestle_.

_Wife._ Nay, I dare swear thou wilt not forget thy old Trade,
thou wert ever meek.

_Ralph. Tim._

_Tim._ Anon.

_Ralph._ My beloved Squire, and _George_ my Dwarfe, I charge
you that from henceforth you never call me by any other name,
but the _Right courteous and valiant Knight of the Burning
Pestle_, and that you never call any Female by the name of a
Woman or Wench, but fair Lady, if she have her desires; if
not, distressed Damsel; that you call all Forrests and Heaths,
Desarts, and all Horses Palfries.

_Wife._ This is very fine: faith do the Gentlemen like _Ralph_,
think you Husband?

_Cit._ I, I warrant thee, the Players would give all the shooes
in their shop for him.

_Ralph._ My beloved Squire _Tim_, stand out, admit this were a
Desart, and over it a Knight Errant pricking, and I should bid
you enquire of his intents, what would you say?

_Tim._ Sir, my Master sent me to know whither you are riding?

_Ralph._ No, thus; fair Sir, the _Right courteous, and valiant_
_Knight of the Burning Pestle_, commanded me to enquire
upon what adventure you are bound, whether to relieve some
distressed Damsel, or otherwise.

_Cit._ Whorson blockhead cannot remember.

_Wife._ I'faith, and _Ralph_ told him on't before: all the
Gentlemen heard him, did he not Gentlemen, did not _Ralph_ tell
him on't?

_George. Right courteous and valiant Knight of the Burning_
_Pestle_, here is a distressed Damsel, to have a halfepenny
worth of Pepper.

_Wife._ That's a good boy, see, the little boy can hit it, by
my troth it's a fine child.

_Ralph._ Relieve her with all courteous language, now shut up
shop, no more my Prentice, but my trusty Squire and Dwarfe, I
must bespeak my Shield, and arming Pestle.

_Cit._ Go thy ways _Ralph_, as I am a true man, thou art the
best on 'em all.

_Wife. Ralph, Ralph._

_Ralph._ What say you Mistriss?

_Wife._ I prethee come again quickly, sweet _Ralph_.

_Ralph._ By and by. [_Exit_ Ralph.

_Enter_ Jasper _and his Mother, Mistriss_ Merry-thought.

_Mist. Mer._ Give thee my blessing? no, I'll never give thee
my blessing, I'll see thee hang'd first; it shall ne'r be said
I gave thee my blessing: thou art thy Fathers own Son, of the
[right] bloud of the _Merry-thoughts_; I may curse the time
that e'r I knew thy Father, he hath spent all his own, and
mine too, and when I tell him of it, he laughs and dances, and
sings and cries; _A merry heart lives long-a._ And thou art
a wast-thrift, and art run away from thy Master, that lov'd
thee well, and art come to me, and I have laid up a little for
my younger Son _Michael_, and thou thinkst to bezle that, but
thou shalt never be able to do it, Come hither _Michael_, come
_Michael_, down on thy knees, thou shalt have my blessing.

_Enter_ Michael.

_Mich._ I pray you Mother pray to God to bless me.

_Mist. Mer._ God bless thee: but _Jasper_ shall never have my
blessing, he shall be hang'd first, shall he not _Michael_? how
saist thou?

_Mich._ Yes forsooth Mother and grace of God.

_Mist. Mer._ That's a good boy.

_Wife._ I'faith it's a fine spoken child.

_Jasp._ Mother, though you forget a Parents love,
I must preserve the duty of a child:
I ran not from my Master, nor return
To have your stock maintain my idleness.

_Wife._ Ungracious child I warrant him, harke how he chops
Logick with his Mother: thou hadst best tell her she lies, do,
tell her she lies.

_Cit._ If he were my son, I would hang him up by the heels, and
flea him, and salt him, whorson halter-sack.

_Jasp._ My coming only is to beg your love,
Which I [must] ever though I never gain it,
And howsoever you esteem of me,
There is no drop of bloud hid in these veins,
But I remember well belongs to you,
That brought me forth; and would be glad for you
To rip them all again, and let it out.

_Mist. Mer._ I'faith I had sorrow enough for thee: (God knows)
but I'll hamper thee well enough: get thee in thou vagabond,
get thee in, and learn of thy brother _Michael_.

Old _Mer._ within. _Nose, Nose, jolly red Nose, and who gave_
_thee this jolly red Nose?_

_Mist. Mer._ Hark my Husband he's singing and hoiting,
And I'm fain to cark and care, and all little enough.
Husband, _Charles, Charles Merry-thought_.

_Enter Old_ Merry-thought.

_Old Mer._ Nutmegs and Ginger, Cinamon and Cloves,
And they gave me this jolly red Nose.

_Mist. Mer._ If you would consider your estate, you would have
little list to sing, I-wisse.

_Old Mer._ It should never be consider'd, while it were an
estate, if I thought it would spoil my singing.

_Mist. Mer._ But how wilt thou do _Charles_, thou art an old
man, and thou canst not work, and thou hast not forty shillings
left, and thou eatest good meat, and drinkest good drink, and
laughest?

_Old Mer._ And will doe.

_Mist. Mer._ But how wilt thou come by it _Charles_?

_Old Mer._ How? why how have I done hitherto these forty years?
I never came into my Dining-room, but at eleven and six a
clock, I found excellent meat and drink a'th' Table: my Cloaths
were never worn out, but next morning a Tailor brought me a
new suit; and without question it will be so ever! Use makes
perfectness. If all should fail, it is but a little straining
my self extraordinary, and laugh my self to death.

_Wife._ It's a foolish old man this: is not he _George_?

_Cit._ Yes Cunny.

_Wife._ Give me a penny i'th' purse while I live _George_.

_Cit._ I by Lady Cunnie, hold thee there.

_Mist. Mer._ Well _Charles_, you promis'd to provide for
_Jasper_, and I have laid up for _Michael_: I pray you pay
_Jasper_ his portion, he's come home, and he shall not consume
_Michaels_ stock: he saies his Master turn'd him away, but I
promise you truly, I think he ran away.

_Wife._ No indeed _Mistriss Merry-thought_, though he be a
notable gallows, yet I'll assure you his Master did turn him
away, even in this place, 'twas i'faith within this half hour,
about his Daughter, my Husband was by.

_Cit._ Hang him rogue, he serv'd him well enough: love his
Masters Daughter! by my troth Cunnie, if there were a thousand
boys, thou wouldst spoil them all, with taking their parts; let
his Mother alone with him.

_Wife._ I _George_, but yet truth is truth.

_Old. Mer._ Where is _Jasper_? he's welcome however, call him
in, he shall have his portion, is he merry?

_Enter_ Jasper _and_ Michael.

_Mist. Mer._ I foul chive him, he is too merry. _Jasper._
_Michael._

_Old Mer._ Welcome _Jasper_, though thou run'st away, welcome,
God bless thee, 'tis thy mothers mind thou shouldst receive
thy portion: thou hast been abroad, and I hope hast learnt
experience enough to govern it: thou art of sufficient years,
hold thy hand: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight,
nine, there is ten shillings for thee, thrust thy self into
the world with that, and take some setled course, if fortune
cross thee, thou hast a retiring place; come home to me, I
have twenty shillings left, be a good Husband, that is, wear
ordinary Cloaths, eat the best meat, and drink the best drink;
be merry, and give to the poor, [and] believe me, thou hast no
end of thy goods.

_Jasp._ Long may you live free from all thought of ill,
And long have cause to be thus merry still.
But Father?

_Old Mer._ No more words _Jasper_, get thee gone, thou hast my
blessing, thy Fathers spirit upon thee. Farewel _Jasper_; but
yet, or e'r you part (oh cruel) kiss me, kiss me sweeting, mine
own dear jewel: So, now begone; no words.

[_Exit_ Jasper.

_Mist. Mer._ So _Michael_, now get thee gone too.

_Mich._ Yes forsooth Mother, but I'll have my Father's blessing
first.

_Mist. Mer._ No _Michael_, 'tis no matter for his blessing;
thou hast my blessing, begone; I'll fetch my money and jewels,
and follow thee: I'll stay no longer with him I warrant thee;
truly _Charles_ I'll begon too.

[_Old Mer._ What you will not?]

_Mist. Mer._ Yes indeed will I.

_Old Mer._ Hay ho, farewel _Nan_, I'll never trust wench more
again, if I can.

_Mist. Mer._ You shall not think (when all your own is gone) to
spend that I have been scraping up for _Michael_.

_Old Mer._ Farewel good wife, I expect it not; all I have to do
in this world, is to be merry: which I shall, if the ground be
not taken from me: and if it be,

When Earth and Seas from me are reft,
The Skies aloft for me are left. [_Exeunt._

[_Boy danceth, Musick._

_Finis Actus Primi._

_Wife._ I'll be sworn he's a merry old Gentleman for all that:
Hark, hark Husband, hark, Fiddles, Fiddles; now surely they
go finely. They say 'tis present death for these Fidlers to
tune their Rebecks before the great _Turks_ grace, is't not
_George_? But look, look, here's a youth dances: now good youth
do a turn o'th' toe; Sweet-heart, i'faith I'll have _Ralph_
come, and do some of his Gambols; he'll ride the Wild Mare
Gentlemen, 'twould do your hearts good to see him: I thank you
kind youth, pray bid _Ralph_ come.

_Cit._ Peace Connie. Sirrah, you scurvy boy, bid the Players
send _Ralph_, or by gods ---- and they do not, I'll tear some
of their Periwigs beside their heads: this is all Riff-Raff.

_Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Merchant _and_ Humphrey.

_Merch._ And how faith? how goes it now Son _Humphrey_?

_Hum._ Right worshipful and my beloved friend
And Father dear, this matter's at an end.

_Merch._ 'Tis well, it should be so, I'm glad the Girl
Is found so tractable.

_Hum._ Nay, she must whirl
From hence, and you must wink: for so I say,
The story tells to morrow before day.

_Wife. George_, dost thou think in thy conscience now 'twill
be a match? tell me but what thou think'st sweet Rogue, thou
seest the poor Gentleman (dear heart) how it labours and throbs
I warrant you, to be at rest: I'll go move the Father for't.

_Cit._ No, no, I prethee sit still Honey-suckle, thou'lt spoil
all; if he deny him, I'll bring half a dozen good fellows my
self, and in the shutting of an evening knock't up, and there's
an end.

_Wife._ I'll buss thee for that I'faith boy; well _George_,
well you have been a wag in your days I warrant you: but God
forgive you, and I do with all my heart.

_Mer._ How was it Son? you told me that to morrow
Before day break, you must convey her hence.

_Hum._ I must, I must, and thus it is agreed,
Your Daughter rides upon a brown-bay Steed,
I on a Sorrel, which I bought of _Brian_,
The honest Host of the red roaring Lion
In _Waltham_ situate: then if you may,
Consent in seemly sort, lest by delay,
The fatal Sisters come, and do the office,
And then you'll sing another Song.

_Merch._ Alas.
Why should you be thus full of grief to me,
That do as willing as your self agree
To any thing so it be good and fair?
Then steal her when you will, if such a pleasure
Content you both, I'll sleep and never see it,
To make your joys more full: but tell me why
You may not here perform your marriage?

_Wife._ Gods blessing o'thy soul, old man, i'faith thou art
loth to part true hearts: I see a has her, _George_, and I'm
as glad on't; well, go thy ways _Humphrey_ for [a fair] spoken
man, I believe thou hast not thy fellow within the walls of
_London_, and I should say the Suburbs too, I should not lie:
why dost not thou rejoyce with me _George_?

_Cit._ If I could but see _Ralph_ again, I were as merry as
mine Host i'faith.

[_Hum._] The cause you seem to ask, I thus declare;
Help me oh _Muses_ nine, your Daughter sware
A foolish oath, the more it was the pity:
Yet none but my self within this City
Shall dare to say so, but a bold defiance
Shall meet him, were he of the noble Science.
And yet she sware, and yet why did she swear?
Truly I cannot tell, unless it were
For her own ease: for sure sometimes an oath,
Being sworn thereafter, is like cordial broth.
And this it was, she swore never to marry,
But such a one whose mighty arm could carry
(As meaning me, for I am such a one)
Her bodily away through stick and stone,
Till both of us arrive at her request,
Some ten miles off in the wide _Waltham_ Forrest.

_Merch._ If this be all, you shall not need to fear
Any denial in your love, proceed,
I'll neither follow, nor repent the deed.

_Hum._ Good night, twenty good nights, and twenty more,
And twenty more good nights, that makes threescore. [_Exeunt._

_Enter Mistriss_ Merry-thought, _and her Son_ Michael.

_Mist. Mer._ Come _Michael_, art thou not weary Boy?

_Mich._ No forsooth Mother not I.

_Mist. Mer._ Where be we now child?

_Mich._ Indeed forsooth Mother I cannot tell, unless we be at
_Mile-end_, is not all the world _Mile-end_, Mother?

_Mist. Mer._ No _Michael_, not all the world boy; but I can
assure thee _Michael_, _Mile-end_ is a goodly matter, there has
been a pitcht field my child, between the naughty _Spaniels_,
and the _Englishmen_, and the _Spaniels_ ran away _Michael_,
and the _Englishmen_ followed: my neighbor _Coxstone_ was there
boy, and kill'd them all with a birding-piece.

_Mich._ Mother forsooth.

_Mist. Mer._ What says my white boy?

_Mich._ Shall not my Father go with us too?

_Mist. Mer._ No _Michael_, let thy Father go snick up, he shall
never come between a pair of sheets with me again, while he
lives: let him stay at home and sing for his supper boy; come
child sit down, and I'll shew my boy fine knacks indeed, look
here _Michael_, here's a Ring, and here's a Bruch, and here's a
Bracelet, and here's two Rings more, and here's Money, and Gold
by th' eye my boy.

_Mich._ Shall I have all this Mother?

_Mist. Mer._ I _Michael_ thou shalt have all _Michael_.

_Cit._ How lik'st thou this wench?

_Wife._ I cannot tell, I would have _Ralph_, _George_; I'll
see no more else indeed-law, and I pray you let the youths
understand so much by word of mouth, for I will tell you
truly, I'm afraid o' my boy: come, come _George_, let's be
merry and wise, the child's a fatherless child, and say they
should put him into a strait pair of Gaskins, 'twere worse than
knot-grass, he would never grow after it.

_Enter_ Ralph, Squire, _and_ Dwarfe.

_Cit._ Here's _Ralph_, here's _Ralph_.

_Wife._ How do you _Ralph_? you are welcome _Ralph_, as I may
say, it'[s] a good boy, hold up thy head, and be not afraid,
we are thy friends, _Ralph_, the Gentlemen will praise thee
_Ralph_, if thou plai'st thy part with audacity, begin _Ralph_
a Gods name.

_Ralph._ My trusty Squire unlace my Helme, give me my hat,
where are we, or what desart might this be?

_Dw._ Mirror of Knig[h]thood, this is, as I take it, the
perilous _Waltham_ Down; in whose bottom stands the inchanted
Valley.

_Mist. Mer._ Oh _Michael_, we are betraid, we are betraid, here
be Giants, flie boy, flie boy flie. [_Exeunt_ Mother _and_
Michael.

_Ralph._ Lace on my Helme again: what noise is this?
A gentle Lady flying the embrace
Of some uncourteous Knight, I will relieve her.
Go Squire, and say, the Knight that wears this Pestle
In honour of all Ladies swears revenge
Upon that recreant Coward that pursues her,
Goe comfort her, and that same gentle Squire
That bears her company.

_Squ._ I go brave Knight.

_Ralph._ My trusty Dwarf and friend, reach me my shield,
And hold it while I swear, first by my Knighthood,
Then by the soul of _Amadis de Gaule_,
My famous Ancestor, then by my Sword,
The beauteous _Brionella_ girt about me,
By this bright burning Pestle of mine honor,
The living Trophie, and by all respect
Due to distressed Damsels, here I vow
Never to end the quest of this fair Lady,
And that forsaken Squire, till by my valour
I gain their liberty.

_Dw._ Heaven bless the Knight
That thus relieves poor errant Gentlewomen. [_Exit._

_Wife._ I marry _Ralph_, this has some savour in't, I would see
the proudest of them all offer to carry his Books after him.
But _George_, I will not have him go away so soon, I shall be
sick if he go away, that I shall; call _Ralph_ again _George_,
call _Ralph_ again, I prethee sweetheart let him come fight
before me, and let's ha some Drums, and Trumpets, and let him
kill all that comes near him, and thou lov'st me _George_.

_Cit._ Peace a little bird, he shall kill them all, and they
were twenty more on 'em then there are.

_Enter_ Jasper.

_Jasp._ Now fortune, if thou be'st not only ill,
Shew me thy better face, and bring about
Thy desperate wheel, that I may climb at length
And stand, this is our place of meeting,
If love have any constancy. Oh age!
Where only wealthy men are counted happy:
How shall I please thee? how deserve thy smiles?
When I am only rich in misery?
My fathers blessing, and this little coin
Is my inheritance, a strong revenue,
From earth thou art, and to [the] earth I give thee,
There grow and multiply, whilst fresher air [_Spies the_
Breeds me a fresher fortune: how, illusion! [_Casket_.
What hath the Devil coyn'd himself before me?
'Tis mettle good, it rings well, I am waking,
And taking too I hope, now Gods dear blessing
Upon his heart that left it here, 'tis mine,
These pearls, I take it, were not left for Swine. [_Exit._

_Wife._ I do not like that this unthrifty youth should embesil
away the money, the poor Gentlewoman his mother will have a
heavy heart for it, God knows.

_Cit._ And reason good, sweet heart.

_Wif[e]._ But let him go, I'll tell _Ralph_ a tale in's ear,
shall fetch him again with a wanion, I warrant him, if he
be above ground; and besides _George_, here be a number of
sufficient Gentlemen can witness, and my self, and your self,
and the Musicians, if we be call'd in question, but here comes
_Ralph_, _George_, thou shalt hear him speak, as he were an
Emperal.

_Enter_ Ralph _and_ Dwarfe.

_Ralph._ Comes not Sir Squire again?

_Dwarf._ Right courteous Knight,
Your Squire doth come, and with him comes the Lady.

_Enter Mistriss_ Mer. _and_ Michael, _and_ Squire.

For and the Squire of Damsels as I take it.

_Rafe._ Madam, if any service or devoir
Of a poor errant Knight may right your wrongs,
Command it, I am prest to give you succor,
For to that holy end I bear my Armour.

_Mist. Mer._ Alas, Sir, I am a poor Gentlewoman, and I have
lost my money in this Forrest.

[_Ralph._] _Desart_, you would say, Lady, and not lost
Whilst I have Sword and Launce, dry up your tears
Which ill befits the beauty of that face:
And tell the story, if I may request it,
Of your disastrous fortune.

_Mist. Mer._ Out alas, I left a thousand pound, a thousand
pound, e'n all the money I had laid up for this youth, upon the
sight of your Mastership, you lookt so grim, and as I may say
it, saving your presence, more like a Giant than a mortal man.

_Ralph._ I am as you are, Lady, so are they
All mortal, but why weeps this gentle Squire?

_Mist. Mer._ Has he not cause to weep do you think, when he has
lost his inheritance?

_Ralph._ Young hope of valour, weep not, I am here
That will confound thy foe, and pay it dear
Upon his coward head, that dare[s] denie,
Distressed Squires, and Ladies equity.
I have but one horse, on which shall ride
This Lady fair behind me, and before
This courteous Squire, fortune will give us more
Upon our next adventure; fairly speed
Beside us Squire a[n]d Dwarfe to do us need. [_Exeunt._

_Cit._ Did not I tell you _Nell_ what your man would do? by the
faith of my body wench, for clean action and good delivery,
they may all cast their caps at him.

_Wife._ And so they may i'faith, for I dare speak it boldly,
the twelve Companies of _London_ cannot match him, timber for
timber: well _George_, and he be not inveigled by some of these
paltery Players, I ha much marvel: but _George_ we ha done our
parts, if the Boy have any grace to be thankful.

_Cit._ Yes, I warrant you duckling.

_Enter_ Humphrey _and_ Luce.

_Hum._ Good Mistriss _Luce_, how ever I in fault am,
For your lame horse; you're welcome unto _Waltham_.
But which way now to go, or what to say
I know not truly till it be broad day.

_Luce._ O fear not master _Humphrey_, I am guide
For this place good enough.

_Hum._ Then up and ride,
Or if it please you, walk for your repose,
Or sit, or if you will, go pluck a Rose:
Either of which shall be indifferent,
To your good friend and _Humphrey_, whose consent
Is so intangled ever to your will,
As the poor harmless horse is to the [M]ill.

_Luce._ Faith and you say the word, we'll e'n sit down,
And take a nap.

_Hum._ 'Tis better in the Town,
Where we may nap together: for believe me,
To sleep without a snatch would mickle grieve me.

_Luce._ You're merry master _Humphrey_.

_Hum._ So I am,
And have been ever merry from my Dam.

_Luce._ Your Nurse had the less labour.

_Hum._ Faith it may be,
Unless it were by chance I did beray me.

_Enter_ Jasper.

_Jasp. Luce_, dear friend _Luce_.

_Luce._ Here _Jasper_.

_Jasp._ You are mine.

_Hum._ If it be so, my friend, you use me fine:
What do you think I am?

_Jasp._ An arrant Noddy.

_Hum._ A word of obloquie: now by gods body,
I'll tell thy Master, for I know thee well.

_Jasp._ Nay, and you be so forward for to tell,
Take that, and that, and tell him, Sir, I gave it:
And say I paid you well.

_Hum._ O Sir I have it,
And do confess the payment, pray be quiet.

_Jasp._ Go, get you to your night-cap and the diet,
To cure your beaten bones.

_Luce._ Alas, poor _Humphrey_,
Get thee some wholsome broth with Sage and Cumfrie:
A little oil of Roses and a Feather
To noint thy back withal.

_Hum._ When I came hither,
Would I had gone to _Paris_ with _John Dorry_.

_Luce._ Farewel my pretty Nump, I am very sorry
I cannot bear thee company.

_Hum._ Farewel,
The Devils Dam was ne'r so bang'd in Hell. [_Exeunt._

[_Manet_ Humphrey.

_Wife._ This young _Jasper_ will prove me another Things, a
my conscience and he may be suffered; _George_, dost not see
_George_ how a swaggers, and flies at the very heads a fokes as
he were a Dragon; well if I do not do his lesson for wronging
the poor Gentleman, I am no true Woman, his friends that
brought him up might have been better occupied, I wis, then
have taught him these fegaries: he's e'n in the high-way to the
Gallows, God bless him.

_Cit._ You're too bitter, Connie, the young man may do well
enough for all this.

_Wife._ Come hither master _Humphrey_, has he hurt you? now
beshrew his fingers for't, here Sweet-heart, here's some Green
Ginger for thee, now beshrew my heart, but a has Pepper-nel
in's head, as big as a Pullets egg: alas, sweet Lamb, how thy
Temples beat; take the peace on him sweet heart, take the peace
on him.

_Enter a Boy._

_Cit._ No, no, you talk like a foolish woman, I'll ha _Ralph_
fight with him, and swinge him up well-favour'dly: sirrah boy
come hither, let _Ralph_ come in and fight with _Jasper_,

_Wife._ I and beat him well, he's an unhappy boy.

_Boy._ Sir, you must pardon us, the plot of our Play lies
contrary, and 'twill hazard the spoiling of our Play.

_Cit._ Plot me no plots, I'll ha _Ralph_ come out, I'll make
your house too hot for you else.

_Boy._ Why Sir, he shall, but if any thing fall out of order,
the Gentlemen must pardon us.

_Cit._ Go your ways good-man boy, I'll hold him a penny he
shall have his belly full of fighting now, ho here comes
_Ralph_, no more.

_Enter_ Ralph, _Mist._ Merry, Michael, Squire, _and_ Dwarf.

_Ralph._ What Knight is that, Squire, ask him if he keep
The passage bound by love of Lady fair,
Or else but prickant.

_Hum._ Sir, I am no Knight,
But a poor Gentleman, that this same night,
Had stoln from me on yonder Green,
My lovely Wife, and suffered to be seen
Yet extant on my shoulder[s] such a greeting,
That whilst I live, I shall think of that meeting.

_Wife._ I _Ralph_, he beat him unmercifully, _Ralph_, and thou
spar'st him _Ralph_, I would thou wert hang'd.

_Cit._ No more, wife, no more.

_Ralph._ Where is the Caitiff wretch hath done this deed,
Lady, your pardon, that I may proceed
Upon the quest of this injurious Knight.
And thou fair Squire repute me not the worse,
In leaving the great venture of the purse,

_Enter_ Jasper _and_ Luce.

And the rich Casket till some better leisure.

_Hum._ Here comes the Broker hath purloin'd my treasure.

_Ralph._ Go, Squire, and tell him I am here,
An Errant Knight at Arms, to crave delivery
Of that fair Lady to her own Knights arms.
If he deny, bid him take choice of ground,
And so defie him.

_Squire._ From the Knight that bears
_The Golden Pestle_, I defie thee Knight,
Unless thou make fair restitution
Of that bright Lady.

_Jasp._ Tell the Knight that sent thee
He is an ass, and I will keep the wench,
And knock his Head-piece.

_Ralph._ [Knight thou] art but dead,
If thou recall not thy uncourteous terms.

_Wife._ Break's pate _Ralph_, break's pate _Ralph_, soundly.

_Jasp._ Come Knight, I am ready for you, now your Pestle.

[_Snatches away his Pestle._

Shall try what temper, Sir, your Mortar's of:
With that he stood upright in his stirrops,
And gave the Knight of the Calve-skin such a knock,
That he forsook his horse, and down he fell,
And then he leaped upon him, and plucking off his Helmet.

_Hum._ Nay, and my noble Knight be down so soon,
Though I can scarcely go, I needs must run.

[_Exit_ Humphrey _and_ Ralph.

_Wife._ Run _Ralph_, run _Ralph_, run for thy life boy,
_Jasper_ comes, _Jasper_ comes.

_Jasp._ Come _Luce_, we must have other Arms for you,
_Humphrey_ and _Golden Pestle_ both adieu. [_Exeunt._

_Wife._ Sure the Devil, God bless us, is in this Springald,
why _George_, didst ever see such a fire-drake, I am afraid
my boy's miscarried; if he be, though he were Master
_Merry-thoughts_ Son a thousand times, if there be any Law in
_England_, I'll make some of them smart for't.

_Cit._ No, no, I have found out the matter sweet-heart,
_Jasper_ is enchanted as sure as we are here, he is enchanted,
he could no more have stood in _Ralph_'s hands, than I can
stand in my Lord _Mayor_'s: I'll have a Ring to discover all
enchantments, and _Ralph_ shall beat him yet: be no more vext,
for it shall be so.

_Enter_ Ralph, Squire, Dwarfe, _Mistriss_
Merry-thought, _and_ Michael.

_Wife._ Oh Husband, here's _Ralph_ again, stay _Ralph_, let me
speak with thee, how dost thou _Ralph_? art thou not shrewdly
hurt? the foul great Lungies laid unmercifully on thee, there's
some Sugar-candy for thee, proceed, thou shalt have another
bout with him.

_Cit._ If _Ralph_ had him at the Fencing-School, if he did not
make a puppy of him, and drive him up and down the School, he
should ne'r come in my shop more.

_Mist. Mer._ Truly master Knight of the _Burning Pestle_, I am
weary.

_Mich._ Indeed-law Mother, and I am very hungry.

_Ralph._ Take comfort gentle Dame, and [you] fair Squire.
For in this Desart there must needs be plac'd
Many strong Castles, held by courteous Knights,
And till I bring you safe to one of those
I swear by this my Order ne'r to leave you.

_Wife._ Well said _Ralph_, _George_, _Ralph_ was ever
comfortable, was he not?

_Cit._ Yes Duck.

_Wife._ I shall ne'r forget him: when we had lost our child,
you know it was straid almost alone, to _Puddle-wharfe_, and
the Cryers were abroad for it, and there it had drown'd it self
but for a Sculler, _Ralph_ was the most comfortablest to me:
peace Mistriss, saies he, let it go, I'll get you another as
good, did he not _George_? did he not say so?

_Cit._ Yes indeed did he Mouse.

_Dwarfe._ I would we had a mess of Pottage, and a pot of Drink,
Squire, and were going to bed.

_Squire._ Why we are at _Waltham_ Towns end, and that's the
_Bell_ Inne.

_Dwarfe._ Take courage valiant Knight, Damsel, and Squire,
I have discovered, not a stones cast off,
An antient Castle held by the old Knight
Of the most holy Order of the _Bell_,
Who gives to all Knights Errant entertain:
There plenty is of food, and all prepar'd,
By the white hands of his own Lady dear.
He hath three Squires that welcome all his Guests:
The first, High Chamberlain, who will see
Our beds prepar'd, and bring us snowy sheets,
Where never Footman stretch'd his butter'd Hams.
The second height _Tapstro_, who will see
Our pots full filled, and no froth therein;
The third, a gentle Squire _Ostlero_ height,
Who will our Palfries slick with wisps of straw,
And in the Maunger put them Oats enough,
And never grease their teeth with Candle-snuffe.

_Wife._ That same Dwarfe's a pretty boy, but the Squire's a
grout-nold.

_Ralph._ Knock at the Gates my Squire, with stately Lance.

_Enter Tapster._

_Tap._ Who's there, you're welcome Gentlemen, will you see a
room?

_Dwarfe._ Right courteous and valiant Knight of the _Burning_
_Pestle_, This is the Squire _Tapstro_.

_Ralph._ Fair Squire _Tapstro_, I a wandring Knight,
Height of the _Burning Pestle_ in the quest
Of this fair Ladies Casket, and wrought purse,
Losing my self in this vast wilderness,
And to this Castle well by fortune brought,
Where hearing of the goodly entertain
Your Knight of holy Order of the _Bell_,
Gives to all Damsels, and all Errant Knights,
I thought to knock, and now am bold to enter.

_Tapst._ An't please you see a chamber, you are very welcome.
[_Exeunt._

_Wife. George_, I would have something done, and I cannot
tell what it is.

_Cit._ What is it _Nell_?

_Wife._ Why _George_, shall _Ralph_ beat no body again? prethee
sweet-heart let him.

_Cit._ So he shall _Nell_, and if I joyn with him, we'll knock
them all.

_Enter_ Humphrey _and_ Merchant.

_Wife._ O _George_, here's master _Humphrey_ again now, that
lost Mistriss _Luce_, and Mistriss _Luce_'s Father, master
_Humphrey_ will do some bodies arrant I warrant him.

_Hum._ Father, it's true in arms I ne'r shall clasp her,
For she is stoln away by your man _Jasper_.

_Wife._ I thought he would tell him.

_Mer._ Unhappy that I am to lose my child:
Now I begin to think on _Jasper_'s words,
Who oft hath urg'd to me thy foolishness,
Why didst thou let her go, thou lov'st her not,
That wouldst bring home thy life, and not bring her.

_Hum._ Father forgive me, I shall tell you true,
Look on my shoulders they are black and blue,
Whilst too and fro fair _Luce_ and I were winding,
He came and basted me with a hedge binding.

_Mer._ Get men and horses straight, we will be there
Within this hour; you know the place again?

_Hum._ I know the place where he my loins did swaddle,
I'll get six horses, and to each a saddle.

_Mer._ Mean time I'll go talk with _Jaspers_ Father. [_Exeunt._

_Wife. George_, What wilt thou lay with me now, that Master
_Humphrey_ has not Mistriss _Luce_ yet, speak _George_ what
wilt thou lay with me?

_Cit._ No _Nell_, I warrant thee, _Jasper_ is at _Puckeridge_
with her by this.

_Wife._ Nay _George_, you must consider Mistriss _Lucies_ feet
are tender, and besides, 'tis dark, and I promise you truly, I
do not see how he should get out of _Waltham_ Forrest with her
yet.

_Cit._ Nay Cunny, what wilt thou lay with me that _Ralph_ has
her not yet.

_Wife._ I will not lay against _Ralph_, Honny, because I have
not spoken with him: but look _George_, peace, here comes the
merry old Gentleman again.

_Enter old_ Merry-thought.

_Old Mer._ When it was grown to dark midnight,
And all were fast asleep,
In came _Margarets_ grimly Ghost,
And stood at _William_'s feet.

I have money, and meat, and drink before hand, till to morrow
at noon, why should I be sad? methinks I have halfe a dozen
jovial spirits within me, I am three merry men, and three merry
men: To what end should any man be sad in this world? give me
a man that when he goes to hanging cries troul the black boul
to me: and a Woman that will sing a catch in her Travel. I have
seen a man come by my door, with a serious face, in a black
cloak, without a Hatband, carrying his head as if he lookt for
pins in the street. I have lookt out of my window halfe a year
after, and have spied that mans head upon _London Bridge_: 'tis
vile, never trust a Tailor that does not sing at his work, his
mind is of nothing but filching.

_Wife._ Mark this _George_, 'tis worth noting: _Godfrey_ my
Tailor, you know never sings, and he had fourteen yards to make
this Gown; and I'll be sworn, Mistriss _Penistone_ the Drapers
Wife had one made with twelve.

_Old Mer._ 'Tis mirth that fills the veins with blood,
More than Wine, or Sleep, or Food,
Let each man keep his heart at ease
No man dies of that disease.
He that would his body keep
From diseases, must not weep,
But whoever laughs and sings,
Never [he] his body brings
Into Feavers, Gouts, or Rhumes,
Or lingringly his Lungs consumes:
Or meets with aches in the bone,
Or Catarrhs, or griping Stone:
But contented lives for aye,
The more he laughs, the more he may.

_Wife._ Look _George_, how sayst thou by this _George_? is't
not a fine old man? Now Gods blessing a thy sweet lips. When
wilt thou be so merry _George_? Faith thou art the frowningst
little thing, when thou art angry, in a Countrey.

_Enter_ Merchant.

_Cit._ Peace Conny, Thou shalt see him took down too I warrant
thee: here's _Luce's_ Father come now.

_Old Mer._ As you came from _Walsingam_, from the Holy Land,
there met you not with my true love by the way as you came.

_Mer._ O Master _Merry-thought_! my Daughters gone,
This mirth becomes you not, my Daughter's gone.

_Old Mer._ Why an if she be, what care I?
Or let her come, or go, or tarry.

_Merch._ Mock not my misery, it is your Son,
Whom I have made my own, when all forsook him,
Has stoln my only joy, my child away.