HOST

Sir I am telling your Stote here, Monsieur Ferret, host For that I hear's his name) and dare tell you, Sir, f you have a mind to be melancholy, and musty, There's Footmans Inn, at the towns end, the stocks, Or Carriers Place, at sign o'the broken Wain, Mansions of State! Take up your harbour there; There are both flies and fleas, and all variety Of vermin, for inspection, or dissection. Sir set your heart at rest, you shall not do it: nlesse you can be jovial. Brain o'man, e jovial first, and drink, and dance, and drink. Your lodging here, and wi'your daily dumps, S a mere libel 'gayn' my house and me; And, then, your S andalous commons. Sir, they do scandal me, vpo'the road, here A poor quotidian rack o'mutton, roasted, rye, to be grated! and that driven down With bear, and buttermilk, mingled together, Or clarified whey, instead of Claret! It is against my freehold, my inheritance, My Magnam chartam, Cor laetificat, To drink such balder dash, or bonny clabbee! Gi'me good wine, or catholic, or christian, Wine is the word, that glads the heart of man: And mine the house of wine, Sack, say's my bush, Be merry, and drink Sherry; that's my po sie! For I shall never joy i'my light heart, So long as I conceive a sullen guessed, Or any thing that's earthy! I care not if I be. Sir I keep no shades Nor shelters, I: for either Owls or Rear-mise. He'll make you a bird of night, Sir. Bless you child, You'll make your selves such. He's all the sons I have Sir. This, in your scurrile dialect. But my Inn owes no such language. Sir, I do teach him somewhat. By degrees, worser with a funnel, I make shift to fill e narrow vessel, he is but yet, a bottle. Tell him, I fear it bodes us some ill luck, S too reservedness. I know no mischiese yet the child hath done, To deserve such a destiny. Then dam him to that desperate course of life. I that was, when the nurseries self, was nobl And only virtue made it, not the mercate, That titles were not vented at the drum, Or common outcry; goodness gave the greatness, And greatness worship: Every house became And Academy of honour, and those parts— We see departed, in the practice, now, Quite from the institution. Sir you mistake, To play Sir Pandarus my copy hath it, And carry messages to Madam Cresside. instead of backing the brave Steed, o'mornings, To mount the Chambermaid; and for a leap O'the vaulting horse, to ply the vaulting house: For exercise of arms, a bale of dice, Or two or three packs of cards, to show the cheat, And nimbleness of hand: mistake a cloak From my Lords back, and pawn it. Ease his pockets Of a superfluous Watch, or geld a jewel Of and odd stone, or so. Twinge three or four buttons From off my Ladies gown. These are the arts, Or seven liberal deadly sciences Of Pagery, or rather Paganism, As the tides run. To which, if he apply him, He may, perhaps, take a degree at Tiburne, A year the earlier: come to read a lecture Upon Aquinas at S. Thomas a Waterings, And so go forth a Laureate in hemp circle! Troth, I was born to somewhat, Sir, above it. She shows her extract, and I honour her for it. Your horses Sir are ready; and the house Dis- Brain o'man, I shall ha'the worst o'that! will they not throw My household stuff out, first? Cushions, and Carpets, Chairs, stools, & bedding? is not their sport my ruin? I'll meet her, if she come upon employment; Fair Lady, welcome, as your host can make you. And it is in state. That's nobly said! And Like my guessed! , the subtlest of us! All that is born within a Ladies lips— But is your name Loue-ill, Sir, or Lovewell? I would know that. This was a pretty riddling way of wooing! Could you blame her, Sir, When you were silent, and not said a word? As melancholic As you are. pray you, why would you stand mute, Sir? Then yo'are not so subtle, Or half so read in love-craft, as I took you. Come, come, you are no Phoenix, and you were, I should expect no miracle from your ashes. Take some advice. Be still that rag of love, You are. Burn on till you turn tinder. This Chambermaid may hap to prove the steel, To strike a sparkle out o'the flint, your mistress May beget bonfires yet, you do not know, What light may be forced out, and from what darkness. That's, Sir, as it chances: Wee'll throw the dice for it: Cheer up. So is your sovereignty, Madame, I wish you joy o'your new gown. Your Ladyship shall presently, Bid Frank come hither, anon, unto my Lady, It is a bashful child, homely brought up, In a rude hostelry. But the light Heart Is his father's, and it may be his. Here he comes. Frank salute my Lady. Well macted of'hem both. There's another accession, Critique Fly. The school, then are my stables, or the cellar, Where he does study, deeply, at his hours, Cases of cups, I do not know how spiced With conscience, for the Tapster, and the Hostler: as Whose horses may be cossen'd? or what Jugs Filled up with froth? that is his way of learning, Factotum here, Sir. The Lord o'the light Heart, Sir, Cap a pie; Whereof the Feather is the Emblem, Colonel, Put up, with the Ace of Hearts! Cuerpo? what's that? The Chamber-pot. First minute of her reign! what will she do Forty year hence? God bless her! Already, it takes! And Antiquity, By the dress, you'd swear! And old Welsh Heralds wid dow: She's a wild-Irish born! Sir, and a Hybride, That lives with this young Lady, a mile off here, And studies Vinncent against York. She's perfect in most pedigrees, most descents. And judgeth all things with a single eye, Fly, come you hither; No discovery Of what you see, to your Colonel Toe, or Tip, here, But keep all close, tho'you stand i'the way o'prefer meant, Seek it, off from the road; no flattery for't: No lick-foot, pain of losing your proboscis: My Licorish Fly. Just Queen! Received, so the charge lies in our bill. Excellent Sovereign! And egregious Pru Of so short a time Your Lordship needs not, and being done, in foro. He craves respite, ma dame, To advise with his learned Council. Let them not scorn you. Bear up master Lovel, And take your hours, and kisses, They are a fortune. Still i'this cloud! why cannot you make use of? Two hours at height? These, yet, are hours of hope. I do confess, it is a strict injunction; But, then the hope is, it may not be kept. A thousand things may intervene, We see The wind sh ft often, thrice a day, sometime; Decrees may altar upon better motion, And riper hearing. The best bow may start, And hand may vary. Pru may be a sage In Law, and yet not sour, sweet Pru, smooth Pru, Soft, debonair, and amiable Pru, May do as well as rough, and rigid Pru; And yet maintain her, venerable Pru, Majestic Pru, and Serenissimous Pru. Try but one hour first, and as you Like The lose o'that, Draw home and prove the other. A royal Sovereign! Come choose your h ures, Better be happy for a partly of time, Then not the whole: and a short parr, then never. Shall I appoint them, pronounce for you? Then he designs his first hour after dinner; His second after supper. Say ye? Content? Why art not thou content, Good shelee-nien? Very well mixed. What did he say? Let him alone Nurse. Nor do I, Good Queen of Heralds, ply the bottle, and sleep. I Like the plot of your Militia, well! It is a fine Militia, and well ordered! And the division's neat! It'll be desired Only, the'expressions were a little more Spanish: For there's the best Militia o'the world! To call them Tertias. Tertiam of the kitchen, The Tertiam of the cellar, Tertiam of the chamber, And Tertiam of the stables. Well-charged! Cheer up, noble guessed, We cannot guess what this may come to, yet; The brain of man, or woman, is uncertain! Why, as it is yet, it glads my light Heart To see you roused thus from a sleepy humour, Of drowsy, accidental melancholy; And all those brave parts of your soul awake, That did before seem drowned, and buried in you! That you express your self, as you had backed The Muses Horse! or God Bellerophons arms! What news with Fly? Yes madame, I must bid you welcome. Oh, but to satisfy this bevy of Ladies: Of which a brace, here, longed to bid you welcome Our new Ladies Protection! What is your Ladyships style? Countess Pinnacias man, come to your Lady, The very figure of preoccupation In all his customers best clothes. I, and at all their costs. Let him be blanketed. Call up the Quarter-ma ster. Deliver him over, to Fly. Pillage the Pinnace. And send her home, Divested to her flanell, in a cart. Herebert Lovel, Thou shalt swear upon the testam meant of love, To make answer to this question pro pounded to thee by the Court, What true valour is. And therein to tell the truth, the whole truth, and no thing but the truth. So help thee love, and thy bright sword at needs. Or Caranza! As't hath her, Away with her, my Lord, but marry her first. Pru, Who I? Where were they married? Those birds send luck: And mirth will follow. I had thought to have sacrificed, To m rriment to night, i'my light Heart, Fly, And Like a noble Poet, to have had My last act best: but all fails i'the plot. Lovel is gone to bed; the Lady Frampull And Sovereign Pru fallen out: Tipto, and his Regiment Of mine-men, all drunk dumb, from his whop Barnaby, To his hoop Trundle: they are his two Tropic . No project to rear laughter on, but this, The marriage of Lord Beaufort, with Laetitiam. Stay! what's here! The satin gown redeemed! And Pru restored in't, to her Ladies grace! It's a fine tack about! and worth the observing. Sweet Pru, I, now thou art a Queen indeed! These robes do royally! and thou becomest them! So they do thee! rich garments only fit The parties they are made for! they shame others. How did they show on good'y Tailors back! Like a Caparison for a Sow, God save us! Thy putting hem on hath purged, and hallowed them From all pollution, meant by the Mechanics. Still spirit of Pru! And here your Host, and's Fly, witness your vows. And Like two lucky birds, bring the presage Of a loud jest: Lord Beaufort married is. The same Have patience, Pru, expect, bid the Lord joy. But I must make it bade, my hight young Lord. give him his doublet again, the air is piercing; You may take cold, my Lord. See whom you ha'marri ed, Your hosts son, and aboy. Stint thy cry, Harlot, if that be all, didst thou not fell him To me for a boy? and broughtest him in boys rags, Here to my door, to beg and alms of me? Why saidst thou It was a boy, and soldest him then, to me With such entreaty, for ten S illings, Carlin? Surethou speakest Quite Like another creature, then th'hast lived, Here, i'the house, a Shelee-neen Thomas, And Irish beggar. What art thou? tell, The match is a good match, For ought I see: ring the bells once a gain. Old mother of records, Thou knowest her pedigree, then: whose daughter is she? But you must ask my leave first, my young Lord, Leave is but light. Ferret, Go bolt your Master, Here's gear will startle him. I cannot keep The passion in me, I am ne turned child, And I must weep. Fly, take away mine host, My beard, and cap here, from me, and fetch my Lord. I am her father, Sir, and you shall now Ask my consent, before you have her. Wife! My deer and loving wife! my honoured wife! Who here hath gained but I? I am Lord Frampull, The cause of all this trouble? I am he Have measured all the Shires of England over: Wales, and her mountains, seen those wilder nations, Of people in the Peak, and Lancashire; Their Pipers, Fiddlers, Rushers, Puppet-masters, Jugglers, and Gipsies, all the sorts of Canters, And Colonies of beggars, Tumblers, Ape-carriers, For to these savages I was addicted, To search their nature's, and make odd discoveries! And here my wife, Like a she Mandeuile, Ventured in disquisition, after me. Take heart, and breath, recover, Thou hast recovered me, who here had coffined My self alive, in a poor hostelry, In pennan e of my wrongs done unto thee Whom I long since gave lost. No, the Starchamber. Gi'you joy, my Son, Cast her not off again. Oh call me Father, Lovel, and this your Mother, if you Like: But take your Mistress, first, my child; I have power To give her now, with her consent, her sister Is given already to your brother Beaufort. Best go to bed, And dream it over all. Let's all go sleep, Each with his Turtle. Fly, provide us lodgings, Get beds prepared: you are master now o'the Inn, The Lord o'the light Heart, I give it you. Fly, was my fellow Gipsy. All my family, Indeed, were Gipsies, Tapsters, Ostlers, Chamberlains, Reduced vessels of civility. But here stands Pru, neglected, best deserving Of all that are i'the house, or i'my Heart, Whom though I cannot help to a fit husband, I'll help to that will bring one, a joust portion: I have two thousand pound in bank, for Pru, Call for it when she will There's somewhat yet, four thousand pound! that's better, Then sounds the proverb, four bore legs in a bed. What's that, my Lord? Lights, get us several lights. It'll be and incense to our sacrifice Of love to night, where I will woo afresh, And Like Mecaenas, having but one wife, I'll marry her, every hour of life, hereafter. Sir I have rhyme too. Whither it be by chance or art, A heavy purse makes a light Heart. There it's expressed! first, by a purse of gold, A heavy purse, and then two Turtles, makes, A heart with a light stuck in't, a light heart! Old Abbot Islip could not invent better, Or Prior Bolton with his bolt and Tun. I am and Innkeeper, and know my grounds, And study them; Brain o'man, I study them: I must have jovial guests to driven my ploughs, And-whistling boys to bring my harvest home, Or I shall hea no Flails thwack. Here, your master, And you ha'beene this fortnight, drawing fleas Out of my mats, and pounding them in cages Cut out of cards, & those roped round with packthread, Drawn thorough birdlime! a fine subtlety! Or poring through a multiplying glass, Upon a captived crab-louse, or a cheese-mite To be dissected, as the sports of nature, With a neat Spanish needle! Speculations That do become the age, I do confess! As measuring and Ants eggs, with the Silkworms, By a phantallique instrument of thread, Shall give you their joust difference, to a hair! Or else recovering o'dead flies, with crumbs! (Another quaint conclusion i'the physics ) Which I would seen you busy at, through the keyhole- But never had the fate to see a fl e— Alive i'your cups, or once herd, drink mine host, Or such a cheerful chirping charm come from you. What's that? what's that? Sir, he do's not. I provide for those, too. me hither Frank, speak to the gentleman Latin: He is melancholy; say, ong to see him merry, and so would treat him. And I answer. oh whom? for what? They call me Good-stock. Yet all, Sir, are not sons o'the white Hen; Nor can we, as the Songster say S, come all To be wrapped soft and warm in Fortune's smock: When she is pleased to trick, or trump mankind: Some may be Coats, as in the cards; but, then Some must be knaves, some varlets, bawds, and ostlers, As ances, duizes, cards o'ten, to face it Out, i'the game, which all the world is. But if I be no such; who then's the Rogue, In understanding, Sir, I mean? who erres? Who tinkleth then? or personates Thom. Tinker? Your weazill here may tell you I talk baudy, And teach my boy it; and you may believe him: But Sir at your own peril, if I do not: And at his too, if he do lie, and affirm it. No slander strikes, less hurts, the innocent: If I be honest, and that all the cheat Be, of my self, in keeping this Light Heart, Where, I imagine all the world's a Play; The state, and men's affairs, all passages Of life, to spring new, scenes come in, go out, And shift, and vanish; and if I have God A seat, to fit at ease here, i'mine Inn, To see the Comedy; and laugh, and chuck At the variety, and throng of humours, And dispositions, that come justling in, And out still, as they one drove hence another: Why, will you envy me my happiness? Because you are sad, and lumpish; carry a L ade stone I'your pocket, to hang knives on; or let rings, T'entice light straws to leap at them: are not taken With the alacrities of and host! It's more, And justlier, Sir, my wonder, why you took My house up, Fiddlers Hall, the Seat of noise, And mirth, and Inn here, to be drowsy in, And lodge your lethargy in the Light Heart, As if some cloud from Court had been your Harbinger, Or Cheapside debt-books, or some Mistress charge, Seeing your love grow corpulent, give it a diet, By absence some, such mouldy passion! What mean you Sir? I hope, my Guessed, Though I have talked somewhat above my share, At large, and be i'the altitudes, th'extrau gants, Neither my self, nor any of mine have gi'n you The cause, to quit my house, thus, on the sudden, She shall command me first to fire my bush; Then break up house: Or, if that will not serve, To break with all the world. Turn country bankrupt. In mine own town, upon the Mercat-day, And be protested, for my butter, and eggs, To the last bodge of oats, and bottle of hay; Ere you shall leave me, I will break my heart: Coach, and Coach-horses, Lords, and Ladies pack? All my fresh guests shall stink! I'll pull my sign, down Convert mine Inn, to and Almshouse! or a Spittle, For lazers, or switch-sellers! Turn it, to And Academy o'rogues! or gi'it away For a free-school, to breed up beggars in, And send them to the canting Universities Before you leave me. Brain o'man, What monster is she? or Cockatrice in velvet, That kills thus? Who? He that did love in Oxford, first, a student, And, after, married with the daughter of— Right, of whom the tale went, to turn Puppet-m r . And lie, and live with the Gipsies half a year Together, from his wife. A strange division of a family! But yet the Lady, heir, enjoys the land. I must: Or kiss, or drink afore me. It is enough, Queen Prudence; I will bring him: And, o'this kiss. I longed to kiss a Queen! How then? Her Ladyship, shall have him, sovereign Pru, Or what I have beside: divide my heart, Between you and your Lady. Make your use of it: My ouse is yours, my son is yours. Behold, I tender him to your service; Frank, become What these brave Ladies would have you. Only this, There is a chare-woman i'the house, his nurse, And Irish woman, I took in, a beggar, That waits upon him; a poor silly fool, But and impertinent, and sedulous one, As ever was: will vex you on all occasions, Never be off, or from you, but in her sleep; Or drink which makes it. She does love him so, Or rather dote on him. Now, for her, a shape, As we may dress her (and I'll help) to fit her, With a tuft-taffata cloak, and old French hood, And other pieces, heterogene enough. She shall advance the game. I shall: But Pr , let Lovel ha'faire quarter. My Lords, you both are welcome to the Heart. who! my Fly! nay, he is that. And will be still. In every Cup, and company, my Lords, A Creature of all liquours, all complexions, Be the drink what it will, he'll have his sip. And he joys in't: I had him when I came to take the Inn, here, Assigned me over, in the Inventory, As and old implement, a piece of householdstuff, And so he does remain. Nothing less. But colours for it, as you see: wear's black; And speaks a little tainted, flyblown Latin, After the School. Only to call in, still. Inflame the reckoning, bold to charge a bill, Bring up the shot i'the rear, as his own word is, And visiter general, of all the room, He has' formed a fine militia for the Inn too. With all his titles. Some call him Deacon Fly, some Doctor Fly. Some Captain, some Lieutenant, But my folks Do call him Quartermaster, Fly, which he is. Come Quartermaster Fly. Here's one, already, Hath God his Titles. Who's this? The same deeds, though, become not every man, That fits a Colonel, will not fit and host, They had their times, and we can say, they were So had Caranza-his: so had Done Lewis. But this, of the other world Euclid demonstrates! he! He's for all! The only fencer of name, now in Elysium. He played a prize, last week, with Archimedes, And beat him I assure you. For four i'the hundred. Gi'me five, And I assure you, again. upon the road, A post, that came from thence, Three days ago, here, left it with the Tapster. Your Bird here herd him. Speak i'the faith of a fly. Then silence Sir, And hear the sovereign. Still Colonel, you mutter? Ask what you can S r . So't be i'the house. And go without. The Fly? As, to save himself n him. This is a State-bird, and the verier fly? He means to erect a castle i'the air, And make his fly and Elephant to carry it. Blow him off good Pru, they'll mar all else. That is when his wings are cut, he is tame in deed, else Nothing more impudent, and greedy; licking: A good flap, that! Good! Large, ample words, of a brave latitude! Good. Noble! Rare? A hard condition! Oh you are servant, My Lord, unto the Lady, and a Rival: In point of law, my Lord, you may be challenged. Put it on: and do. I marry, there were happiness indeed; Transcendent to the Melancholy, meant. It were a fate, above a monument, And all inscription, to die so. A Death For Emperors to enjoy! And the Kings Of the rich East, to pawn their regions for; To sow their treasure, open all their mines, Spend all their spices to embalm their corpse, And wrap the inches up in sheets of gold, That fell by such a noble destiny! And for the wrong to your friend, that fear's avua , He rather wrongs himself, following fresh light, New eyes to swear by. If Lord Beaufort change, It is no crime in you to remain constant. And upon these conditions, at a game So urged upon you. How is the Lady affected? Jug, get you down, and Trundle get you up, You shall be Crier. Ferret here, the Clerk. Jordan, smell you without, till the Ladies call you; Take down the Fiddlers too, silence that noise, Deep, i'the cellar, safe. Old Sheelinin here, is the Madame Tell-clock. Trundle will do it with his hum. Come Trundle. Precede him Ferret, i'the form. Lo, louting where he comes into the Court! Clearke' of the sovereignty take his appearance. And how accoutered, how designed he comes! She makes a noble, and a just appearance. Set it down likewise, and how armed she comes. Arise, and ay your hands, upon the Book. Herebert Lovel Appellant, and Lady Frances Fram pull, Defendant, you shall swear upon the Liturgy of Love, Ovid de art a andi, that you neither have, ne will have, nor in any w see bear about you, thing, or things, pointed, or blunt, within these theselists, other then what are natural, and allowed by the Court: No in chanted Arms, or weapons, Stones of virtue, Herb of Grace, Charm, Character, Spell, Philtre, or other power, then Loves only, and the iustneste of your cause. So help you Love, his Mother, and the contents of this Book: Kiss it. Return unto yourseats. Crier bid si lence. So much is law full. 'Twas well remembered here, and to good use.) But on with your description, what Love is. Desire of union with the thing beloved. Madam, I must crave you To afford a Lady a visit, would excuse Some harshness o'the house, you have received From the bruit guests. Stuff looks Like a remnant. Fly, & your fellows, see that the whole censure Be thoroughly executed. Fly, & his office S Will do it fiercely. The would sent him up to bed, would, you would fol low him! And make my house amends! I would I could command it. My light heart Should leap till midnight. Wake She'll en Thomas! Is this your Heraldri ? And keeping of records, to lose the main? Where is your charge? Go ask, oracle O'the bottle, at your girdle, there you lost it: You are a sober setter of the watch. Come Fly, and legacy, the Bird o'the heart: Prime insect of the nne, Prosessor, Quartermaster, As ever thou deserued'st thy daily drink, Paddling in sack, and licking i'the same, Now show thy self and implement of price, And help to raise a nap to us, out of nothing, Thou saw'st'hem married? Had they a licence? And Embassy at least! This will rouse Lovel. Much joy, my Lord! I thank you all, I thank thee, Father Fly. Madam, my Cossen, you look discomposed, I have been bold with a salad, after supper, OF your own lettice, here: I, the house full of joy. Mark you that, my light young Lord?) Omin ! I have known many a church been made a stable, But not a stable made a church till now I wish them joy. Fly, was he a full priest? Stay, what is here! peace rascals, stop your throats. That magot, worm, that insect! Oh my child, My daughter! where's that Fly? I'll fly in his face, The ermine, let me come to him. Who told you old not? I come, boys. He dos give you reasons As round as Giges ring: which, say the Ancients, Was a hoop ring; and that is, round as a hoop! Go down boy, And get your breakfast. Trust me, I had rather Take a fair halter, wash my hands, and hang him My self, make a clean riddance of him: then. What say you, Sir? where are you? are you within? What means this? He will chirp, far better, Your bird, below. si lence! A she-Traian! this!