Old. Now I can read the justice of my fate, and yours

Clack. Ha! Justice? Are they handling of justice?

Old. But more applaud great Providence in both.

Clack. Are they jeering of Justices? I watch'd for that.

Hear. Ay, so methought: no, sir, the play is done.

Enter SCENTWELL, AMIE, OLIVER, MARTIN. Scent. See, sir, your niece presented to you. [SPRINGLOVE takes AMIE.

Clack. What, with a speech by one of the

players?

Speak, sir, and be not daunted; I am favourable. Spring. Then, by your favour, sir, this maiden my wife.

is

Clack. Sure, you are out o' your part; that is to say, you must begin again.

Spring. She's mine by solemn contract, sir. Clack. You will not tell me that. Are not you my niece?

Amie. I dare not, sir, deny 't; we are contracted.

Clack. Nay, if we both speak together, how shall we hear one another?

Mar. I must disprove the contract.
Tal. That is my part to speak.

Scent. None can disprove it; I am witness to it.

Clack. Nay, if we all speak,- -as I said

before.

Old. Hear me for all, then :-Here are no beggars, (you are but one, Patrico) no rogues, nor players, but a select company, to fill this house with mirth: these are my daughters; these

their husbands; and this that shall marry your niece, a gentleman, my son. I will instantly estate him in a thousand pound a year to entertain his wife, and to their heirs for ever. Do you hear me now?

Clack. Now I do hear you, and I must hear you: that is to say, it is a match; that is to say -as I said before.

Tal. And must I hear it too- -Oh-
Old. Yes, tho' you whine your eyes out.

Hear. Nephew Martin, still the child with a suck-bottle of sack. Peace, lamb, and I'll find a wife for thee.

Old. Now, Patrico, if you can quit your func-
tion

To live a moderate gentleman, I'll give you
A competent annuity for your life.

Pat. I'll be withal your faithful beadsman, and spend my whole life in prayers for you and yours.

Cluck. And now, clerk Martin, give all the beggars my free pass, without all manner of correction that is to say, with a hey, get 'em gone. Oliv. Are not you the gentleman that challeng'd me, in right of your friend here? Vin. Your inspection's good, sir.

Rach. And you the gentleman (I take it) that would have made beggar-sport with us two at

once.

Mer. For twelve pence a-piece, sir. Oliv. I hope we are all friends. [more, Spring. Now, on my duty, sir, I'll beg no But your continual love, and daily blessing.

Old. Except it be at court, boy; where, if ever I come, it shall be to beg the next fool royal's place that falls.

Spring. A begging epilogue yet wou'd not be, Methinks, improper to this comedy.

Tho' we are now no beggars of the crew,
We count it not a shame to beg of you.
The Justice here has given his Pass free
To all the rest unpunish'd; only we
Are under censure, till we do obtain

Your suffrages, that we may beg again,
And often, in the course we took to-day,
Which was intended for your mirth, a play;
Not without action, and a little wit;
Therefore we beg your Pass for us and it.

Pannum-bread.

Patrico-amongst beggars, is their priest; every hedge being his parish; every wandering har lot and rogue his parishioners. The service is only the marrying of couples; which he does in a wood, under a tree, or in the open field: and the solemnity of it, says Dekkar, is this: -"The parties to be wedded, find out a dead horse, or any other beast, and standing one on the one side, and the other on the other, the Patrico bids them live together till death them part: and so, shaking hands, the wedding-dinner is kept at the next alehouse they stumble into; where the musick is nothing but knocking with cannes, and their dances none but drunken brawles." Peck-meat.

Dekkar's Belman, Sign. N.

Poplars of yarrum-butter milk.

Prats-buttocks.

Ibid.

Sign. N.

Quarron-the belly.

Queer cove-a constable.

Queer cuffin-a justice of peace.

Dell-a

Ruffin-the devil.

Ibid.

Sign. N.

Dory-a strumpet.

Dekkar's Belman, Sign. D 4. Ibid. Sign. E.

Ruff peck-bacon.

Ibid.

Sign. N.

Rum boose-wine.

Ibid.

Sign. N.

Gage-a quart-pot.

Ibid.

Sign. N.

Salmon or rather salomon, the Beggars Oath.

Gan-a mouth.

Ibid.

Sign, N.

Ibid.

Sign. T 3.

Gentry cofe's feast-gentleman's feast.

Sign. N.

Glaziers-eyes.

Ibid.

Sign. N.

Skipper-a barn.

Ibid.

Grunter-pig.

Stampers-shoes.

Ibid.

Harmanbeck-a constable. Ibid.

Strummel-straw.

Ibid.

Tib of the buttery—a goose.

Lap-porridge.

Margery prater—a hen. Ibid.

Sign. N.

Mort-a woman, or wench.

Toure-see, look out.

Upright man-See a Description of an Upright Man. Dekkar's Belman of Londou, C 4. Walking morts-are older than doxies, and profess themselves to be widows. See Dekkar's Belman, Sign. E.

BY

Knight.

EARTHWORM, an old miserly Niggard.

Mr FREEMAN.

EUGENY, Sir ARGENT SCRAPE'S Nephew.
EUPHUES, (FREEMAN'S Nephew,) SCUDMORE'S
Friend.

THEODORE, EARTHWORM'S virtuous Son.
SOUDMORE, supposed to be slain by EUGENY.
FRUITFUL, the Lady Cover's Chaplain (SCUD-
MORE disguised.)
BARNET.

DOTTEREL, a Gull, married to Lady WHIMSEY.

JASPER, EARTHWORM's Servant. Three Neighbours of EARTHWORM's. Officers.

The Lady COVET, betrothed to Sir ARGENT SCRAPE.

MATILDA, (EARTHWORM's Niece,) SCUDMORE'S Love.

ARTEMIA, (FREEMAN's Daughter,) EUGENY's Love.

The Lady WHIMSEY, married to DOTTEREL.

When death and danger dog my vent'rous steps. But welcome danger, since thou find'st so fair A recompence, as my Artemia's sight.

ARTEMIA, EUGENY.

Art. And art thou come, my dearest Eugeny? Has thy true love broke through so many hazards To visit me? I pr'ythee chide my fondness, That did command thee such a dangerous task. I did repent it since, and was in hope Thou would'st not come.

Eug. Why hop'd Artemia so?

Wouldst thou not see me then? Or can the hazard

Of ten such lives as mine is, countervail
One glance of favour from thy beauteous eyes?
Art. Why dost thou use that language to a

heart

Which is thy captive, Eugeny, and lives In nothing happy but in thee?

Eug. Ah! love,

There lies my greatest sorrow; that the storms Of spiteful fortune, which o'erwhelm my state, Should draw thy constant goodness to a suff'ring: A goodness worthy of the happiest man.

Art. Those storms of fortune will be soon o'er-blown,

When once thy cause shall be but truly known; That chance, not malice, wrought it; and thy pardon

Will be with ease obtain'd.

Eug. It may be, love,

If old Sir Argent do deal truly in it.

Art. But keep thyself conceal'd; do not
rashly

Venture two lives in one: or when thou com'st,
Let it be still in silence of the night.
No visitation then, or other strange
Unlook'd-for accident, can bar our joys.
The moon is now in her full orb and lends
Securer light to lovers than the sun :
Then only come. But pr'ythee tell me, love,
How do'st thou spend thy melancholy time?

Eug. Within the covert of yon shady wood, Which clothes the mountain's rough and craggy top;

A little hovel built of boughs and reeds
Is iny abode: from whence the spreading trees
Keep out the sun, and do bestow in lieu
A greater benefit, a safe concealment.
In that secure and solitary place,
I give my pleas'd imagination leave
To feast itself with thy supposed presence;
Whose only shadow brings more joy to me,
Than all the substance of the world beside.

Art. Just so alone am I; nay, want the pre

Art. What wonder's this Whom thou describ'st?

Eug. But I in vain, alas!

Do strive to make with my imperfect skill
A true dissection of his noble parts:
He loses, love, by all that I can say ;
For praise can come no nearer to his worth,
Than can a painter with his mimick sun
Express the beauty of Hyperion.

Art. What is his name?
Eug. His name is Theodore,

Rich Earthworm's son; lately come home from travel.

Art. Oh heavens! his son! Can such a caitif
wretch,

Hated and curs'd by all, have such a son?
The miser lives alone, abhorr'd by all,
Like a disease; yet cannot so be 'scap'd:
But, canker-like, eats through the poor men's
hearts

That live about him: Never has commerce
With any, but to ruin them; his house
Inhospitable as the wilderness,

And never look'd upon, but with a curse.
He hoards, in secret places of the earth,
Not only bags of treasure, but his corn;
Whose every grain he prizes 'bove a life;
And never prays at all, but for dear years.
Eug. For his son's sake, tread gently on his

fame.

Art. Oh! love, his fame cannot be redeemed From obloquy; but thee I trust so far, As highly to esteem his worthy son.

Eug. That man is all, and more than I have said:

His wond'rous virtues will hereafter make
The people all forgive his father's ill:
I was acquainted with him long ago
In foreign parts. And, now I think on't, love,
He'll be the fittest man to be acquainted
With all our secrecies, and be a means
To further us; and think I trust his truth,
That dare so much cominend his worth to thee.
Art. He is my neighbour here; that house is
Earthworm's,

That stands alone, beside yon grove of trees:
And fear not, dearest love, I'll find a means
To send for him; do you acquaint him first.
[Exeunt.

EUPHUES, DOTTEREL, BARNET.
Euph. Then shall I tell my cousin that you are
A younger brother, Mr Dotterel?

Dot. Oh, yes, by any means, sir.

Euph. What's your reason?

Dot. A crotchet, sir, a crotchet that I have: Here's one can tell you I have twenty of 'em.

Bar. Euphues, dissuade him not; he is resolv'd To keep his birth and fortunes both conceal'd; Yet win her so, or no way: He would know Whether himself be truly lov'd, or no, And not his fortunes only.

Euph. Well, access

You have already found; pursue it, sir;
But give me leave to wonder at your way.
Another wooer, to obtain his love,

Would put on all his colours; stretch t' appear
At his full height, or a degree beyond it;
Belye his fortunes; borrow what he wanted;
Not make himself less than he truly is.
What reason is there, that a man possest
Of fortunes large enough, that may come boldly
A welcome suitor to herself and friends,
And, ten to one, speed in his suit the fair
And usual way; should play the fool and lose
His precious time in such a hopeless wooing?

Dot. Alas, sir, what is a gentleman's time?
Bar. Euphues, he tells you true; there are
some brains

Can never lose their time, whate'er they do:
Yet I can tell you, he has read some books.
Dot. Do not disparage me.

Bar. I warrant thee;

And in those books, he says, he finds examples Of greatest beauties, that have so been won. Euph. Oh! in Parismus, and the Knight o' th' Sun:

Are those your authors?

Dot. Yes, and those are good ones: Why should a man of worth, though but a shepherd,

Despair to get the love of a king's daughter? Euph. I pr'ythee, Barnet, how hast thou screw'd up

This fool to such a monstrous confidence? Bar. He needs no screwing up; but let him have

Enter Lady WHIMSEY, ARTEMIA.

L. Whim. I thought, sweet-heart, th' had'st wanted company.

Art. Why, so I did; yours, madam.
L. Whim. Had I known

Your house had been so full of gallants now,
I would have spar'd my visit. But 'tis all one,
I have met a friend here.

Euph. Your poor servant, madam.

L. Whim. I was confessing of your cousin here About th' affairs of love.

2

Euph. Your ladyship, I hope, will shrieve her gently.

L. Whim. But I tell her

She shall not thank me now for seeing her,
For I have business hard-by. I am going
A suitor to your old rich neighbour here,
Earthworm.

Euph. A suitor! He is very hard
In granting any thing, especially
If it be money.

L. Whim. Yes, my suit's for money;
Nay, all his money, and himself to boot.

Bar. His money would do well, without him

self.

L. Whim. And with himself.
Bar. Alas! your ladyship

Should too much wrong your beauty, to bestow it
Upon one that cannot use it, and debar
More able men their wishes.

Euph. That's true, Barnet,

If she should bar all other men; but that
Would be too great a cruelty.

Art. Do you hear my cousin, madam?
L. Whim. Yes, he will be heard:
Rather than fail, he'll give himself the hearing.
But pr'ythee, Euphues, tell me plainly now
What thou dost think of me. I love thy freeness
Better than any flattery in the world.

Euph. I think you wond'rous wise.

L. Whim. In what?

Euph. In that

That inakes or mars a woman, I mean love.
L. Whim. Why, pr'ythee?

Euph I think you understand so well

What the true use of man is, that you'll ne'er Trouble your thoughts with care, or spoil your beauty

S.