T H E
W E E D I N G
O F T H E
COVENT-GARDEN.
Or the
Middleſex-JUSTICE
OF
Peace.
A Facetious COMEDY.
A POSTHUME of RICHARD BROME,
An Ingenious Servant, and Imitator of his
Maſter, that famouſly Renowned
Poet Ben. Johnſon.
Aut prodeſſe ſolent, aut delectare Poetæ,
Dramatis Perſonæ.
LONDON,
Printed for Andrew Crook, and are to be ſold at the
Green Dragon in St. Pauls Church-yard: And
Henry Broom at the Gun in Ivy-lane. 1658.
[A1]
[A1v]
Upon AGLAURA printed in Folio.
BY this large Margent did the Poet mean
To have a Comment writ upon his Scene?
Or is it that the Ladies, who ne’re look
On any but a Poeme or Play-book,
May, in each page, have ſpace to ſcribble down
When such a Lord, or Faſhion comes to Town.
As Swaines in Almanacks account do keep,
When their Cow calv’d, and when they bought their
Ink is the life of Paper: ’tis meet then, (ſheep?
That this which ſcap’d the Preſs ſhould feel the Pen.
A Room with one ſide furniſh’d or a face
Painted half-way, is but a faire diſgrace.
This great voluminous Pamphlet may be ſaid
To be like one that hath more haire then head;
More excrement then body. Trees, which ſprout
With broadest leaves, have ſtill the ſmallest fruit:
When I ſaw ſo much white, I did begin
To think Aglaura either did lie in,
Or elſe took Pennance. Never did I ſee
(Unleſſe in Bills daſht In the Chancerie).
So little in ſo much; as if the feet
Of Poetry, like Law, were ſold by th’ſheet.
If this new faſhion ſhould but laſt one yeare,
Poets, as Clerks, would make our paper dear.
Doth not the Artiſt erre, and blast his fame
[A2]That
That ſets out pictures leſſer then the frame?
Was ever Chamberlaine ſo mad, to dare
To lodge a childe in the great Bed at Ware?
Aglaura would pleaſe better, did ſhe lie
I’ th’ narrow bounds of an Epitomie.
Pieces that are weav’d of the finest twiſt,
(As Silk and Pluſh) have ſtill more ſtuffe then liſt.
She, that in Perſian habit made great brags,
Degenerates in this exceſſe of rags;
Who, by her Giant-bulk this only gaines,
Perchance in Libraries to hang in chaines.
’Tis not in Book, as Cloth; we never ſay
Make London-meaſure, when we buy a Play:
But rather have them pair’d: Thoſe leaves be faire
To the judicious, which more ſpotted are.
Give me the ſociable Pocket-books.
Theſe empty Folio’s only pleaſe the Cooks.
R. B.
A SONG
[Link] AWay with all grief and give us more ſack.
’Tis that which we love, let love have no
Nor ſorrow, nor care can croſſe our delights,
Nor witches, nor goblins, nor Buttery ſprights,
Tho’ the candles burne dimme while we can
We’ll ſcorn to flie them: but we’ll make them
Old Sack, and old Songs, and a merry old crew
Will fright away Sprights, when the ground
[A2v]A
A
PROLOGUE.
[Link] HE that could never boaſt, nor ſeek the way,
To prepare friends to magnifie his Play,
Nor raile at’s Auditory for unjuſt,
If they not lik’t it nor was ſo miſtrust-
Ful ever in himſelf, that he beſought
Preapprobation though they lik’t it not.
Nor ever had the luck to have his name
Clap’t up above this merit. Nor the ſhame
To be cried down below it. He this night
Your faire and free Attention does invite.
Only he prays no prejudice be brought
By any that before-hand wiſh it nought.
And that ye all be pleaſ’d to heare and ſee,
With Candor ſuiting his Integritie.
That for the Writer. Something we muſt ſay,
Now in defence of us, and of the Play
We shall preſent no Scandal or Abuſe,
To vertue or to honour. Nor traduce
Perſon of worth. Nor point at the diſgrace
Of any one reſiding in the Place,
On which our Scene is laid, nor any Action ſhew,
Of thing has there been done, for ought we know.
[A3]Though
Though it be probable that ſuch have been.
But if ſome vicious perſons be brought in.
As no new Buildings, nor the ſtrongeſt hold
Can keep out Rats and Vermine bad and bold.
Let not the ſight of ſuch be ill endur’d;
All ſores are ſeen and ſearch’t before th’ are cur’d.
As Ruffian, Bawd, and the licentious crew,
Too apt to peſter Scituations new.
Another Prologue.
[Link] ’Tis not amiſſe ere we begin our Play,
T’ intreat you, that you take the ſame ſurveigh
Into your fancie, as our Poet took,
Of Covent-Garden, when he wrote his Book.
Some ten years ſince, when it was grown with weeds.
Not ſet, as now it is, with Noble Seeds.
Which make the Garden glorious. And much
Our Poet craves and hopes you will not grutch
It him, that ſince ſo happily his Pen
Foretold its faire emprovement, and that men
Of worth and honour ſhould renown the place.
The Play may ſtill retain its former grace.
[A3v]TO
To my LORD of Newcaſtle, on his
PLAY called THE VARIETY. He having
commanded to give him my true
o
-pinion of it.
I Could not think theſe ſeven yeares, but that I
In part a Poet was, and ſo might lie,
By the Poetick Licence. But I finde
Now I am none, and strictly am confin’d
To truth, if therefore I ſubpæna’d were
Before the Court of Chancerie to ſwear.
Or if from thence I ſhould be higher ſent,
And on my life unto a Parliament
Of wit and judgement, there to certifie
What I could ſay of your VARIETY:
I would depoſe each Scene appear’d to me
An Act of wit, each Act a Comedy,
And all was ſuch, to all that underſtood,
As knowing Johnſon, swore By God ’twas good.
R. B.
[A4]
The Actors Names.
[Link]
| Rooksbill, a great Builder in Covent-Garden. |
| Croſſewill, a Countrey Gentleman, Lodger in |
| his Buildings. |
| Cockbrain, a Juſtice of Peace, the Weeder of |
| the Garden. |
[Link]
Nicholas.
Gabriel.
Mihil.
Anthony. | } | Young Gentle-
men. | } | Rooksbills ſon.
Croſſewills elder son.
Croſſ. younger ſon.
Cockbraines ſon.
|
[Link]
| Mun Clotpoll, a fooliſh Gull. |
| Driblow, Captain of the Philoblathici. |
| Belt, Croſſewills Servant. |
| Ralph, Dorcas Servant. |
| A Citizen. |
| A Parſon. |
| A Taylor. |
| A Shoomaker. |
| A Vintner. |
| A Drawer. |
| Pig, Damaris Servant. |
Women Actors.
[Link]
| Lucie, Rooksbills daughter. |
| Katharine, Croſſewills daughter. |
| Dorcas, alias Damaris, Croſwills Neece. |
| Margerie Howlet, a Bawd. |
[Link]
Bettie.
Franciſca. | } | Two Punks |
[Link]
[A4v]
The Covent-Garden Weeded.
T H E
COVENT-GARDEN
Weeded.
ACT. I. SCENE I.
Cockbrayne, Rookes-bill.
Cock.I Marry Sir! This is ſomething like!
Theſe appear like Buildings!
Here’s Architecture expreſt in-
deed! It is a moſt ſightly ſcitua-
tion, and fit for Gentry and
Rook.When it is all finiſhed, doubtleſſe it will be
Cock.It will be glorious: and yond magnificent
Peece, the
Piazzo, will excel that at
Venice, by hear-
say, (I ne’re travell’d). A hearty bleſſing on their
braines, honours, and wealths, that are Projectors,
Furtherers, and Performers of ſuch great works. And
now I come to you Mr.
Rookesbill: I like your Rowe
of houſes moſt incomparably. Your money never
Bſhone
The Covent-Garden Weeded.
ſhone ſo on your Counting-boards, as in thoſe Stru-
Rook.I have pil’d up a Leaſh of thouſand pounds
in walls and windows there.
Cock.It will all come again with large en-
And better is your money thus let out on red and
white, then upon black and white, I ſay. You can-
not think how I am taken with that Rowe! How even
and ſtraight they are! And ſo are all indeed. The
Surveyor (what e’re he was) has manifeſted himself
the Maſter of his great Art. How he has wedded
ſtrength to beauty; ſtate to uniformity; commodi-
ouſneſſe with perſpicuity! All, all as’t ſhould
Rook.If all were as well tenanted and inhabited
Cock.Phew; that will follow. What new Planta-
tion was ever peopled with the better ſort at firſt;
nay, commonly the lewdeſt blades, and naughty-
packs are either neceſſitated to ’hem, or elſe do prove
the moſt forward venturers. Is not lime and hair the
firſt in all your foundations? do we not ſoile or dung
our lands, before we ſowe or plant any thing that’s
good in ’hem? And do not weeds creep up firſt in
all Gardens? and why not then in this? which never
was a Garden until now; and which will be the Gar-
den of Gardens, I foreſee’t. And for the weeds in
it, let me alone for the weeding of them out. And
ſo as my Reverend Anceſtor
Juſtice Adam Overdoe,
was wont to ſay,
In Heavens name and the Kings, and
for the good of the Common-wealth I will go a-
Rook.I would a few more of the Worſhipful here-
abouts, (whether they be in Commiſſion or not) were
as well minded that way as you are Sir; we ſhould
[B1v]then
The Covent-Garden Weeded.
then have all ſweet and clean, and that quickly
Cock.I have thought upon a way for’t, Mr.
Rooks-
bill: and I will purſue it,
viz. to finde out all the
enormities, yet be my ſelfe unſpied: whereby I will
tread out the ſpark of impiety, whileſt it is yet a
ſpark and not a flame; and break the egge of a miſ-
chief, whileſt it is yet an egge and not a Cockatrice.
Then doubt not of worthy tenants for your houses
Rook.I hope, Sir, your beſt furtherance.
Cock.I had a letter but laſt night from a worthy
friend, a Weſt-countrey Gentleman, that is, now
coming up with his family to live in Town here;
and deſire is to inhabit in theſe buildings. He was to lie
at
Hammerſmith last night, and requeſted an early
meeting of me this morning here, to aſſiſt him in
the taking of a houſe. It is my buſineſſe hither;
for he could never do’t himſelfe. He has the oddest
touchy, wrangling humour.–– But in a harmleſſe
way; for he hurts no body, and pleaſes himſelf in it.
His children have all the trouble of it, that do anger
him in obeying him ſometimes. You will know
him anon. I mean, he shall be your Tenant.
Enter Croſwill, Gabriel, Katherine, Belt.
Croſ.It is not enough you tell me of obedience.
Or that you are obedient. But I will be obeyed in
my own way. Do you ſee–
(to Gab. and
Ka.)
Cock.My noble friend Mr.
Croſwill, right happi-
Croſ.Your troubleſome friend Mr.
Cockbrayne.
Cock.No trouble at all, Sir, though I have pre-
B 2vented
The Covent-Garden Weeded.
vented yours in finding a fit house for you.
Croſ.You ha’ not ha’ you, ha?
Cock.Actum est Mr.
Croſwill. But Civility par-
don me, Is not this your daughter?
Kiſſe.
Croſ.All the Shee-things I have: and would I
were well rid of her too.
Cock.Sweet Mrs.
Katherine, Welcome––Mr.
Gab.Gabriel Croſwill is my name.
Cock.But where’s your younger ſonne
Mihill?
Croſ.A Spark! A dunce I fear by this time like
his brother Sheepſhead there.
Gab.Gabriel is my proper name.
Croſ.I have not ſeen him this Twelve-moneth,
ſince I chamber’d him a Student here in Town.
Cock.In town, and I not know it?
Croſ.He knows not yet of my coming neither,
nor ſhall not, till I ſteal upon him; and if I finde
him mopish like his brother, I know what I will
Cock.Have you not heard from him lately?
Croſ.Yes, often by his letters, leſſe I could reade
more comfort in ’hem. I fear he’s turn’d Preciſian,
for all his Epistles end with Amen; and the matter
of ’hem is ſuch as if he could teach me to ask him
Rook.A comfortable hearing of a young man.
Croſ.Is it ſo Sir? but I’le new mould him if it be
ſo.– I’le tell you Mr.
Cockbrayne; never was such
a father ſo croſt in his children. They will not obey
me in my way. I grant, they do things that other
fathers would rejoyce at. But I will be obeyed in my
own way, dee ſee. Here’s my eldeſt ſonne. Mark how
he ſtands, as if he had learn’t a posture at
Knights-
[B2v]bridge,
The Covent-Garden Weeded.
bridge ſpittle as we came aloug while-eare. He was
not only borne without wit, but with an obſtinate re-
ſolution, never to have any. I mean, ſuch wit as
might become a Gentleman.
Cock.Was that reſolution borne in him think
Croſ.It could never grow up in him ſtill as it does
elſe. When I would have him take his horſe, and
follow the dogs, and aſſociate Gentlemen, in hawk-
ing, hunting, or ſuch like exerciſes, he’l run you a
foot five mile another way, to meet the brethren of
the ſeparation, at ſuch exerciſes as I never ſent him
to (I am ſure) on worky dayes. And whereas moſt
Gentlemen run into other mens books, in hands that
they care not who reades, he has a book of his own
Short-writing in his pocket, of ſuch ſtuffe as is fit for
no mans reading indeed but his own.
Croſ.Sure you are an Aſſe. Hold your tongue.
Rook.What comfort ſhould I have, were my ſon
Croſ.And he has nothing but hang’d the head, as you
ſee now, ever ſince Holiday ſports were cried up in
the Countrey. And but for that, and to talk with
ſome of the ſilenc’d Paſtors here in town about it, I
ſhould not have drawn him up.
Rook.I would I could change a ſonne w’ you
Croſ.What kinde of thing is thy ſonne? ha! doſt
thou look like one that could have a ſonne fit for
me to father, ha? And yet the beſt take both, and
t’ pleaſe you at all adventures, ha?
Rook.I am ſure there cannot be a worſe, or
more debauch’d reprobate then mine is living.
Croſ.And is the devil too good a Maſter for
B 3him,
The Covent-Garden Weeded.
him, think’ſt thou, ha? Wherein can I deſerve ſo
ill at thy hands, fellow, whate’re thou art, that thou
ſhould’ſt wiſh me comber’d with a worſe burden,
when thou heareſt me complain of this, ha? What
is this fellow that you dare know him, Friend
Cock-
brayn? I will not dwell within three pariſhes of
Rook.My tenant! Bleſſe me from him. I had ra-
ther all my Rents were Bawdy houſes.
Cock.Think nothing of his words, he’ll forget
all inſtantly. The beſt natur’d man living.
Croſ.Doſt thou ſtand like a ſon now that hears his
Gab.I am praying for the converſion of the young
Cock.Well ſaid, Mr.
Gabriel.
Croſ.But by the way, where’s your ſonne
Antho-
ny? have you not heard of him yet?
Cock.Never ſince he forſook me, on the diſcon-
tent he took, in that he might not marry your daugh-
ter there. And where he lives, or whether he lives or
not, I know not. I hope your daughter is a comfort
Croſ.Yes, in keeping her chamber whole weeks
together, ſullenning upon her Samplery breech-work,
when I was in hope ſhe would have made me a Grand-
father ere now. But ſhe has a humour, forſooth,
ſince we put your ſon by her, to make me a match-
broker, her marriage-Maker; when I tell you friend,
there has been ſo many untoward matches of Pa-
rents making, that I have ſworn ſhe ſhall make her
own choice, though it be of one I hate. Make me
her match maker! Muſt I obey her, or ſhe me,
Cock.I wiſh, with teares, my ſonne had had her
[B3v]Kat.
The Covent-Garden Weeded.
Kat.Wherein Sir, (under correction do I diſobey
Croſ.In that very word, under correction, thou diſ-
obey’ſt me. Are you to be under correction at theſe
yeares? ha! If I ha’ not already taught you manners
beyond the help of correction, go ſeek a wiſer father
Kat.Yet give me leave, dear Sir, in my ex-
Croſ.Leave out correction then.
Kat.If I were forward as many Maidens are,
To wiſh a husband, muſt I not be ſought?
I never was a Gadder: and my Mother,
Before ſhe dy’d, adjur’d me to be none.
I hope you’ll give me leave to keep your houſe.
Croſ.La there again! How ſubtly ſhe ſeeks dominion
over me! No, huſwife, No; you keep no houſe of mine.
I’ll neſtle you no longer under my wing. Are you not
fledge; I’ll have you fly out I, as other mens daughters
do; and keep a houſe of your own if you can find it.
Gab.We had a kinſwoman flew out too late-
Croſ.What tell’ſt thou me of her; wiſe-acres? Can
they not flie out a little, but they muſt turne arrant
vvhores, ha? Tell me of your kinſwoman? ’Tis true,
she was my Neece; ſhe vvent to’t a little afore her
time? ſome tvvo years ſince, and ſo fled from Re-
ligion; and is turn’d Turk, vve fear. And vvhat of that
in your preciſianical vviſdom? I have ſuch children
as no man has. But (as I vvas ſaying,) vvould ye top
me husvvife, ha! Look you, novv I chide her, she
sayes nothing. Is this obedience, ha?
Kat.Perhaps, I might unfortunately caſt my affecti-
on on a man that vvould refuſe me.
Croſ.That man I vvould deſire to knovv; ſhevv
me that man; ſee if I ſvvinge him not dares ſlight
B 4Cock.
The Covent-Garden Weeded.
Cock.Still the old humour, ſelf-vvill’d, croſſe, and
touchie; but ſuddainly reconcil’d. Come Mr.
Croſ-
Croſ.Oh, you told me of a houſe you had found
Cock.Yes Sir. And here’s the Landlord.
Croſ.Does he look, or go like one could let a houſe
Cock.Sir, vve have able Builders here, that vvill
not carry leaſt ſhevv of their buildings on their backs.
This is a rich ſufficient man, I aſſure you, and my
Croſ.I cry him heartily mercy, and embrace him.
And novv I note you better, you look like Thrift it
Enter Dorcas above upon a Bellconie. Gabriel
gazes at her. Dorcas is habited like a
Curtizan of Venice.
I cannot think you vvill throvv avvay your houſes at
a cast. You have a ſonne, perhaps, that may, by
the commendations you gave of him. Lets ſee your
Cock.Come avvay Mr.
Gabriel.
Croſ.Come Sir, vvhat do you gape and ſhake the
head at there? I’ll lay my life he has ſpied the little
Croſſe upon the nevv Church yond, and is at defiance
vvith it.
Sirrah, I vvill make you honour the firſt
ſyllable of my name. My name is
Will. Croſwill,
and I vvill have my humour. Let thoſe that talk of me
for it, ſpeak their pleaſure, I vvill do mine.
Gab.I ſhall obey you, Sir.
Croſ.Novv you are in the right. You ſhall indeed.
I’ll make your heart ake elſe, dee ſee.
Gab.But truly I vvas looking at that Image; that
[B4v]painted
The Covent-Garden Weeded.
painted idolatrous image yonder, as I take it.
Cock.O hereſie! It is ſome Lady or Gentlewo-
man ſtanding upon her Bellconey.
Belt.Her Bellconey? Where is it? I can ſpy
from her foot to her face, yet I can ſee no Bellconey
Cock.What a Knave’s this: That’s the Bellconey
ſhe ſands on, that which jets out ſo on the forepart
of the houſe; every houſe here has one of ’hem.
Belt.’Tis very good; I like the jetting out of the
forepart very well; it is a gallant faſhion indeed.
Cock.I gueſs what ſhe is, what ere I have ſaid. O
Juſtice look to thine office.
Croſ.Come now to this house, and then to my ſon
Mihil, the Spark you ſpoke of. And if I find him croſs
too, I’le croſs him: Let him look to’t. Dee ſee.
Cock.I’le ſee you hous’d; and then about my pro-
ject, which is for
weeding of this
hopeful Garden. Ex.
omnes.
Gabriel stayes last looking up at her.
Dam.Why ſhould not we in
England uſe that free-
The famous Curtezans have in
Italy:
We have the art, and know the Theory
To allure and catch the wandring eyes of Lovers;
Yea, and their hearts too: but our ſtricter Lawes
Forbids the publique practiſe, our deſires
Are high as theirs; our wills as apt and forward;
Our wits as ripe, our beauties more attractive;
Or Travellers are ſhrewd lyars. Where’s the let?
Only in baſhful coward cuſtome, that
Stoops i’the ſhoulders, and ſubmits the neck
To bondage of Authority; to theſe Lawes,
That men of feeble age and weaker eye-ſight
Have fram’d to bar their ſons from youthful pleasures.
Poſſets and Cawdels on their queaſie ſtomacks,
[B5r]Whilſt
The Covent-Garden Weeded.
Whilst I fly out in brave rebellion;
And offer, at the leaſt, to break theſe ſhackles
That holds our legs together: And begin
A faſhion, which purſu’d by
Cyprian Dames,
May perſwade Juſtice to allow our Games.
Who knows? I’le try.
Franciſca bring my Lute.
Enter Fran. with Lute.
While ſhe is tuning her Lute: Enter Nich.
Rookesbill, Anthony in a falſe beard,
Clotpoll.
Clot.Troth I have a great mind to be one of the
Philoblathici, a Brother of the Blade and Battoon, as
you tranſlate it; now ye have beat it into my head:
But I fear I shall never come on and off handſomely.
I have mettal enough methinks, but I know not how
Nich.We’l help you out with it, and ſet it flying
Clot.Obotts, you mean my money mettal, I mean
Clot.T’other flyes faſt enough already.
Song.
Clot.Moſt odious, Did you ſay? It is methinks moſt
Ant.What new deviſe can this be? Look!
Nic.She is vaniſht. Is’t not the Mountebanks
Wife that was here; and now come again to play ſome
new merry tricks by her ſelf.
[B5v]Clot.
The Covent-Garden Weeded.
Clot.A botts on’t, I never ſaw that Mountebank;
they ſay, he brought the firſt reſort into this new plan-
tation, and ſow’d ſo much ſeed of Knavery and Co-
zenage here, that ’tis fear’d ’twill never out.
Nic.Nay but this creature: What can ſhe be?
Clot.And then again, he drew such flocks of idle
people to him, that the Players, they ſay, curſt him
Ant,Thou ever talk’ſt of the wrong matter.
Clot.Cry mercy Brothers of the Blade and Bat-
toune: Do you think if I give my endeavour to it, I
ſhall ever learn to roar and carry it as you do, that
have it naturally, as you ſay.
Nic.Yes, as we’ll beat it into you. But this wo-
man, this muſical woman, that ſet her ſelf out to
ſhow ſo, I would be ſatisfied in her.
Clot.And ſhe be as able as ſhe ſeems, ſhe has in
her to ſatiſfie you, and you were a Brother of ten
Blades, and ten Battounes.
Nic.I vow–Peace. I’le battoune thy teeth into
thy tongue elsſ; ſhe bears a ſtately preſence. Thou
never ſaw’ſt her before: Didſt thou
Toney?
Ant.No; but I heard an inkling at the
Paris
Tavern laſt night of a She-Gallant that had travelled
France and
Italy; and that ſhe would–
(Clot.Battoun thy teeth into thy tongue.)
write table.
Ant.Plant ſome of her forraign collections, the
fruits of her travels, in this Garden here, to try how
they would grow or thrive on Engliſh earth.
Nic.Young
Pig was ſpeaking of ſuch a one to me,
and that ſhe was a Mumper.
Clot.What’s that a Siſter of the Scabberd, brother
Nic.Come, come; we’l in, we’l in; ’tis one of
our fathers buildings; I’le ſee the Inhabitants. Some
money
Clot. furniſh I ſay, and quickly.–I vow–
[B6r]Clot.
The Covent-Garden Weeded.
Clot.You ſhall, you shall.
Clot.Vow twice before you have it.
Nic.I vow, and I vow again, I’le coyn thy brains.–
Clot.Hold, hold, take your powl money; I thought
I would have my will; and the word I look for,
I’le
I do not love to give my money for nothing, I
have a volume of words here, the worſt of ’hem is as
good as a blow; and then I ſave my Crown whole
half a dozen times a day, by half a crown a time, there’s
half in half ſav’d by that.
Nic.Come let’s appear civil, till we have our en-
trance, and then as occaſion ſerves–
Knock.
Enter Fran.
[Link] Who would you ſpeak withal?
Nic.Your Miſtreſs, little one.
Fran.Do you know her Sir?
Nic.No; but I would know her that’s the buſi-
ness: I mean the muſical Gentlewoman that was
fidling, and ſo many in the What-doe-call’t een now.
Fran.What-doe-call her Sir, I pray?
Nic.What-doe-call her; ’tis not come to that
yet, prethee let me ſee and ſpeak with her firſt.
Fran.You are dispoſ’d I think.
Nic.What ſhould we do here elſe?
Fra.You wont thruſt in upon a body whether one
Fra.O me, What do you mean?
Clot.O my brave
Philoblathici.–
Ex. omnes.
Enter Dorcas, alias Damaris, Madge.
Dam.What’s the matter the Girl cryes out ſo?
[B6v]Ma.
The Covent-Garden Weeded.
Ma.I know not: I fear some rude company,
some of the wild crew are broke into the houſe.
Fran. Within. Whether would you go, you wont
Nic.Will ye be quiet Whiskin?
Ma.O me ’tis ſo: Hell’s broke looſe; this comes
of your new fingle-fangle faſhion, your prepoſtrous
Italian way forſooth: would I could have kept my
old way of pots and pipes, and my Strong-water
courſe for cuſtomers: The very firſt twang of your
fiddle guts has broke all, and conjur’d a legion of de-
Enter Nic. Ant. Clot.
Nic.Nay, there’s but a Leaſh of us. How now?
Who have we here? Are theſe the far travel’d Ladies?
O thou party perpale, or rather parboild Bawd.
Nic.Art thou travel’d croſs the Seas from the
Bankſide hither, old Counteſs of Codpiece-row?
Clot.Party perpale and parboild Bawd.–
Write.
Ant.And is this the Damſel that has been in
Mad.Peace ye roaring Scabs: I’le beſworn ſhe
ſupt at
Paris Tavern laſt night, and lay not long ago
at the
Venice by
Whitefryers Dock.
Nic.Prethee what is ſhe
Madge?
Mad.A civil Gentlewoman you ſee ſhe is.
Nic.She has none of the beſt faces: but is ſhe war-
rantable; I have not had a civil night theſe three
Madge.Nor none are like to have here, I aſſure
Nic.O
Madge how I do long thy thing to ding
[B7r]Mad.
The Covent-Garden Weeded.
Mad.O
Nick, I am not in the humour, no more
is she to be o’the merry pin now; I am ſure her caſe
is too lamentable. But if you will all ſit down, I’le
give you a bottle of wine, and we’l relate her ſtory to
you, ſo you will be civil.
A Table bottle, light, and Tobacco ſtales.
Let us ſet to’t then; ſit down brother
Toney, ſit
down Gentlewoman, we ſhall know your name a-
non, I hope it will fall in your ſtory; ſit down
Clot-
Clot.You will call me brother
Clotpoll too when I
have taken my oath, and paid my entrance into the
faternity of the Blade and the Battoun.
Nic.’Tis like we ſhall. Now Lady of the Stygian
Lake, thou black infernal
Madge, begin the diſmal
ſtory, whilſt I begin the bottle.
Mad.This Gentlewoman whoſe name is
Damyris.
Nic.Damyris ſtay. Her nick-name then is
Dammy,
ſo we may call her when we grow familiar: and to
begin that familiarity,
Dammy here’s to you.–
drink.
Dam.And what’s your nick-name I pray Sir?
Nic.Nick: only
Nick,
Madge there knows it.
Dam.Then I believe your name is
Nicholas.
Nic.I vow–witty. Yes
Dammy, and my Sirname
is
Rookesbill, and ſo is my Fathers too: and what do
Dam.Nothing not I Sir: ſure this is he.
Nic.And I would he were nothing, ſo I had all
he has: I muſt have tother glaſs to waſh him out of my
mouth, he furs it worſe then Mondongas Tobacco.
Here old
Madge, and to all the birds that ſhall won-
der at thy howletſhip, when thou rid’ſt in an Ivy-bush,
[B7v]Mad.
The Covent-Garden Weeded.
Mad.Well mad
Nick, I’le pledge thee in hope to
ſee as many flutter about the tree, that thou ſhalt clime
Nic.A pox thou wilt be ſtifled with Offal and Car-
ret leaves before that day.
Dam.Fie, fie, what talk’s this? ’tis he I am confi-
Mad.Theſe are our ordinary complements, we
Nic.No
Dammy I vow, not I to any breathing.
Mad.But your Father Nick.–Is he that
Rookeſ-
Nic.But my Fathet; Pox rot ye, why do ye put
me in mind of him again, he ſticks i’my throat, now
I’le waſh him a little further.–Here Brother
Toney
Ant.Gramercy Brother
Nick.
Clot.And to all the brothers that are, and are to be
of the Blade and the Battoun.
Nic.There ſaid you well
Clotpoll: Here ’tis–
Drink.
Mad. ſets away the Bottle.
Mad.I would but have asked you whether your
Father were that
Rookesbill that is call’d the great
Nic.Yes marry is it he forſooth; he has built I
know not how many houſes hereabout, though he
goes
Dammy as if he were not worth a groat; and all
his cloaths I vow are not worth this hilt, except thoſe
he wears, and prayes for fair weather in, on my Lord
Mayors Day; and you are his Tenant, though perhaps
you know it not, and may be mine; therefore uſe me
well: for this houſe and the reſt I hope will be mine,
as well as I can hope he is mortal, of which I muſt
confeſs I have been in ſome doubt, though now I
hope again, he will be the firſt ſhall lay his bones i’the
new Church, though the Church-yard be too good
[B8r]for
The Covent-Garden Weeded.
for him before ’tis conſecrated. So give me the to-
ther cup, for now he offends my ſtomack. Here’s to
Clot.And to all the Siſters of the Scabberd Bro-
ther in Election. Dee hear, Pray talk of his father
no more, for the next brings him to the belly-work,
and then he’ll drink him quite through him.
Mad.And ſo we ſhall have a foul houſe.
Ant.No he ſhall ſtick there. Now to the ſtory
Gentlewoman, ’twas that we ſate for.
Nic.I to the ſtory, I vow I had almoſt forgot it;
and I am the worſt at Sack in a morning: Dear
Dam-
Dam.Good Sir my heart’s too full to utter’t.
Nic.Troth and my head’s too full to hear it: But
I’le go out and quarrel with ſome body to ſettle my
brains, then go down to
Mich. Croſſewill to put him
in mind of our meeting to day; then if you will meet
me at the Goat at Dinner, wee’ll have it all at large.
Dam.Will you be there indeed Sir, I would ſpeak
Nic.Dammy if I be not, may my father out live
Ant.We both here promiſe you he ſhall be there by
Clot.’Lady, ’tis ſworn by Blade and by Battoun.
Nic.This will be the braveſt diſcovery for
Mihill,
the new
Italian Bona Roba Catſoe.
Mad.Why ſo ſad on the ſuddain Niece.
Dam.But do you think hee’ll come as he has pro-
Mad.He never breaks a promiſe with any of us,
though he fail all the honeſt part o’the world: But I
trust you are not taken with the Ruffian, you’ll nere
get penny by him.
Exeunt Nic. Anth. and Clodp.
Dam.I prethee peace, I care not.
[B8v]En-
The Covent-Garden Weeded.
Enter Rafe.
Ra.But Myſtris, there is a Gallant now below,
a Gingle boy indeed, that has his pockets full of
crowns that chide for vent. Shall
I call him up to
Mad.How’s that? I hope you jeſt.
Dam.Indeed, I hope you jest.
Mad.You will not hinder the houſe, I hope.
Marry heigh. This were a humour and ’twould
Dam.I’le flie then out at window. Nay, by this
Mad.What’s the matter? have
I got a mad wo-
man into the houſe. What do you go about to break
me the firſt day of your coming, before you have han-
ſell’d a Couch or a Bedſide in’t. Were you but now
all o’th heigh to ſet your ſelf out for a ſigne with your
fiddle cum twang, and promiſe ſuch wonders, for-
ſooth, and will not now be ſeen. Pray what’s the
Dam.I’ll tell thee all anon. Prithie excuſe me.
I know thy ſhare of his ſins bounty would not come
to thus much, take it,
I give it thee. And prithee
let me be honeſt till
I have a minde to be otherwiſe,
and
I’le hinder thee nothing.
Ma.Well,
I’le diſmiſſe the Gallant, and ſend
you,
Sirrah, for another wench.
I’le have
Beſſe
Bufflehead again. This kickſy wincy Giddibrain will
ſpoil all.
I’le no more
Italian tricks.–
Ex. with Rafe.
[Link] Thus ſome have by the phrenſie of deſpair
Fumouſly run into the ſea to throw
Their wretched bodies, but when come near
They ſaw the billows riſe, heard
Boreas blow,
CAnd
The Covent-Garden Weeded.
And horrid death appearing on the Maine,
A ſudden fear hath ſent them back again.