SCARBOROW

Gentlemen, welcome to Yorkshire. Faith Gallants 'tis the Country where my Father lived, where first I saw the light, and where I am loved, About some such preferment I came down. I construe more Divinely of their sex, Being Maids, methinks they are Angels: and being Wives, They are Souèraignes: Cordials that preserve our Lives, They are Like our hands that feed us, this is clear, They renew man, as spring renews the year. Men that traduce by custom, show sharp wit Only in speaking Ill, and practice it: Against the best of Creatures, divine women Who are Gods Agents here, and the Heavenly eye By which this Orb hath her Maturity; Beauty in women, get the world with Child, Without whom, she were barren, faint, and wild. They are the stems on which do Angels grow, From whence Virtue is styled, and Arts do flow. The Father, and the Gallants have left me hear with a Gentlewoman, and if I know what to say to her I am a villain, hea ven grant her life hath borrowed so much Impudence of her sex, but to speak to me first: for by this hand, I have not so much steel of Immodesty in my face, to Parley to a Wench without blushing. I'll walk by her, in hope she can open her teeth.—Not a word?—Is it not strange a man should be in a woman's come pany all this while and not hear her tongue.—I'll go fur there? —God of his goodness: not a Sillable. I think if I should take up her Clothes to, she would say nothing to me.—With what words tro dus a man begin to woe. Gentlewoman pray you what Is't a Clockc? And if you cannot tell, Beauty I take the Addage for my reply: You are nought to keep sheep. Prithee tell me: Are you not a Woman? And how would you be acquainted with a man? Why I am a Man. To approve I am no less: thus I kiss thee. Prithee tell me can you love? What think you of me for a Husband? Troth I think you are a proper Gentlewoman. Nay I see you are a very perfect proper Gentlewoman. Your father says I shall marry you. I love thee by my troth. Makes me this woman's husband, thou art my Clare, Accept my heart, and prove as Chaste, as fair. Prithee do not Jest? This hand thus takes thee as my loving wife, I, till death us depart love. Clare your are now mine, and I must let you know, What every wise does to her husband owe, To be a wise, is to be Dedicate Not to a youthful course, wild, and unsteady, But to the soul of virtue, obedience, Studying to please, and never to offend. Wives, have two eyes created, not Like Birds To room about at pleasure, but for two sentinels, To watch their husbands safety as their own, Two hands, ones to feed him, the other her self: Two feet, and one of them is their husbands, They have two of every thing, only of one, Their Chastity, that should be his alone. Their very thoughts they cannot term them one, Maids being once made wives, can nothing call Rightly their own; they are their husbands all: If such a wife you can prepare to be, Clare I am yours: and you are fit for me. By heaven. If ever man in swearing love, swore true, My words are Like to his: Here comes your father. What news from London Butler. Clare here is and unwelcome Pursuivant, My Lord and Guardian writes to me with speed, I must return to London. Clare I must leave thee, with what unwillingness Witness this dwelling kiss upon thy lip, And though I must be absent from thine eye, Be sure my heart does in thy bosom lie, Three years I am yet a ward, which time I'll pass, Making thy faith my constant Lookingglass, Till when. My honourable Lord. Kind Uncle. The time that I spent there my Lord was merry. My name is bound to your beneficence, your hands hath been to me Like bounties purse, Never shut up, your self my foster-Nurse: Nothing can from your honour come; prove me so rude, But I'll accept to shun Ingratitude. My honourable Lord. Oh but my Lord. I have no hands to take her to my wife. Oh pardon me my Lord the unripeness of my years, Too green for government, is old in fears To undertake that charge. Oh God. Oh Good my Lord Had I two souls, then might I have two wives, Had I two faiths, then had I one for her, Having of both but one, that one is given To Sir John Harcops daughter. To Sir John Harcops Clare I have made and oath, Partly me in twain, yet she's one half of both. This hand the which I wear it is half hers, Such power hath faith and troth betwixt couples young, Death only cuts that knot tide with the tongue. I have done so much, that if I wed not her, My marriage makes me and Adulterer, In which black sheets, I wallow all my life, My babes being Bastards, and a whore my wife. Fare pity me, because I am enforced, For I have herd those matches have cost blood, Where love is once begun and then withstood, Joy, of what Frank? Who weds as I have to enforced sheets, His care increases, but his comfort fleets. Oh speak not of it, Marriage sounds in mine care Like a Bell, Not rung for pleasure, but a doleful knell. I cannot love her. I will not lie with her. Why did she marry me, knowing I did not love her. Thy master Sir John Harcop writes to me, That I should entertain thee for my man, His wish is acceptable, thou art welcome fellow. O but thy masters Daughter, sends and Article Which makes me think upon my present sin, Here she remembers me to keep in mind My promised faith to her, which I would broke. Here she remembers me I am a man, Black tore with perjury, whose sinful breast, Is Charactered Like those cursed of the blessed. Trouble me not, Give me Pen, Ink, and Paper, I will write to her, Oh? but what shall I write? Mine own excuse, why no excuse can serve For him that swears, and from his oath does swerve? Or shall I say, my marriage was info rest, It bade in them, not well in me to yield. Wretched thee to whose marriage was compelled, I'll only write that which my graven hath bred, Forgive me Clare, for I am married: 'Tis soon set down, but not so soon forgotten, or worn from he ̄ ce. Deliver it unto her, theres for thy pains, Would I as soon could cleanse these perjured stains. Gentlemen, I'll take my leave of you, She that I am married to but not my wife, Will London leave, in Yorkshire led our life. You bring me to my shame unwillingly. Oh wronged Clare? Accursed Scarborrow? I writ to her, that I was married, She writes to me, forgive her she is dead: I'll balm thy body with my faithful tears, And be perpetual mourner at thy Tomb, I'll sacrifice this Commit into sighs, Make a consumption of this pile of man, And all the benefits my parents gave, Shall turn distempered to appease the wrath For this blood shed, and I am guilty of. False woman, not my wife, though married to me, Look what thy friends, and thou art guilty of, The murder of a creature, equaled heaven In her Creation, whose thoughts Like fire, Never looked base, but ever did aspire To blessed benefits, till you and yours undid her, Eye her, view, though dead, yet she dus look, Like a fresh frame, or a new printed book Of the best paper, never looked into, But with one fully finger, which did spot her, Which was her own too, but who was cause of it, Thou and thy friends, and I will loath thee fort. Here, laid to take her everlasting sleep. Oh Sir John Harcop. Shame on them were the cause of it. Oh, 'tis too true. I, made a married man, yet wiueles. Thou the cause of it. For Charity have care upon your father, Least that his grief, bring on a more mishap, This to my arms, my sorrow shall bequeathe, Though I have lost her, to thy graven I'll bring, Thou Wertenberg my wife, and I'll thy Requiem sing: Go you to the Country, I'll to London back, All riot now, since that my souls so black. Oh, do not hurt the fellow? Thou needest no wine, I prithee be more mild? Do not belie me: If there be any good in me thats the best: Oaths are necessary for nothing, They pass out of a ma ̄ S mouth, Like smoke through a chimney, that files all the way it goes. But come, lets drink our selves into a stomach asor sup per. Well at your Importance, for once I'll stretch my purse Whose born to sink, as good this way as worse. Master Gripe is my bound currant for this Gentleman. May have security. You shall be satisfied, and I'll become your debtor, for full five hundred more then he does owe you. This night we sup here, bear us company, And bring your counsel, Scrivener, and the money with you, Where I will make as full assurance as in the Law you'd wish. Whose there would speak with me? So, so, what hath your coming else? So, then you two my Brother's, and she my sister, come not as in duty you are bound, to and elder brother, out of Yorkshire to see us, but Like leeches to suck from us. Sir, for your own, then thus be satisfied, Both hers and yours were left in trust with me, And I will keep it for you: Must you appoint us, Or what we please to Like mixed with reproof, You have been to saucy both, and you shall know, I'll curb you for it, ask why; I'll have it so? Your own sir: whats your own? Would, would, would. What dost think these are Frank? They are my brother's Frank, come out of Yorkshire, To the Tavern here, to ask their portions: they call my pleasures, riots, my company Leproes, & Like a school boy, they would tutor me? You lie. Boy bear the Torch fair: Now am I armed to fight with a Windmill, and to take the wall of and Emperor: Much drink, no money: A heavy head, and a light pair of heals. I wear and excellent creature to make a Punk of, I should down with the least touch of a knaves finger, thou hast made a good night of this: What hast wone Frank? This is the hell of all gamesters I think when they are at play, the board eam es up the more ey: For if there be five hundred pound lost, theres never but a hundred pounds won. Boy, take the wall of any man, and yet by light, such deeds of darkness may not be. To save charge, and walk Like a Fury with a firebrand in my hand, every one goes by the light, & weel go by the smoke. Boy, keep the Wall: I will not budge for any man, by these Thumbs, and the paring of the Nails shall stick in thy teeth not for a world. The man that the Mare id on. You should have brought me up better. Go to, your names Lord, I'll talk with you when your out a debt and would better clothes. Pity ith thy throat, I can drink Muscadine and Eggs, and Muld sack, do you hear: you put a piece of turned stuff up on me, but I will - Piss in thy way, and thats no slander. Can your nose smell a Torch. Why then 'tis the more likely 'tis my Father's brother. I'll send you shorter to heaven, then you came to the earth, do you Catechise? Do you Catechise? Pox of that Lord, Weel meet at Miter, where weel sup down sorrow, We are drunk to night, and so weel be to morrow. Whats he that speaks? Like sickness: O is't you, Sleep still, you cannot move me, fare you well. Away. From whence proceeds this heat. Would thou were not my Brother? Are we not offspring of one parent wretch. Oh do not wrack me with remembrance ont. Then take a Devils payment. Girded round with death. Brother I thank you, for you now have been A patron of my life, forget the sin I pray you, with my lose and wasteful hours, Hath made against your Fortune's, I repent em, And wish I could new joint and strength your Hope's, Though with indifferent ruin of mine own. I have a many sins, the thought of which Like finished Needles prick me to the soul, But find your wrongs, to have the sharpest point. If penitence your losses might repair, You should be rich in wealth, and I in care. Idem not be moved untoot. Why starest thou, whats thy hast? What are they? In plainer Euargy, what are they, speak? So that the roof our Ancestors did built For their sons comfort, and their wives for Charity, I dare not to look out. But when I came to Church, I did there stand All water, whose forest breach had drowned my Land, Are you my wife, or these my children? Why 'tis impossible, for Like the skies, Without the suns light, so look all your eyes, Dark, Cloudy, thick, and full of heaviness, Within my Country there was hope to see Me and my issue to be Like our father's, Upholders of our Country, all our life, Which should would been, if I had wed a wife. Where now, As dropping leaves in Autume you look all, And I that should uphold you Like to fall, Peace saucy Jack, strumpet I say thou liest, For wife of mine thou art not, and these thy Basterds Whom I begotten of thee, with this unrest, That Bastards born, are born not to be Blessed On thee, and them, fot 'tis the end of lust, To scourge it self, heaven lingering to be joust: Harlot. Bastards. Even in your Cradle, you were accursed of heaven, Thou and Adulteress in thy married arms. And they that made the match, bawds to thy lust: I, now you hang the head, shouldst would done so before, Then these had not been Bastards, thou a whore. How rascal. And yowl control me sir. You rogue. What slave. Roge. Good Butler. You runagate of threescore, Patience be my Buckler, As not to file my hands in villains blood, You knave Slaue-trencher-groome Who is your master? I your coat slave. I'll mark thee for a strumpet, and thy Bastards. I'll parley with the Devil: I, I will, He gives his council freely, and the cause He for his Clients pleads, goes always with them, He in my cause shall deal then: and I'll ask him Whither a Cormorant may have stuffed Chests And see his brother starve: why heel say I, The less they give, the more I gain thereby. Foe, makt not strange for in these days, Theres many men lie in their masters sheets, And so may you in mine and yet: Your business sir? Dus all this happen to a wretch Like me. I shall would needs of drink then Butler, Are they Sir. Butler. I'll be with you straight Sir, Nay pray you keep your seat, for you shall hear, The same affliction you would taught me fear, Endue to your self. Make fat worms of stinking carcases, What hast thou to do with it? They are Like full ordinance then, who once discharged, A far off give a warning to my soul, That I had done them wrong. Faith gallants I have been guest here but since last night. That I do love thee, here by heaven I swear, and call it as a witness to this kiss. Good day Gentlemen. Thus Like a Fever that does shake a man From strength to weakness, I consume my self: I know this company, their custom vild, Hated, abhorred of goodmen, yet Like a child By reasons rule instructed how to know Evil from good, I to the worse go. Why do you suffer this, you upper powers, That I should surfeit in the sin I taste, have sense to feel my mischief, yet make wast Of heaven and earth: My self will answer, what my self does ask? Who once does cherish sin, begets his shame, For vice being fosterd once, coms Impudence, Which makes men count sin, Custom, not offence, When all Like me, their reputation blot, Pursuing evil, while the good God. But change of women bawld Knaves, Sir Knight. Prepared to ask how you Like that we have done, your daughters made my wife, and I your son. Would. Would thou Wertenberg not so near me: yet farewell. Thou liest, I would not a wife. None can be called, True man and wife, but those whom heaven instald. Say, You are very welcome, peace: wele would compliment. Who are you Gentlewoman. Mine? Where, how begotten: Prove me by certain instance thats divine, That I should call them lawful, or the mine. No, though we herd the words of Ceremony, But had hands knit as felons that wear fetters Forsty upon them. For tell me woman, Did ere my Love with sighs entreat thee mine, Did ever I in willing conference, Speak words, made half with tears that I did love thee. Or was I ever But glad to see thee as all Lovers are. No, no, thou knowest I was not. Thou liest? stumpet thou liest? Pretty, pretty Impudence infaith, Then have subornd that slave to lift his hands against me. I'll teach you tricks for this, would you a companion. You are most kindly welcome, sooth you are. And I have leisure to attend your hearing. I know you did sir. Here? These for thy act should die, she for my Clare, Whose wounds stare thus upon me for revenge. These to be rid from misery, this from sin, And thou thy self shalt have a push amongst em, That made heavens word a packhorse to thy tongue. Cotest scripture to make evils shine Like good, And as I send you thus with worms to dwell, Angels applaud it as a deed done well. Injurious villain that preventest me still. All this is here, Is heaven so gracious to sinners then? Oh Uncle. World now thou seest what 'tis to be a ward. A yoke indeed. Do not you flatter for preferment sir Oh but good uncle could I command my love, Or cancel oaths out of heavens brazen book, Engrossed by Gods own finger, then you might speak. Had men that law to love as most have tongues To love a thousand women with, then you might speak. Were love Like dust lawful for every Wind, To bear from place to place, were oaths but puffs, Men might forswear themselves, but I do know, Though sin being passed with us, the acts forgotten, The poor soul groans, and she forgets it not. Oh 'tis to miserable: That I a Gentleman should be thus torn From mine own right, and forest to be sorsworne. I prithee let us be at peace together. Wouldst homicide? art so degenerate? Then let my blood grow hight. To kill rather then be killed is manhoods rule. Shalt not needs. Have at thee, My heart grows cool again, I wish it not. Oh 'tis too true, theres not a thought I think, But must partake thy griefs, and drink A relish of thy sorrow and misfortune, With weight of others tears I am over born, That scarce am Atlas to hold up mine own, And all to good for me. A happy Creature In my Cradle, and have made my self The common curse of mankind by my life, Undone my Brother's, made them thieves for bred, And begotten pretty children to live beggars, Oh Conscience, how thou are stung to think vpont, My Brother's unto shame must yield their blood, My Babes at others stirrups beg their food, Or else turn thieves to, and be choked fort, Die a Dogs death, be perched upon a tree, Hang betwixt heaven and earth, as fit for neither, The curse of heaven thats endue to reprobates, Descends upon my Brother's, and my children, And I am parent to it, I, I am parent to it. Poor children they are indeed. Heap sorrow upon sorrow? Tell me, are My brother's gone to execution? For what I did, for every heinous sin, Sits on his soul by whom it did begin. And so did theirs by me. Tell me withal, My children carry moisture in their eyes, Whose speaking drops, say father, thus must we Ask our relief, or die with infamy, For you would made us beggars. Yet when thy tale has killed me to give my passage comfort from this stage, Say all was done by enforced marriage: My graven will then be welcome. Do as the devil dus, hate panther-mankind, And yet I lie: for devils sinners love, When men hate men, though good Like some above. Would slave. Off with your coat then, get you fort a doors. Away, out of my door: Away. So, now your Champions gone, Minx thou hadst better would gone quick unto thy graven. The Devil in thy shape come back again. Slave. Out of my doors slave. You shall. You shall be my master Sir. Yes goodman slave, you shall be master, Lie with my wife, and get more Bastards, do, do, do. I thank thee Butler, heaven when he please, Send death unto the troubled a blessed ease. In civil habit. That man undid me, he did blossoms blow Whose fruit proved poison, though it good in show, With him I'll parley, and disrobe my thoughts Of this wild phrensey that becomes me not: A table, candles, stools, and all things fit, I know he comes to chide me, and I'll hear him, With our sad conference we will call up tears, Teach Doctors rules, instruct succeeding years: Usher him in: Heaven spare a drop from thence where bounties throng Give patience to my soul, inflame my tongue. 'Tis very true. What then ensues to me? O, oho, o. I, I, I. Where? Go fetch my wife and children hither. He's a Divine, and this Divine did marry me, thats good, thats good, And this Divine did marry me, Whose tongue should be the key to open truth, As Gods Ambassador. Deliver, deliver, deliver. Give way then, I would my lesson perfect, leave us here Now sir, you know this Gentlewoman? To you sir, You matched me to this Gentlewoman. And you will say she is my wife then. Oh that such tongues should would the time to lie, Who teach men how to live, and how to die, Did not you know my soul had given my faith, In contract to another, and yet you Would join this Loom unto unlawful twists. But sir, You that can see a Mote within my eye, And with a Cassock blind your own defects, I'll teach you this, 'tis better to do ill, Thats never known to us, then of self will, And these all these in thy seducing eye, As scorning life make em be glad to die. Here will I write, that they which marry wives, Unlawful live with strumpets all their lives. Here will I seal the children that are born, From wombs unconsecrate, even when their soul Has her infusion, it registers they are foul, And shrinks to dwell with them, and in my close, I'll show the world, that such abortive men, Knit hands without free tongues look read Like them Stand you and you, to acts most Tragical, Heaven has dry eyes, when sin, makes sinners fallen. What all this to my Conscience? Your hand, yours, yours, to you my soul, to you a kiss, In I am sorry I would strayed amiss, To whom shall I be thankful. All silent: None speak: whist: why then to God, That gives men comfort as he gives his rod, Your portions I'll see paid, and I will love you, You three I'll live withal, my soul shall love you, You are and honest servant, sooth you are, To whom, I these and all must pay amends, But you I will admonish in cool terms, Let not promotions hope, be as a string, To tie your tongue, or let lose it to sting. Then husbands thus shall nourish with their wives. Then if all these be so, I am new wed so ends old marriage woe, And in your eyes so lovingly being wed, We hope your hands will bring us to our bed. Be not a bar betwixt us, or by my sword I'll meet thy graven out. I'll read a Letter to the Doct. too, he's a Divine? I he's a Divine. I'll be with you straight sir, Salvation to afflicted consciences, And not give torment to contented minds, Who should be lamps to comfort out our way, And not Like Firedrakes to led men astray, I, I'll be with you straight sir. Children and servants pay their duty thus. And all are pleased. Turns the world upside down, that men orebeare their Masters, It dus, it dus. For even as Judas sold his Master Christ, Men buy and fell their wives at highest price, What will you give me? what will you give me? what will you give me? Oh, Mistress, My soul weeps, though mine eyes be dry, To see his fallen and your adversity, Some means I have left, which I'll relieve you with, Into your chamber, and if comfort be a kin To such great grief, comfort your children. Well. Hark how their words Like Bullets shoot me thorough And tell me I have undone em, this side might say. We are in want, and you are the cause of it, This points at me, y re shame unto your house, This tongue says nothing, but her looks do tell, She's married but as those that live in hell: Whereby all eyes are but misfortunes pipe, Filled full of woe by me, this feels the stripe.