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Now, who are you?

Aur. Your highness's officers.

We have brought two murderers here to be censured,

Who by their own confession are found guilty,
And need no further trial.

Lion. Which be the parties?
Aur. These, and please you.
Lion. Well, what do you answer?

What can you plead to stop the course of justice? Moc. For my part, tho I had no conscience to act it,

I have not the heart to deny it; and therefore expect

Your sentence: for mercy, I hope none, nor favour.

Lion. What says th' accuser?

Luc. Please your princely wisdom,

He slew a man was destin'd for my husband;
Yet, since another's death cannot recall him,
Were the law satisfied, and he adjudg’d

To have his goods confiscate, for my own part,
I could rest well content.

Moc. With all my heart:

I yield possession to whomsoe'er

She shall choose for a husband; reach a paper O rblank, I'll seal to it.

Luc. See there's a writing!

Moc. And there's my hand to it; I care not what the conditions be.

Lion. 'Tis well; Whom will you choose in place of the other?

Luc. Then, sir, to keep his memory alive; I'll seek no further than this officer.

Lor. How, choose a common serjeant for her husband!

Emil. A base commendadore! I'll ne'er endure it.

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Moc. Am I then cheated? I'll go home and die, To avoid shame, not live in infamy. [Exit. Lion. What says the villain bravo for himself? Bravo. The bravo, sir, is honest, and his father.

Aur. My father! bless me, how comes this about?

Bravo. That virtuous maid, whom I must
always honour,

Acquainted me with that old leacher's drift;
I, to prevent the ruin of my son,
Conceal'd from all, proffer'd my service to him
In this disguise.

Lion. 'Twas a wise and pious deed.
Enter PETRUCIO, ANGELIA, and GASPARO.

Pet. Room for the duke's kindred.
Lion. What, you are married, I perceive?
Pet. I am, royal brother.

Lion. Then, for your better learning in our

service,

Take these instructions: Never hereafter
Contemn a man that has more wit than yourself,
Or foolishly conceive no lady's merit
Or beauty worthy your affection.

Pet. How's this?

Lion. Truth, my most honour'd brother, you are gull'd,

So is my reverend uncle the antiquary,
So are you all; for he that you conceiv'd
The duke, is your friend and Lionel ;
Look you else.

Pet. 'Tis so.

Gas. 'Tis too apparent true.

Lion. What, all drunk! Speak, uncle.
Ant. Thou art my nephew,

And thou hast wit; 'tis fit thou should'st have

land too.

Tell me no more how thou hast cheated me,
I do perceive it, and forgive thee for't;
Thou shalt have all I have, and I'll be wiser.
Lion. I thank you, sir. Brother Petrucio,
This to your comfort; that is my sister,
Whom formerly you did abuse in love;
And you may be glad your lot is no worse.
Pet. I am contented: I'll give a good wit
Leave to abuse me at any time.

Lor. When he cannot help it.
Gas. This 'tis

To be so politick and ambitious, son.
Pet. Nay, father, do not you aggravate
it too.

50 Asinigo. A cant term for a foolish fellow or ideot. See Mr Steevens's Note on Troilus and Cressida, A, 2. S. 1.

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The Antiquary, a Comedy; acted by her Majesty's Servants, at the Cock-pit. Written by Shackerly Mermion, Gent. London: Printed by F. K. for I. W. and F. E. and are to be sold at the Crane, in St. Paul's Church-yard. 1641. Quarto.

THE ORDINARY.

BY

WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT.

*

WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT was, according to Lloyd, born 16 August, 1615, though Wood † says he was born at Northway, near Tewksbury, Gloucestershire, in September, 1611, and christened on the 26th of the same month. There is as much difference between these two writers, with respect to his father, as there is concerning the time of his birth. Lloyd says, he was the son of Thomas Cartwright, of Burford in Oxfordshire; Wood asserts, that his father's name was William Cartwright, one who had dissipated a fair inheritance, and was at last reduced to keep an inn at Cirencester. These contradictory accounts are totally irreconcileable. Wood's, however, is probably the true one. That author says, that Cartwright received part of his education under Mr William Top, master of the Free School at Cirencester, was from thence sent to Westminster, where he compleated his education under Mr Lambert Osbaldiston; and, in the year 1628 || was chosen a student of Christ Church in Oxford, and placed under the care of Mr Terrent. He took his several degrees of Batchelor and Master of Arts; the latter in 1635; and afterwards entering into holy orders, became, as Wood § expresses it, "the most florid and seraphical preacher in the University." In October, 1642, Bishop Duppa conferred on him the place of Succentor in the church of Salisbury; and on 12 April, 1643, he was admitted junior Proctor of the University. He died 29 November following, of a malignant fever, universally lamented by every person who knew him, even by his sovereign, who shewed him particular marks of his respect. He was buried at the upper end of the south isle, adjoining to the choir of the cathedral of Christ Church. was," says Langbaine, extremely remarkable both for his outward and inward endowments, his body being as handsome as his soul. He was an expert linguist, understanding not only Greek and Latin, but French and Italian as perfectly as his mother tongue. He was an excellent orator, and yet an admirable poet; a quality which Cicero with all his pains could not attain to. Nor was Aristotle less known to him than Cicero and Virgil; and those who heard his metaphysical lectures, gave him the preference to all his predecessors, the present Bishop of Lincoln (Dr Barlow) excepted. His sermons were as much admired as his other composures; and one fitly applied to our author that saying of Aristotle, concerning Æschron the poet, that he could not tell what Aschron could not do."

66

"He

Ben Jonson said of him, with some passion, My son Cartwright writes all like a man; and Dr Fell, Bishop of Oxford, gave him this character, Cartwright was the utmost man could

come to.

Besides a sermon, and some Greek and Latin poems, he was the author of four plays, one only of which, I believe, was published in his life-time; viz.

(1.) "The Royal Slave, a tragi-comedy, presented to the king and queen by the students of Christ Church in Oxford, August 30, 1636; presented since to both their majesties at Hampton Court, by the king's servants. 4to. 1639, 1640; 8vo. 1651."

* Memoirs, p. 422.

Langbaine, p. 51, says, 1631.

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¶Oldys, in his MS. Notes on Langbaine, says, that the king being asked, why he appeared in black the day Cartwright was buried? answered, that since the Muses had so much mourned, for the loss of such a son, it would be a shame for him not to appear in mourning, for the loss of such a subject.

This play, in which the celebrated Dr Busby performed a part, gave so much satisfaction to their majesties, that it was by their orders performed at Hampton Court by their own servants. Langbaine says, the preference was given to the representation by the collegians, as much superior to that of the players.

(2.)

The Lady Errant, a tragi-comedy, 8vo. 1651."

(3.) "The Ordinary, a comedy, 8vo. 1651."

(4.) "The Siedge; or, Love's Convert, a tragi-comedy, 8vo. 1651."

All these plays were printed with his other poems in 8vo. 1651. Prefixed to this edition of his works, are 54 copies of verses in praise of the author.

PROLOGUE.

'Twould wrong our author to bespeak your ears;
Your
persons he adores, but judgment fears:
For where you please but to dislike, he shall
Be atheist thought, that worships not his fall.
Next to not marking, 'tis his hope that you,
Who can so ably judge, can pardon too.
His conversation will not yet supply
Follies enough to make a comedy;

He cannot write by th' poll; nor act we here
Scenes, which perhaps you should see liv'd else-
where;

No guilty line traduceth any; all
We now present is but conjectural;

'Tis a mere guess: Those then will be to blame, Who make that person, which he meant but

name.

That web of manners which the stage requires,
That mass of humours which poetick fires
Take in, and boil, and purge, and try, and then
With sublimated follies cheat those men
That first did vent them, are not yet his art;
But, as drown'd islands, or the world's fifth part,
Lie undiscover'd; and he only knows
Enough to make himself ridiculous.

Think then, if here you find nought can delight,
He hath not yet seen vice enough to write.

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THE ORDINARY.

SCENE I.

ACT I.

HEARSAY, SLICER, SHAPE, MEANWELL.
Hear. We're made, my boys, we're made!
methinks I am

Growing into a thing that will be worship'd.
Sli. I shall sleep one day in my chain and
scarlet,

At Spital-sermon.

Shape. Were not my wit such,

I'd put out moneys on being Mayor.

But O this brain of mine! That's it that will
Bar me the city honour.

Hear. We're cry'd up

O' th' sudden for the sole tutors of the age.
Shape. Esteem'd discreet, sage, trainers up
of youth.

Hear. Our house becomes a place of visit now.
Sli. In my poor judgment, 'tis as good my lady
Should venture to commit her eldest son
To us, as to the inns of court: He'll be
Undone here only with less ceremony.

I

Mean. Pray you be quiet.

Hear. Thou look'st as if thou plott'st the calling in

O' th' Declaration, or th' abolishing

O' th' Common-prayers. Chear up; say some thing for us.

Mean. Pray vex me not.

Sli. These foolish puling sighs

Are good for nothing, but to endanger buttons. 2 Take heart of grace, man.

Mean. Fie, y'are troublesome.

Hear. Nay, fare you well then, sir.

[Exeunt HEARSAY, SLICER, SHAPE.

Mean. My father still

Runs in my mind, meets all my thoughts, and
doth

Mingle himself in all my cogitations.
Thus to see eager villains drag along
Him, unto whom they crouch'd! to see him
hal'd,

That ne'er knew what compulsion was, but when
His virtues did incite him to good deeds,
O unequal

Hear. Speak for our credit, my brave man of And keep my sword dry!

war.

What, Meanwell, why so lumpish?

Nature!

Why was I made so patient as to view,

O' th' Declaration, or th' abolishing

O' th' Common-prayers.-The Declaration concerning the book of sports, set forth some time be fore. This was a matter very disgusting to the Puritans, who had an equal dislike to the book of Common Prayer.

2 Take heart of grace.-This phrase signifies, take courage, or summon up resolution. It is at present always written in this manner; formerly it used to be, take heart at grass; as in Euphues, p. 18: "Rise therefore, Euphues, and take heart at grasse, younger thou shalt never bee: plucke up thy stomacke, if love have stong thee, it shall not stifle thee."

Tarlton's Newes out of Purgatory, p. 4:

66 -therefore taking heart at grasse, drawing more neere him, &c."

Ibid. p. 24:

"—seeing she would take no warning: on a day tooke heart at grasse, and belabour'd her well with a cudgel."

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