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Freely available for non-commercial use provided that this header is included in its entirety with any copy distributed Gentlemen, have a little patience, they are e'en upon comming, instantly. He that should beginne the Play, Master Littlewit, the Proctor, has a stitch new falne, in his black silk stocking; it will be drawn up ere you can tell twenty. He playes one of the Arches, that dwels about the Hospitall, and he has a very pretty part. But for the whole Play, will you have the truth of it? (I am looking, lest the Poet heare me, or his man, Master Broome, behind the Arras) it is like to be a very conceited scuruy one, in plaine English. When it comes to the Fayre, once: you Were e'en as good go to Virginia, for any thing there is of Smith-field. He has not hit the humors, he does not know them; he has not conuers'd with the Bartholomew-birds, as they say; he has ne'er a Sword, and Buckler man in his Fayre, nor a little Dauy, to take toll of the Bawds there, as in my time, nor a Kind-heart, if any bodies teeth should chance to ake in his Play. Nor a Iugler with a wel-educated Ape to come ouer the chaine, for the King of England, and backe againe for the Prince, and sit still on his arse for the Pope; and the King of Spaine! None of these fine sights! Nor has he the Canuas-cut in the night, for a Hobby-horseman to creepe into his she-neighbour, and take his leap, there! Nothing! No, if some writer (that I know) had had but the penning of this matter, he would have made you such a Iig-ajogge in the boothes, you should have thought an earthquake had been in the Fayre! But these Master-Poets, they will have their owne absurd courses; they will be inform'd of nothing! He has (sirreuerence) kick'd me three, or foure times about the Tyring-house, I thanke him, for but offering to putt in, with my experience. I will be iudg'd by you, Gentlemen, now, but for one conceit of mine! would not a fine Pumpe upon the Stage have done well, for a property now? and a Punque set vnder upon her head, with her Sterne upward, and have beene sous'd by my wity young masters of the Innes of Court? what thinke you of this for a shew, now? he will not heare of this! I am an Asse! I! and yet I kept the Stage in Master Tarletons time, I thanke my starres. Ho! if that man had liu'd to have play'd in Bartholomew Fayre, you should have seene him have come in, and have been coozened in the Cloath-quarter, so finely! And Adams, the Rogue, ha leap'd and caper'd upon him, and have dealt his vermine about, as though they had cost him nothing. And then a substantiall watch to have stolne in upon them, and taken them away, with mistaking words, as the fashion is, in the Stage-practice. How now? what rare discourse are you falne upon? ha? have you found any familiars here, that you are so free? what is the businesse? Nothing, but the vnderstanding Gentlemen of the ground here, ask'd my iudgement. Your iudgement, Rascall? for what? sweeping the Stage? or gathering up the broken Apples for the beares within? Away Rogue, it is come to a fine degree in these spectacles when such a youth as you pretend to a iudgement. And yet he may, in the most of this matter i'faith: For the Author hath writ it iust to his Meridian, and the Scale of the grounded Iudgements here, his Play-fellowes in wit. Gentlemen; not for want of a Prologue, but by way of a new one, I am sent out to you here, with a Scriuener, and certaine Articles drawne out in hast betweene our Author, and you; which if you please to heare, and as they appeare reasonable, to approue of; the Play will follow presently. Read, Scribe, give me the Counterpaine. ARTICLES of Agreement, intended, between the Spectators or Hearers, at the Hope on the Bankeside, in the County of Surrey on the one party; And the Author of Bartholomew Fayre in the said place, and County on the other party: the one and thirtieth day of O INPRIMIS, It is couenanted and agreed, by and betweene the parties abouesaid, and the said Spectators, and Hearers, as well the curious and enuious, as the sauouring and iudicious, as also the grounded Iudgements and vnderstandings, do for themselues seuerally Couenant, and agree to remaine in the places, their money or friends have put them in, with patience, for the space of two houres and a halfe, and somewhat more. In which time the Author promiseth to present them by us, with a new sufficient Play called BARTHOLOMEW FAYRE, merry, and as full of noise, as sport: made to delight all, and to offend none. Prouided they have either, the wit or the honesty to thinke well of themselues. It is further agreed that euery person here, have his or their free-will of censure, to like or dislike at their owne charge, the Author hauing now departed with his right: It shall be lawfull for any man to iudge his six pen'orth his twelue pen'orth, so to his eighteene pence, 2. shillings, halfe a crowne, to the value of his place: Prouided alwaies his place get not aboue his wit. And if he pay for halfe a dozen, he may censure for all them too, so that he will vndertake that they shall be silent. He shall put in for Censures here, as they do for lots at the lottery: mary if he drop but sixe pence at the doore, and will censure a crownes worth, it is thought there is no conscience, or iustice in that. It is also agreed, that euery man here, exercise his owne Iudgement, and not censure by Contagion, or upon trust, from anothers voice, or face, that sits by him, be he neuer so first, in the Commission of Wit: As also, that he be fixt and settled in his censure, that what he approues, or not approues to day, he will do the same to morrow, and if to morrow, the next day, and so the next weeke (if neede be:) and not to be brought about by any that sits on the Bench with him, though they indite, and arraigne Playes daily. He that will sweare, Ieronimo, or Andronicus are the best playes, yet, shall passe vnexcepted at, here, as a man whose Iudgement shewes it is constant, and hath stood still, these fiue and twentie, or thirtie yeeres. Though it be an Ignorance, it is a vertuous and stay'd ignorance; and next to truth, a confirm'd errour does well; such a one the Author knowes where to finde him. It is further couenanted, concluded and agreed, that how great soeuer the expectation be, no person here, is to expect more then he knowes, or better ware then a Fayre will affoord: neyther to looke backe to the sword and buckler-age of Smithfield, but content himselfe with the present. In stead of a little Dauy; to take toll of the Bawds, the Author doth promise a strutting Horse-courser, with a leere-Drunkard, two or three to attend him, in as good Equipage as you would wish. And then for Kinde-heart, the Tooth-drawer, a fine oyly Pig-woman with her Tapster, to bid you welcome, and a consort of Roarers for musique. A wise Iustice of Peace meditant, in stead of a Iugler, with an Ape. A ciuill Cutpurse searchant. A sweete Singer of new Ballads allurant: and as fresh as Hypocrite, as euer was broach'd rampant. If there be neuer a Seruant-monster in the Fayre, who can helpe it? he sayes; nor a nest of Antiques? He is loth to make Nature afraid in his Playes, like those that beget Tales, Tempests, and such like Drolleries, to mixe his head with other mens heeles; let the concupisence of Iigges and Dances, raigne as strong as it will amongst you: yet if the Puppets will please any body, they shall be entreated to come in. In consideration of which, it is finally agreed, by the foresaid hearers, and spectators, that they neyther in themselues conceale, nor suffer by them to be concealed any State-decipherer, or politique Picklocke of the Scene, so solemnly ridiculous, as to search out, who was meant by the Ginger-bread-woman, who by the Hobby-horse-man, who by the Costard-monger, nay, who by their Wares. Or that will pretend to affirme (on his owne inspired ignorance) what Mirror of Magistrates is meant by the Iustice, what great Lady by the Pigge-woman, what conceal'd States-man, by the Seller of Mouse-trappes, and so of the rest. But that such person, or persons so found, be left discouered to the mercy of the Author, as a forfeiture to the Stage, and your laughter, aforesaid. As also, such as shall so desperately, or ambitiously, play the foole by his place aforesaid, to challenge the Author of scurrilitie, because the language some where fauours of Smithfield, the Booth, and the Pig-broath, or of prophanenesse, because a Mad-man cryes, God quit you, or blesse you. In witnesse whereof, as you have preposterously put to your Seales already (which is your money) you will now adde the other part of suffrage, your hands, The Play shall presently begin. And though the Fayre be not kept in the same Region, that some here, perhaps, would have it, yet thinke; that therein the Author hath obseru'd a speciall Decorum, the place being as durty as Smithfield, and as stinking euery whit. Howsoeuer, he prayes you to beleeue, this Ware is still the same, else you will make him iustly suspect that he that is so loth to looke on a Baby, or an Hobby-horse, here, would be glad to take up a Commodity of them, at any laughter, or losse, in another place. A pretty conceit, and worth the finding! I have such lucke to spinne out these fine things still, and like a Silke-worme, out of my selfe. Here is Master Bartholomew Cokes, of Harrow o'th hill, in the County of Middlesex, Esquire, takes forth his Licence, to marry Mistress Grace Wel-borne of the said place and County: and when does he take it foorth? to day! the foure and twentieth of August! Bartholmew day! Bartholmew upon Bartholmew! there is the deuice! who would have mark'd such a leap-frogge chance now? A very lesse then Ames-ace, on two Dice! well, go thy wayes Iohn Little-wit, Proctor Iohn Little-wit: One of the pretty wits of Pauls, the Little wit of London (so thou art call'd) and some thing beside. When a quirk, or a quiblin does scape thee, and thou dost not watch, and apprehend it, and bring it afore the Constable of conceit: (there now, I speake quib too) let them carry thee out of the Arch-deacons Court, into his Kitchin, and make a Iack of thee, in stead of a Iohn. (There I am againe la!) Win, Good morrow, Win. I marry Win! Now you looke finely indeed, Win! this Cap does conuince! you would not have worne it, Win, not have had it veluet, but a rough countrey Beauer, with a copper-band, like the Conney-skinne woman of Budge-row? Sweete Win, let me kisse it! And. her fine high shooes, like the Spanish Lady! Good Win, go a litle I would faine see thee pace, pretty Win! By this fine Cap, I could neuer leaue kissing of it. Come, indeede la, you are such a foole, still! No, but halfe a one, Win you are the tother halfe: man and wife make one foole, Win. (Good!) Is there the Proctor, or Doctor indeed, in the Diocesse, that euer had the fortune to win him such a Win! (There I am againe!) I do feele conceits comming upon me, more then I am able to turne tongue to. A poxe on these pretenders, to wit! your Three Cranes, Miter, and Mermaid men! Not a corne of true salt, nor a graine of right mustard amongst them all. They may stand for places or so, againe the next Wit fall, and pay two pence in a quart more for their Canary, then other men. But give me the man, can start up a Iustice of Wit out of six-shillings beare, and give the law to all the Poets, and Poet-suckers in the Towne, because they are the Players Gossips? 'Slid, other men have wiues as fine as the Players, and as well drest. Come hither, Win. Why, how now Master Little-wit! measuring of lips: or molding of kisses? which is it? Troth I am a little taken with my Wins dressing here! Dost not fine Master Win-wife? How do you apprehend, Sir? She would not have worne this habit. I challenge all Cheapside, to shew such another: Morefields, Pimlico path, or the Exchange, in a sommer euening, with a Lace to boot as this has. Deare Win, let Master Win-wife kisse you. He comes a wooing to our mother Win, and may be our father perhaps, Win. There is no harme in him, Win. None in the earth, Master Little-wit. I enuy no man, my delicates, Sir. Alas, you have the garden where they grow still! A wife here with a Strawbery-breath, Chery-lips, Apricot-cheekes, and a soft veluet head, like a Melicotton. Good y'faith! now dulnesse upon me, that I had not that before him, that I should not light on it, as well as he! Veluet head! But my taste, Master Little-wit, tends to fruict of a later kinde: the sober Matron, your wiues mother. Aye! we know you are a Suitor, Sir. Win, and I both, wish you well: by this Licence here, would you had her, that your two names were as fast in it, as here are a couple. Win would faine have a fine young father i' law, with a fether: that her mother might hood it, and chaine it, with Mistris Ouer-doo. But, you do not take the right course, Master Win-wife. No? Master Little-wit, why? You are not madde enough. How? Is madnesse a right course? I say nothing, but I winke upon Win. You have a friend, one (Master Quarlous) comes here sometimes? Why? he makes no loue to her, does he? Not a tokenworth that euer I saw, I assure you, But -- What? He is the more Mad-cap of the two. You do not apprehend me. You have a hot coale in your mouth, now, you cannot hold. Let me out with it, deare Win. I will tell him my selfe. Do, and take all the thanks, and much do good thy pretty heart, Win. Sir, my mother has had her natiuity-water cast lately by the Cunning men in Cow lane, and they have told her her fortune, and do ensure her, she shall neuer have happy houre; vnlesse she marry within this sen'night, and when it is, it must be a Madde-man, they say. Aye, but it must be a Gentle-man Mad-man. Yes, so the tother man of More-fields sayes. But does she beleeue them? Yes, and has beene at Bedlem twice since, euery day, to enquire if any Gentleman be there, or to come there, mad! Why, this is a confederacy, a meere piece of practice upon her, by these Impostors? I tell her so; or else say I, that they meane some young, Madcap-Gentleman (for the diuell can equiuocate, as well as a Shop-keeper) and therefore would I aduise you, to be a little madder, then Master Quarlous, hereafter. Where is she? stirring yet? Stirring! Yes, and studying an old Elder, come from Banbury, a Suite that puts in here at meale-tyde, to praise the painefull brethren, or pray that the sweet fingers may be restor'd; Sayes a grace as long as his breath lasts him! Some time the spirit is so strong with him, it gets quite out of him, and then my mother, or Win, are faine to fetch it againe with Malmesey, or Aqua cælestis. Yes indeed, we have such a tedious life with him for his dyet, and his clothes too, he breakes his buttons, and cracks seames at euery saying he sobs out. He cannot abide my Vocation, he sayes. No, he told my mother, a Proctor was a claw of the Beast, and that she had little lesse then committed abomination in marrying me so as she has done. Euery line (he sayes) that a Proctor writes, when it comes to be read in the Bishops Court, is a long blacke hayre, kemb'd out of the tayle of Anti-Christ. When came this Proselyte? Some three dayes since. O Sir, have you tane soyle, here? it is well, a man may reach you, after 3. houres running, yet! what an vnmercifull companion art thou, to quit thy lodging, at such vngentle manly houres? None but a scatterd couey of Fidlers, or one of these Rag-rakers in dung-hills, or some Marrow-bone man at most, would have been up, when thou wert gone abroad, by all description. I pray thee what aylest thou, thou canst not sleepe? hast thou Thornes in thy eye-lids, or Thistles in thy bed. I cannot tell: It seemes you had neither in your feet; that tooke this paine to finde me. No, and I had, all the Lime-hounds of the City should have drawne after you, by the sent rather, Mr Iohn Little-wit! God saue you, Sir. It was a hot night with some of us, last night, Iohn: shall we pluck a hayre of the same Wolfe, to day, Proctor Iohn? Do you remember Master Quarlous, what we discourst on, last night? Not I, Iohn: nothing that I eyther discourse or do, at those times I forfeit all to forgetfulnesse. No? not concerning Win, looke you: there she is, and drest as I told you she should be: harke you Sir, had you forgot? By this head, I will beware how I keepe you company, Iohn, when I drunke, and you have this dangerous memory! that is certaine. Why Sir? Why? we were all a little stain'd last night, sprinckled with a cup or two, and I agreed with Proctor Iohn here, to come and do somewhat with Win (I know not what it was) to day; and he puts me in minde of it, now; he sayes he was comming to fetch me: before Truth, if you have that fearefull quality, Iohn, to remember, when you are sober, Iohn, what you promise drunke, Iohn; I shall take heed of you, Iohn. For this once, I am content to winke at you, where is your wife? come hither Win. Why, Iohn! do you see this, Iohn? looke you! helpe me, Iohn. O Win, fie, what do you meane, Win! Be womanly, Win; make an outcry to your mother, Win? Master Quarlous is an honest Gentleman, and our worshipfull good friend, Win: and he is Master Winwifes friends, too: And Master Win-wife comes a Suitor to your mother Win; as I told you before, Win, and may perhaps, be our Father, Win, they will do you no harme, Win, they are both our worshipfull good friends. Master Quarlous! you must know Mr Quarlous, Win; you must not quarrell with Master Quarlous, Win. No, we will kisse againe and fall in. Yes, do good Win. Y'faith you are a foole, Iohn. A Foole-Iohn she calls me, do you marke that, Gentlemen? pretty littlewit of veluet! a foole-Iohn! She may call you an Apple-Iohn, if you vse this. Pray thee forbeare, for my respect somewhat. Hoy-day! how respectiue you are become of the sudden! I feare this family will turne you reformed too, pray you come about againe. Because she is in possibility to be your daughter in Law, and may aske you blessing hereafter, when she courts it to Totnam to eat creame. Well, I will forbeare, Sir, but i'faith, would thou wouldst leaue thy exercise of widdow-hunting once! this drawing after an old reuerend Smocke by the splay-foote: There cannot be an ancient Tripe or Trillibub in the Towne, but thou art straight nosing it, and it is a fine occupation thou wilt confine thy selfe to when thou hast got one; scrubbing a piece of Buffe, as if thou hadst the perpetuity of Pannyer-alley to stinke in; or perhaps, worse, currying a carkasse, that thou hast bound thy selfe to aliue. I will be sworne, some of them, (that thou art, or hast beene a Suitor to) are so old, as no chast or marryed pleasure can euer become them: the honest Instrument or procreation, has (forty yeeres since) left to belong to them, thou must visit them, as thou wouldst do a Tombe, with a Torch, or three hand-fulls of Lincke, flaming hot, and so thou maist hap to make them feele thee, and after, come to inherit according to thy inches. A sweet course for a man to waste the brand of life for, to be still raking himselfe a fortune in an old womans embers; we shall have thee after thou hast beene but a moneth marryed to one of them, looke like the quartane ague, and the black Iaundise met in a face, and walke as if thou hadst borrow'd legges of a Spinner, and voyce of a Cricket. I would endure to heare fifteene Sermons a weeke for her, and such course, and lowd one's, as some of them must be; I would een desire of Fate, I might dwell in a drumme, and take in my sustenance, with an old broken Tobacco-pipe and a Straw. Dost thou euer thinke to bring thine eares or stomack, to the patience of a drie grace, as long as thy Tablecloth? and droan'd out by thy sonne, here, (that might be thy father;) till all the meat of thy board has forgot, it was that day in the Kitchin? Or to brooke the noise made, in a question of Predestination, by the good labourers and painefull eaters, assembled together, put to them by the Matron, your Spouse; who moderates with a cup of wine, euer and anone, and a Sentence out of Knoxe between? or the perpetuall spitting, before, and after a sober drawne exhortation of six houres, whose better part was the hum-ha-hum? Or to heare prayers groan'd out, ouer thy iron-chests, as if they were charmes to breake them? And all this for the hope of two Apostle-spoones, to suffer! and a cup to eate a cawdle in! For that will be thy legacy. She will have conuey'd her state, safe enough from thee, if she be a right widdow. Alasse, I am quite off that sent now. How so? Put off by a Brother of Banbury, one, that, they say, is come here, and gouernes all, already. What do you call him? I knew diuers of those Banbarians when I was in Oxford. Master Little-wit can tell us. Sir! good Win, go in, and if Master Bartholmew Cokes his man come for the Licence: (the little old fellow) let him speake with me; what say you, Gentlemen? What call you the Reuerent Elder? you told me of? your Banbury-man. Rabbi Busy, Sir, he is more then an Elder, he is a Prophet, Sir. O, I know him! a Baker, is he not? He was a Baker, Sir, but he does dreame now, and see visions, he has giuen ouer his Trade. I remember that too: out of a scruple he tooke, that (in spic'd conscience) those Cakes he made, were seru'd to Bridales, May-poles, Morrisses, and such prophane feasts and meetings; his Christen-name is Zeale-of-the-land Busye. How, what a name is there! O, they have all such names, Sir; he was Witnesse, for Win, here, (they will not be call'd God-fathers) and nam'd her Winne-the-fight, you thought her name has beene Winnifred, did you not? I did indeed. He would have thought himselfe a starke Reprobate, if it had. Aye, for there was a Blew-starch-woman of the name, at the same time. A notable hypocriticall vermine it is; I know him. One that stands upon his face, more then his faith, at all times; Euer in seditious motion, and reprouing for vaine-glory: of a most lunatique conscience, and splene, and affects the violence of Singularity in all he does: (He has vndone a Grocer here, in Newgate-market, that broke with him, trusted him with Currans, as errant a Zeale as he, that is by the way: by his profession, he will euer be in the state of Innocence, though; and child-hood; derides all Antiquity; defies any other Learning, then Inspiration; and what discretion soeuer, yeeres should afford him, it is all preuented in his Originall ignorance; have not to do with him: for he is a fellow of a most arrogant, and inuincible dulnesse, I assure you; who is this? By your leaue, Gentlemen, with all my heart to you: and god you good morrow; Mr Little-wit, my businesse is to you. Is this Licence ready? Here, I have it for you, in my hand, Master Humphrey. That is well, nay, neuer open, or read it to me, it is labour in vaine, you know. I am no Clearke, I scorne to be sau'd by my booke, i'faith I will hang first; fold it up of your word and give it me; what must you have for it? We will talke of that anon, Master Humphrey. Now, or not at all, good Mr Proctor, I am for no anon's, I assure you. Sweet Win, bid Salomon send me the little blacke boxe within, in my study. Aye, quickly, good Mistresse, I pray you: for I have both egges of the Spit, and yron in the fire, say, what you must have, good Mr Little-wit. Why, you know the price, Mr Numps. I know? I know nothing. I, what tell you me of knowing? (now I am in hast) Sir, I do not know, and I will not know, and I scorne to know, and yet (now I think of it) I will, and do know, as well as another; you must have a Marke for your thing here, and eight pence for the boxe; I could have sau'd two pence in that, if I had bought it my selfe, but here is foureteene shillings for you. Good Lord! how long your little wife staies! pray God, Salomon, your Clerke, be not looking in the wrong boxe, Mr Proctor. Good i'faith! no, I warrant you, Salomon, is wiser then so, Sir. Fie, fie, fie, by your leaue Master Little-wit, this is scuruy, idle, foolish, and abominable, with all my heart; I do not like it. Do you heare? Iacke Little-wit, what businesse does thy pretty head thinke, this fellow may have, that he keepes such a coyle with? More then buying of ginger-bread in the Cloyster, here, (for that we allow him) or a guilt pouch in the Fayre? Master Quarlous, do not mistake him: he is his Masters both-hands, I assure you. What? to pull on his boots, a mornings, or his stockings, does he? Sir, if you have a minde to mocke him, mocke him softly, and looke the other way: for if he apprehend you flout him, once, he will flie at you presently. A terrible testie old fellow, and his name is Waspe too. Pretty Insect! make much of him. A plague on this boxe, and the poxe too, and on him that made it, and her that went for it, and all that should have sought it, sent it, or brought it! do you see, Sir? Nay, good Mr Waspe. Good Master Hornet, turd in your teeth, hold you your tongue; do not I know you? your father was a Pothecary, and sold glisters, more then he gaue, I wusse: and turd in your little wiues teeth too (here she come,) it will make her spit as fine as she is, for all her veluet-custerd on her head, Sir. O! be ciuill Master Numpes. Why, say I have a humour not to be ciuill; how then? who shall compell me? you? Here is the boxe, now. Why a pox on your boxe, once againe: let your little wife stale in it, if she will. Sir, I would have you to vnderstand, and these Gentlemen too, if they please -- With all our hearts. Sir. That I have a charge. Gentlemen. They do apprehend, Sir. Pardon me, Sir, neither they nor you, can apprehend me, yet. (you are an Asse) I have a young Master, he is now upon his making and marring; the whole care of his well doing, is now mine. His foolish scholemasters have done nothing, but runne up and downe the Countrey with him, to beg puddings, and cake-bread, of his tennants, and almost spoyled him, he has learn'd nothing, but to sing Catches, and repeat rattle bladder rattle, and O, Madge. I dare not let him walke alone, for feare of learning of vile tunes, which he will sing at supper, and in the sermon-times! if he meete but a Carman in the streete, and I finde him not talke to keepe him off of him, he will whistle him, and all his tunes ouer, at night in his sleepe! he has a head ful of Bees! I am faine now (for this little time I am absent) to leaue him in charge with a Gentlewoman; It is true, she is a Iustice of Peace his wife, and a Gentlewoman of the hood, and his naturall sister; But what may happen, vnder a womans gouernment, there is the doubt. Gentlemen, you do not know him: he is another manner of peece then you think for! but nineteen yeere old, and yet he is taller then either of you, by the head, God blesse him. Well, mee thinkes, this is a fine fellow! He has made his Master a finer by this description, I should thinke. 'Faith, much about one, it is crosse and pile, whether for a new farthing. I will tell you Gentlemen -- Will it please you drinke, Master Waspe? Why, I have not talk't so long to be drie, Sir, you see no dust or cobwebs come out of my mouth: do you? you would have me gone, would you? No, but you were in hast e'en now, Mr Numpes. What if I were? so I am still, and yet I will stay too; meddle you with your match, your Win, thee, she has a little wit, as her husband it seemes: I have others to talke to. She is my match indeede, and as little wit as I, Good! We have bin but a day and a halfe in towne, Gentlemen, it is true; and yesterday in the afternoone, we walk'd London, to shew the City to the Gentlewoman, he shall marry, Mistresse Grace; but, afore I will endure such another halfe day, with him, I will be drawne with a good Gib-cat, through the great pond at home, as his vncle Hodge was! why, we could not meet the heathen thing, all day, but stayd him: he would name you all the Signes ouer, as he went, aloud: and where he spi'd a Parrat, or a Monkey, there he was pitch'd, with all the littl-long-coats about him, male and female; no getting him away! I thought he would have runne madde of the blacke boy in Bucklers-bury, that takes the scury, roguy tobacco, there. You say true, Master Numpes: there is such a one indeed. It is no matter, whether there be, or no, what is that to you? He will not allow of Iohn's reading at any hand, O Numpes! are you here Numpes? looke where I am, Numpes! and Mistris Grace, too! nay, do not looke angerly, Numpes: my Sister is here, and all, I do not come without her. What, the mischiefe, do you come with her? or she with you? We came all to seeke you, Numpes. To seeke me? why, did you all thinke I was lost? or runne away with your foureteene shillings worth of small ware, here? or that I had chang'd it in the Fayre, for hobby-horses? S'pretious -- to seeke me! Nay, good Mr Numpes, do you shew discretion, though he be exorbitant, (as Mr Ouer doo saies,) if it be but for conseruation of the peace. Mary gip, good she-Justice, Mistris French-hood! turd in your teeth; and turd in your French-hoods teeth, too, to do you seruice, do you see? must you quote your Adam to me! you thinke, you are Madam Regent still, Mistris Ouer-doo; when I am in place? no such matter, I assure you, your raigne is out, when I am in, Dame. I am content to be in abeyance, Sir, and be gouern'd by you; so should he too, if he did well; but it will be expected, you should also gouerne your passions. Will it so forsooth? good Lord! how sharpe you are! with being at Bet'lem yesterday? Whetston has set an edge upon you, has he? Nay, if you know not what belongs to your dignity: I do, yet, to mine. Very well, then. Is this the Licence, Numpes? for Loues sake, let me see it. I neuer saw a Licence. Did you not so? why, you shall not see it, then. If you loue me, good Numpes. Sir, I loue you, and yet I do not loue you, in these fooleries, set your heart at rest; there is nothing in it, but hard words: and what would you see it for? I would see the length and the breadth of it, that is all; and I will see it now, so I will. You shall not see it, here. Then I will see it at home, and I will looke upon the case here. Why, do so, a man must give way him a little in trifles: Gentlemen. These are errors, diseases of youth: which he will mend, when he comes to iudgement, and knowledge of matters. I pray you conceiue so, and I thanke you. And I pray you pardon him, and I thanke you againe. Well, this dry-nurse, I say still, is a delicate man. And I, am, for the Cosset, his charge! Did you euer see a fellowes face more accuse him for an Asse? Accuse him? it confesses him one without accusing. What pitty it is yonder wench should marry such a Cokes? It is true. She seemes to be discreete, and as sober as she is handsome. Aye, and if you marke her, what a restrain'd scorne she casts upon all his behauiour, and speeches? Well, Numpes, I am now for another piece of businesse more, the Fayre, Numpes, and then -- Blesse me! deliuer me, helpe, hold me! the Fayre! Nay, neuer fidge up and downe, Numpes, and vexe it selfe. I am resolute Bartholmew, in this; I will make no suite of it to you; it was all the end of my journey, indeed, to shew Mistris Grace my Fayre: I call it my Fayre, because of Bartholmew: you know my name is Bartholmew, and Bartholmew Fayre. That was mine afore, Gentlemen: this morning, I had that i'faith, upon his Licence, beleeue me, there he comes, after me. Come, Iohn, this ambitious wit of yours, (I am afraid) will do you no good in the end. No? why Sir? You grow so insolent with it, and ouerdoing, Iohn: that if you looke not to it, and tie it up, it will bring you to some obscure place in time, and there it will leaue you. Do not trust it too much, Iohn, be more sparing, and vse it, but now and then; a wit is a dangerous thing, in this age; do not ouer buy it. Thinke you so, Gentlemen? I will take heed of it, hereafter. Yes, do Iohn. A prety little soule, this same Mistris Little-wit! would I might marry her. So would I, or any body else, so I might scape you, Numps, I will see it, Numpes, it is decreed: neuer be melancholy for the matter. Why, see it, Sir, see it, do see it! who hinders you? why do you not go see it? 'Slid see it. The Fayre, Numps, the Fayre. Would the Fayre and all the drums, and Rattles in it, were in your belly for me: they are already in your braine: he that had the meanes to trauell you head, now, should meet finer sights then any are in the Fayre; and make a finer voyage of it; to see it all hung with cockle-shels, pebbles, fine wheat-strawes, and here and there a chicken's feather, and a cob-web. Goodfaith, he lookes, me thinkes if you marke him, like one that were made to catch flies, with his Sir Cranion legs. And his Numpes, to flap them away. God, be with you, Sir, there is your Bee in a box, and much good do it, you. Why, your friend, and Bartholmew; if you be so contumacious. What meane you, Numpes? I will not be guilty, I, Gentlemen. You will not let him go, Brother, and loose him? Who can hold that will away? I had rather loose him then the Fayre, I wusse. You do not know the inconuenience, Gentlemen, you perswade to: nor what trouble I have with him in these humours. If he go to the Fayre, he will buy of euery thing, to a Baby there; and houshold-stuffe for that too. If a legge or an arme on him did not grown on, he would lose it in the presse. Pray heauen I bring him off with one stone! And then he is such a Rauener after fruite! you will not beleeue what a coyle I had, the other day, to compound a businesse betweene a Katerne-peare-woman, and him, about snatching! it is intolerable, Gentlemen. O! but you must not leaue him, now, to these hazards, Numpes. Nay, he knowes too well, I will not leaue him, and that makes him presume: well, Sir, will you go now? if you have such an itch in your feete, to foote it to the Fayre, why do you stop, am I your Tarriars? go, will you go? Sir, why do you not go? O Numps! have I brought you about? come Mistresse Grace, and Sister, I am resolute Batt i'faith, still. Truely, I have no such fancy to the Fayre; nor ambition to see it; there is none goes thither of any quality or fashion. O Lord, Sir! you shall pardon me, Mistris Grace, we are inow of our selues to make it a fashion: and for qualities, let Numps alone, he will find qualities. What a Rogue in apprehension is this! to vnderstand her language no better. Aye, and offer to marry to her? well, I will leaue the chase of my widdow, for to day, and directly to the Fayre. These flies cannot this hot season, but engender us excellent creeping sport. A man that has but a spoone full of braine, would think so. Farewell, Iohn. Win, you see, it is in fashion, to go to the Fayre, Win: we must to the Fayre too, you, and I, Win. I have an affaire in the Fayre, Win, a Puppet-play of mine owne making, say nothing, that I writ for the motion man, which you must see, Win. I would I might Iohn, but my mother will neuer consent to such a prophane motion: she will call it. Tut, we will have a deuice, a dainty one; (Now, Wit, helpe at a pinch, good Wit come, come, good Wit, if it be thy will.) I have it, Win, I have it 'i faith, and it is a fine one. Win, long to eate of a Pigge, sweet Win, in the Fayre; do you see? in the heart of the Fayre; not at Pye-Corner. Your mother will do any thing, Win, to satisfie your longing, you know, pray thee long, presently, and be sicke on the sudden, good Win. I will go in and tell her, cut thy lace in the meane time, and play the Hypocrite, sweet Win. No, I will not make me vnready for it. I can be Hypocrite enough, though I were neuer so straight lac'd. You say true, you have bin bred in the family, and brought up to it. our mother is a most elect Hypocrite, and has maintain'd us all this seuen yeere with it, like Gentle-folkes. Aye, Let her alone, Iohn, she is not a wise wilfull widdow for nothing, not a sanctified sister for a song. And let me alone too, I have somewhat of the mother in me, you shall see, fetch her, fetch her, ah, ah. Now, the blaze of the beauteous discipline, fright away this euill from our house! how now Win-the-fight, Child: how do you? Sweet child, speake to me. Yes, forsooth. Looke up, sweet Win-the-fight, and suffer not the enemy to enter you at this doore, remember that your education has bin with the purest, what polluted one was it, that nam'd first the vncleane beast, Pigge, to you, Child? (Vh, vh.) Not I, on my sincerity, mother: she long'd aboue three houres, ere she should let me know it; who was it Win? A prophane blacke thing with a beard, Iohn. O! resist it, Win-the-fight, it is the Tempter, the wicked Tempter, you may know it by the fleshly motion of Pig, be strong against it, and its foule temptations, in these assaults, whereby it broacheth flesh and blood, as it were, on the weaker side, and pray against its carnall prouocations, good child, sweet child, pray. Good mother, I pray you; that she may eate some Pigge, and her belly full, too; and do not you cast away your owne child, and perhaps one of mine, with your tale of the Tempter: how do you, Win? Are you not sicke? Yes, a great deale, Iohn, (vh,vh.) What shall we do? call our zealous brother Busy hither, for his faithfull fortification in this charge of the aduersary; child, my deare childe, you shall eate Pigge, be comforted, my sweet child. Aye, but in the Fayre, mother. I meane in the Fayre, if it can be any way made, or found lawfull; where is our brother Busy? Will he not come? looke up, child. Presently, mother, as soone as he had cleans'd his beard. I found him, fast by the teeth, in the cold Turkey-pye, in the cupbord, with a great white loafe on his left hand, and a glasse of Malmesey on his right. Slander not the Brethren, wicked one. Here he is, now, purified, Mother. O brother Busy! your helpe here to edifie, and raise us up in a scruple; my daughter Win-the-fight is visited with a naturall disease of women; call'd, A longing to eate Pigge. Aye Sir, a Bartholmew pigge: and in the Fayre. And I would be satisfied from you, Religiously-wise, whether a widdow of the sanctified assembly, or a widdowes daughter, may commit the act, without offence to the weaker sisters. Verily, for the disease of longing, it is a disease, a carnall disease, or appetite, incident to women: and as it is carnall, and incident, it is naturall, very naturall: Now Pigge, it is a meat, and a meat that is nourishing, and may be long'd for, and so consequently eaten; it may be eaten; very exceeding well eaten: but in the Fayre, and as a Bartholmew-pig, it cannot be eaten, for the very calling it a Bartholmew-pigge, and to eat it so, is a spice of Idolatry, and you make the Fayre, no better then one of the high Places. This I take it, is the state of the question. A high place. Aye, but in state of necessity: Place should give place, Mr Busy, (I have a conceit left, yet.) Good Brother, Zeale-of-the-land, thinke to make it as lawfull as you can. Yes Sir, and as soone as you can: for it must be Sir; you see the danger my little wife is in, Sir. Truely, I do loue my child dearely, and I would not have her miscarry, or hazard her first fruites, if it might be otherwise. Surely, it may be otherwise, but it is subiect, to construction, subiect, and hath a face of offence, with the weake, a great face, a foule face, but that face may have a vaile put ouer it, and be shaddowed, as it were, it may be eaten, and in the Fayre, I take it, in a Booth, the tents of the wicked: the place is not much, not very much, we may be religious in midst of the prophane, so it be eaten with a reformed mouth, with sobriety, and humblenesse; not gorg'd in with gluttony, or greedinesse; there is the feare: for, should she go there, as taking pride in the place, or delight in the vncleane dressing, to feed the vanity of the eye, or the lust of the palat, it were not well, it were not fit, it were abominable, and not good. Nay, I knew that afore, and told her of it, but courage, Win, we will be humble enough; we will seeke out the homeliest Booth in the Fayre, that is certaine, rather then faile, we will eate it on the ground. Aye, and I will go with you my selfe, Win-the-fight, and my brother, Zeale-of-the-Land, shall go with us too, for our better consolation. Vh, vh. Aye, and Salomon too, Win, (the more the merrier) Win, we will leave Rabby Busy in a Booth. Salomon, my cloake. Here, Sir. In the way of comfort to the weake, I will go, and eat. I will eate exceedingly, and prophesie; there may be a good vse made of it, too, now I thinke of it: by the publike eating of Swines flesh, to professe our hate, and loathing of Iudaisme, whereof the brethren stand taxed. I will therefore eate, yet, I will eate exceedingly. Good, i'faith, I will eate heartily too, because I will be no Iew, I could neuer away with that stiffenecked generation: and truely, I hope my little one will be like me, that cries for Pigge so, in the mothers belly. Very likely, exceeding likely, very exceeding likely. Well, in Iustice name, and the Kings; and for the common-wealth! defie all the world, Adam Ouerdoo, for a disguise, and all story; for thou hast fitted thy selfe, I sweare; faine would I meet the Linceus now, that Eagles eye, that peircing Epidaurian serpent (as my Q The Fayre is pestilence dead, me thinkes; people come not abroad, to day, what euer the matter is. Do you heare, Sister Trash, Lady of the Basket? sit farther with your ginger-bread-progeny there, and hinder not the prospect of my shop, or I will have it proclaim'd in the Fayre, what stuffe they are made on. Why, what stuffe are they made on, Brother Leatherhead? nothing but what is wholesome, I assure you. Yes, stale bread, rotten egges, musty ginger, and dead honey, you know. Aye! have I met with enormity, so soone? I shall marre your market, Old Ione. Marre my market, thou too-proud Pedler? do thy worst; I defie thee, I, and thy stable of hobby-horses. I pay for my ground, as well as thou dost, and thou wrong'st me for all thou art parcell-poet, and an Inginer. I will finde a friend shall right me, and make a ballad of thee, and thy cattell all ouer. Are you puft up with the pride of your wares? your Arsedine? Go to, old Ione, I will talke with you anone; and take you downe too, afore Iustice Ouerdoo, he is the man must charme you, I will have you in the Piepouldres. Charme me? I will meet thee face to face, afore his worship, when thou dar'st: and though I be a little crooked of my body, I will be found as upright in my dealing, as any woman in Smithfield, Aye, charme me? I am glad, to heare, my name is their terror, yet, this is doing of Iustice. What do you lacke? what is it you buy? what do you lacke? Rattles, Drums, Halberts, Horses, Babies of the best? Fiddles of the finest? Buy any peares, peares, fine, very fine peares. Buy any ginger-bread, guilt ginger-bread! Fye upon it: who would weare out their youth, and prime thus, in roasting of pigges, that had any cooler vocation? Hell is a kind of cold cellar to it, a very fine vault, on my conscience! what Moone-calfe. Here, Mistresse. How now Vrsla? in a heate, in a heat? My chayre, you false saucer you; and my mornings draught, quickly, a botle of Ale, to quench me, Rascall. I am all fire, and fat, Nightingale, I shall e'en melt away to the first woman, a ribbe againe, I am afraid. I do water the ground in knots, as I go, like a great Garden-pot, you may follow me by the S.S.s I make. Alas, good Vr's; was Zekiel here this morning? Zekiel? what Zekiel? Zekiel Edgeworth, the ciuill cut-purse, you know him well enough; he that talkes bawdy to you still: I call him my Secretary. He promis'd to be here this morning, I remember. When he comes, bid him stay: I will be backe againe presently. Best take your mornings dew in your belly, Nightingale, come, Sir, set it here, did not I bid you should get this chayre let out on the sides, for me, that my hips might play? you will neuer thinke of any thing, till your dame be rumpgall'd; it is well, Changeling: because it can take in your Grasse-hoppers thighes, you care for no more. Now, you looke as you had been in the corner of the Booth, fleaing your breech, with a candles end, and set fire on the Fayre. Fill, Stote: fill. This Pig-woman do I know, and I will put her in, for my second enormity, she hath beene before me, Punke, Pinnace and Bawd, any time these two and twenty yeeres, upon record in the Pie-poudres. Fill againe, you vnlucky vermine. Pray you be not angry, Mistresse, I will have it widen'd anone. No, no, I shall e'en dwindle away to it, ere the Fayre be done, you thinke, now you have heated me? A poore vex'd thing I am, I feele my selfe dropping already, as fast as I can: two stone of sewet aday is my proportion: I can but hold life and soule together, with this (here is to you, Nightingale) and a whiffe of tobacco, at most. Where is my pipe now? not fill'd? thou errant Incubee. Nay, Vrsla, thou wilt gall betweene the tongue and the teeth, with fretting, now. How can I hope, that euer he will discharge his place to trust, Tapster, a man of reckoning vnder me, that remembers nothing I say to him? but looke to it, sirrah, you were best, three pence a pipe full, I will have made, of all my whole halfe pound of tabacco, and a quarter of a pound of Colesfoot, mixt with it too, to itch it out. I that have dealt so long in the fire, will not be to seek in smoak, now. Then 6. and 20. shillings a barrell I will aduance on my Beere; and fifty shillings a hundred on my bottle-ale, I have told you the waies how to raise it. Froth your cannes well in the filling, at length Rogue, and iogge your bottles on the buttocke, Sirrah, then skinke out the first glasse, euer, and drinke with all companies, though you be sure to be drunke; you will mis-reckon the better, and be lesse asham'd of it. But your true tricke, Rascall, must be, to be euer busie, and mis-take away the bottles and cannes, in hast, before they be halfe drunke off, and neuer heare any body call, (if they should chance to marke you) till you have brought fresh, and be able to forsweare them. Give me a drinke of Ale. This is the very wombe, and bedde of enormitie! grosse, as her selfe! this must all downe for enormity, all, euery whit of it. Looke, who is there, Sirrah? fiue shillings a Pigge is my price, at least; if it be a sow-pig, six pence more, if she be a great bellied wife, and long for it, six pence more for that. O Tempora! O mores! I would not have lost my discouery of this one grieuance, for my place, and worship of the Bench, how is the poore subiect abus'd, here! well, I will fall in with her, and with her Moon-calfe, and winne out wonders of enormity. By thy leaue, goodly women, and the fatnesse of the Fayre: oyly as the Kings constables Lampe, and shining as his Shooing-horne! hath thy Ale vertue, or thy Beere strength? that the tongue of man may be tickled? and his palate pleas'd in the morning? let thy pretty Nephew here, go search and see. What new Roarer is this? O Lord! do you not know him, Mistris, it is mad Arthur of Bradley, that makes the Orations. Braue Master, old Arthur of Bradley, how do you? welcome to the Fayre, when shall we heare you againe, to handle your matters? with your backe againe a Booth, ha? I have bin one of your little disciples, in my dayes! Let me drinke, boy, with my loue, thy Aunt, here; that I may be eloquent: but of thy best, lest it be bitter in my mouth, and my words fall foule on the Fayre. Why dost thou not fetch him drinke? and offer him to sit? Is it Ale, or Beere? Master Arthur? Thy best, pretty stripling, thy best; the same thy Doue drinketh, and thou drawest on holy daies. Bring him a sixe penny bottle of Ale; they say, a fooles handsell is lucky. Bring both, child. Ale for Arthur, and Beere for Bradley. Ale for thine Aunt, boy. My disguise takes to the very wish, and reach of it. I shall by the benefit of this, discouer enough, and more: and yet get off with the reputation of what I would be. A certaine midling thing, betweene a foole and a madman. What! my little leane Vrsla! my shee-Beare! art thou aliue yet? with thy litter of pigges, to grunt out another Bartholmew Fayre? ha! Yes, and to amble afoote, when the Fayre is done, to heare you groane out of a cart, up the heauy hill. Of Holbourne, Vrsla, meanst thou so? for what? for what, pretty Vrs? For cutting halfe-penny purses: or stealing little penny dogges, out of the Fayre. O! good words, good words Vrs. Another speciall enormitie. A cutpurse of the sword! the boote, and the feather! those are his marks. You are one of those horsleaches, that gaue out I was dead, in Turne-bull streete, of a surfet of botle ale, and tripes? No, it was better meat Vrs: cowes vdders, cowes vdders! Well, I shall be meet with your mumbling mouth one day. What? thou wilt poyson me with a neust in a bottle of Ale, wilt thou? or a spider in a tobacco-pipe, Vrs? Come, there is no malice in these fat folkes, I neuer feare thee, and I can scape thy leane Moonecalfe here. Let us drinke it out, good Vrs, and no vapours! Dost thou heare, boy? (there is for thy Ale, and the remnant for thee) speake in thy faith of a faucet, now; is this goodly person before us here, this vapours, a knight of the knife? What meane you by that, Master Arthur? I meane a child of the horne-thumb, a babe of booty, boy; a cutpurse. O Lord, Sir! far from it. This is Master Dan Knockhum: Iordane the Ranger of Turnebull. He is a horse-courser, Sir. Thy dainty dame, though, call'd him cutpurse. Like enough, Sir, she will do a forty such things in an houre (if you listen to her) for her recreation, if the toy take her in the greasie kerchiefe: it makes her fat you see. She battens with it. Here might I have beene deceiu'd, now: and have put a fooles blot upon my selfe, if I had not play'd an after game of discretion. Alas poor Vrs, this is an ill season for thee. Hang your selfe, Hacney-man. How? how? Vrs, vapours! motion breede vapours? Vapours? Neuer tuske, nor twirle your dibble, good Iordane, I know what you will take to a very drop. Though you be Captaine of the Roarers, and fight well at the case of pis-pots, you shall not fright me with your Lyon-chap, Sir, not your tuskes, you angry? you are hungry: come, a pigs head will stop your mouth, and stay your stomacke, at all times. Thou art such another and merry Vrs still! Troth I do make conscience of vexing thee, now in the dog-daies, this hot weather, for feare of foundring thee in the bodie; and melting down a Piller of the Fayre. Pray thee take thy chayre againe, and keepe state; and let us have a fresh bottle of Ale, and a pipe of tabacco; and no vapours. I will have this belly of thine taken up, and thy grasse scour'd, wench; looke! here is Ezechiel Edgworth; a fine boy of his inches, as any is in the Fayre! has still money in his purse, and will pay all, with a kind heart; and good vapours. That I will, indeede, willingly, Master Knockhum, fetch some Ale, and Tabacco. What do you lacke, Gentlemen? Maid: see a fine hobby horse for your young Master: cost you but a token a weeke his prouander. Have you any cornes in your feete, and toes? Buy a Mouse-trap, a Mouse-trap, or a Tormentor for a Flea. Buy some Ginger-bread. Ballads, Ballads! fine new ballads: Heare for your loue, and buy for your money. A delicate ballad of the Ferret and the Coney. A preseruative again' the Punques euill. Another of Goose-greene-starch, and the Godly garters. The Fairing of good councell, of an ell and three quarters. What is it you buy? The Wind-mill blowne downe by the witches fart! Or Saint George, that O! did breake the Dragons heart! Master Nightingale, come hither, leaue your mart a little. O my Secretary! what sayes my Secretarie? Childe of the bottles, what is he? what he? A ciuill young Gentleman, Master Arthur, that keepes company with the Roarers, and disburses all, still. He has euer money in his purse; He payes for them; and they roare for him: one does good offices for another. They call him the Secretary, but he serues no body. A great friend of the Ballad-mans they are neuer asunder. What pitty it is, so ciuill a young man should haunt this debaucht company? here is the bane of the youth of our time apparant. A proper penman, I see it in his countenance, he has a good Clerks looke with him, and I warrant him a quicke hand. A very quicke hand, Sir. All the purses, and purchase, I give you to day by conueyance, bring hither to Vrsla's presently. Here we will meet at night in her lodge, and share. Looke you choose good places, for your standing in the Fayre, when you sing, Nightingale. Aye, neere the fullest passages; and shift them often. And in your singing, you must vse your hawks eye nimbly, and flye the purse to a marke, still, where it is worne, and of which side; that you may give me the signe with your beake, or hand your head that way in the tune. Enough, talke no more of it: your friendship (Masters) is not now to beginne. Drinke your draught of Indenture, your sup of Conuenant, and away, the Fayre fils apace, company begins to come in, and I have ne'er a Pigge ready, yet. Well said! fill the cups, and light the tabacco: let us give fire in the works, and noble vapours. And shall we have smockes Vrsla, and good whimsies, ha? Come, you are in your bawdy vaine! the best the Fayre will afford, Zekiel, if Bawd Whit keepe his word; how do the Pigges, Moone-calfe? Very passionate, Mistresse, one of them has wept out an eye. Master Arthur O'Bradley is melancholy, here, no body talkes to him. Will you any tabacco Master Arthur? No, boy, let my meditation alone. He is studying for an Oration, now. If I can, with this daies trauell, and all my policy, but rescue this youth, here, out of the hands of the lewd man, and the strange woman. I will sit downe at night, and say with my friend Ouid, Iamq; opus exegi, quod nec Iouis ira, nec ignis, E Here Zekiel; here is a health of Vrsla, and a kind vapour, thou hast money in thy purse still; and store! how dost thou come by it? Pray thee vapour thy friends some in a courteous vapour. Halfe I have, Master D Ha, sweete nature! what Goshawke would prey upon such a Lambe? Let us see, what it is, Zekiel! count it, come, fill him to pledge me. We are here before them, me thinkes. All the better, we shall see them come in now. What do you lacke, Gentlemen, what is it you lacke? a fine Horse? a Lyon? a Bull? a Beare? a Dog, or a Cat? an excellent fine Bartholmew-bird? or an Instrument? what is it you lacke? S'lid! here is Orpheus among the beasts, with his Fiddle, and all! Will you buy any comfortable bread, Gentlemen? And Ceres selling her daughters picture, in Ginger-worke! That these people should be so ignorant to thinke us chapmen for them! do we looke as if we would buy Ginger-bread? or Hobby-horses? Why, they know no better ware then they have, nor better customers then come. And our very being here makes us fit to be demanded, as well as others. Would Cokes would come! there were a true customer for them. How much is it? thirty shillings? who is yonder! Ned Winwife? and Tom Quarlous, I thinke! yes, (give me it all) (give me it all) Master Win-wife! Master Quarlous! will you take a pipe of tabacco with us? do not discredit me now, Zekiel. Do not see him! he is the roaring horse-courser, pray thee let us auoyd him: turne downe this way. S'lud, I will see him, and roare with him, too, if he roar'd as loud as Neptune, pray thee go with me. You may draw me to as likely an inconuenience, when you please, as this. Go to then, come along, we have nothing to do, man, but to see sights, now. Welcome Master Quarlous, and Master Winwife! will you take any froth, and smoake with us? Yes, Sir, but you will pardon us, if we knew not of so much familiarity betweene us afore. As what, Sir? To be so lightly inuited to smoake, and froth. A good vapour! will you sit downe, Sir? this is old Vrsla's mansion, how like you her bower? here you may have your Punque, and your Pigge in state, Sir, both piping hot. I had rather have my Punque, cold, Sir. There is for me, Punque! and Pigge! What Moonecalfe? you Rogue. By and by, the bottle is almost off Mistresse, here Master Arthur. I will part you, and your play-fellow there, in the garded coat, if you sunder not the sooner. Master Winwife, you are proud (me thinkes) you do not talke, nor drinke, are you proud? Not of the company I am in, Sir, nor the place, I assure you. You do not except at the company! do you? are you in vapours, Sir? Nay, good Master D Why, you thinne leane Polcat you, if they have a minde to be in their vapours, must you hinder them? what did you know Vermine, if they would have lost a cloake, or such a trifle? must you be drawing the ayre of pacification here? while I am tormented, within, in the fire, you Weasell? Good Mistresse, it was in the behalfe of your Booth's credit, that I spoke. Why? would my Booth have broake, if they had fal'ne out in it? Sir? or would their heate have fir'd it? in, you Rogue, and wipe the pigges, and mend the fire, that they fall not, or I will both baste and roast you, till your eyes drop out, like them. (Leaue the bottle behinde you, and be curst a while.) Body of the Fayre! what is this? mother of the Bawds? No, she is mother of the Pigs, Sir, mother of the Pigs! Mother of the Furies, I thinke, by her firebrand. Nay, she is too fat to be a Fury, sure, some walking Sow of tallow? An inspir'd vessel of Kitchin stuffe! She will make excellent geere for the Coach-makers, here in Smithfield, to anoynt wheeles and axell trees with. Aye, Aye, Gamesters, mocke a plaine plumpe soft wench of the Suburbs, do, because she is iuicy and wholesome: you must have your thinne pinch'd ware, pent up in the compasse of a dogge-collar, (or it will not do) that lookes like a long lac'd Conger, set up-right, and a greene feather, like fennell in the loll of it. Well said Vrs, my good Vrs; to them Vrs. Is she your quagmire, D We shall have a quarrell presently. How? Bog? Quagmire? foule vapours! hum'h! Yes, he that would venture for it, I assure him, might sinke into her, and be drown'd a weeke, ere any friend he had, could find where he were. And then he would be a fort'night weighing up againe. It were like falling into a whole Shire of butter: they had need to be a teeme of Dutchmen, should draw him out. Answer them, Vrs, where is thy Bartholmew-wit, now? Vrs, thy Bartholmew-wit? Hang them, rotten roguy Cheaters, I hope to see them plagu'd one day (pox'd they are already, I am sure) with leane play-house poultry, that has the boany rumpe, sticking out like the Ace of Spades, or the point of a Partizan, that euery rib of them is like the tooth of a Saw: and will so grate them with their hips, and shoulders, as (take them altogether) they were as good lye with a hurdle. Out upon her, how she drips! she is able to give a man the sweating Sicknesse, with looking on her. Mary looke off, with a patch on your face; and a dosen in your breech, though they be of scarlet, Sir. I have seene as fine outsides, as either of yours, bring lowsie linings to the Brokers, ere now, twice a weeke? Do you thinke there may be a fine new Cuckingstoole in the Fayre, to be purchas'd? one large inough, I meane. I know there is a pond of capacity, for her. For your mother, you Rascall, out you Rogue, you hedge bird, you Pimpe, you pannier-mans bastard, you. Ha, ha, ha. Do you sneere, you dogs-head, you Trendle tayle! you looke as you were begotten a'top of a Cart in haruest-time, when the whelp was hot and eager. Go, snuffe after your brothers bitch, Mrs Commodity, that is the Liuory you weare, it will be out at the elbows, shortly. It is time you went to it, for the to'ther remnant. Peace, Vrs, peace, Vrs, they will kill the poore Whale, and make oyle of her. Pray thee go in. I will see them pox'd first, and pil'd, and double pil'd. Let us away, her language growes greasier then her Pigs. Does it so, snotty nose? good Lord! are you sniueling? you were engendred on a she-begger, in a barne, when the bald Thrasher, your Sire, was scarce warme. Pray thee, let us go. No, faith: I will stay the end of her, now: I know she cannot last long; I finde by her similes, she wanes a pace. Does she so? I will set you gone. Give me my Pig-pan hither a little. I will scald you hence, if you will not go. Gentlemen, these are very strange vapours! and very idle vapours! I assure you. You are a very serious asse, we assure you. Humh! Asse? and serious? nay, then pardon me my vapour. I have a foolish vapour, Gentlemen: any man that does vapour me, the Asse, Master Quarlous -- What then, Master Iordan? I do vapour him the lye. Faith, and to any man that vapours me the lie, I do vapour that. Nay, then, vapours upon vapours. 'Ware the pan, the pan, the pan, she comes with the pan, Gentlemen. God blesse the woman. O. What is the matter? Goodly woman! Mistresse! Curse of hell, that euer I saw these Feinds, o! I have scalded my leg, my leg, my leg, my leg. I have lost a limb in the seruice! run for some creame and sallad oyle, quickly. Are you vnder-peering, you Baboun? rip off my hose, if you be men, men, men. Runne you for some creame, good mother Ione. I will looke to your basket. Best sit up in your chaire, Vrsla. Helpe, Gentlemen. Be of good cheere, Vrs, thou hast hindred me the currying of a couple of Stallions, here, that abus'd the good race-Bawd of Smithfield; it was time for them to go. I faith, when the panne came, they had made you runne else. (this had beene a fine time for purchase, if you had ventur'd.) Not a whit, these fellows were too fine to carry money. Nightingale, get some helpe to carry her legge out of the ayre; take off her shooes; body of me, she has the Mallanders, the scratches, the crowne scabbe, and the quitter bone, in the tother legge. O! the poxe, why do you put me in minde of my leg, thus, to make it prick, and shoot? would you have me in the Hospitall, afore my time? Patience, Vrs, take a good heart, it is but a blister, as big as a Windgall; I will take it away with the white of an egge, a little honey, and hogs grease, have thy pasternes well rol'd, and thou shalt pase againe by to morrow. I will tend thy Booth, and looke to thy affaires, the while: thou shalt sit in thy chaire, and give directions, and shine Vrsa maior. These are the fruites of bottle ale, and tabacco! the fome of the one, and the fumes of the other! Stay young man, and despise not the wisedome of these few hayres, that are growne gray in care of thee. Nightingale, stay a while. Indeede I will heare some of this! Come, Numps, come, where are you? welcome into the Fayre, Mistris Grace. S'light, he will call company, you shall see, and put us into doings presently. Thirst not after that frothy liquor, Ale: for, who knowes, when he openeth the stopple, what may be in the bottle? hath not a Snaile, a Spider, yea, a Neust bin found there? thirst not after it, youth: thirst not after it. This is a braue fellow, Numps, let us heare him. S'blood, how braue is he? in a garded coate? you were best trucke with him, e'en strip, and trucke presently, it will become you, why will you heare him, because he is an Asse, and may be a kinne to the Cokeses? O, good Numps! Neither do thou lust after that tawney weede, tabacco. Braue words! Whose complexion is like the Indians that vents it! Are they not braue words, Sister? And who can tell, if, before the gathering, and making up thereof, the Alliganta hath not piss'd thereon? 'Heart let them be braue words, as braue as they will! if they were all the braue words in a Countrey, how then? will you away yet? have you inough of him? Mistris Grace, come you away, I pray you, be not you accessary. If you do lose your Licence, or somewhat else, Sir, with listning to his fables: say, Numps, is a witch, with all my heart, do, say so. Avoyd in your sattin doublet, Numps. The creeping venome of which subtill serpent, as some late writers affirme; neither the cutting of the perrillous plant, nor the drying of it, nor the lighting, or burning, can any way perssway or, asswage. Good, i'faith! is it not Sister? Hence it is, that the lungs of the Tabacconist are rotted, the Liuer spotted, the braine smoak'd like the backside of the Pig-womans Booth, here, and the whole body within, blacke, as her Pan, you saw e'en now, without. A fine similitude, that, Sir! did you see the panne? Yes, Sir. Nay, the hole in the nose here, of some tabacco-takers, or the third nostrill, (if I may so call it) which makes, that they can vent the tabacco out, like the Ace of clubs, or rather the Flowerde-lice, is caused from the tabacco, the meere tabacco! when the poore innocent pox, hauing nothing to do there, is miserably, and most vnconscionably slander'd. Who would have mist this, Sister? Not any body, but Numps. He does not vnderstand. Nor you feele. What would you have, Sister, of a fellow that knowes nothing but a basket-hilt, and an old Fox in it? the best musique in the Fayre, will not moue a logge. In, to Vrsla, Nightingale, and carry her comfort: see it told. This fellow was sent to us by fortune, for our first fairing. But what speake I of the diseases of the body, children of the Fayre? That is to us, Sister. Braue i'faith! Harke, O, you sonnes and daughters of Smithfield! and heare what mallady it doth the minde: It causeth swearing, it causeth swaggering, it causeth snuffling, and snarling, and now and then a hurt. He hath something of Master Ouerdoo, mee thinkes, brother. So mee thought, Sister, very much of my brother Ouerdoo: And it is, when he speakes. Looke into any Angle of the towne, (the Streights, or the Bermuda's) where the quarrelling lesson is read, and how do they entertaine the time, but with bottle-ale, and tabacco? The Lecturer is on one side, and his Pupils on the other; But the seconds are still bottle ale and tabacco, for which the Lecturer reads, and the Nouices pay. Thirty pound a weeke in bottle ale! forty in tabacco! and ten more in Ale againe. Then for a sute to drinke in, so much, and (that being slauer'd) so much for another sute, and then a third sute, and a fourth sute! and still the bottle ale slauereth, and the tabacco stinketh! Heart of a mad-man! are you rooted here? well you neuer away? what can any man finde out in this bawling fellow, to grow here for? he is a full handfull higher, sin' he heard him, will you fix here? and set up a Booth? Sir? I will conclude briefely -- Hold your peace, you roaring Rascall, I will runne my head in your chaps else. You were best build a Booth, and entertaine him, make your Will, and you say the word, and him your heyre! heart, I neuer knew one taken with a mouth of a pecke, afore. By this light, I will carry you away on my backe, if you will not come. Stay Numpes, stay, set me downe: I have lost my purse, Numps, O my purse! one of my fine purses is gone. Is it indeed, brother? Aye, as I am an honest man, would I were an errant Rogue, else! a plague of all rogy, camn'd cut-purses for me. Bless them with all my heart, with all my heart, do you see! Now, as I am no Infidell, that I know of, I am glad of it. I I am, (here is my witnesse!) do you see, Sir? I did not tell you of his fables, I? no, no, I am a dull malt-horse, I, I know nothing. Are you not iustly seru'd in your conscience now? speake in your conscience. Much good do you with all my heart, and his good heart that has it, with all my heart againe. This fellow is very charitable, would he had a purse too! but, I must not be too bold, all at a time. Nay, Numps, it is not my best purse. Not your best! death! why should it be your worst? why should it be any, indeed, at all? answer me to that, give me a reason from you, why it should be any? Nor my gold, Numps; I have that yet, looke here else, Sister. Why so, there is all the feeling he has! I pray you, have a better care of that, brother. Nay, so I will, I warrant you; let him catch this, that catch can. I would faine see him get this, looke you here. So, so, so, so, so, so, so, so! Very good. I would have him come againe, now, and but offer at it. Sister, will you take notice of a good iest? I will put it iust where the other was, and if we have good lucke, you shall see a delicate fine trap to catch the cutpurse, nibling. Faith, and he will trye ere you be out of the Fayre. Come, Mistresse Grace, pre'thee be not melancholy for my mis-chance; sorrow will not keepe it, Sweetheart. I do not thinke of it, Sir. It was but a little scuruy white money, hang it: it may hang the cutpurse, one day. I have gold left to give thee a fayring, yet, as hard as the world goes: nothing angers me, but that no body here, look'd like a cutpurse, vnlesse it were Numps. How? I? I looke like a cutpurse? death! your Sister is a cutpurse! and your mother and father, and all your kinne were cutpurses! And here is a Rogue is the baud of the cutpurses, whom I will beat to begin with. Hold thy hand, childe of wrath, and heyre of anger, make it not Childermasse day in thy fury, or the feast of the French Bartholmew, Parent of the Massacre. Numps, Numps. Good Mr Humphrey. You are the Patrico! are you? the Patriarch of the cutpurses? you share, Sir, they say, let them share this with you. Are you in your hot fit of preaching againe? I will coole you. Murther, murther, murther. Nay it is all gone, now! this it is, when thou wilt not be phitin call, Master Offisher, what is a man the better to lishen out noyshes for thee, if thou art in an oder 'orld, being very shuffishient noyshes and gallantsh too, one of their brabblesh would have fed us all this fortnight, but thou art so bushy about beggersh stil, thou hast no leshure to intend thentlemen, if it be. Why, I told you, Dauy Bristle. Come, come, you told me a pudding, Toby Haggise; A matter of nothing; I am sure it came to nothing! you said, let us go to Vrsla's, indeede; but then you met the man with the monsters, and I could not get you from him. An old foole, not leaue seeing yet? Why, who would have thought any body would have quarrell'd so earely? or that the ale of the Fayre would have beene up so soone. Why? what a clocke toest thou tinke it is, man? I cannot tell. Thou art a vishe vatchman, in the meane teeme. Why? should the watch go by the clocke, or the clock by the watch, I pray? One should go by another, if they did well. Thou art right now! when didst thou euer know, or heare of a shuffishient vatchman, but he did tell the clocke, what bushinesse soeuer he had? Nay, that is most true, a sufficient watchman knowes what a clocke it is. Shleeping, or vaking! as well as the clocke himshelfe, or the lack that shtrikes him! Let us enquire of Master Leatherhead, or Ione Trash here. Master Leatherhead, do you heare, Master Leatherhead? If it be a Ledderhead, it is a very tick Ledderhead, that so mush noish will not peirsh him. I have a little businesse now, good friends do not trouble me. What? because of thy wrought neet cap, and thy pheluct sherkin, Man? why? I have sheene thee in thy Ledder sherkin, ere now, Mashter of the hobby-Horses, as bushy and as stately as Thou shem'st to be. Why, what if you have, Captaine Whit? he has his choyce of Ierkins, you may see by that, and his caps too, I assure you, when he pleases to be either sicke, or imploy'd. God a mercy Ione, answer for true. Away, be not sheen in my company, here be shentlemen, and men of vorship. We had a wonderfull ill lucke, to misse this prologue of the purse, but the best is, we shall have five Acts of him ere night: he will be spectacle enough! I will answer for it. O Creesh! Duke Quarlous, how dosht thou? thou dosht not know me, I feare? I am the vishesht man, but Iustish Ouerdoo, in all Bartholmew Fayre, now. Give me tweluepence from thee, I will help thee to a vife vorth forty marks for it, if it be. Away, Rogue, Pimpe away. And thee shall shew thee as fine cut o'rke for it in her shmock too, as thou cansht vishe i'faith; wilt thou have her, vorshipfull Vin wife? I will helpe thee to her, here, be if it be, in the pig-quarter, give me thy twelpence from thee. Why, there is twelpence, pray thee wilt thou be gone. Thou art a vorthy man, and a vorshipfull man still. Get you gone, Rascall. I do meane it, man, Prinsh Quarlous if thou hasht need of me, thou shalt find me here, at Vrsla's, I will see what ale, and punque is in the pigshty, for thee, blesse thy good vorship. Looke! who comes here! Iohn Little-wit! And his wife, and my widdow, her mother: the whole family. 'Slight, you must give them all fairings, now! Not I, I will not see them, They are going a feasting. What Schole-master is that is with them? That is my Riuall, I beleeue, the Baker! So, walke on in the middle way, fore-right, turne neyther to the right hand, nor to the left: let not your eyes be drawne aside with vanity, nor your eare with noyses. O, I know him by that start! What do you lack? what do you buy, pretty Mistris! a fine Hobby-Horse, to make your sonne a Tilter? a Drum to make him a Souldier? a Fiddle, to make him a Reueller? What is it you lack? Little Dogs for your Daughters! or Babies, male, or female? Look not toward them, harken not: the place is Smithfield, or the field of Smiths, the Groue of Hobbi-horses and trinkets, the wares are the wares of diuels. And the whole Fayre is the shop of Satan! They are hooks, and baites, very baites, that are hung out on euery side, to catch you, and to hold you as it were, by the gills; and by the nostrills, as the Fisher doth: therefore, you must not looke, nor turne toward them -- The Heathen man could stop his eares with wax, against the harlot of the sea: Do you the like, with your fingers against the bells of the Beast. What flashes comes from him! O, he has those of his ouen! a notable hot Baker it was, when he ply'd the peele: he is leading his flock into the Fayre, now. Rather driuing them to the Pens: for he will let them looke upon nothing. Gentlewomen, the weather is hot! whither walke you? Have a care of your fine veluet caps, the Fayre is dusty. Take a sweet delicate booth, with boughs, here, in the way, and coole your selues in the shade: you and your friends. The best pig and bottle-ale in the Fayre, Sir. Old Vrsla is Cooke, there you may read: the pigges head speakes it. Poore soule, she has had a Sringhalt the Maryhinchco: but she is prettily amended. A delicate show-pig, little Mistris, with shweet sauce, and crackling, like the bay-leafe in the fire, la! Thou shalt have the cleane side of the table-clot and the glass vash'd with phatersh of Dame Anneshsh Cleare. This is fine, verily, here be the best pigs: and she does roast them as well as euer she did; the Pigs head sayes. Excellent, excellent, Mistris, with fire of Iuniper and Rosemary branches! The Oracle of the Pigs head, that, Sir. Sonne, were you not warn'd of the vanity of the eye? have you forgot the wholesome admonition, so soone? Good mother, how shall we finde a pigge, if we do not looke about for it? will it run off of the spit, into our mouths thinke you? as in Lubberland? and cry, wee, wee? No, but your mother, religiously wise, conceiueth it may offer it selfe, by other meanes, to the sense, as by way of steeme, which I thinke it doth, here in this place, (Huh, huh) yes, it doth. and it were a sinne of obstinacy, great obstinacy, high and horrible obstinacy, to decline, or resist the good titillation of the famelick sense, which is the smell. Therefore be bold (huh, huh, huh) follow the sent. Enter the Tents of the vncleane, for once, and satisfie your wiues frailty. Let your fraile wife be satisfied: your zealous mother, and my suffering selfe, will also be satisfied. Come, Win, as good winny here, as go farther, and see nothing. We scape so much of the other vanities, by our earely entring. It is an ædifying consideration. This is scuruy, that we must come into the Fayre, and not looke on it. Win, have patience, Win, I will tell you more anon. Moone-calfe, entertaine within there, the best pig in the Booth; a Porklike pig. These are Banbury-bloods, of the sincere stud, come a pigge-hunting. Whit, wait Whit, looke to your charge. A pigge prepare, presently, let a pigge be prepared to us. S'light, who be these? Is this the good seruice, Iordan, you would do me? Why, Vrs? why Vrs? thou wilt have vapours in thy legge againe presently, pray thee go in, it may turne to the scatches else. Hang your vapours, they are stale, and stinke like you, are these the guests of the game, you promis'd to fill my pit with all, to day? Aye, what aile they Vrs? Aile they? they are all sippers, sippers of the City, they looke as they would not drinke off two penn'orth of bottle-ale amongst them. A body may read that in their small printed ruffes. Away, thou art a foole, Vrs, and thy Moone-calfe too, in your ignorant vapours, now? hence, good guests, I say right hypocrites, good gluttons. In, and set a couple of pigs on the board, and halfe a dozen of the biggest bottles afore them, and call Whit, I do not loue to heare Innocents abus'd: Fine ambling hypocrites! and a stone puritane, with a sorrell head, and beard, good mouth'd gluttons: two to a pigge, away. Are you sure they are such? Of the right breed, thou shalt try them by the teeth, Vrs, where is this Whit? Behold, man and see, what a worthy man am I! With the fury of my sword, and the shaking of my beard, I will make ten thousand men afeard. Well said, braue Whit, in, and feare the ale out of the bottles, into the bellies of the brethren, and the sisters drinke to the cause, and pure vapours. My Roarer is turn'd Tapster, mee thinks. Now were a fine time for thee, Win-wife, to lay aboard the widdow, thou wilt neuer be Master of a better season, or place; she that will venture her selfe into the Fayre, and a pig-boxe, will admit any assault, be assur'd of that. I loue not enterprises of that suddennesse, though. I will warrant thee, then, no wife out of the widdowes Hundred: if I had but as much Title to her, as to have breath'd once on that streight stomacher of hers, I would now assure my selfe to carry her, yet, ere she went out of Smithfield. Or she should carry me, which were the fitter sight, I confesse. But you are a modest vndertaker, by circumstances, and degrees; come, it is Disease in thee, not Iudgement, I should offer at all together. Looke, here is the poore foole, againe, that was flung by the waspe, ere while. I will make no more orations, shall draw on these tragicall conclusions. And I begin now to thinke, that by a spice of collaterall Iustice, Adam Ouerdoo, deseru'd this beating; for I the said Adam, was one cause (a by-cause) why the purse was lost: and my wiues brothers purse too, which they know not of yet. But I shall make very good mirth with it, at supper, (that will be the sport) and put my little friend, Mr Humphrey Wasp's choler quite out of countenance. When, sitting at the upper end of my Table, as I vse, and drinking to my brother Cokes, and M What does he talke to himselfe, and act so seriously? poore foole! No matter what. Here is fresher argument, intend that. Come, Mistresse Grace, come Sister, here is more fine sights, yet i'faith. Gods 'lid where is Numps? What do you lacke, Gentlemen? what is it you buy? fine Rattles? Drummes? Babies? little Dogges? and Birds for Ladies? What do you lacke? Good honest Numpes, keepe afore, I am so afraid thou wilt lose somewhat: my heart was at my mouth, when I mist thee. You were best buy a whip in your hand to driue me. Nay, do not mistake, Numps, thou art so apt to mistake: I would but watch the goods. Looke you now, the treble fiddle, was e'en almost like to be lost. Pray you take heede you lose not your selfe: your best way, were e'en get up, and ride for more surety. Buy a tokens worth of great pinnes, to fasten your selfe to my shoulder. What do you lacke, Gentlemen? fine purses, pouches, pincases, pipes? What is it you lacke? a paire of smithes to wake you in the morning? or a fine whistling bird? Numps, here be finer things then any we have bought by oddes! and more delicate horses, a great deal! good Numpes, stay, and come hither. will you scourse with him? you are in Smithfield, you may sit your selfe with a fine easy-going street-nag, for your saddle againe Michaelmasse-terme, do has he ne'er a little odde cart for you, to make a Carroch on, in the countrey, with foure pyed hobbyhorses? why the meazills, should you stand here, with your traine, cheaping of Dogges, Birds, and Babies? you have no children to bestow them on? have you? No, but again' I have children Numpes, that is all one. Do, do, do, do; how many shall you have, think you? if I were as you, I would buy for all my Tenants, too, they are a kind of ciuill Sauages, that will part with their children for rattles, pipes, and kniues. You were best buy a hatchet, or two, and truck with them. Good Numps, hold that little tongue of thine, and saue it a labour. I am resolute Bat, thou know'st. A resolute foole, you are, I know, and a very sufficient Coxcombe; with all my heart; nay you have it, Sir, if you be angry, turd in your teeth, twice: (if I said it not once afore) and much good do you. Was there euer such a selfe-affliction? and so impertinent? Alas! his care will go neere to cracke him, let us in, and comfort him. Would I had beene set in the gronnd, all but the head on me, and was my braines, bowl'd at, or thresh'd out, when first I vnderwent this plague of a charge! How now, Numps! almost tir'd in your Protectorship? ouerparted? ouerparted? Why, I cannot tell, Sir, it may be I am, does it grieue you? No, I sweare does it not, Numps: to satisfie you. Numps? S'blood, you are fine and familiar! how long have we bin acquainted, I pray you? I thinke it may be remembered, Numps, that? it was since morning sure. Why, I hope I know it well enough, Sir, I did not aske to be told. No? why then? It is no matter why, you see with your eyes, now, what I said to you to day? you will beleeue me another time? Are you remouing the Fayre, Numps? A pretty question! and a very ciuill one! yes faith, I have my lading you see; or shall have anon, you may know whose beast I am, by my burthen. If the pannier-mans Iacke were euer better knowne by his loynes of mutton, I will be flead, and feede dogs for him, when his time comes. How melancholi' Mistresse Grace is yonder! pray thee let us go enter our selues in Grace, with her. Those sixe horses, friend I will have -- How! And the three Iewes trumps; and halfe a dozen of Birds, and that Drum, (I have one Drumme already) and your Smiths; I like that deuice of your smiths, very pretty well, and foure Halberts -- and (le' me see) that fine painted great Lady, and her three women for state, I will have. No, the shop; buy the whole shop, it will be best, the shop, the shop! If his worship please. Yes, and keepe it during the Fayre, Bobchin. Peace, Numps, friend, do not meddle with him, if you be wise, and would shew your head aboue board: he will sting thorow your wrought night-cap, beleeue me. A set of these Violines, I would buy too, for a delicate young noise I have in the countrey, that are euery one a size lesse then another, iust like your fiddles. I would faine have a fine young Masque at my marriage, now I thinke of it: but I do want such a number of things. And Numps will not helpe me now, and I dare not speake to him. Will your worship buy any ginger-bread, very good bread, comfortable bread? Ginger-bread! yes, let us see. There is the tother sprindge? Is this well, goody Ione? to interrupt my market? in the midst? and call away my customers? can you answer this, at the Piepouldres? Why? if his Master-ship have a minde to buy, I hope my ware lies as open as another's; I may shew my ware, as well as you yours. Hold your peace; I will content you both: I will buy up his shop, and thy basket. Will you i'faith? Why should you put him from it, friend? Cry you mercy! you would be sold too, would you? what is the price on you? Ierkin, and all as you stand? have you any qualities? Yes, good-man angry-man, you shall finde he has qualities, if you cheapen him. Gods so, you have the selling of him! what are they? will they be bought for loue, or money? No indeed, Sir. For what then? victualls? He scornes victuals, Sir, he has bread and butter at home, thanks be to God! and yet he will do more for a good meale, if the toy take him in the belly, mary then they must not set him at lower end; if they do, he will go away, though he fast. But put him a top of the Table, where his place is, and he will do you forty fine things. He has not been sent for, and sought out for nothing, at your great citty-suppers, to put downe Coriat, and Cokeley, and bin laught at for his labour; he will play you all the Puppets in the towne ouer, and the Players, euery company, and his owne company too; he spares no body! I'faith? He was the first, Sir, that euer baited the fellow in the beare's skin, if it like your worship: no dog euer came neer him, since. And for fine motions! Is he good at those too? can he set out a Masque trow? O Lord, Master! sought to farre, and neere, for his inuentions: and he engrosses all, he makes all the Puppets in the Fayre. Dost thou (in troth) old veluet Ierkin? give me thy hand. Nay, Sir, you shall see him in his veluet Ierkin, and a scarfe, too, at night, when you heare him interpret Master Little-wit's Motion. Speake no more, but shut up shop presently, friend. I will buy both it, and thee too, to carry downe with me, and her hamper, beside. Thy shop shall furnish out the Masque, and hers the Banquet: I cannot go lesse, to set out any thing with credit. what is the price, at a word, of thy whole shop, case, and all as it stands? Sir, it stands me in sixe and twenty shillings seuen pence, halfe-peny, besides three shillings for my ground. Well, thirty shillings will do all, then! And what comes yours to? Four shillings, and eleauen pence, Sir, ground, and all, if it like your worship. Yes, it does like my worship very well, poore woman, that is fiue shillings more, what a Masque shall I furnish out, for forty shillings? (twenty pound scotsh) and a Banquet of Ginger-bread? there is a stately thing! Numps? Sister? and my wedding gloues too? (that I neuer thought of afore.) All my wedding gloues, Ginger-bread? O me! what a deuice will there be? to make them eate their fingers ends! and delicate Brooches for the Bride-men! and all! and then I will have this poesie put to them: For the best grace, meaning Mistresse Grace, my wedding poesie. I am beholden to you, Sir, and to your Bartholmew-wit. You do not meane this, do you? is this your first purchase? Yes faith, and I do not thinke, Numpes, but thou wilt say, it was the wisest Act, that euer I did in my wardship. Like inough! I shall say any thing. I! I cannot beget a Proiect, with all my politicall braine, yet; my Proiect is how to fetch off this proper young man, from his debaucht company: I have followed him all the Fayre ouer, and still I finde him with this songster: And I begin shrewdly to suspect their familiarity; and the young man of a terrible taint, Poetry! with which idle disease, if he be infected, there is no hope of him, in a state-course. Actum est, of him for a common-wealths-man: if he go to it in Rime, once. Yonder he is buying of Ginger-bread: set in quickly, before he part with too much of his money. My masters and friends, and good people, draw neere, E Ballads! harke, harke! pray thee, fellow, stay a little, good Numpes, looke to the goods. What Ballads hast thou? let me see, let me see my selfe. Why so! he is flowne to another lime-bush, there he will flutter as long more; till he have ne'r a feather left. Is there a vexation like this, Gentlemen? will you beleeue me now, hereafter? shall I have credit with you? Yes faith, shalt thou, Numps, and thou art worthy of it, for thou sweatest for it. I neuer saw a young Pimpe errant, and his Squire better match'd. Faith, the sister comes after them, well, too. Nay, if you saw the Iustice her husband, my Guardian, you were fitted for the Messe, he is such a wise one his way -- I wonder, we see him not here. O! he is too serious for this place, and yet better sport then then the other three, I assure you, Gentlemen: where ere he is, though it be of the Bench. How dost thou call it! A caueat against cutpurses! a good iest, i'faith, I would faine see that Dæmon, your Cutpurse, you talke of, that delicate handed Diuell; they say he walkes hereabout; I would see him walke, now. Looke you sister, here, here, let him come, sister, and welcome. Ballad-man, does any cutpurses haunt hereabout? pray thee raise me one or two: beginne and shew me one. Sir, this is a spell against them, spicke and span new; and it is made as it were in mine owne person, and I sing it in mine owne defence. But it will cost a penny alone, if you buy it. No matter for the price, thou dost not know me, I see, I am an odd Bartholmew. Hast a fine picture, Brother? O Sister, do you remember the ballads ouer the Nursery-chimney at home of my owne passing up, there be braue pictures. Other manner of pictures, than these, friend. Yet these will serue to picke the pictures out of your pockets, you shall see. So, I heard them say. Pray thee mind him not, fellow: he will have an oare in euery thing. It was intended Sir, as if a purse should chance to be cut in my presence, now, I may be blameless, though: as by the sequell, will more plainely appeare. We shall find that in the matter. Pray thee begin. To the tune of Paggingtons Pound, Sir. Fa, la la la, la la la, fa la la la. Nay, I will put thee in tune, and all! mine owne country dance! Pray thee begin. It is a gentle admonition, you must know, Sir, both to the purse-cutter, and the purse-bearer. Not a word more, out on the tune, if thou lou'st me: Fa, la la la, la la la, fa la la la. Come, when? My masters and friends, and good people draw neere, And looke to your purses, for that I do say; Ha, ha, this chimes! good counsell at first dash. And though little money, in them you do beare, It cost more to get, then to lose in a day. Good!
archive@ox.ac.uk
Availability:Act P
Scene P.1
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Your Maiesty is welcome to a Fayre;
Such place, such men, such language and such ware,
You must expect: with these, the zealous noyse
Of your lands Faction, scandaliz'd at toyes,
As Babies, Hobby-horses, Puppet-playes,
And such like rage, whereof the petulant wayes
Your selfe have knowne, and have been vext with long.
These for your sport, without perticular wrong,
Or iust complaint of any priuate man,
(Who of himselfe, or shall thinke well or can)
The Maker doth present: and hopes, to night
To give you for a Fayring, true delight.
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ctob 1614 and in the twelfth yeere of the Raigne of our Soueragine Lord, IAMES by the grace of God King of England, France, and Ireland; Defender of the faith. And of Scotland the seauen and fortieth. Act 1
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Act 2
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uint Horace cal's him) that could discouer a Iustice of Peace, (and lately of the Quorum) vnder this couering. They may have seene many a foole in the habite of a Iustice; but neuer till now, a Iustice in the habit of a foole. Thus must we do, though, that wake for the publike good: and thus hath the wise Magistrate done in all ages. There is a doing of right out of wrong, if the way be found. Neuer shall I enough commend a worthy worshipfull man, sometime a capitall member of this City, for his high wisdome, in this point, who would take you, now the habit of a Porter; now of a Carman; now of the Dog-killer, in this moneth of August; and in the winter, of a Seller of tinder-boxes; and what would he do in all these shapes? mary go you into euery Alehouse, and down into euery Celler; measure the length of puddings, take the gage of blacke pots, and cannes, Aye, and custards with a sticke; and their circumference, with a third; weigh the loaues of bread on his middle-finger; then would he send for them, home; give the puddings to the poore, the bread to the hungry, the custards to his children; breake the pots, and burne the cannes, himselfe; he Would not trust his corrupt officers; he would do it himselfe. would all men in authority would follow this worthy president! For (alas) as we are publike persons, what do we know? nay, what can we know? we heare with other mens eares; we see with other mens eyes? a foolish Constable, of a sleepy Watchman, is all our information, he slanders a Gentleman, by the vertue of his place, (as he calls it) and we by the vice of ours, must beleeue him. As a while agone, they made me, yea me, to mistake an honest zealous Pursiuant, for a Seminary: and a proper yong Batcheler of Musicke, for a Bawd. This we are subiect to, that liue in high place, all our intelligence is idle, and most of our intelligencers, knaues: and by your leaue, our selues, thought little better, if not errant fooles, for beleeuing them. I Adam Ouerdoo, am resolu'd therefore, to spare spy-money hereafter, and make mine owne discoueries. Many are the yeerely enormities of this Fayre, in whose courts of Pye-pouldres I have had the honour during the three dayes sometimes to sit as Iudge. But this is the speciall day for detection of those foresaid enormities. Here is my blacke booke, for the purpose; this the cloud that hides me: vnder this couert I shall see, and not be seene. On Iunius Brutus. And as I began, so I will end: in Iustice name, and the Kings; and for the Common-wealth. Scene 2.2
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Hey, now the Fayre is a filling!
The Birds of the Booths here billing:
Yeerely with old Saint Barthle!
The Drunkards they are wading,
The Punques, and Chapmen trading;
Who would see the Fayre without his lading? Buy any ballads;
new ballads?
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an Knockhum, is alwaies at your seruice,
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an Knockhum, respect my Mistris Bower, as you call it; for the honour of our Booth, none of your vapours, here.
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an Knockhum? is this your Bogge?
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Act 3
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rs Alice Ouerdoo, as I will, my wife, for their good affection to old Bradley, I deliuer to them, it was I, that was cudgell'd, and shew them the marks. To see what bad euents may peepe out of the taile of good purposes! the care I had of that ciuil yong man, I tooke fancy to this morning, (and have not left it yet) drew me to that exhortation, which drew the company, indeede, which drew the cut-purse; which drew the money; which drew my brother Cokes his losse; which drew on Wasp's anger; which drew on my beating: a pretty gradation! And they shall have it in their dish, i'faith, at night for fruit: I loue to be merry at my Table. I had thought once, at one speciall blow he ga' me, to have reuealed my selfe? but then (I thank thee fortitude) I remembered that a wise man (and who is euer so great a part, of the Common-wealth in himselfe) for no particular disaster ought to abandon a publike good designe. The husbandman ought not for one vnthankful yeer, to forsake the plough; The Shepheard ought not, for one scabb'd sheep, to throw by his tar-boxe; The Pilot ought not for one leake in the poope, to quit the Helme; Nor the Alderman ought not for one custerd more, at a meale, to give up his cloake; The Constable ought not to breake his staffe, and forsweare the watch, for one roaring night; Nor the Piper of the Parish (Vt paruis componere magna solebam) to put up his pipes, for one rainy Sunday. These are certaine knocking conclusions; out of which, I am resolu'd, come banishment, nay, come the rack, come the hurdle, (welcome all) I will not discouer who I am, till my due time; and yet still, all shall be, as I said euer, in Iustice name, and the King's, and for the Common-wealth.
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You oft have beene told,
Both the young