COKES

We came all to seek you, Numpes. Is this the Licence, Numpes? for Loves sake, let me see't. I never saw a Licence. And you love me, good Numpes. I would see the length and the breadth on't, that's all; and I will see't now, so I will. Then I'll see't at home, and I'll look upon the case here. Well, Numpes, I am now for another piece of business more, the Fair, Numpes, and then— Nay, never fidge up and down, Numpes, and vex it self. I am resolute Bartholmew, in this; Il'e make no suit on't to you; 'twas all the end of my journey, indeed, to show Mistress Grace my Fair : I call't my Fair, because of Bartholmew : you know my name is Bartholmew, and Bartholmew Fair. A pretty little soul, this same Mistress Little-wit ! would I might marry her. Numps, I will see it, Numpes, it's decreed: never be me lancholy for the matter. The Fair, Numps, the Fair. Why, your friend, and Bartholmew ; and you be so con tumacious. Who can hold that will away? I had rather lose him then the Fair, I wusse. Oh Numps ! have I brought you about? come Mistress Grace, and Sister, I am resolute Batt, faith, still. Oh Lord, Sir! you shall pardon me, Mistress Grace, we are enough of our selves to make it a fashion: and for qualities, let Numps alone, he'l find qualities. Come, Numps, come, where are you? welcome into the Fair, Mistress Grace. This is a brave fellow, Numps, let's hear him. Oh, good Numps ! Brave words! Are they not brave words, Sister? Avoid in your satin doublet, Numps. Good, faith! is't not Sister? A sine similitude, that, Sir! did you see the pan? Who would have missed this, Sister? He do's not understand. What would you have, Sister, He picketh his purse. of a fellow that knows nothing but a basket-hilt, and and old Fox in't? the best music i'the Fair, will not move a log. That's to us, Sister. Brave faith! So me thought, Sister, very much of my brother Over do : And it's, when he speaks. Stay Numpes, stay, set me down: I have lost my purse, Numps, Oh my purse! one o'my fine purses is gone. I, as I am and honest man, would I were and errant Rogue, else! a plague of all roguy, damned cutpurses for me. Nay, Numps, it is not my best purse. Nor my gold, Numps ; I have that yet, look here else, Sister. Nay, so I will, I warrant you; let him catch this, that catch can. I would aine see him get this, look you here. I would have him come again, now, and but offer at it. Sister, will you take notice of a good jest? I will put it joust where th'other was, and if we have good luck, you shall see a delicate fine trap to catch the cutpurse, nibbling. Come, Mistress Grace, prithee be not melancholy for my mischance; sorrow wi'not keep it, Sweet heart. Numps, Numps. Good honest Numpes, keep afore, I am so afraid thou'lt loose somewhat: my heart was at my mouth, when I missed thee. Nay, do not mistake, Numps, thou art so apt to miss take: I would but watch the goods. Look you now, the Triple fiddle, was even almost Like to be lost. Numps, here be finer things then any we have bought by odds! and more delicate horses, a great deal! good Numpes, stay and come hither. No, but again I have children, Numps, that's all one. Good Numps, hold that little tongue o'thine, and save it a labour. I am resolute Bat, thou knowest. And the three Jews trumps; and half a dozen o'Birds, and that Drum, (I have one Drum already) and your Smiths; I Like that device o'your smiths, very pretty well, and four Hall berts —and (le'me see) that fine painted great Lady, and her three women for state, I'll have. Peace, Numps, friend, do not meddle with him, and you be wise, and would show your head above board: he will sting thorough your wrought nightcap, believe me. A set of these Violines, I would buy too, for a delicate young noise I have i'the country, that are every one a size less then another, joust Like your fiddles. I would feign have a fine young Masque at my marriage, now I think on't: but I do want such a number o'things. And Numps will not help me now, and I dare not speak to him. Gingerbread! yes, let's see. Hold your peace; I'll content you both: I'll buy up his shop, and thy basket. Faith? Is he good at those too? can he set out a Masque trow? Dost thou (in troth) old velvet Jerkin give me thy hand. Speak no more, but shut up shop presently, friend. I'll buy both it, and thee too, to carry down with me, and he hamper, beside. Thy shop shall furnish out the Masque, and hers the Banquet: I cannot go less, to set out any thing with credit what's the price, at a word, o'thy whole shop, case, and all as it stands? Well, thirty shillings will do all, then! And what comes yours too? Yes, it do's Like my worship very well, poor woman, that's five shillings more, what a Masque shall I furnish out, for forty shillings? (twenty pound scotsh) and a Banquet of Gingerbread? there's a stately thing! Numps? Sister? and my wedding gloves too? (that I never thought on afore.) All my wedding gloves, Gingerbread? Oh me! what a device will there be? to make them eat their fingers ends! and delicate Brooches for the Bride-men! and all! and then I'll h ' this poesy put to them: For the best grace, meaning Mistress Grace, my wedding poesy. Yes faith, and I do not think, Numpes, but thou'lt say, it was the wisest Act, that ever I did in my wardship. Ballads! hark, hark! pray thee, fellow, stay a little, He runn's the Ballad man. good Numpes, look to the goods. What Ballads hast thou? let me see, let me see my self. How dost thou call it! A caveat against cutpurses! a good jest, faith, I would feign see that Daemon, your Cutpurse, you talk of, that delicate handed Devil; He show's his purse boastingly. they say he walks here about; I would see him walk, now. Look you sister, here, here, let him come, sister, and welcome. Ballad-man, do's any cutpur ses haunt hereabout? pray thee raise me one or two begin and show me one. No matter for the price, thou dost not know me, I see, I am and odd Bartholmew. Oh Sister, do you remember the ballads over the Nur sery-chimney at home of my own pasting up, there be brave pi ctures. Other manner of pictures, than these, friend. So, I herd them say. Pray thee mind him not, fellow: hee'll have and oar in every thing. We shall find that i'the matter. Pray thee begin. Fa, la la la, la la la, fa la la la. Nay, I'll put thee in tune, and all! mine own country dance! Pray thee begin. Not a word more, out o'the tune, and thou lovest me: Fa, la la la, la la la, fa la la la. Come, when? Would, would, this chimes! good counsel at first dash. Good! You oft have been told, Both the young and the old; And bidden beware of the cutpurse so bold: Well said! he were to blame that would not faith. Then if you take heed not, free me from the curse, Who both give you warning, for and, the cutpurse. Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy Nurse, Then live to be hanged for cutting a purse. Good faith, how say you, Numps? Is there any harm i'this? The more coxco ̄ bes they that did it, I wusse. Alack and for pity, why should it be said? As if they regarded or places, or time. Examples have been Of some that were seen, In Westminster Hall, yea the pleaders between, Then why should the Judges be free from this curse, More then my poor self, for cutting the purse? God a mercy for that! why should they be more free in deed? Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by the Nurse, Then live to be hanged for cutting a purse. That again, good Ballad-man, that again. Oh rare! I would feign rub mine elbow now, but I dare not pull out my hand. On, I pray thee, he that made this ballad, shall be Poet to my Masque. He sings the burden with him. Is it possible? Nay, once from the Seat Of Judgement so great, A Judge there did loose a fair pouch of veluete. Faith? Oh Lord for thy mercy, how wicked or worse, Are those that so venture their necks for a purse! Youth, youth, &c. Youth, youth, &c ? pray thee stay a little, friend, yet o'thy conscience, Numps, speak, is there any harm i'this? Youth, youth, &c! where's this youth, now? A man must call upon him, for his own good, and yet he will not ap pear: look here, here's for him, handy-dandy, He shows his purse. which hand will he have? On, I pray there, with the rest, I do hear of him, but I cannot see him, this Master Youth, the cutpurse. That was a fine fellow! I would have him, now. At Court, & in Christmas, before the Kings face, Alack then for pity must I bear the curse, That only belongs to the cunning cutpurse? But where's their cunning, now, when they should use it? they are all chained now, I warrant you. Youth, youth, thou hadst better, &c. The Ratcatchers charm, are all fools and Asses to this! A pox on them, that they will not come! that a man should have such a desire to a thing, and want it. Look you Sister, here, here, where is't now? He shows his purse a gain. which pocket is't in? for a wager? Oh, are you aedified Numps ? again. Sister, I am and Ass, I cannot keep my purse: on, on; I pray thee, friend. Pardon me, Sir. First come, first served; and I'll buy the whole bundle too. Sir, I take you for and honest Gentleman; if that be miss taking, I met you to day afore: would! humh! Oh God! my purse is gone, my purse, my purse, &c. Why, hast thou it, Numpes? good Numpes, how came you by it? I mar'le! By this good hand, glove and all, I have lost it already, if thou hast it not: feel else, and Mistress Grace's handkerchief, too, out o'the tother pocket. Oh God! yes; as I am and honest man, I had it but even now, at youth, youth. Sir, you shall take no pride in your preferment: you shall be silenced quickly. To have my peneworths out on you: Bud. No less then two purses a day, serve you? I thought you a simple fellow, when my man Numpes beat you, i'the morning, and pitied you— Cannot a man's purse be at quiet for you, i'the Master's pocket, but you must entice it forth, and debauch it? Why, Numps? Well my Master's, I'll leave him with you; now I see him bestowed, I'll go look for my goods, and Numps. By this light, I cannot find my ginger-bread-Wife, nor my Hobby-horse-man in all the Fair, now; to have my money a gain. And I do not know the way out on't, to go home for more, do you hear, friend, you that whistle; what tune is that, you whistle? Dost thou know where I dwell, I pray thee? nay, on with thy tune, I have no such hast, for and answer: I'll practice with thee. Nightin gale sets his foot afore him, and he falls with his basket. Gods so! a musse, a musse, a musse, a musse. Do, and my cloak, an'thou wilt; and my hat, too. I think I am furnished for Catherne pears, for one un der-meale: gi'me my cloak. Where's the fellow, I give my cloak to? my cloak? and my hat? He runs out. would! Gods'lid, is he gone? thiefs, thiefs, help me to cry, Gentlemen. He comes a gain. Would I might loose my doublet, and hose, too; as I am and honest man, and never stir, if I think there be any thing, but thieving, and cozening, i'this whole Fair Bartholmew-fayre, quoth he; and ever any Bartholmew had that luck in't, that I have had, I'll be martyred for him, throws away his pears. and in Smithfield, too. I have paid for my pears, a rot on them, I'll keep them no longer; you were choake-peares to me; I had been better ha'gone to mum chance for you, I wusse. Me thinks the Fair should not have used me thus, and 'twere but for my names sake, I would not have used a dog o'the name, so. Oh, Numps will triumph, now! Friend, do you know who I am? or where I lie? I do not my self, I'll besworne. Do but carry me home, and I'll please thee, I have money enough there, I have lost my self, and my cloak and my hat; and my fine sword, and my sister, and Numps, and Mistress Grace, (a Gentlewoman that I should have married) and a cutwork handkerchief, she give me, and two purses to day. And my bargain o'Hobby-horses and Gingerbread, which grieves me worst of all. Warrant? thou art a wise fellow, indeed, as if a man needs a warrant to loose any thing, with. Justice Ouerdoo ? Dost thou know him? I lie there, he is my brother in Law, he married my sister: pray thee show me the way, dost thou know the house? Why, I warrant thee, come along: thou shalt see, I have wrought pillows there, and cambricke sheets, and sweet bags, too. Pray thee guide me to the house. 'Slid, this is and Ass, I have found him, pox upon me, what do I talking to such a dull fool; farewell, you are a very Coxcomb, do you hear? A Motion, what's that? He reads the Bill. The ancient modern history of Hero, and Leander, otherwise called The Touchstone of true Love, with as true a trial of friendship, between Damon, and Pithias, two faithful friends o'the Bankside? pretty faith, what's the meam ning on't? is't and Interlude? or what is't? Back with these children; The boys o'the Fair follow him. they do so follow me up and down. Master Littlewit, how dost thou? I would I might never stir, as I am and honest man, and by that fire; I have lost all i'the Fair, and all my acquaintance too; didst thou meet any body that I know, Master Littlewit ? my man Numps, or my sister Ouerdoo, or Mistress Grace? pray thee Master Littlewit, lend me some money to see the Interlude, here. I'll pay thee again, as I am a Gentleman. If thou'lt but carry me home, I have money enough there. I think it well, what do we pay for coming in, fellows? Two pence? there's twelve pence, friend; Nay, I am a Gallant, as simple as I look now; if you see me with my man a bout me, and my Artillery, again. Who, Numps? For what in says, I am glad of that; remember to tell me on't anon; I have enough, now! What manner of matter is this, M r . Little wit ? What kind of Actors have you? Are they good A ctors? No? not now my hat is off? what would you have done with me, if you had had me, feather, and all, as I was once to day? have you none of your pretty impudent boys, now; to bring stools, fill Tobacco, fetch Ale, and beg money, as they have at other houses? let me see some o'your Actors. What, do they live in baskets? These be Players minors, indeed. Do you call these Play ers ? Thy mouth will hold them all. I think, one Taylor, would go near to Beatrice all this company, with a hand bound be hind him. I thank you for that, Master Littlewit, a good est! which is your Burbage now? Your best Actor. Your Field ? Well they are a civil company, I Like them for that; they offer not to fleer, nor gear, nor break jests, as the great Players do: And then, there goes not so much charge to the fea sting of them, or making them drunk, as to the other, by reason of their littleness. Do they use to play perfect? Are they never flustered? But do you play it according to the printed book? I have read that. No? How then? Th'art i'the right, I do not know my self. How, I pray thee, good M r . Littlewit ? I'll be sworn they shall; I am in love with the Actors all ready, and I'll be allied to them presently. (They respect gentle men, these fellows) Hero shall be my fairing: But, which of my fairings? (Let me see) faith, my fiddle ! and Leander my fiddlestick : Then Damon, my drum ; and Pythias, my Pipe and the ghost of Dionysius, my hobbyhorse. All fitted. Look yonder's your Cokes got in among his play-fellows; I thought we could not miss him, at such a Spectacle. Cokes is handling the Puppets. I warrant thee, I will not hurt her, fellow; what dost think me uncivil? I pray thee be not jealous: I am towards a wife. I'll stay here, and see; pray thee let me see. Come, come, are you ready now? Hold your peace, Numpes ; you have been i'the Stocks, I hear. I pray thee do, mine ears long to be at it; and my eyes too. Oh Numps, i'the Stocks, Numps? where's your sword, Numps ? Well then, we are quit for all. Come, fit down, Numps ; I'll interpret to thee: did you see Mistress Grace? it's no mat ter, neither, now I think on't, tell me anon. Peace, ho; now, now. What was that, fellow? Pray thee tell me, I scarce un derstand them. Most admirable good, is't not? He says he is no Pandar. It's a fine language; I under stand it, now. Harm watch, harm catch, he says: very good in faith, the Sculler had Like to have knocked you, sirrah. He said knave in your face, friend. God's my life! I am not allied to the Sculler, yet; he shall be Dauphin my boy. But my Fiddlestick do's fiddle in and out too much; I pray thee speak to him, on't: tell him, I would have him tarry in my sighed, more. Sack? you said but ee'n now it should be Sherry. Sherry, sherry, sherry. By my troth he makes me merry. I must have a name for Cupid, too. Let me see, thou mightest help me now, and thou wouldst, Numps, at a dead lift, but thou art dream king of the stocks, still! Do not think on't, I have forgotten it: it's but a nine days wonder, man; let it not trouble thee. Well said resolute Numps : but hark you friend, where is the friendship, all this while, between my Drum, Damon ; and my Pipe, Pythias ? You think my Hobbyhorse is forgotten, too; no, I'll see them all enact before I go; I shall not know which to love best, else Whore-masterly slave, you? very friendly, & familiar, that. Damon says Pythias has lain with her, himself, hee'll prooue't in this place. And you are a Pimp again, he says. And a Scab again, he says. Ho! well acted my Drum, well acted my Pipe, well acted still. I, both your hands, for my sake! for you have both done well. Gramercy to you both, my Pipe, and my drum. How is't friend, have they hurt thee? Well, we have seen't, and thou hast felt it, whatsoever thou sayest, what's next? what's next? Excellently well said, Fiddle, shee'll ever be his goose, so hee'll be her gander: was't not so? Brave! he will swim over the Thames, and tread his goose, too night, he says. By this good day they fight bravely! do they not, Numps ? Friend, you'd have and ill match on't, if you bicker with him here, though he be no man o'the fist, he has friends that will go to cuffs for him, Numps, will not you take our side? Who? my Hobbyhorse? will he dispute with him? That's excellent! indeed he looks Like the best scholar of them all. Come, Sir, you must be as good as your word, now. Well disputed, Hobbyhorse! Good, by my troth, he has given him the lie thrice. That's brave i'saith, thou hast carried it away, Hobbyhorse, on with the Play! What, my Brother i'law! How now, Numps, have you lost it? I warrant, 'twas when thou Wertenberg i'the stocks: why dost not speak? Yes, and bring the Actors along, wee'll ha'the rest o'the Play at home. 'Twas but a little scurvy white money, hang it: it may hang the cutpurse, one day. I have gold left to gi'thee a fairing, yet, as hard as the world goes: nothing anger's me, but that no body here, looked Like a cutpurse, unless 'twere Numps. In good time, Sir, I would feign see them, I would be glad drink with the young company; which is the Tiring-house? Those six horses, friend I'll have—