Act 2. Scene 1.
Brittle ware, Rebecca.
Brit.SWeet wife content thy ſelfe.
Reb.Yes content my ſelfe! ſhall I ſo with what, you
Iohn Bopeepe? you muſt be my huſband, and I muſt content my
ſelfe, muſt I; no ſir,’tis you that muſt content me, or’tis your
Brit.If you could be content with all that I have, or all that I
can doe, and expect no further, I then might hope to pacifie you.
Reb.All has not done it yet you ſee, nor have you yet found
out the way. Five yeares practice one would thinke were ſuffi-
cient, ſo long you have had me; and too long it is unleſſe I had
got a better name by’t, to be accounted barren – – oh me.
Brit.Now’tis out; zonnes what would you have me doe? where’s
the defect think you? is it not probable that you may be defective
Reb.That I may be defective! I defie thee, Lubber; I defie
thee and all that ſay ſo, thou fribling fumbler thou; I would ſome
honeſt ſufficient man might be Judge betwixt us whether I bee
[C3v]Act.
The Sparagus Garden.
Act 2. Scene 2.
Mony-lacke, Rebecca, Brittle-ware.
Mon.How now, alwaies wrangling?
Reb.Defective quoth a ––––
Mon.What’s the matter Land-lord?
Reb.Doe I look like a thing defective?
Mon.Mrs.
Brittle-ware what’s the matter?
Reb.You ſhall be Judge, Sir
Hugh, whether I bee defective;
you have lyen here Sir
Hugh theſe three yeares, have beene our
conſtant lodger off and on as wee ſay; and can you thinke mee
Brit.You will not be impudent?
Mon.Good Mr.
Brittle-ware what’s the matter?
Brit.The matter is ſir ſhe will be content with nothing!
Mon.The beſt wife i’the world! and if you cannot afford her
that to content her, you are a moſt hard-harted huſband.
Reb.What nothing? would you wiſh him to afford mee no-
thing to content me? I muſt have ſomething to content me; and
ſomething he muſt find me, or I will make him looke out for’t.
Mon.Come, come, I know the quarrell; and I know you will
never get a child by falling out.
Reb.Nor any way elſe ſo long as hee is ſuch a jealous beaſt as
Mon.Oh you muſt leave your jealouſie Mr.
Brittleware; that’s
Reb.Not, and ſtare like a mad Oxe upon every man that lookes
Mon.Fye upon him, is he ſuch a beaſt, to be jealous of his
own wife? if every man were ſo, it would ſpoyle the getting of
ſome children in a yeare.
Reb.And denies me all things that I have a mind to.
Brit.The beſt is the loſſe of your longings will not hurt you;
unleſſe you were with child.
Reb.I muſt have my longings firſt; I am not every woman I,
[C4]I.
The Sparagus Garden.
I muſt have my longings before I can be with child I.
Brit.You muſt not long for every ſtrange thing you ſee or heare
Reb.As true as I live he fribles with mee ſir
Hugh; I doe but
now long for two or three idle things ſcarce worth the ſpeaking
of; and doe you thinke he will grant me one of’em?
Mon.What may they be? he ſhall grant’em?
Reb.One of my longings is to have a couple of luſty able bodied
men, to take me up, one before and another behind, as the new
faſhion is, and carry mee in a Man-litter into the great bed at
Mon.There’s one, and will you deny her this to hinder a
Reb.Then I doe long to ſee the new ſhip, and to be on the top
of
Pauls Steeple when it is new built, but that muſt not bee yet;
nor am I ſo unreaſonable but that I can ſtay the time: in the meane
time I long to ſee a play, and above all playes, The Knight of the
burning ––– what dee’ call’t.
Mon.The Knight of the burning Peſtle.
Reb.Peſtle is it? I thought of another thing, but I would faine
ſee it. They ſay there’s a Grocers boy kills a Gyant in it, and ano-
ther little boy that does a Citizens wife thy daintieliſt ––– but
I would faine ſee their beſt Actor doe me; I would ſo put him
too’t, they ſhould find another thing in handling of mee I war-
Brit.Heyday! ſo laſt froſt ſhe long’d to ride on one of the
Dromedaries over the Thames, when great men were pleas’d to
Mon.Well, ſhall I make a convenient motion for you both?
Reb.Quickely ſweet ſir
Hugh, I long for that before you name it.
Mon.Have you this Spring eaten any
Aſparagus yet?
Reb.Why is that good for a woman that longs to bee with
Mon.Of all the Plants, hearbes, rootes, or fruits that grow,
it is the moſt provocative, operative and effective.
Mon.All your beſt (eſpecially your moderne) Herballiſts con-
clude, that your
Aſparagus is the onely ſweet ſtirrer that the
[C4v]earth
The Sparagus Garden.
earth ſends forth, beyond your wild Carrets, Corne-flag, or Gla-
diall. Your roots of Standergraſſe, or of Satyrion boyld in Goates
milke are held good; your Clary or Horminum in divers
wayes good, and Dill (eſpecially boyld in Oyle) is alſo good:
but none of theſe, nor Saffron boyld in wine, your Nuts of Arti-
choakes, Rocket, or ſeeds of Aſh-tree (which wee call the Kite
keyes) nor thouſand ſuch, though all are good, may ſtand up for
perfection with
Aſparagus.
Reb.Doe you ſay ſo ſir
Hugh?
Mon.I have it from the opinion of moſt learned Doctors,
rare Phyſitians, and one that dares call himſelfe ſo.
Brit.What Doctor is he, a foole on horſe-backe?
Mon.Doctor
Thou-Lord, you know him well enough.
Reb.Yes, we know Doctor
Thou-Lord, though he knowes none
but Lords and Ladies, or their companions. And a fine conceited
Doctor he is, and as humorous I warrant yee; and will Thou
and Thee the beſt Lords that dares be acquainted with him: calls
Knights Iacke, Will, and Tom familiarly; and great Ladies,
Gills, and Sluts too, and they croſſe him. And for his opinion
ſake, and your good report ſir
Hugh, I will have
Sparagus every
meale all the yeare long, or ile make all fly for’t; and doe you
look to’t Fribble, for it will bee for your comodity as well as
Brit.And ſure it is a rare commodity when a Knight is become a
Broker for to cry it up ſo.
Reb.And let me have ſome preſently for my next meale, or you
cannot imagine how ſicke I will be.
Mon.But miſtake not me, nor the commodity we ſpeake of Mrs.
Brittle-ware, where would you have it? here in our owne houſe?
fye! the vertue of it is mortified, if it paſſe the threſhold from the
ground it growes on. No, you muſt thither, to the Garden of de-
light, where you may have it dreſt and eaten in the due kind; and
there it is ſo provocative, and ſo quicke in the hot operation, that
none dare eate it, but thoſe that carry their coolers with’em, pre-
ſently to delay, or take off the delightfull fury it fills’em with.
Reb.Is there conveniency for that too?
Mon.Yes, yes; the houſe affords you as convenient Couches
to retyre to, as the garden has beds for the precious plants to
Dgrow
The Sparagus Garden.
grow in: that makes the place a pallace of pleaſure, and daily
reſorted and fill’d with Lords and Knights, and their Ladies;
Gentlemen and gallants with their Miſtreſſes –––
Reb.But doe not honeſt men go thither with their wives too?
Mon.None other; ſome to their owne coſts, and ſome at other
Reb.Why doe we not goe then? or what ſtay we for, can you
Mon.Nay, Mrs.
Brittle-ware, not ſo ſuddenly; towards the
evening will be the fitteſt ſeaſon of the day; meane while goe in
and fit your ſelfe for the walke, your huſband and I are firſt for an
Reb.Noble Knight I thanke you, I hope my next longing ſhall
be to beſpeake you for a God-father.
Mon.You ſhall not long long for that.
Reb.I take your noble word.
Exit.
Brit.She’s gone, and now ſir
Hugh let me tell you, you have
not dealt well with me, to put this fagary into her fooliſh fancy.
Mon.Wilt thou be an Aſſe now? doe not I know how to
fetch it out on her againe think’ſt thou? ſhe ſhall not goe, and
Mon.Why thou wilt not be jealous of me now, that has laine
in thy houſe theſe three yeares, wilt thou? nor thinke me ſo foo-
liſh to provoke thee with an injury; that know’ſt mee and my
Brit.I know ſomething by your worſhip worth the price of
Mon.Why ſo then; and wil I wrong thee
Jack think’ſt thou, ha?
no nor miſtruſt thee neither: for though thou art a jealous coxcomb
over thy wife, and ſhe a touchy thing under thee, yet thou and I
Jacke have bin alwaies confident of each other, and have wrought
friendly and cloſely together, as ever
Subtle and his Lungs did;
and ſhar’d the profit betwixt us, han’t we
Jacke, ha?
Brit.I thinke we have; and that you have ſome new device,
ſome ſtratagem in hand now. Uds me, I now remember, is the
Mon.Yes; and my Springe has ſeaz’d him upon the way: and
[D1v]here
The Sparagus Garden.
here I expect him inſtantly.
Brit.And will he be made a gentleman?
Mon.That’s his ambition
Jacke; and though you now keepe a
China-ſhop, and deale in brittle commodities (pots, glaſſes,
Purſlane Diſhes, and more trinkets than an Antiquaries ſtudy is
furniſhed withal) you muſt not forget your old trade of Barber Sur-
geon,’tis that muſt ſted us now in our new project.
Brit.I warrant you, is he a trim youth?
Mon.We muſt make him one
Jacke, ’tis ſuch a ſquab as thou
never ſaweſt; ſuch a lumpe, we may make what we will of him.
Brit.Then ſure we will make mony of him.
Mon.Well ſaid
Jacke, Springe has writ mee here his full
Act 2. Scene 3.
Money-lacks, Springe, Hoydon, Coulter, Brittle-ware.
Mon.Slid hee’s come already: now Mr.
Springe?
Spr.I come to preſent a gentleman to you ſir.
Mon.How a gentleman? will you abuſe me?
Spri.He findes your defect already; but be bold ſir, he deſires
to be a Gentleman ſir; and (tho he be but courſe mettall, yet) he
has that about him which with your helpe may quickly make
Hoy.I have foure hundred pounds ſir; and I brought it up to
towne on purpoſe to make my ſelfe a cleare gentleman of it.
Mon.It was well brought up; it appeares alſo that you have
had ſome breeding, though but a Yeomans ſonne
Hoy.’Tis true, I have a little learning ſir, and a little wit,
though laſt night I met with ſome upon the way at
Hammer-Smith
that had more: yet I had enough to perceive I was cheated of a
matter of ſeaven pound (almoſt all the odde mony I had about
me) at my Card afore thy Card; a pox take the whole packe on
’em. Sdaggers if ever man that had but a mind to be a Gentleman
was ſo noddy poopt! oh how I could chaſe to think on’t.
Spr.Oh but you muſt not; it becomes not the temper of a
Hoy.So you told me; then I thanke you friend.
Spr.Your ſmall acquaintance ſir.
D 2Hoy.
The Sparagus Garden.
Hoy.I have had more acquaintance where I have found leſſe
love, and I thanke you agen good ſmall acquaintance: you told
me indeed it became not a gentleman to crie for loſing his mony;
and I told you then, that I ſhould, or would be a gentleman:
Whereupon Small acquaintance (becauſe I was reſolv’d to play
no more) you advis’d me to give over; and you told me you
would upon our comming to the City, here bring mee to a
Knight, that was a Gentleman-maker, whom I conceive this to
be, and here am I, and here’s my foure hundred pound, which my
man has here drawne up to Towne, and here I meane to quarter it.
Coul.But I will ſee what penniworths you bargaine for firſt, by
Mon.Drawne and quarter’d! you have a wit Sir, I find that
Hoy.Yes ſir, I have a downe right Country wit, and was coun-
ted a pretty ſparke at home. Did you never heare of little
Tim of
Tanton? But I now meane to have a finicall City wit, and a ſuper-
finicall Court wit too, before I ſee mine Vncle.
Hoy.And be able to jeſt and jeere among men of judgment:
I have a many ſmall jeſts, petty Johns, as I call’hem: But I will
have a clubbing wit, and a drinking wit; and be able to hold play
with the great Poets I: and with dry jeſts to maule the malli-
part’ſt leſſer ones (that hold themſelves better than the biggeſt)
out o’the pit of wit I, before I ſee mine Vncle.
Mon.You may have all ſir, if you quarter your foure hundred
pound diſcreetly: but who is your Vncle I pray?
Hoy.For that you ſhall pardon me, till I am a Gentleman. But I
aſſure you he is a great gentleman in the City here; and I neither
muſt nor dare ſee him, till I am one at leaſt: and I will tell you
preſently how I mean to quarter my money.
Coul.They’ll quarter that and you too, if I zee not the better
Mon.Doſt thou know the uncle he ſpeaks of?
Spr.No, nor cannot learne who it is for my life.
Brit.Some great man ſure that’s aſham’d of his kindred: per-
haps ſome Suburbe Juſtice, that ſits o’the ſkirts o’the City, and
[D2v]Mon.
The Sparagus Garden.
Hoy.Look you ſir, thus had I caſt it: Small acquaintance pray
doe you note it too: I love your advice, that at firſt fight of mee
(which was but laſt night) could relieve me from Cheaters.
Brit.From ſome of his owne companions, to cheate you more
Hoy.The firſt hundred pound to be for the making of mee a
gentleman: the ſecond hundred ſhall be for apparell.
Spr.He ſpeaks halfe like a gentleman already.
Brit.Right, there’s halfe diſpos’d of.
Hoy.The third hundred Ile ſpend in pleaſure: harke Small
acquaintance, we’ll have wenches.
Whiſper.
Spr.What wants he of a gentleman, and goe no further, but
Hoy.Oh Small acquaintance, that muſt walke too: but all for
profit to ſupport my gentility hereafter.
Hoy.I will be cheated of it.
Hoy.Not in groſſe, but by retaile, to try mens ſeverall wits,
and ſo learne to ſhift for myſelfe in time and need be.
Mon.I proteſt I admire him: J never found like Craft in a
Hoy.No words on’t J beſeech you ſir; nor name that fooliſh
word Yeomans ſonne any more: J came to change my Coppy,
and write Gentleman: and to goe the nigheſt way to worke,
my Small acquaintance here tells me, to goe by the Heralds is the
Mon.Well, ſir, we will take the ſpeedieſt courſe for you that
Brit.The ſeaſon of the yeare ſerves moſt aptly too,
Both for purging and bleeding:
Give your name into this booke ſir.
Brit.Timothy Hoyden.Write.
Hoy.But muſt J bleed ſir?
Mon.Yes, you muſt bleed: your father’s blood muſt out,
D 3He
The Sparagus Garden.
He was but a yeoman, was he?
Hoy.As ranck a Clowne, none diſprais’d, as any in
Sommerſet
Mon.His foule ranke blood of Bacon and Peaſe-porridge muſt
out of you to the laſt dram.
Hoy.You will leave me none in my body then, I ſhall bleed
to death, and you go that way to worke.
Spr.Feare nothing ſir: your blood ſhal be taken out by de-
grees, and your veines repleniſh’d with pure blood ſtill, as you
Hoy.How muſt that be done?
Coul.I that ich I would heare.
Mon.I commend you that you ſeeke reaſon: it muſt bee done
by meats and drinkes of coſtly price; Muſcadell caudels; jellies,
and cock-broaths. You ſhall eate nothing but Shrimpe porridge
for a fortnight; and now and then a Pheſants egge ſoopt with a
Peacocks feather. I that muſt be the dyet.
Coul.This ſtands to reaſon indeed.
Mon.Then at your going abroad, the firſt ayre you take ſhall be
of the Aſparagus Garden, and you ſhall feed plentifully of that.
Hoy.Of the ayre do you meane?
Mon.No of th’Aſparagus. And that with a Concoction of
Goates milke, ſhall ſet you an end, and your blood as high as any
Gentlemans lineally deſcended from the loyns of King
Cadwala-
Hoy.Excellent, I like all excellently well, but this bleeding.
I could never endure the ſight of blood.
Mon.That ſhewes the malignant baſeneſſe of your fathers
Hoy.I was bewitch’d I thinke before I was begot, to have a
Clowne to my father: yet ſir my mother ſaid ſhee was a Gentle-
Spr.Said? What will not Women ſay?
Hoy.Nay, ſmall acquaintance, ſhe profeſt it upon her Death-
bed to the Curate and divers others, that ſhe was ſiſter to a Gentle-
man here in this City; and commanded mee in her Will, and up-
on her bleſſiing, firſt to make my ſelfe a Gentleman of good fa-
[D3v]ſhion,
The Sparagus Garden.
ſhion, and then to go to the gentleman my uncle.
Spr.What gentleman is that?
Hoy.I muſt not, nor I wo’not tell you that, till I am a gentle-
man my ſelfe: would you ha’me wrong the will o’the dead?
Small acquaintance, I will rather dye a Clowne as I am firſt.
Mon.Be content ſir; here’s halfe a labour ſav’d;
you ſhall bleed but o’one ſide: the Fathers ſide only.
Mon.The Mother vaine ſhall not be prickt.
I wou’d ’twere done once.
Mon.But when this is done, and your new blood infuſed into
you, you ſhall moſt eaſily learne the manners and behaviour.
Spr.The Look, the garbe, the congee ––
Brit.And all the Complements of an abſolute gentleman.
Mon.For which you ſhall have beſt inſtructions;
You’le runne a chargeable courſe in’t, that Ile tell you:
And may yet if you pleaſe retaine your money;
Croſſe your mothers will and dye a Clowne.
Coult.I begin to beleeve honeſtly of the Knight.
Mon.Doe you note this ſkin of his here?
Brit.Skin,’tis a hide ſir.
Hoy.’Tis ſomewhat thicke and foule indeed ſir.
Mon.He muſt have a bath, and that will be more charge.
Spr.Tis pitty he ſhould be flead.
Hoy.I thanke you ſmall acquaintance; pray let me have a bath,
what ere it coſt me, rather than flea me.
Mon.Well ſir, this houſe ſhall be your lodging, and this the
Mr. of it, an excellent Chyrurgeon, and expert in theſe affaires,
Hoy.My man may attend me too, may he not?
Spr.Yes, by all meanes, and ſee the laying out of your money,
Coul.I like that beſt: ſure they are honeſt men.
Mon.Is that your man? what does he weare a Coulter by his ſide?
Coul.No ſir, my name is
Coulter; I my ſelfe am a Coulter,
[D4]and
The Sparagus Garden.
and this is but my Hanger on, as I am my Maſters.
Mon.Thou maiſt make a Country gentleman in time, I ſee that
Coul.All my friends will be glad on’t.
Mon.Come gentlemen, Ile lead you the way.
Ex.
Act 2. Scene 4.
Touchwood, Walter, Gilbert, Samuel.
Touch.But how can you aſſure me gentlemen that this is true?
Gil.We ſaw’t not acted ſir, nor had reported it,
But on thoſe termes of honour you have ſworne to;
In which you are engaged firſt to forgive
Your ſonne: then never to reveale to friend,
Or foe, the knowledge of the fact.
Wat.You cannot now but receive
Your ſonne into your favour, that did urge him
To doe ſome outrage, ſome villanous ſhame or miſchiefe
Vpon that Family as he would ſhunne your curſe.
Touch.This is a miſchiefe with a witneſſe to it;
He has done it home it ſeems.
Doe his fathers will too fully?
Touch.You may be pleas’d to call him.
Exit Wat.
I would now put on an anger, but I feare
My inward joy’s too great, to be diſſembled:
Now for a rigid brow that might enable
A man to ſtand competitor for the ſeate
Of auſtere juſtice ––– Are you come to boaſt
Enter Sam, Wat.
The bravery of your fact, with a diſſembled
Shew of obedience; as if you had merited
Forgiveneſſe and a bleſſing; when my ſhame
For thy lewd action makes me turne and hide
My face – for feare my laughter be deſcry’d.
aſide and laugh.
Gil.Pray turne not from him ſir.
Touch.I have heard ſir of your workmanſhip; but may
A man receive it on your word for truth?
Sam.It is too true, unleſſe you pleaſe in mercy
[D4v]To
The Sparagus Garden.
To pardon, and preſerve me from the rigour
Of Juſtice, and the ſharper cenſure
That I ſhall ſuffer in all good opinion.
Touch.I meane you out o’the noyſe on’t preſently:
So ––– there’s a hundred peeces, get you gone;
Provide you for a journey into France,
Beare your ſelfe well, and looke you come not home
A verier Coxecombe than you went abroad:
Pray weare no falling bands and cuffes above
The price of ſuits and cloaks, leaſt you become
The better halfe undone in a bout at Buffets.
Sam.I hope you ſhall heare well of me.
Touch.My bleſſing be upon thee,
Goe get thee gone, my tenderneſſe will ſhew
It ſelfe too womaniſh elſe.
Wat.We’ll helpe to ſet you forward.
Ex.
Be but my ſonne, thou ſhalt not want a father;
Though ſomebody muſt ſeeke one; ha, ha, ha –––
Ide give another hundred Peeces now
With all my heart, that I might be untongue-ty’d,
And triumph o’re my adverſary now,
And daſh this buſineſſe in his angry teeth:
Strike
Strikers teeth out with his owne abuſe:
Perhaps he knows’t already, if he does;
I may take notice, and make bold to jeere him:
This is his uſuall walke.
Act 2. Scene 5.
Striker, Touch-wood.
To give it ſo much credit at the firſt,
Stri.That he, the ſonne of my deſpight and ſcorne,
EShould
The Sparagus Garden.
Should gaine of Fate a lot to ſee my Neece,
Much leſſe a face to aſke her for his wife.
Touch.Perhaps he’s caſting of his will.
Stri.Yet the vexation that I was but told ſo,
Lyes gnawing in my ſtomacke, that untill
I vomit it upon that Dung-hill wretch;
I cannot eate nor ſleepe to doe me good.
And I thanke Chance he’s here.
Touch.He comes, and ſo have at him.
Stri.Hum, hum, hum, humh.
Touch.And ha, ha, ha to thee old puppy.
Stri.Sirrah, ſirrah, how dar’ſt thou keepe a ſonne that dares
but looke upon my Neece? there I am we’yee ſir.
Touch.Sirrah, and ſirrah to thy wither’d jawes, and down that
wrinkled throat of thine: how dar’ſt thou think a ſonne of mine
dares for diſpleaſing me, look but with foule contempt upon thy
Stri.Impudent villaine, I have heard he has ſeene her.
Touch.Has he but ſeene her? ha, ha, ha, I feare I ſhall out
with it: I would not be forſworne; ile keep’t in if I can.
Stri.Yes Malipert Jack, I have heard that he has feene her, but
better hadſt thou piſt him’gainſt the wall, then hee preſume to
love her: and there I am we’yee ſir.
Touch.Haſt thou but heard he has ſeene her; I tell thee thou
old booby thou; if he had ſeen, felt, heard, and underſtood her: nay
had he got her with child, and then left her, he were my ſonne,
Stri.Darſt thou ſpeak ſo, thou old Reprobate.
Touch.Thou doſt not heare me ſay it is ſo, though I could wiſh
it were with all my heart, becauſe I thinke it would breake
Stri.Hugh, hugh, hugh.
Cough.
Touch.I hope I ſhall keepe it within the compaſſe of mine
oath; yet there was a touch for him.
Stri.Oh thou hel-bred Raſcall thou; hugh, hugh.
Cough and ſpit.
Touch.So, ſo, up with it, Lungs, Lights, Liver, and all; choake
[E1v]Touch
The Sparagus Garden.
Touch.I have put him into theſe fits forty times at leaſt, and
not without hope it will thratle him at laſt –– if you do break
a gut, or a rib or two, with ſtraining, a rope will be your onely
remedy: and ſo I leave you: by the way you have not heard mee
ſay that I know anything by your Neece: But what I know Ile
Stri.And hang thy ſelfe, I care not what thou know’ſt, yet
thus farre take me we’yee ſir.
Touch.Not a ſtep, unleſſe I were ſure I were going to the de-
vill, huh, huh: no ſir, you ſhall not trip me: you ſhall not fetch
it out of me: tuſh, my ſonne’s my ſonne, and keep your neece to
your ſelfe, huh, and if ſhe has anything of his you may keep that
too huh; and ſo choake up againe with all my heart, and
much good doe it you.
Exit.
Stri.Huh, huh –– hem! ſo he’s gon, the villain’s gone in hope
that he has kild me, when my comfort is he has recover’d mee:
I was heart-ſicke with a conceit which lay ſo mingled with my
Fleagme that I had periſhed, if I had not broke it, and made me
ſpit it out; hemh,’tis gone, and ile home merrily.
I would not that he ſhould know the good he has done me
For halfe my eſtate; nor would I be at peace with him
To ſave it all: His malice works upon me,
Paſt all the drugs and all the Doctors Counſells,
That ere I cop’d with: he has beene my vexation
Theſe thirty yeares; nor have I had another
Ere ſince my wife dy’d; if the Raſcall knew’t,
He would be friends, and I were inſtantly
But a dead man, I could not get another
To anger me ſo handſomly.
Act 2. Scene 6.
Friſwood, Striker.
Fris.YOu are welcome home ſir.
Stri.And merrily too
Fid. Hemh light at heart.
I met with my Phyſitian, Dog-leech,
Touchwood ;
And clear’d my ſtomacke, and now I am light at heart.
And thou ſhalt heare on’t
Fid anon perhaps.
Fris.You are the better able then to heare
E 2And
The Sparagus Garden.
And beare what I muſt tell you.
Fris.As well as a young woman
Fris.Twill out, and I as fit to tell you as another.
Fris.Tis true, I fac’d you downe there was no league
Betweene young
Touch-wood, and your Neece, in hope
To turne her heart from him before the knowledge
Of anything that paſt ſhould be a griefe to you:
But ſince I have diſcover’d tis too late;
And ſhe can be fit bride for no man elſe.
Stri.He has not laine with her, has he?
Fris.You ſpeake as juſt as
Gormans lips.
Stri.I hope he has not lipt her ſo:
Prethee what canſt thou meane?
The knowledge of a truth of this ſad nature
May prejudice your health, by drawing a Cholericke fit into you,
you were beſt to ſend for your Phyſitian, your dog-leech
Touch-
wood, as you cal’d him, to breake your bed of Fleagme, by laughing
Stri.What doſt thou meane now, I have aſked thee twice.
Fris.I ſay young
Touch-wood has touch’d, and clap’d your neece;
And (which is worſe) with ſcorne and foule diſdaine
Has left and quite forſaken; and is gone:
(They ſay) ſent by his father to travaile.
Stri.Twas this the villaine hammer’d on to day,
When he ſpoke myſtically, doubtfull words,
Reflecting on this miſchievous ſence: Hell, hell, hell.
Fris.Twere good you would forſake the thought of hell ſir,
And thinke upon ſome timely courſe to ſave
Her credit, and the honour of your houſe by marriage.
Stri.You counſell very well;
But were you privy in their loves affaire?
Fris.Indeed I knew too much on’t: think of a courſe good ſir.
[E2v]Stri.
The Sparagus Garden.
Stri.I know no courſe for her and you but one,
Young whore and bawd, and that is inſtantly
To pack you out of doores to ſeek your living,
And there I will be we’yee.
Fris.Sir that you muſt not.
Stri.Sprecious doſt thou muſt me in mine owne houſe?
Fris.In your owne houſe, ſir, kill us if you pleaſe,
And take the ſinne upon you; but out of it
You muſt not dare to thruſt us with your ſhame:
Which I will ſo divulge, as you ſhall finde
Your houſe to be no ſanctuary for your ſelfe;
And there ile be with you.
Fris.Conſider wiſely that I know you ſir,
And can make foule relation of ſome paſſages
That you will ſhame to heare.
Fris.Remember ſir, neare thirty yeares agoe,
You had a ſiſter, whoſe great marriage portion
Was in your hands: good gentlewoman, ſhe
Vnfortunately loving a falſe Squire,
Juſt as your Neece hath now, did get a clap:
You know ſir, what I meane.
Stri.You’ll hold your peace?
Fris.Ile ſpeake it though I dye for’t; better here
Than in a worſe place: So clapt I ſay ſhe was,
I know not yet by whom you doe, and beare.
An inward grudge againſt ſomebody to this hour for’t.
But to my ſtory, good gentlewoman ſhe
Was by your moſt unbrotherly cruell uſage
Thruſt out a doores, as now you threaten us:
And miſerably big-bellied as ſhe was
Leaving her moſt unjuſtly detain’d her portion
In your falſe hands, forſooke you and the towne,
To flie the aire, where her diſgrace was ſpread:
Some jewells and ſome gold ſhe had conceal’d:
But to what part o’th’world ſhee took we know not,
Nor did you ever care, but wiſht her out on’t,
E 3By
The Sparagus Garden.
By any deſperate end, after her flight
From portion, blood and name; and ſo perhaps
Immediately ſhe was: for which, this judgement
Is juſtly falne upon you.
Fris.Neither by threats, nor bribes, nor all perſwaſion,
Untill you take your Neece into your care:
What will the world ſay when it heares this ſtory
Of your owne naturall ſiſter, and your cruelty,
When you ſhall ſecond it with your Neeces ſhame?
Stri.I never was ſo mated, ſo aſtoniſhed.
Fris.Nay, more than this, old
Striker, ile impeach
You for foule incontinence; and ſhaking your
Old Bullion Tronkes over my Trucklebed.
Stri.Thou art not deſperate! wilt thou ſhame
Fris.I value neither ſhame, nor name, nor fame;
And wealth I have none to loſe; you have enough
To pay for all I take it.
Fris.Be of good cheere, ile ſend for your Phyſitian.
Stri.Sicke, ſicke at heart; let me be had to bed.
Exit.
Fris.I hope I have laid the heat of his ſeverity,
So ſometimes great offences paſſe for none.
When ſevere Iudges dare not heare their owne.
Ex.