Volume 6 — The Knight of the Burning Pestle.

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.

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.

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. 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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. 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.

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

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

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

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

[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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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,

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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. Old Mer. He set her on a milk white Steed, and himself upon a gray, He never turn'd his face again, but he bore her quite away. Merch. Unworthy of the kindness I have shewn To thee, and thine: too late, I well perceive Thou art consenting to my Daughters loss.

Merch. Oh might I behold her once again, And she once more embrace her aged sire.

Merch. For this thy scorn I will pursue That son of thine to death. Old Mer. Do, and when you ha kill'd him, Give him flowers i'now Palmer, give him flowers i'now, Give him red and white, and blue, green, and yellow. Merch. I'll fetch my Daughter.

Merch. I say I'll fetch my Daughter. Old Mer. Was never man for Ladies sake, down, down, Tormented as I [poore] Sir Guy? de derry down, For Lucies sake, that Lady bright, down, down, As ever men beheld with eye? de derry down. Merch. I'll be reveng'd by heaven. [Exeunt. Finis Act. Secund.

Jasp. Come my [deere deere], though we have lost our way, We have not lost our selves: are you not weary With this nights wandring, broken from your rest? And frighted with the terror that attends The darkness of this wild unpeopled place? Luce. No my best friend, I cannot either fear, Or entertain a weary thought, whilst you (The end of all my full desires) stand by me: Let them that lose their hopes, and live to languish Amongst the number of forsaken Lovers, Tell the long weary steps, and number time, Start at a shadow, and shrink up their bloud, Whilst I (possest with all content and quiet) Thus take my pretty love, and thus embrace him. Jasp. You have caught me Luce, so fast, that whilst I live I shall become your faithful prisoner: And wear these chains for ever. Come, sit down, And rest your body, too too delicate For these disturbances; so, will you sleep? Come, do not be more able than you are, I know you are not skilful in these Watches, For Women are no Soldiers; be not nice, But take it, sleep I say. Luce. I cannot sleep. Indeed I cannot friend. Jasp. Why then we'll sing, And try how that will work upon our sences. Luce. I'll sing, or say, or any thing but sleep. Jasp. Come little Mermaid, rob me of my heart With that inchanting voice. Luce. You mock me Jasper.

Jasp. Tell me (dearest) what is Love? Luce. 'Tis a lightning from above, 'Tis an Arrow, 'tis a Fire, 'Tis a Boy they call desire. 'Tis a smile Doth beguile Jasp. The poor hearts [o]f men that prove, Tell me more, are Women true? Luce. Some Love change, and so do you. Jasp. Are they fair, and never kind? Luce. Yes, when men turn with the wind. Jasp. Are they froward? Luce. Ever toward Those that love, to love anew. Jasp. Dissemble it no more, I see the God Of heavy sleep, lay on his heavy Mace, Upon your eye-lids. Luce. I am very heavy. Jasp. Sleep, sleep, and quiet rest crown thy sweet thoughts: Keep from her fair blood distempers, startings, Horrors and fearful shapes: let all her dreams Be joys, and chaste delights, embraces, wishes, And such new pleasures as the ravish'd soul Gives to the sences. So my charms have took. Keep her you powers divine, whilst I contemplate Upon the wealth and beauty of her mind. She is only fair, and constant: only kind, And only to thee Jasper. Oh my joyes! Whither will you transport me? let not fulness Of my poor buried hopes come up together, And over-charge my spirits; I am weak, Some say (how ever ill) the Sea and Women Are govern'd by the Moon, both ebb and flow, Both full of changes: yet to them that know, And truly judge, these but opinions are, And heresies to bring on pleasing War Between our tempers, that without these were Both void of after-love, and present fear. Which are the best of Cupid. O thou child! Bred from despair, I dare not entertain thee, Having a love without the faults of Women, And greater in her perfect goods than men: Which to make good, and please my self the stronger, Though certainly I am certain of her love, I'll try her, that the world and memory May sing to after-times her constancy. Luce, Luce, awake. Luce. Why do you fright me friend, With those distempered looks? what makes your sword Drawn in your hand? who hath offended you? I prethee Jasper sleep, thou art wild with watching. Jasp. Come make your way to Heaven, and bid the world (With all the villanies that stick upon it) Farewell; you're for another life. Luce. Oh Jasper. How have my tender years committed evil, (Especially against the man I love) Thus to be cropt untimely? Jasp. Foolish girl, Canst thou imagine I could love his daughter That flung me from my fortune into nothing? Discharged me his service, shut the doors Upon my poverty, and scorn'd my prayers, Sending me, like a boat without a mast, To sink or swim? Come, by this hand you dye, I must have life and blood to satisfie Your fathers wrongs.

Cit. I warrant thee (sweet heart) we'll have him hampered. Luce. Oh Jasper! be not cruel, If thou wilt kill me, smile, and do it quickly, And let not many deaths appear before me. I am a woman made of fear and love A weak, weak woman, kill not with thy eyes, They shoot me through and through. Strike I am ready. And dying still I love thee.

Merch. Where abouts? Jasp. No more of this, now to my self again. Hum. There, there he stands with Sword like martial Knight. Drawn in his hand, therefore beware the fight You that are wise: for were I good Sir Bevis, I would not stay his coming, by your leaves. Merc. Sirrah, restore my daughter. Jasp. Sirrah, no. Merch. Upon him then.

Jasp. They are gone, and I am hurt, my Love is lost, Never to get again. Oh me unhappy! Bleed, bleed, and dye, I cannot: Oh my folly! Thou hast betray'd me, Hope where art thou fled? Tell me if thou be'st any where remaining. Shall I but see my love again? Oh no! She will not dain to look upon her Butcher, Nor is [it] fit she should; yet I must venter. Oh chance, or fortune, or what ere thou art That men adore for powerful, hear my cry, And let me loving live; or loosing dye. [Exit] Wife. Is a gone George? Cit. I conny.

Cit. Peace Nell, let Rafe alone. Tapst. Master, the reckoning is not paid. Rafe. Right courteous Knight, who for the orders sake Which thou hast tane, hang'st out the holy Bell, As I this flaming Pestle bear about, We render thanks to your puissant self, Your beauteous Lady, and your gentle Squires, For thus refreshing of our wearied limbs, Stifned with hard atchievements in wild Desart. Tapst. Sir, there is twelve shillings to pay. Rafe. Thou merry Squire Tapstero, thanks to thee, For comforting our souls with double Jug, And if adventurous Fortune prick thee forth, Thou jovial Squire, to follow feats of Arms, Take heed thou tender every Ladies cause, Every true Knight, and every Damsel fair But spill the blood of treacherous Sarazens, And false inchanters, that with Magick spels, Have done to death full many a noble Knight.

Wife. O is't nothing else? Rafe will be as merry as he. Rafe. Sir Knight, this mirth of yours becomes you well, But to requite this liberal courtesie, If any of your Squires will follow Arms, He shall receive from my Heroick hand A Knig[h]thood, by the virtue of this Pestle. Host. Fair Knight, I thank you for your noble offer, Therefore gentle Knight, Twelve shillings you must pay, or I must cap you.

Rafe. Fare-well fair Lady, and your tender Squire. If pricking through these Desarts, I do hear Of any traiterous Knight who through his guile, Hath light upon your Casket and your Purse, I will despoil him of them and restore them. Mist. mer. I thank your Worship. [Exit with Michael. Rafe. Dwarf bear my shield, Squire elevate my lance, And now farewell you Knight of holy Bell. Cit. I, I Rafe, all is paid. Rafe. But yet before I go, speak worthy Knight, If [ought] you do of sad adventures know, Where errant Knights may through his prowess win Eternal fame, and free some gentle souls, From endless [bonds] of steel and lingring pain.

Tap. I am gone Sir. [Exit Tapster. Host. Sir Knight, this wilderness affordeth none But the great venture, where full many a Knight Hath tried his prowess, and come off with shame, And where I would not have you loose your life, Against no man, but furious fiend of Hell. Rafe. Speak on Sir Knight, tell what he is, and where: For here I vow upon my blazing badge, Never to blaze a day in quietness; But bread and water will I only eat, And the green herb and rock shall be my couch Till I have queld that man, or beast, or fiend, That works such damage to all Errant Knights. Host. Not far from hence, near [to] a craggy cliff At the North end of this distressed Town, There doth stand a lowly house Ruggedly builded, and in it a Cave In which an ugly Giant now doth won, Ycleped Barbaroso: in his hand He shakes a naked Lance of purest steel, With sleeves turn'd up, and him before he wears, A motly garment to preserve his clothes From blood of those Knights which he massacres, And Ladies Gentle: without his door doth hang A copper bason, on a prickant Spear; At which, no sooner gentle Knights can knock, But the shrill sound, fierce Barbaroso hears, And rushing forth, brings in the Errant Knight, And sets him down in an inchanted chair: Then with an Engine, which he hath prepar'd With forty teeth, he claws his courtly crown, Next makes him wink, and underneath his chin, He plants a brazen piece of mighty board, And knocks his bullets round about his cheeks, Whilst with his fingers, and an instrument With which he snaps his hair off, he doth fill The wretches ears with a most hideous noyse. Thus every Knight Adventurer he doth trim, And now no creature dares encounter him. Rafe. In Gods name, I will fight with him, kind sir, Go but before me to this dismal Cave Where this huge Giant Barbaroso dwells, And by that virtue that brave Rosicleere, That damn'd brood of ugly Giants slew, And Palmerin Frannarco overthrew: I doubt not but to curb this Traytor foul, And to the Devil send his guilty Soul. Host. Brave sprighted Knight, thus far I will perform This your request, I'll bring you within sight Of this most loathsome place, inhabited By a more lothsome man: but dare not stay, For his main force swoops all he sees away.

Host. Puissant Knight yonder his Mansion is, Lo, where the Spear and Copper Bason are, Behold the string on which hangs many a tooth, Drawn from the gentle jaw of wandring Knights, I dare not stay to sound, he will appear. [Exit Host. Rafe. O faint not heart, Susan my Lady dear: The Coblers Maid in Milkstreet, for whose sake, I take these Arms, O let the thought of thee, Carry thy Knight through all adventurous deeds, And in the honor of thy beauteous self, May I destroy this monster Barbaroso, Knock Squire upon the Bason till it break [Enter Barba. With the shrill strokes, or till the Giant spake.

Bar. What fond unknowing wight is this, that dares, So rudely knock at Barbarossa's Cell, Where no man comes, but leaves his fleece behind? Rafe. I, traiterous Caitiffe, who am sent by fate To punish all the sad enormities Thou hast committed against Ladies gentle, And Errant Knights, Traytor to God and men: Prepare thy self, this is the dismal hour Appointed for thee to give strict account Of all thy beastly treacherous villanies. Bar. Fool-hardy Knight, full soon thou shalt aby This fond reproach, thy body will I bang, [He takes down his pole. And loe upon that string thy teeth shall hang: Prepare thy self, for dead soon shalt thou be. Rafe. Saint George for me. [They fight. Barba. Gargantua for me.

Cit. Fetch him over the hip boy. Wife. There boy, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, Rafe. Cit. No Rafe, get all out of him first. Rafe. Presumptuous man, see to what desperate end Thy treachery hath brought thee, the just Gods, Who never prosper those that do despise them, For all the villanies which thou hast done To Knights and Ladies, now have paid thee home, By my stiff arm, a Knight adventurous. But say, vile wretch, before I send thy soul To sad Avernus, whither it must go, What captives holdst thou in thy sable cave? Barba. Go in and free them all, thou hast the day. Rafe. Go Squire and Dwarf, search in this dreadful cave, And free the wretched prisoners from their bonds.

Barb. I crave for mercy as thou art a Knight, And scornst to spill the blood of those that beg. Rafe. Thou shewest no mercy, nor shalt thou have any, Prepare thy self, for thou shalt surely dye.

Squire. Behold brave Knight here is one prisoner, Whom this wild man hath used as you see. Wife. This is the [first] wise word I hear[d] the Squire speak. Rafe. Speak what thou art, and how thou hast been us'd, That I may give him condign punishment. 1. Kni. I am a Knight that took my journey post Northward from London, and in courteous wise, This Gyant train'd me to his [loathsome] den, Under pretence of killing of the itch, And all my body with a powder strew'd, That smarts and stings, and cut away my beard, And my curl'd locks wherein were Ribands ty'de, And with a water washt my tender eyes, Whilst up and down about me still he skipt, Whose virtue is, that till my eyes be wip't With a dry cloth, for this my foul disgrace, I shall not dare to look a dog i'th' face.

Rafe. My trusty Squire convey him to the Town, Where he may find relief, adieu fair Knight. [Exit Knight.

Dwar. Puissant Knight of the burning Pestle height, See here another wretch, whom this foul beast Hath scorcht and scor'd in this inhumane wise. Rafe. Speak me thy name, and eke thy place of birth, And what hath been thy usage in this Cave. 2. Knight. I am a Knight, Sir Pock-hole is my name, And by my birth I am a Londoner, Free by my Copy, but my Ancestors Were Frenchmen all, and riding hard this way, Upon a trotting horse my bones did ake, And I faint Knight to ease my weary limbes, Light at this Cave, when straight this furious fiend, With sharpest instrument of purest steel, Did cut the gristle of my Nose away, And in the place this velvet plaster stands, Relieve me gentle Knight out of his hands.

Rafe. Convey him straight after the other Knight: Sir Pockhole fare you well. [2]. Knight. Kind Sir goodnight. [Exit.

Man. Deliver us. Woman. Deliver us. Rafe. What gastly noise is this? speak Barbaroso Or by this blazing steel thy head goes off. Barb. Prisoners of mine, whom I in diet keep, Send lower down into the Cave, And in a Tub that's heated smoaking hot, There may they find them and deliver them. Rafe. Run Squire and Dwarf, deliver them with speed.

Cit. Peace Nell, here comes the prisoners. Dwar. Here be these pined wretches, manfull Knight, That for this six weeks have not seen a wight. Raph. Deliver what you are, and how you came To this sad Cave, and what your usage was? Man. I am an errant Knight that followed Arms, With spear and shield, and in my tender years I strucken was with Cupids fiery shaft, And fell in love with this my Lady dear, And stole her from her friends in Turne-ball street, And bore her up and down from Town to Town, Where we did eat and drink and Musick he[a]re; Till at the length at this unhappy Town We did arrive, and coming to this Cave, This beast us caught, and put us in a Tub, Where we this two months sweat, and should have done Another Month if you had not relieved us. Wom. This bread and water hath our dyet been, Together with a rib cut from a neck Of burned Mutton, hard hath been our fare, Release us from this ugly Gyants snare. Man. This hath been [all] the food we have receiv'd, But only twice a day for novelty, He gave a spoonful of his hearty broth [Pulls out a siringe. To each of us, through this same [sl]ender quill. Raph. From this infernall Monster you shall go, That useth Knights and gentle Ladies so. Convey them hence. [Exeunt man and woman. Cit. Cunny, I can tell thee the Gentlem[e]n like Rafe.

Bar. Mercy great Knight, I do recant my ill, And henceforth never gentle blood will spill. Raph. I give thee mercy, but yet thou shalt swear Upon my burning Pestle to perform Thy promise utter'd. Bar. I swear and kiss. Raph. Depart then and amend. Come Sq[u]ire and Dwarf, the Sun grows towards his set, And we have many more adventures yet. [Exeunt.

One, two, three, and four, We shall be merry within this hour.

Old Mer. Go from my window, love go: Go from my window my dear, The wind and the rain will drive you back again, You cannot be lodged here.

Old Mer. within. Begon, begon my juggy, my puggy, begon my love my dear. The weather is warm, 'twill do thee no harm, thou canst not be lodged here. Be merry boys, some light musick, and more wine.

Old Mer. I come not hither for thee to teach, I have no pulpit for thee to preach, I would thou hadst kist me under the breech, As thou art a Lady gay.

You are no love for me Marget, I am no love for you. Come aloft Boys, aloft.

Able to carry me? and art thou perfect In all thy business? Boy. Sir you need not fear, I have my lesson here, and cannot miss it: The men are ready for you, and what else Pertains to this imployment. Jasp. There my boy, Take it, but buy no land. Boy. Faith sir 'twere rare To see so young a purchaser: I flie, And on my wings carry your destiny. [Exit. Jasp. Go, and be happy: Now my latest hope Forsake me not, but fling thy Anchor out, And let it hold: stand fix[t] thou rolling stone, Till I enjoy my dearest: hear me all You powers that rule in men celestial. [Exit.