LEATHERHEAD

And there come any Gentlefolks, take two pence a piece, Sharkwell. Troth, Sir, our Tiring-house is somewhat little, we are but beginners, yet, pray pardon us; you cannot go upright in't. They are Actors, Sir, and as good as any, none dispraised, for dumb shows: indeed, I am the mouth of them all! What mean you by that, Sir? This is he, that acts young Leander, Sir. He is extreme lie beloved of the womankind, they do so affect his Actium, the green gamesters, that come here, and this is lovely Hero ; this with the beard, Damon ; and this pretty Pythias : this is the ghost of King Dionysius in the habit of a scrivener: as you shall see anon, at large. No, Sir. I thank my industry, and policy for it; they are as well governed a company, though I say it— And here is young Leander, is as proper and Actor of his inches; and shakes his head Like and hostler. By no means, Sir. A better way, Sir, that is too learned, and poetical for our audience; what do they know what Hellespont is? Guilty of true loves blood? or what Abidos is? or the other Sestos hight? No, I have entreated Master Littlewit, to take a little pains to reduce it to a more familiar strain for our people. I warrant you Sir, do not you breed too great and expe ctation of it, among your friends: that's the only hurter of these things. Welcome Gentlemen, welcome Gentlemen. Presently, Sir. Will it please your Ladyship fit, Madame ? We stay but for Master Littlewit, the Author, who is gone for his wife; and we begin presently. Presently, Sir. Sure, Master Littlewit will not come; please you take your place, Sir, wee'll begin. Gentles, that no longer your expectations may wander, Behold our chief Actor, amorous Leander. With a great deal of cloth, lap about him Like a Scarf, For he yet serves his father, a Dyer at Puddle wharf, Which place wee'll make bold with, to call it our Abidus, As the Bankside is our Sestos, and let it not be denied us. Now, as he is beating, to make the Die take the fuller, Who chances to come by, but fair Hero, in a Sculler; And seeing Leanders naked leg, and goodly calf, Cast at him, from the boat, a Sheeps eye, and a half. Now she is landed, and the Sculler come back; By and by, you shall see what Leander does lack. That is the Scullers name without control. We do hear you. Kiss your hold, and smell? there's manners indeed. It's the Sculler you needs! Be hanged; look you yonder, Old Coal, you must go hang with Master Leander. Leander do's ask, Sir, what fairest of Fayers, Was the fare thhe landed, but now, at Trigsstayers ? It is Hero. Of the Bankside, he says to tell you truthwith out erring, Is come over into Fish-street to eat some fresh herring. Leander says no more, but as fast as he can, Gets on all his best clothes; and will after to the Swan. Stay, Sculler. You must stay for Leander, and carry him to the wench. Are you no Pandar, Goodman Coal? here's no man says you are, You'll grow a hight Coal, it seems, pray you stay for your fare. What do you say? Oh, my head! The Puppet strikes him over the pate Yes, but that his fare called him away. You are knavishly loaded, Sculler, take heed where you go. I Sir, I herd him. But there's no talking to these water men, they will have the last word I Pray you be content; you'll have enough on him, Sir. Now gentles, I take it, here is none of you so stupid, but that you have herd of a little God of love, called Cupid. Who out of kindness to Leander, hearing he but (awe her, this present day and hour, does turn himself to a Drawer. And because, he would have their first meeting to be merry, he strikes Hero in love to him, with a pint of Sherry. Which he tells her from amorous Leander is sent her, PVP. Lean der goes in to Mistress Hero's room who after him, into the room of Hero, does venture. You shall see by and by, Sir? Now gentles, to the Friends, who in number, are two, and lodged in that Alehouse, in which fair Hero do's do. Damon (for some kindness done him the last week) is come fair Hero, in Fish-street, this morning to seek: Pythias do's smell the knavery of the meeting, and now you shall see their true friendly greeting. They are Whoremasters both, Sir, that's a plain case. Do I lie, Like a Rogue? A Pimp, and a Scab? I say between you, you have both but one Drab. Do I lie again? Like a Rogue again? And I say again, you are both whoremasters again, They fight. and you have both but one Drab again. What, so malicious ? will you murder me, Master's both, i'mine own house? Hld, hold your hands It's well, you can now go to breakfast to Hero, you have given many breakfast, with a hone and honero. Oh no! Between you and I Sir, we do but make show. Thus Gentles you perceive, without any denial, betwixt Damon and Pythias here, friendships true trial. Though hourly they quarrel thus, and roar each with other, they fight you no more, then do's brother with brother. But friendly together, at the next man they meet, they let fly their anger as here you might see't. Yes, Sir, but mark his answer, now: I, peace, Sir, the'll be angry, if they hear you eavesdrop ping, now they are setting their match. Now, here come the friends again, Pythias, and Damon, and under their cloaks, Damon and Pythias en ter. they have of Bacon, a gammon. How, some wine there? there's company already, Sir, pray forbear! Yes, but she will not be taken, after sack, and fresh herring, with your Dunmow- bacon. Westphalian you should say. I, Wherefore should they not? what harm is in this? it's Mistress Hero. Is she a whore? keep you quiet, or Sir Knave out of door. Now you have something to do: you must kiss her of the arse she says: Standest thou still? Leander, where art thou? standest thou still Like a sot, and not offerest to break both their heads with a pot? See who's at thine elbow, there! Puppet Jonas and Cupid. See, Cupid with a word has taken up the brawl. This tragical encounter, falling out thus to busy us, It raises up the ghost of their friend Dionysius: Not Like a Monarch, but the Master of a School, in a Scriveners furred gown, which shows he is no fool. for therein he hath wit enough to keep himself warm. Oh Demon he cries, and Pythias; what harm, Hath poor Dionysius done you in his graven, That after his death, you should fallen out thus, and rave, And call amorous Leander whoremaster Knave? What mean you, Sir? Sir, I present nothing, but what is licensed by authority. I have the Master of the Reuell's hand for't, Sir. Faith, Sir, I am not well studied in these controversies, between the hypocrites and us. But here's one of my Motion, Pup pet Donisius shall undertake him, and I'll venture the cause on't. Yes, Sir, and make a Hobby-Asse of him, I hope. The Motion says you lie, he is called Dionisius ithe mat ter, and to that calling he answers. The Motion asks, if yours be a lawful Calling ? He says, then Idol is a lawful Calling ! for you called him Idol, and your Calling is of the spirit. It is not profane, he says. As a dog for a bone. Good. Be converted, I pray you, and let the Play go on! Yes, stale bred, rotten eggs, musty ginger, and dead honey, you know. I shall mar your market, old Joan. Go to, old Joan, I'll talk with you anon; and take you down too, afore Justice Ouerdoo, he is the man must charm you, I'll have you i'the Piepouldres. What do you lack? what is't you buy? what do you lack? Rattles, Drums, Halberts, Horses, Babies oh the best? Fid dles o'th finest? Enter Cost. What do you lack, Gentlemen? Maid: see a fine hobby horse for your young Master: cost you but a token a week his prouander. What do you lack, Gentlemen, what is't you lack? a fine Horse? a Lion? a Bull? a Bear? a Dog, or a Cat? and ex cellent fine Bartholmew bird? or and Instrument? what is't you lack? Best fit up i'your chair, Vrsla. Help, Gentlemen. I have a little business now, good friends do not trou ble me. God a mercy Joan, answer for me. What do you lack? what do you buy, pretty Mistress! a fine Hobbyhorse, to make your son a Tilter? a Drum to make him a Soldier? a Fiddle, to make him a Reveller? What is't you lack? Little Dogs for your Daughters! or Babies, male, or female? What do you lack, Gentlemen? what is't you buy? fine Rattles! Drums? Babies? little Dogs? and Birds for Ladies? What do you lack? What do you lack, Gentlemen? fine purses, pouches, pincases, pipes? What is't you lack? a pair o'smithes to wake you i'the morning? or a fine whistling bird? If his worship please. Is this well, goody Joan ? to interrupt my market? in the amid? and call away my customers? can you answer this, at the Piepouldres ? Why should you put him from it, friend? Sir, it stands me in six and twenty shillings seven pence, halfpenny, beside three shillings for my ground. All the better, let's pack up all, and be gone, before he find us What do you lack, Gentlemen? What is't you buy? Rattles, Drums, Babies.— Cry you mercy, Sir, will you buy a fiddle to fill up your noise. Or what do you say, to a Drum. Sir? Sir if you be not quiet, the quicklier, I'll ha'you clapped fairly by the heals, for disturbing the Fair. Sir, I'll make you silent, believe it. Sir, give me your shilling, I'll give you my shop, if I do not, and I'll leave it in pawn with you, i'the mean time. Here he is, pray you lay hold on his zeal, we cannot fell a whistle, for him, in tune. Stop his noise, first! Sir, here's no man afraid of you, or your cause. You shall swear it, i'the stocks, Sir. Carry him away. Let's away, I counseled you to pack up afore, Joan. It shall be hard for him to find, or know us, when we are translated, Joan. M Y Master's, I do make no doubt, but you are officers. He brings them out in a basket. They do lie in a basket, Sir, they are o'the small Play ers. Nay, good Sir. Would you have Leander come away? why pray Sir, stay. You are angry, Goodman Coal; I believe the fair Maid Came over with you of trust: tell us Sculler, are you paid. This while young Leander, with fair Hero is drinking, and Hero grown drunk, to any men thinking! Yet was it not three pints of Sherry could flaw her. till Cupid distinguished Like Jonas the Drawer, From under his apron, where his lechery lurks, put love in her Sack. Now mark how it works. Old coal? Is the Dyer turned Collier? how do you fell? Well said, confute him with not, still. You cannot bear him down with your base noise, Sir. Call me not Leatherhead, but Lantern. ) How, Hogrubber, of Pickthatch?