THE SPARAGUS GARDEN
A COMEDY.

The Persons in the Comedy.

[Link]
GILBERT [Goldwire*]
WALTER [Chamlet*]
}young gentlemen and friends.
[Samson] TOUCHWOOD*
[William] STRIKER
}old adversaries and Justices.
SAMUEL, son to Touchwood.
[Sir Hugh] MONEYLACKS, a needy knight, that lives by shifts.
[John] BRITTLEWARE, confederate with Moneylacks.
Tim[othy] HOYDEN, the new made gentleman.
COULTER, his man.
Thomas [TOM] Hoyden, Tim[othy] Hoyden’s [half] brother.
Sir Arnold CAUTIOUS, a stale bachelor and a ridiculous lover of women.
A GARDENER.*
[Ambodexter*] TRAMPLER, a lawyer.
[Master Pancridge*, the] CURATE
[Two LITTERMEN or Sedan carriers]
Three COURTIERS.
ANNABEL, daughter to Moneylacks and grandchild to Striker.
[Fid] FRISWOOD, her nurse, and housekeeper to Striker [and also aunt to Rebecca Brittleware].
REBECCA, wife to Brittleware [and Friswood’s niece].
MARTHA, the gardener’s [Dutch] wife.
Three LADIES.
[BOY.]
[SPRING.]
[A CITY WIFE.]
[A GENTLEMAN.]
[A SERVANT]

The Prologue to the Play.


2Prologue.He, that his wonted modesty retains,
        And never set a price upon his brains
        Above your judgment,: nor did ever strive
        By arrogance or ambition to achieve
        More praise unto himself, or more applause
        Unto his scenes, than such as know the laws
        Of comedy do give; he only those
        Now prays may scan his verse and weigh his prose:
        Yet thus far he thinks meet to let you know
        Before you see’t: the subject is so low,
        That to expect high language or much cost,
        Were a sure way, now, to make all be lost.
        Pray look for none. He’ll promise such hereafter
        To take your graver judgments; now your laughter
        Is all he aims to move. I had more to say —
        The title, too, may prejudice the play.
        It says 'The Sparagus Garden'. If you look
        To feast on that, the title spoils the book.
        We have yet a taste of it, which he doth lay
        I’th midst o’the journey*, like a bait by th’ way:
        Now see with candour: as our poet’s free,
        Pray let be so your ingenuity.

ACT ONE*
1.1
WALTER and GILBERT [enter].*

3WalterI fear we shall do no good upon him.

4GilbertWe shall nevertheless discharge the office of friends in our endeavour. I mean to put it home to him.

5WalterAnd so will I.

6GilbertBut be sure you lie at a close ward the while; for he is a most subtle and dangerous fencer to deal withal.*

7WalterI understand you.

8GilbertHe has not his name for nothing, old Touchwood!* He’s all fire if he be incensed, but so soft and gentle that you may wind him about your finger, or carry him in your bosom, if you handle him rightly. But, still, be wary, for the least spark kindles him. He comes.
[TOUCHWOOD enters.]

9TouchwoodWith me, gentlemen?

10GilbertOnly a few neighbourly and friendly words*, sir.

11TouchwoodOh, you are most friendly welcome, good Master Gilbert Goldwire.   [Offers his hand to GILBERT and then turns to WALTER]   And Master Walter Chamlet, I take ye to be?

12Gilbert and Walter [together]*The same, sir, at your service.

13TouchwoodYour fathers both were my good neighbours*, indeed; worthy and well reputed members of the city while they lived. But that may be read upon the hospital walls and gates*; it is enough for me to say they loved me, Samson* Touchwood. And I were a wretch if I should not honour their memory in their happy succession. Again, gentlemen, you are welcome.

14GilbertYet you may be pleased, sir, to remember, though our fathers were both loving friends to you, yet they were sometimes at odds one with another.

15TouchwoodTrue, true, ever at odds. They were the common talk of the town for a pair of wranglers. Still at strife for one trifle or other, they were at law loggerheads* together in one match that held ’em tugging th’one the t’other by the purse-strings a matter of nine years, and all for a matter of nothing. They coursed one another from court to court, and through every court, temporal and spiritual, and held one another play* till they lost a thousand pound a man to the lawyers, and till it was very sufficiently adjudged that your father was one fool, and your father was another fool. And so again, gentlemen, you are welcome. Now, your business?

16WalterYou may now be pleased, sir, to remember that our fathers grew friends at last.

17TouchwoodHeaven forbid else!

18GilbertAnd note the cause, the ground of their reconciliation, which was upon the love betwixt me and this gentleman’s sister. My father’s son married his father’s daughter, and our two fathers grew friends and wise men again.

19TouchwoodTo the point, good gentlemen; yet, you are welcome.

20GilbertTroth, sir, the point is this: you know (and the town has ta’en sufficient notice of it) that there has been a long contention betwixt you and old Master Striker your neighbour –


22GilbertAnd the cause or ground of your quarrel (for aught anybody knows but yourselves) may be as trivial as that which was derided in our fathers.

23TouchwoodAre you there with me?*

24GilbertAnd great hopes there are and wagers, laid by your friends on both sides, that you two will be friends.

25TouchwoodI’ll hold you an hundred pounds o’ that.

26GilbertNay, more, that Master Striker will be willing to give his grandchild to your son, so you’ll give your consent.

27TouchwoodAnd your coming is to persuade that, is it not? If it be so, speak; deal plainly with me, gentlemen, whilst yet you are welcome.

28WalterInsooth it is so, we come to negotiate the match for your son, and your friendship with old Master Striker.

29TouchwoodYou are not welcome.

30GilbertBut when you weigh the reasons and consider the perfect love of the young pair, and how the world will praise your reconciliation and bless the providence that made their loves the means to work their parents’ charity?

31TouchwoodAgain? You are not welcome.

32GilbertYourself but now commended the atonement
        Of our two fathers, wrought by the same means:
        I mean my marriage with his sister here
        Against as great an opposition.

33WalterBut our fathers loved their children.

34TouchwoodYour fathers were a couple of doting fools, and you a pair of saucy knaves. Now you are not welcome; and more than so, get you out of my doors!

35GilbertWill you sir, by your wilfulness, cast away your son?

36TouchwoodMy son? No son of mine, I have cast him off already for casting an eye upon the daughter of mine enemy. Let him go; let him pack; let him perish. He comes not within these doors; and you, that are his fine spoken spokesmen, get you off o’my ground, I charge you.

37WalterWe are gone, sir: only but wishing you Master Touchwood to remember that your son’s your son.

38TouchwoodIndefinitely not, sir; until he does not only renounce all interest in the love of that baggage, but do some extraordinary mischief in that family to right me for the trespass he has done; and so win my good opinion, till which be done a daily curse of mine he shall not miss; and so you may inform him.[TOUCHWOOD] Exit[s].

39GilbertWhat an uncharitable wretch is this?

40WalterThe touchiest piece of Touchwood that e’er I met withal.

41GilbertI feared we should inflame him.

42WalterAll the comfort is his son may yet outlive him.

43GilbertBut the danger is his father may disinherit him.

44WalterHe cannot be so devilish.    [SAMUEL enters, deep in contemplation.]*    Here comes his son, a gentleman of so sweet a disposition and so contrary to his crabbed sire that a man who never heard of his mother’s virtue might wonder who got him for him.

45GilbertNot at all I assure you. Sam is his father’s known son, for the old man, you see, is gentle enough till he be incensed; and the son, being moved, is as fiery as the father.

46WalterBut he is very seldom and slowly moved; his father often and o’the sudden.

47GilbertAye, prithee, would’st thou have green wood* take fire as soon as that which is old and sere?

48WalterHe is deep in thought.

49GilbertOver head and ears in his Mistress Contemplation.

50SamuelTo disobey a father is a crime*
        In any son unpardonable. Is this rule
        So general that it can bear no exception?
        Or is a father’s power so illimitable
        As to command his son’s affections
        And so control the conqueror of all men
        Even Love himself*? No: he, that enterprises
        So great a work forgets he is a man;
        And must in that forget he is a father,
        And so if he forgo his nature, I
        By the same law may leave my piety.
        But, stay, I would not lose myself in following
        This wild conceit.

51GilbertHow now, Sam, whither away?

52SamuelI was but casting how to find the way
        Unto myself. Can you direct me, gentlemen?

53WalterYes, yes; your father has told us the way.

54SamuelHa’ you had conference with him? Ha’ye? Speak!

55GilbertMarry, sir, ha’we, and I think to purpose.

56SamuelHa’ you won ought upon him to my advantage?

57WalterAs much as may restore you to acquaintance
        With him again, can you but make good use on’t.

58SamuelPray do not trifle with me; tell me briefly.

59GilbertBriefly, he says you must not dare to see him;
        Nor hope to receive blessing to the value
        Of a new threepence, till you disclaim your love
        In your fair Annabel; and not only so,
        But you must do some villanous mischievous act
        To vex his adversary, her grandfather,
        Or walk beneath his curse in banishment.

60SamuelA most uncharitable and unnatural sentence!

61WalterBut think withal it is your father that
        Makes this decree. Obey him in the execution.
        He has a great estate, you are his only son:
        Do not lose him, your fortune, and yourself
        For a frail piece of beauty: shake her off,
        And do some notable thing against her house.
        To please your father.

62SamuelThe devil speaks it in thee,
        And with this spell I must conjure him out.[SAMUEL] Draw[s his sword].

63GilbertOh, friend, you are too violent.

64SamuelHe’s too desperate
        To urge me to an act of such injustice!
        Can her fair love, to whom my faith is given,
        Be answered with so loud an injury?
        Or can my faith so broken yield a sound
        Less terrible than thunder to affright
        All love and constancy out of the breast
        Of every virgin that shall hear the breach
        Of my firm faith?

65GilbertBe not so passionate!

66SamuelI have no further power to do an outrage
        Against that family to whom my heart
        Is linked, than to rip out this troubled heart
        The only ominous cause, indeed, of all –
        My over-passionate father’s cruelty. And that
        (If I must needs do an injurious office)
        Alone, shall be my act to calm his fury.

67GilbertPrithee, blow o’er this passion. Thou wert wont
        To affect wit, and canst not be a lover
        Truly without it. Love is wit itself,
        And through a thousand lets will find a way
        To his desired end.

68SamuelThe ballet taught you that.*
[SAMUEL lets his sword fall again.]

69GilbertWell said. Love will find out the way.
        I see thou art coming to thy self again.
        Can there no shift, no witty slight, be found
        (That have been common in all times and ages)
        To blind the eyes of a weak-sighted father,
        And reconcile these dangerous differences
        But by blood-shedding or outrageous deeds,
        To make the feud the greater? Recollect
        Thyself, good Sam; my house, my purse, my counsel
        Shall all be thine, and Wat shall be thy friend.

70WalterLet me entreat your friendship.

71SamuelAnd me your pardon.
[SAMUEL and WALTER shake hands*.]

72GilbertSo, so, all friends; let’s home and there consult
        To lay the tempest of thy father’s fury;
        Which cannot long be dangerous; ’tis but like
        A storm in April, spent in swift extremes
        When straight the sun shoots forth his cheerful beams.[GILBERT, SAMUEL, and WALTER] Ex[it].
1.2*
STRIKER and MONEYLACKS [enter].

73StrikerYou will not assault me in mine own house*? I hope you will not; nor urge me beyond my patience with your borrowing attempts! Good Sir Hugh Moneylacks, I hope you will not.

74MoneylacksI hope I moved you not, but in fair language, sir;
        Nor spoke a syllable that might offend you.
        I have not used the word of ‘loan’ or ‘borrowing’;
        Only some private conference I requested.

75StrikerPrivate conference! A new coined word for borrowing of money. I tell you, your very face, your countenance (though it be glossed* with knighthood) looks so borrowingly that the best words you give me are as dreadful as ‘Stand and deliver*’ and there I think I was wi’ye*. I am plain wi’ye, sir, old Will Striker, aye.

76MoneylacksMy father Striker, I am bold to call you.

77StrikerYour father! No, I desire no such near acquaintance with you, good Sir Hugh Moneylacks: you are a knight and a noble gentleman and I am but an esquire and out of debt; and there I think I was wi’ye again.

78MoneylacksI shall be with you, anon, when you have talked yourself out of breath.

79Striker’Tis true I had the honour to be your worship’s father in law when time was that your knighthood married and ladified a poor daughter of mine. But yet she had five thousand pounds in her purse, if you please to remember it; and, as I remember, you had then fourteen hundred a year: but where is it now? And where is my daughter now? Poor abused innocent; your riotousness abroad and her long night watches at home shortened her days and cast her into her grave – And ’twas not long before all your estate was buried too; and there I was wi’ye again, I take it. But that could not fetch her again*.

80MoneylacksNo sir, I wish my life might have excused
        Hers, far more precious. Never had a man
        A juster cause to mourn.

81StrikerNor mourned more justly: it is your only wearing*. You have just none other, nor have had means to purchase better any time these seven years as I take it. By which means you have got the name of the mourning knight; and there I am sure I was wi’ye.

82MoneylacksSir, if you will not be pleased to hear my desires to you, let me depart without your derision.

83StrikerEven when you please, and whither you please, good Sir Hugh Moneylacks: my house shall be no enchanted castle to detain your knight-errantship from your adventures*. I hope your errand hither was but for your dinner, and so far forth (and especially at your going forth) you are welcome. Your daughter I do keep, and will for her poor mother’s sake that was my daughter, peace be with her. She shall be no more a trouble to you, nor be your child any longer: I have made her mine. I will adopt her into mine own name* and make her a Striker; she shall be no more a Moneylacks, and if she please me well in matching with a husband, I know what I will do for her.

84MoneylacksI thank you, sir.

85StrikerDo you thank me, sir? I assure you you need not; for I mean so to order her estate and bind it up in that trust that you shall never finger a farthing on’t: am I wi’ye, sir?

86MoneylacksI cannot choose but thank you though in behalf of my child.

87StrikerCall her your child again, or let me but hear that you suffer her to ask you a bare blessing, I’ll send her after you upon adventures, Sir Knight: and who shall give a portion with her then? Or what can she hope from a father that groans under the weight of a knighthood for want of means to support it?

88MoneylacksI shall find means to live without your trouble hereafter.

89StrikerYou may, you may. You have a wit, Sir Hugh, and a projective one*. What, have you some new project afoot now to outgo that of the handbarrows* – what call you ’em, the sedans*? Oh, cry you mercy, cry you mercy; I heard you had put in for a share at the Asparagus Garden*, or that at least you have a pension thence – to be their gather-guest* and bring ’em custom – and that you play the Fly of The New Inn* there and sip with all companies. Am I wi’ye there, sir?

90MoneylacksYou may be when you please, sir. I can command the best entertainment there for your money.

91StrikerIn good time, sir.

92MoneylacksIn the meantime, sir, I had no mind to beg nor borrow of you, and though you will not give me leave to call you father, nor my daughter my daughter, yet I thought it might become my care to advertise you (that have taken the care of her from me) of a danger that will much afflict you, if it be not carefully prevented.

93StrikerHow’s this?

94MoneylacksYou have an adversary –

95StrikerBut one that I know, the rascal, my neighbour Touchwood.

96MoneylacksThere I am wi’ye, sir. I am informed that his only son is an earnest suitor to your daughter (I must not call her mine)

97StrikerHow’s that?

98MoneylacksThat there is a deep secret love betwixt ’em; and that they have had many private meetings; and a stolen match very likely to be made if you prevent it not.

99StrikerCan this be true?

100MoneylacksGive me but a piece from you, and if by due examination you find it not so, I’ll never see your face again till you send for me.

101StrikerTo be rid of you, take it.Gives [MONEYLACKS the money].

102MoneylacksI am gone, sir, and yet I think I’m wi’ye.[MONEYLACKS] Exit[s].

103StrikerIs the devil become a match-broker*? What, who within there? What?[He calls offstage]
        Annabel? What, Friswood?
FRISWOOD [enters]

104FriswoodHere, sir, I am here forsooth.

105StrikerAre you so, forsooth? But where’s your mistress, forsooth?

106Friswood   [Aside]*   Listening is good sometimes; I heard their talk, and am glad on’t.

107StrikerWhere is your mistress, I say?

108FriswoodMy mistress, Annabel, forsooth, my young mistress?

109StrikerWhat other mistress hast thou but the devil’s dam herself, your old mistress*? And her I ask not for, good Mistress Flibber de Jibb* with the French fly-flap o’your coxcomb.

110Friswood   [Aside]   Is the old man mad trow?

111StrikerI ask for Annabel.

112FriswoodBless me, how do you look!

113StrikerWhere’s Annabel I say? Fetch her me quickly, lest I beat her out of your old white-leather hide*.

114FriswoodHow youthful you are grown! She is not far to fetch, sir; you know you commanded her to her chamber and not to appear in sight till her debauched father was gone out o’the house.

115StrikerAnd is not he gone now forsooth? Why call you her not?

116FriswoodI warrant he has told you some tale on her. That lewd knight, now he has undone himself by his unthrifty practices, begins to practise the undoing of his daughter too! Is it not so forsooth? Has he not put some wickedness into your head to set you against her?

117StrikerI never knew thee a witch till now.

118FriswoodHa, ha, ha; I warrant he told you that your adversary Touchwood’s son and my mistress Annabel are in love-league together*.

119StrikerMarry did he; and I will know the truth.

120FriswoodHa, ha, ha!

121StrikerDarest thou laugh at me?

122FriswoodNo, no; but I laugh at the poor knight’s officiousness in hope of some great reward for the gullery that I put upon him: ha, ha, ha*. Good sir, a little patience, and I will tell you. Ha, ha, ha – ’twas I that devised it for a lie, and told it him in hope that his telling it to you would provoke you to beat him out o’the house for reporting a thing that had had no probability or resemblance of truth in it.

123StrikerIs it but so?

124FriswoodSir, I have been your creature this thirty years, down lying and uprising* (as you know), and you should believe me. You had me in my old mistress’s days ――

125StrikerAye, thou wast a handsome young wench then; now thou art old.

126FriswoodYet not so wondrous old as to be sung in a ballet* for’t, or to have been able ere Adam wore beard to have crept into Eve’s bed, as I did into my mistress’s*. Heaven pardon you, as I do with all my heart.Weep[s].

127StrikerWhat in thy fooleries now?

128FriswoodNor so old neither but you are content to make a sorry shift with me still, as your abilities will serve you* ――Weep[s].

129StrikerCome, come; thou art not old.

130FriswoodNay that’s not what troubles me; but that I, that served you before your daughter was born – I mean your daughter that was mother to this daughter which now you have made your daughter* – that I that saw the birth, the marriage, and the death of your daughter and have had the governance of this her daughter ever since, till now she is marriageable; and have all this while been as pliant as a twig about you, and as true as the sheath to your steel*, as we say, that I should now be mistrusted to connive at an ill match for her, for whom my chiefest care has been from the cradle? There’s the unkindness.Weep[s].

131StrikerEnough, enough; Fid*, I believe there is no such matter.

132FriswoodI thought you had known me–Weep[s].

133StrikerI do, I do; I prithee, good Fid*, be quiet, it was a witty trick of thee to mock the poor knight withal. But, a pox on him, he cost me a piece for his news. There’s another for thee:   [Gives FRISWOOD some money.]   but the best is he hath tied himself by it never to trouble me more; I have that into my bargain.

134FriswoodAnd you would tie me so, too, would you?[She tries to give the money back to him.]

135StrikerNot so, Fid, not so; but look to my girl, and thus far mark me: if ever I find that young Touchwood, the son of that miscreant whose hatred I would not lose for all the good neighbourhood in the parish*; if ever I say, he and your charge do but look upon one another, I’ll turn her and you both out o’ doors. There I will be wi’ye, look to’t.

136FriswoodAgreed, sir; agreed.

137StrikerLook to’t, I say. I must abroad; my anger is not over yet. I would l could meet my adversary to scold it out; I shall be sick else. [STRIKER] Exit[s].

138Friswood   [Aside]   ’Twas well I overheard’em; my young lovers had been spoiled else. Had not I crossed the old angry man’s purpose before he had met with the young timorous virgin, she had confessed all; and all had been dashed now.
ANNABEL [enters.]

139AnnabelHow now, Fris, is my grandfather gone out of door?

140FriswoodIf he were as safe out o’the world, it were well for you.

141AnnabelNay, say not so, good Fris.

142FriswoodYour unlucky father has destroyed all your hopes in Master Sam Touchwood; in discovering your loves (what devil soever gave him the intelligence) and you must resolve never to see your sweet Sam again.

143AnnabelI must resolve to die first: oh!Sinks.

144Friswood’Ods pity! How now! Why mistress, why Annabel, why mistress Annabel; look up, look up, I say, and you shall have him ’spite of your grandfather and all his works. What, do you think I am an infidel to take Master Samuel’s forty pieces and a runlet of old muscadine for nothing? Come, be well, and indeed you shall have him.

145AnnabelOh, Sam, sweet Sam ――

146Friswood   [Aside]   These lovesick maids seldom call upon other saints than their sweethearts.   [To ANNABEL]   Look up I say, your sweet Sam is coming.

147AnnabelHa, where? where is he? Why do you abuse me?

148FriswoodI say he will come presently. Look up, I say. Forgive me, he comes indeed:
SAMUEL enters*


   [Aside]   my master thought I was a witch, and I now suspect myself for one.   [To SAMUEL]   Oh master Samuel, how came you hither?   [To ANNABEL]   Here he is, mistress.   [To SAMUEL]   What mean you to come now to undo her and yourself too? Yet she had died and you had not come as you did.   [To ANNABEL]   Why do you not look upon him and be well?   [To SAMUEL]   Get you gone, we are all undone if my master come back and find you. Speak to her quickly, then kiss her and part; you will be parted for ever else.

149SamuelHow fares my love?

150AnnabelBetter than when I was an earthly being,
        This bosom is a heaven to me; through death
        I am arrived at bliss, most happily,
        To be so well revived thou mad’st me die.

151FriswoodI made you not die as you will die if you stand prattling till my master return and take you. For, Master Samuel, I must tell you, Master Samuel, he knows all, Master Samuel.

152SamuelMy father knows as much, and that’s the cause
        Of my adventuring hither to instruct you
        In a strange practice; here it is in writing[Reveals] A paper.
        ’Tis such a secret that I durst not trust
        My tongue with the conveyance of’t; nor have I
        The confidence to hear it read: take it,
        And in my absence join your best advises
        To give it life and action; ’tis rule
        Which (though both hard and grievous to pursue)
        Is all that can our hopes in love renew.

153FriswoodWhat horrible thing must we do trow? Pray, let me see the paper. I hope there is no pistolling nor poisoning in it. Though my old Striker come short of the man he was to be* with me, I would be loath to shorten his days with the danger of my neck* or making a bonfire in Smithfield*. Pray, let me see the paper.

154SamuelNot until my departure, gentle Friswood.

155FriswoodIs there such horror in it that you dare not stand the opening of the paper?

156SamuelConsider, sweet, our love is fever sick,
        Even desperately to death;
        And nothing but a desperate remedy
        Is left us. For our bodily health, what sour,
        Unsavoury, loathsome medicines we will take*
        But to remove an ague?
        What sharp incisions, searings, and cruel corsives
        Are daily suffered, and what limbs dissevered
        To keepe a gangrene from the vital parts,
        That a dismembered body yet may live?
        We in like case must to preserve our love,
        (If we dare say we love) adventure life,
        Fame, honour, which are all but love’s attendants
        To maintain it.

157AnnabelI understand you, sweet,
        And do, before I read your strong injunction,
        Resolve to give it faithful execution
        What e’er it be. I ha’ got courage now,
        And, with a constant boldness, let me tell you
        You dare not lay that on me I’ll not bear:
        And love, predominant o’er all other passions,
        Shall bear me out* in’t.

158SamuelOh, you have made me happy.

159FriswoodAs I live my master ――*
           [To SAMUEL]   Kiss and away; whip quickly through the garden –
           [To ANNABEL]   Run you up to your chamber.   [To SAMUEL]   I’ll see you out myself.

160Samuel   [To ANNABEL]   Thus let us breathe that till we’meet again ――

161FriswoodWhoop, what do ye mean?

162SamuelWe leave for truce at raising of the siege*,
        Our interchanged hearts each other’s pledge.

163FriswoodGo, souls; this sets you both but more on edge.

164AnnabelFarewell.[ANNABEL exits by one door]

165SamuelFarewell.[SAMUEL and FRISWOOD] Ex[it by another].

The epilogue appears in both Act I and Act V of the original text, but only appears in Act V of the modernised text.

The Epilogue


Epilogue*At first we made no boast, and still we fear,
        We have not answered expectation here,
        Yet give us leave to hope, as hope to live,
        That you will grace, as well as justice give.
        We do not dare your judgements now: for we
        Know lookers on more than the gamesters see;
        And what e’er poets write we act or say,
        ’Tis only in your hands to crown a play*.



Edited by Julie Sanders