SIR ALEXANDER

Fie, fie, in giving thanks you pay to deer. No more of thanks, no more, I marry Sir, Th'inner room was too close, how do you Like This Parlour Gentlemen? Sir Davy Dapper, The furniture that does adorn this room, Cost many a fair grey groat ere it came here, But good things are most cheap, when th'are most deer, Nay when you look into my galleries, How bravely they are trimmed up, you all shall swear Yare highly pleased to see whats set down there: Stories of men and women (mixed together Fair ones with foul, Like sunshine in wet weather) Within one square a thousand heads are laid So close, that all of heads, the room seems made, As many faces there (filled with blithe looks) Show Like the promising titles of new books, (Writ merrily) the Readers being their own eyes, Which seem to move and to give plaudities, And here and there (while with obsequious ears, Thronged heaps do listen) a cut purse thrusts and leeres With hawks eyes for his prey: I needs not show him, By a hanging villainous look, your selves may know him, The face is drawn so rarely, Then sir below, The very flower (as it) waves to and from, And Like a floating Island, seems to move, Upon a sea bound in with shores above, I'll show you all, Since we are met, make our parting Comical. Would, take his leave (Sebastian) who? Your love sir, has already given me some time, And if you please to trust my age with more, It shall pay double interest: Good sir stay. Not so sir. A merry day Amongst friends being spent, is better then gold saved. Some wine, some wine. Where be these knaves I keep. You are kissing my maids, drinking, or fast asleep. You varlets stir, Chairs, stools and cushions: prithee sir Davy Dapper, Make that chair thine. A chair for old sir Adam Appleton. Pray make that stool your perch, good M. Goshawk. Son Sebastian, Take Master Greenewit to you. Nay master Laxton —furnish master Laxton With what he wants (a stone) a stool I would say, a stool. I know you had (good M. Laxton.) So, so— Now heres a mess of friends, and (gentlemen) Because times glass shall not be running long, I'll quicken it with a pretty tale. Last day I met And aged man upon whose head was scored, A debt of joust so many years as these, Which I owe to my graven, the man you all know. Nay you shall pardon me, But when he saw me (with a sighs that brake, Or seemed to break his heartstrings) thus he spoke: O my good knight, says he, (and then his eyes Were richer even by that which made them poor, They had spent so many tears they had no more.) O sir (says he) you know it, for you would seen Blessings to rain upon mine house and me: Fortune (who slaves men) was my slave: her wheel Hath spun me golden threads, for I thank heaven, I never had but one cause to curse my stars, I asked him then, what that one cause might be. He paused, and as we often see, A sea so much becalmed, there can be found No wrinkle on his brow, his waves being drowned In their own rage: but when th'imperious wind, Use strange invisible tyranny to shake Both heavens and earth's foundation at their noise: The seas swelling with wrath to partly that fray Rise up, and are more wild, more mad, then they. Even so this good old man was by my question Stirred up to roughness, you might see his gall Flow even in's eyes: then grew he fantastical. Yes, and talk oddly. Marry sir thus. He left his wild fit to read over his cards, Yet then (though age cast snow on all his hairs) He joyed because (says he) the God of gold Has been to me no niggard: that disease (Of which all old men sicken) Avarice Never infected me. For Like a lamp, Fed with continual oil, I spend and throw My light to all that needs it, yet have still Enough to serve my self, o but (quoth he) Though heauens-dew fallen, thus on this aged tree, I have a son thats Like a wedge does cleave, My very heart root, Lets see: no Master Greene-wit is not yet So mellow in years as he; but as Like Sebastian, Just Like my son Sebastian, —such another. This son (says he) that should be The column and main arch unto my house, The crutch unto my age, becomes a whirlwind Shaking the firm foundation, No city monster neither, no prodigal, But sparing, wary, civil, and (though wifeless) And excellent husband, and such a traveller, He has more tongues in his head then some have teeth, O a woman. A scurvy woman, On whom the passionate old man swore he doted: A creature (says he) nature hath brought forth To mock the sex of woman.—It is a thing One knows not how to name, her birth began Ere she was all made. 'Tis woman more then man, Man more then woman, and (which to none can hap) The Sun gives her two shadows to one shape, Nay more, let this strange thing, walk, stand or fit, No blazing star draws more eyes after it. She's a varlet. A naughty pack. Would boy. Whats false, I say she's nought. So sir what then. Lie. Ah sirrah boy. Is your blood heated: boils it: are you stung, I'll pierce you deeper yet: o my deer friends, I am that wretched father, this that son, That sees his ruin, yet headlong on does run. Th'art sick at heart, yet feelest it not: of all these, What Gentleman (but thou) knowing his disease Mortal, would shun the cure: o Master Greenewit, Would you to such and Idol bow. Here's Master Laxton, has he mind to a woman As thou hast. Sir I know it. O thou cruel boy, Thou wouldst with lust and old men life destroy, Because thou seest I'm half way in my graven, Thou shouelst dust upon me: wood thou mightest have Thy wish, most wicked, most unnatural. Sir Davy Dapper. I have upon my knees, wood this found boy, To take that virtuous maiden. I'll give thee ratsbane rather. Hark Gentlemen, He swears to have this cutpurse drab, to spite my gall. Her blood shall quench it then, Lose him not, o dissuade him Gentlemen. Before his eyes Lay down his shame, my grief, his Misery's. I wash a Negro, Losing both pains and cost: but take thy flight, I'll be most near thee, when I'm least in sighed. Wild Buck isle hunt thee breathless, thou shalt run on, But I will turn thee when I'm not thought upon. Now sirrah what are you, leave your Apes tricks and speak. O, o, now I remember 'tis to prefer thee into my service. Troth honest fellow—humh—would—let me see, This knave shall be the axe to hew that down At which I stumble, has a face that promises Much of a villain, I will grind his wit, And if the edge prove fine make use of it. Come hither sirrah, canst thou be secret, would. Didst never, as thou hast walked about this town Hear of a wench called Moll, mad merry Moll. The same, dost thou know her then, That task is easy, doot then, hold thy hand up. Whats this, is't burned? Ther's money, spend it, that being spent fetch more. This wench we speak of, strays so from her kind Nature repents she made her. 'Tis a Mermaid Has told my son to shipwreck. I'll tell out gold for thee then: hunt her forth, Cast out a line hung full of silver hooks To catch her to thy company: deep spendings May draw her thats most chased to a men bosom. Or rather, for thats best, (they say sometime She goes in breeches) follow her as her man. Beat all thy brains to serve her. Play thou the subtle spider, weave fine nets To ensnare her very life. Yes suck Her heartblood if thou canst, twist thou but cords To catch her, I'll find law to hang her up. Trace all her steps: at this shee-foxes den Watch what lambs enter: let me play the shepherd To save their throats from bleeding, and cut hers. Be firm and gain me Ever thine own. This done I entertain thee: How is thy name. Trap-door, be Like thy name, a dangerous step For her to venture on, but unto me. Hence then, be little seen here as thou canst. I'll still be at thine elbow. God a mercy, lose no time. Here's brave wilfulness, A made match, here she comes, they met a purpose. So, so, so. The most comfortablest answer from a Roaring Girl, that ever mine ears drunk in. There's a boy spoils all again. A pox on you for that word. I Like you not now, You're a cunning roarer I see that already. How do I wrong this girl, she puts him of still. She is but cunning, gives him longer time in't. Hoyda breeches, what will he marry a monster with two trinkets, what age is this? if the wife go in breeches, the man must wear long coats Like a fool. Here's good gear towards, I have brought up my son to marry a Dutch slop,. and a French doublet, a codpiece daughter. So, and which is that rusty clock sir you. But thou goest falser: not thy father's cares Can keep thee right, when that insensible work, Obeys the workman's art, lets off the hour And stops again when time is satisfied, But thou runnest on, and judgement, thy main wheel, Beats by all stops, as if the work would break Begun with long pains for a minutes ruin, Much Like a suffering man brought up with care. At last bequeathed to shame and a short prayer, Who has bewitch thee son, what devil or drug, Hath wrought upon the weakness of thy blood, And betrayed all her Hope's to ruinous folly? O wake from drowsy and enchanted shame, Wherein thy soul sits with a golden dream Flattered and poisoned, I am old my son, (mine own O let me prevail quickly, for I have weightier business of Then to chide thee: I must not to my graven, As a drunkard to his bed, whereon he lies Only to sleep, and never cares to rise, Let me dispatch in time, come no more near her. What sayest thou marriage, in what place, the Sessions house, and who shall give the bride, prethe, and indite meant. Why, wouldst thou feign marry to be pointed at, Alas the numbers great, do not over burden't, Why as good marry a beacon on a hill, Which all the country fix their eyes upon As her thy folly dotes on. If thou longest To have the story of thy infamous Fortune's, Serve for discourse in ordinaries and taverns Th'art in the way: or to confound thy name, Keep on, thou canst not miss it: or to strike Thy wretched father to untimely coldness, Keep the left hand still, it will bring thee to't. Yet if no tears wrung from thy father's eyes, Nor sighs that fly in sparkles, from his sorrows, Had power to altar what is wilful in thee, Me thinks her very name should fright thee from her, And never trouble me. Many one sir, where suspect is entered, For seek all London from one end to tother, More whores of that name, then of any ten other. O folly that can dote on nought but shame. This way I toil in vain and give but aim To infamy and ruin: he will fallen, My blessing cannot stay him: all my joys Stand at the brink of a devouring flood And will be wilfully swallowed: wilfully. But why so vain, let all these tears be lost, I'll pursue her to shame, and so al's crossed. Out with your tale Sir Davy, to Sir Adam. A Knave is in mine eye deep in my debt. Speak softly, what egg is there hatching now. Be quick. And see thy news be true. Ah. So. Good. How shirt of male? To my son. Art sure of this? The time of their tilting? The day? Away ply it, watch her. She's fast: here weave thou the nets; hark, I told them thou didst owe me money; hold it up: Thou shalt be hanged in't ere thou escape so. Varlet I'll make thee look through a grate. Asked him my money, He swears my son received it: o that boy Will never leave heaping sorrows on my heart, Till he has broke it quite. As is a russian Bear. Worse still and worse, He lays on me his shame, I on him my curse. Tobacco? I, yet knows not how to mend it, Bedlam cures not more madmen in a year, Then one of the Counters does, men pay more deer There for there wit then any where; a Counter Why it's and university, who not sees? As scholars there, so here men take degrees, And follow the same studies (all alike.) Scholars learn first Logic and Rhetoric. So does a prisoner; with fine honeyed speech At's first coming in he does persuade, beseech, He may be lodged with one that is not itchy; To lie in a clean chamber, in sheets not lousy, But when he has no money, then does he try, By subtle Logic, and quaint sophistry, To make the keepers trust him. Then he's a graduate. Then is he held a freshman and a sot, And never shall commence, but being still bared Be expulst from the Masters side, toth' twopenny ward, Or else i'th hold, beg placed. When money being the theme, He can dispute with his hard creditors hearts, And get out clear, he's then a Master of Arts; Sir Davy send your son to Woodstreet College, A Gentleman can no where get more knowledge. True: to get money. I know they, they are officers, sir we'll leave you. Vnahppy in the follies of a son, Led against judgement, sense, obedience, And all the powers of nobleness and wit; O wretched father, now Trap-door will she come? Peace, peace, peace. Here take my Germane watch, hang't up in sighed, That I may see her hang in English for't. Good Trap-door sayest thou so, thou cheerest my heart After a storm of sorrow,—my gold chain too, Here take a hundred marks in yellow links. Place that a'the Court cubbart, let it lie Full in the view of her thief-whorish eye. Perhaps thou shalt too, That or something as weighty; what she leaves, Thou shalt come closely in, and filch away, And all the weight upon her back I'll lay. No, what lets it? Belly or back I care not so I've one. Hang up my ruff band with the diamond at it, It may be shee'l Like that best. So, well said; all haugs well, would she hung so too, The sighed would please me more, then all their gilsterings: O that my mysteries to such straights should run, That I must rob my self to bless my son. I, I, I, Like her that sings it, one of thine own choosing. So say I too. Now, now, she's trapped. No wilt not be, am I alone so wretched That nothing takes? I'll put him to his plunge for't. This were well now, Were't to a man, whose sorrows had blind eyes, But mine behold his follies and untruths, With two clear glasses—how now? What's he there? What is he there? I, I think so, I wonder how they escaped her. A stroke indeed, I feel it at my heart, I, a whore may put down a hundred of they. And he stands upon the whole. And will do still, he'll never be in other tail, Hum true, there is no other way indeed, His folly hardens, shame must needs succeed. Now sir I understand you profess music. Where is it you teach? Hum that's a fit place for it: you have many scholars. I true, a company of whoremasters; you teach to sing too? I think you'll find and apt scholar of my son, es pecially for pricksong. I am sorry for't, I have the less for that: you can play any lesson. There's a thing called the witch, can you play that? I, I believe thee, thou hast so bewitched my son, No care will mend the work that thou hast done, I have bethought my self since my art fails, I'll make her policy the Art to trap her. Here are four Angels marked with holes in them Fit for his cracked companions, gold he will give her, These will I make induction to her ruin, And rid shame from my house, grief from my heart Here son, in what you take content and pleasure, Want shall not curb you, pay the Gentleman His latter half in gold. O may the operation an't, end three, In her, life: shame, in him; and grief, in me. My son marry a thief, that impudent girl, Whom all the world stick their worst eyes upon? O Gentlemen, when ha a father's heartstrings Held out so long from breaking: now what news sir? The Sluice? come Gentlemen, It's Lambith works against us. Delay no time sweet Gentlemen: to Black Friars, We'll take a pair of Oars and make after they. Hoyda, at Tower? Which way Gentlemen shall I bestow my care? I'm drawn in pieces betwixt deceit and shame. Say not so fir. Oh play not with the Misery's of my heart, Wounds should be dressed and healed, not vexed, or left Wide open, to the anguish of the patient, And scornful air let in: rather let pity And advise charitably help to refresh they. If not for worth, for pities sake assist me. O strange: hear you this Gentlemen, yet more How am I lost in these distractions? Slack not this goodness, though you heap upon me Mountains of malice and revenge hereafter: I'de willingly resign up half my state to him, So he would marry the meanest drudge I hire. Here's my ring, He will believe this token: before these Gentlemen, I will confirm it fully: all those lands, My first love lotted him, he shall straight possess In that refusal. It's a match Gentlemen. Cursed be the time, I laid his first love barren, Wilfully barren, that before this hour Had sprung forth friutes, of comfort and of honour; He loved a virtuous Gentlewoman. Impudence, where's my son? Is this your wedding gown? What ere' she be, she has my blessing with her, May they be rich, and fruitful, and receive Like comfort to their issue, as I take in them, Ha pleased me now, marrying not this, Through a whole world he could not choose amiss. Why? who thrive better sir? they have most blessing, Though other have more wealth, and least repent, Many that want most, know the most content. Age will quench that, any offence but theft and drun- Nothing but death can wipe away. (kennesse, There sins are green, even when there heads are grey, Nay I despair not now, my heart's cheered Gentlemen, No face can come unfortunately to me, Now sir, your news? Fair may their Fortune's be. I find it in the music of my heart, See where they come. Now has he pleased me right, I always counseled him To choose a goodly personable creature, Just of her pitch was my first wife his mother. Oh my reviving shame, is't I must live, To be struck blind, be it the work of sorrow, Before age take't in hand. You asked no favour, And you shall find as little, since my comforts, Play false with me, I'll be as cruel to thee As grief to father's hearts. With a vengeance. Oh monstrous impudence. A devil rampant. No sir, I stand to't, I'll work upon advantage, As all mischiefs do upon me. Blessings eternal, and the joys of Angels, Begin your peace here, to be signed in heaven, How short my sleep of sorrow seems now to me, To this eternity of boundless comforts, That finds no want but utterance, and expression. My Lord your office here appears so honourably: So full of ancient goodness, grace, and worthiness, I never took more joy in sighed of man, Then in your comfortable presence now. Your loves make my joys proud, Bring forth those deeds of land, my care laid ready, And which, old knight, thy nobleness may challenge, Joined with thy daughters virtues, whom I prize now, As dearly as that flesh, I call mine own. Forgive me worthy Gentlewoman, 'twas my blindness When I rejected thee, I saw thee not, Sorrow and wilful rashness grew Like films Over the eyes of judgement, now so clear I see the brightness of thy worth appear. That tongue can never err, the sound's so sweet, Here honest son, receive into thy hands, The keys of wealth, possession of those lands, Which my first care provided, thei'r thine own, Heaven give thee a blessing with they, the best joys, That can in worldly shapes to man betide, Are fertile lands, and a fair fruitful Bride, Of which I hope thou'rt sped. Thou art a mad girl, and yet I cannot now con demne thee. In tho'art a good wench, I'm sorry now, The opinion was so hard, I conceived of thee. Some wrongs I've done thee. To all which, shame and grief in me cry guilty, Forgive me now, I cast the world's eyes from me, And look upon thee freely with mine own: I see the most of many wrongs before he, Cast from the jaws of envy and her people, And nothing foul but that, Il'e never more Condemn by common voice, for that's the whore, That deceives men opinion; mocks his trust, Cozens his love, and makes his heart unjust. So far I'm sorry, I'll thrice double they To make thy wrongs amends, Come worthy friends my honourable Lord, Sir Bewteons Ganymed, and Noble Fitz-Allard, And you kind Gentlewoman, whose sparkling presence, Are glories set in marriage, beams of society, For all your loves give luster to my joys, The happiness of this day shall be remembered, At the return of every smiling spring: In my time now it's born, and may no sadness Fit on the brows of men upon that day, But as I am, so all go pleased away. My heart gave it thee, before thy tongue could ask it, Rise, thou hast raised my joy to greater height. Then to that seat where grief dejected it, Both welcome to my love, and care for ever, Hide not my happiness too long, al's pardoned, Here are our friends, salute her, Gentlemen.