ACT TWO
2.1*
VINCENT, HILLIARD, MERIEL, [and] RACHEL [enter].

119VincentI am overcome with admiration at the felicity they take!

120HilliardBeggars! They are the only people can boast the benefit of a free state in the full enjoyment of liberty, mirth, and ease, having all things in common and nothing wanting of nature’s whole provision within the reach of their desires. Who would have lost this sight of their revels?

121VincentHow think you, ladies? Are they not the only happy in a nation?

122MerielHappier than we, I’m sure, that are pent-up and tied by the nose* to the continual steam of hot hospitality* here in our father’s house, when they have the air at pleasure in all variety.

123RachelAnd though I know we have merrier spirits than they, yet to live thus confined stifles us.

124HilliardWhy, ladies, you have liberty enough, or may take what you please.

125MerielYes, in our father’s rule and government, or by his allowance. What’s that to absolute freedom such as the very beggars have, to feast and revel here today and yonder tomorrow, next day where they please, and so on still, the whole country or klngdom over? There’s liberty! The birds of the air can take no more.

126RachelAnd then at home here, or wheresoever he comes, our father is so pensive ― What muddy spirit soe’er possesses him, would I could conjure’t out! ― that he makes us even sick of his sadness, that were wont to see* my gossips cock* today; mould cockle-bread*; dance clutterdepouch and hannikin booby*; bind barrels; or do anything before him, and he would laugh at us.

127MerielNow he never looks upon us but with a sigh, or tears in his eyes, though we simper never so sanctifiedly. What tales have been told him of us, or what he suspects I know not ― God forgive him! I do ― but I am weary of his house.

128RachelDoes he think us whores, trow, because sometimes we talk as lightly as great ladies?* I can swear safely for the virginity of one of us, so far as word and deed goes. Marry, thought’s free*.

129MerielWhich is that one of us, I pray? Yourself or me?

130RachelGood sister Meriel, charity begins at home*. But I’ll swear I think as charitably of thee. And not only because thou art a year younger neither.

131MerielI am beholden to you. But for my father, I would I knew his grief and how to cure him, or that we were where we could not see it. It spoils our mirth, and that has been better than his meat* to us.

132VincentWill you hear our motion, ladies?

133MerielPshaw*, you would marry us presently out of his way, because he has given you a foolish kind of promise. But we will see him in a better humour first, and as apt to laugh as we to lie down*, I warrant him.

134Hilliard’Tis like that course* will cure him, would you embrace it.

135Rachel We will have him cured first, I tell you. And you shall wait that season and our leisure.

136MerielI will rather hazard my being one of the devil’s ape-leaders than to marry while he is melancholy.

137RachelOr I to stay in his house to give entertainment to this knight or t’other coxcomb that comes to cheer him up with eating of his cheer*; when we must fetch ’em sweetmeats, and they must tell us, ‘Ladies, your lips are sweeter’, and then fall into courtship, one in a set speech taken out of old Breton’s works*, another with verses out of The Academy of Compliments*, or some or other of the new poetical pamphleteers, ambitious only to spoil paper and publish their names in print. And then to be kissed and sometimes slavered ― faugh!

138Meriel’Tis not to be endured. We must out of the house. We cannot live but by laughing, and that aloud and nobody sad within hearing.

139VincentWe are for any adventure with you, ladies. Shall we project a journey for you? Your father has trusted you and will think you safe in our company, and we would fain be abroad upon some progress with you. Shall we make a fling to London, and see how the spring appears there in the Spring Garden*, and in Hyde Park* to see the races, horse and foot: to hear the jockeys crack, and see the Adamites run naked* afore the ladies?

140RachelWe have seen all already there, as well as they, last year.

141HilliardBut there ha’ been new plays since.

142RachelNo. No! We are not for London.

143HilliardWhat think you of a journey to the Bath* then?

144RachelWorse than t’other way. I love not to carry my health where others drop their diseases. There’s no sport i’that.

145VincentWill you up to the hilltop of sports, then, and merriments, Dover’s Olympics or the Cotswold games*?

146MerielNo, that will be too public for our recreation. We would have it more within ourselves.

147HilliardThink of some course yourselves then. We are for you upon any way, as far as horse and money can carry us.

148VincentAy, and if those means fail us, as far as our legs can bear, or our hands can help us.

149RachelAnd we will put you to’t. Come aside, Meriel ― They go aside and whisper together.

150Vincent   [To HILLIARD]   Some jeer, perhaps, to put upon us.

151Hilliard   [To VINCENT]   What think you of a pilgrimage to St. Winifred’s Well*?

152VincentOr a journey to the wise woman at Nantwich*, to ask if we be fit husbands for ’em?

153HilliardThey are not scrupulous in that, we having had their growing loves up from our childhoods, and the old squire’s good will before all men.

154Rachel [and] MerielHa, ha, ha! ――

155Vincent   [To HILLIARD]   What’s the conceit, I marvel?

156Rachel [and] MerielHa, ha, ha, ha! ――

157HilliardSome merry one, it seems.

158RachelAnd then, sirrah Meriel   [Whispering to MERIEL]   ―― Hark again ― ha, ha, ha! ―

159Vincent   [To HILLIARD]   How they are taken with it!

160MerielHa, ha, ha! ― Hark again, Rachel.[Whispering]

161HilliardSome wonderful nothing, sure. They will laugh as much to see a swallow fly with a white feather imped in her tail.

162VincentThey were born laughing, I think.

163Rachel [and] MerielHa, ha, ha! ――

164Vincent   [To HiILLIARD]   If it be not some trick upon us, which they’ll discover in some monstrous shape, they cozen me.   [Loudly, to the ladies]    Now, ladies, is your project ripe? Possess us with the knowledge of it.
[RACHEL and MERIEL return to the gentlemen.]

165RachelIt is more precious than to be imparted upon a slight demand.

166HilliardPray, let us hear it. You know we are your trusty servants.

167VincentAnd have kept all your counsels ever since we have been infant playfellows.

168RachelYes, you have played at all kinds of small game with us; but this is to the purpose. Ha, ha, ha! ――

169HilliardIt seems so by your laughing.

170RachelAnd asks a stronger tongue–tie than tearing of books, burning of samplers, making dirt-pies, or piss and paddle in’t.

171VincentYou know how and what we have vowed: to wait upon you any way, any how, and any whither.

172MerielAnd you will stand to’t?

173HilliardAy, and go to’t with you, wherever it be.

174MerielPray tell’t ’em, sister Rachel.

175RachelWhy, gentlemen ― ha, ha! ― Thus it is ―― Tell it you, Meriel.

176VincentOh, is that all?

177Meriel   [To RACHEL]   You are the elder. Pray tell it you.

178Rachel   [To MERIEL]   You are the younger. I command you tell it. Come, out with it! They long to have it.



181MerielIn troth, you must tell it, sister; I cannot! Pray begin.

182RachelThen, gentlemen, stand your ground.

183VincentSome terrible business, sure!

184RachelYou seemed e’en now to admire the felicity* of beggars.

185MerielAnd have engaged yourselves to join with us in any course.

186RachelWill you now with us, and for our sakes turn beggars?

187MerielIt is our resolution and our injunction on you.

188RachelBut for a time and a short progress.

189MerielAnd for a spring-trick of youth, now, in the season.

190Vincent   [To HILLIARD]   Beggars! What rogues are these?

191Hilliard   [To VINCENT]   A simple trial of our loves and service!

192Rachel   [To VINCENT and HILLIARD]   Are you resolved upon’t? If not, goodbye. We are resolved to take our course.

193Meriel   [To VINCENT and HILLIARD]   Let yours be to keep counsel.
[MERIEL and RACHEL turn away as if to exit.]

194VincentStay, stay! Beggars! Are we not so already?
        Do we not beg your loves and your enjoyings?
        Do we not beg to be received your servants?
        To kiss your hands, or, if you will vouchsafe,
        Your lips? Or your embraces?

195HilliardWe now beg
        That we may fetch the rings and priest to marry us ―
        Wherein are we no beggars!

196RachelThat will not serve. Your time’s not come for that yet.
        You shall beg victuals first.

197Vincent Oh, I conceive your begging progress is to ramble out this summer among your father’s tenants; and ’tis in request among gentlemen’s daughters to devour their cheesecakes, apple pies, cream, and custards, flapjacks, and pan-puddings.

198MerielNot so, not so!

199HilliardWhy, so we may be a kind of civil beggars.

200RachelI mean stark, errant, downright beggars, I,
        Without equivocation: statute beggars*.

201MerielCouchant and passant, guardant, rampant* beggars.

202VincentCurrent and vagrant*

203HilliardStockant, whippant* beggars!

204VincentMust you and we be such? Would you so have it?

205RachelSuch as we saw so merry, and you concluded
        Were th’only happy people in a nation!

206MerielThe only freemen of a commonwealth;
        Free above scot–free*; that observe no law,
        Obey no governor, use no religion
        But what they draw from their own ancient custom,
        Or constitute themselves, yet are no rebels.

207RachelSuch as of all men’s meat and all men’s money
        Take a free part; and, wheresoe’er they travel,
        Have all things gratis to their hands provided.

208VincentCoarse fare, most times.

209RachelTheir stomach makes it good
        And feasts on that which others scorn for food.

210MerielThe antidote, content, is only theirs.
        And, unto that, such full delights are known,
        That they conceive the kingdom is their own.

211Vincent   [To HILLIARD]   ’Fore Heaven I think they are in earnest, for they were always mad.

212Hilliard   [To VINCENT]   And we were madder than they, if we should lose ’em.

213Vincent   [To HILLIARD]   ’Tis but a mad trick of youth, as they say, for the spring, or a short progress; and mirth may be made out of it, knew we how to carry it.

214RachelPray, gentlemen, be sudden. Hark, you hear the cuckoo?
Cuckoo [sings].

215HilliardWe are most resolutely for you in your course.

216VincentBut the vexation is how to set it on foot.

217RachelWe have projected it.* Now if you be perfect and constant lovers and friends, search you the means.   [To MERIEL]   We have puzzled ’em.

218Meriel   [To RACHEL]   I am glad on’t. Let ’em pump.

219VincentTroth, a small stock will serve to set up withal. This doublet sold off o’ my back might serve to furnish a camp-royal of us.

220HilliardBut how to enter or arrange ourselves into the crew will be the difficulty. If we light raw and tame amongst ’em (like cage-birds among a flight of wild ones) we shall never pick up a living, but have our brains pecked out.

221VincentWe want instruction dearly.
Enter SPRINGLOVE.

222HilliardOh, here comes SpringLove. His great benefactorship among the beggars might prefer us with authority into a ragged regiment presently. Shall I put it to him?

223RachelTake heed what you do. His greatness with my father will betray us.

224VincentI will cut his throat then. ―   [To SPRINGLOVE]    My noble Springlove, the great commander of the maunders and king of canters, we saw the gratitude of your loyal subjects, the large tributary content they gave you in their revels.

225SpringloveDid you, sir?

226HilliardWe have seen all with great delight and admiration.

227SpringloveI have too, kind gentlemen and ladies, and overheard you in your quaint design, to new create yourselves out of the worldly blessings and spiritual graces heaven has bestowed upon you, to be partakers and co-actors too in those vile courses, which you call delights, ta’en by those despicable and abhorred creatures.

228VincentThou art a despiser, nay, a blasphemer
        Against the maker of those happy creatures
        Who, of all human, have priority
        In their content ― in which they are so blessed
        That they enjoy most in possessing least.
        Who made ’em such, dost think? Or why so happy?

229RachelHe grows zealous in the cause. Sure he’ll beg indeed.

230HilliardArt thou an hypocrite, then, all this while?
        Only pretending charity; or using it
        To get a name and praise unto thyself,
        And not to cherish and increase those creatures
        In their most happy way of living? Or
        Dost thou bestow thine alms with a foul purpose
        To stint their begging, and with loss to buy
        And slave those free souls from their liberty?

231Meriel   [To RACHEL]   They are more zealous in the cause then we!

232Springlove   [To MERIEL and RACHEL]   But are you, ladies, at defiance too
        With reputation and the dignity
        Due to your father’s house and you?

233RachelHold thy peace, good Springlove, and, though you*
        Seem to dislike this course and reprove us for it,
        Do not betray us in it. Your throat’s in question.*
        I tell you for good will, good Springlove.

234MerielWhat wouldst thou have us do? Thou talk’st o’th’ house.
        ’Tis a base melancholy house.
        Our father’s sadness banishes us out on’t.
And, for the delight thou tak’st in beggars and their brawls, thou canst not but think they live a better life abroad than we do in this house.

235SpringloveI have sounded your faith, and I am glad I find you all right. And for your father’s sadness, I’ll tell you the cause on’t. I overheard it but this day in his private discourse with his merry mate, Master Hearty. He has been told by some wizard that you both were born to be beggars ―

236AllHow? How!

237Springlove― for which he is so tormented in mind that he cannot sleep in peace, nor look upon you but with heart’s grief.

238VincentThis is most strange.

239RachelLet him be griev’d then, till we are beggars;
        We have just reason to become so now,
        And what we thought on but in jest before,
        We’ll do in earnest now.

240SpringloveOh, I applaud this resolution in you;
        Would have persuaded it; will be your servant in’t.
        For, look ye, ladies:
The sentence of your fortune does not say that you shall beg for need, hungry or cold necessity*. If therefore you expose yourselves on pleasure into it, you shall absolve your destiny nevertheless, and cure your father’s grief. I am overjoyed to think on’t, and will assist you faithfully.

241AllA Springlove! A Springlove!

242SpringloveI am prepared already for th’adventure.
        And will with all conveniencies furnish
        And set you forth; give you your dimensions*,
        Rules, and directions. I will be your guide,
        Your guard, your convoy, your authority.
        You do not know my power; my command
        I’th’ beggars’ commonwealth.

243VincentBut how? But how, good Springlove?

244SpringloveI’ll confess all. In my minority
        My master took me up a naked beggar,
        Bred me at school, then took me to his service ―
        You know in what good fashion ― and you may
        Collect to memory for seven late summers,
        Either by leave, pretending friends to see
        At far remote parts of the land, or else
        By stealth I would absent myself from service
        To follow my own pleasure, which was begging,
        Led to’t by nature. My indulgent master,
        Yet ignorant of my course, on my submission
        When cold and hunger forced me back at winter,
        Received me still again. Till, two years since,
        He being drawn by journey towards the north,
        Where I then quartered with a ragged crew
        On the highway, not dreaming of him there,
        I did accost him, with a Good your worship,
        The gift one small penny to a cripple
        (For here I was with him)   [He] halts.*   and the good lord
        To bless you and restore it you in heaven.

245AllHa, ha, ha!

246SpringloveMy head was dirty clouted, and this leg
        Swaddled with rags, the other naked, and
        My body clad like his upon the gibbet*.
        Yet he, with searching eyes, through all my rags
        And counterfeit postures, made discovery
        Of his man Springlove, chid me into tears
        And a confession of my forespent life.
        At last, upon condition that vagary
        Should be the last, he gave me leave to run
        That summer out. In autumn home came I
        In my home clothes again and former duty.
        My master not alone conserved my counsel,
        But lays more weighty trust and charge upon me.
        Such was his love to keep me a home-man
        That he conferred his steward’s place upon me,
        Which clogged me, the last year, from those delights
        I would not lose again to be his lord.

247AllA Springlove, a Springlove!

248SpringlovePursue the course you are on then, as cheerfully
        As the inviting season smiles upon you.
        Think how you are necessitated to it
        To quit your father’s sadness and his fears
        Touching your fortune. Till you have been beggars,
        The sword hangs over him.* You cannot think
        Upon an act of greater piety
        Unto your father than t’expose yourselves,
        Brave volunteers, unpressed by common need
        Into this meritorious warfare, whence,
        After a few days or short season spent,
        You bring him a perpetual peace and joy
        By expiating the prophecy that torments him.
        ’Twere worth your time in painful, woeful steps,
        With your lives hazard in a pilgrimage*,
        So to redeem a father. But you’ll find
        A progress of such pleasure, as I’ll govern’t,
        That the most happy courts could never boast
        In all their tramplings on the country’s cost,
        Whose envy we shall draw, when they shall read
        We out-beg* them, and for as little need.

249AllA Springlove! A Springlove!

250SpringloveFollow me, gallants, then, as cheerfully
        As ―   Birds singing   Hark! We are summoned forth.

251AllWe follow thee ―They exit.
2.2*
RANDALL enters, a purse in his hand.

252RandallWell, go thy ways.* If ever any just or charitable steward was commended, sure thou shalt be at the last quarter day*. Here’s five and twenty pounds for this quarter’s beggar-charge. And, if he return not by the end of this quarter, here’s order to a friend to supply for the next. If I now should venture for the commendation of an unjust steward and turn this money to mine own use! Ha! Dear devil, tempt me not. I’ll do thee service in a greater matter. But to rob the poor! A poor trick: every churchwarden can do’t. Now something whispers me that my master, for his steward’s love, will supply the poor as I may handle the matter. Then I rob the steward, if I restore him not the money at his return. Away, temptation, leave me! I am frail flesh; yet I will fight with thee. But say the steward never return. Oh, but he will return. Perhaps he may not return. Turn from me, Satan; strive not to clog my conscience. I would not have this weight upon’t for all thy kingdom.
[He walks aside.]
HEARTY enters singing, [with] OLDRENTS.

253Hearty   [Singing]   Hey down, hey down a down, etc.
        Remember, sir, your covenant to be merry.

254OldrentsI strive you see to be so.
        Yet something pricks me within, methinks.

255HeartyNo further thought, I hope, of fortune’s tell-tales.

256OldrentsI think not of ’em. Nor will I presage
        That when a disposition of sadness
        O’erclouds my spirits, I shall therefore hear
        Ill news, or shortly meet with some disaster.

257HeartyNay, when a man meets with bad tidings, why
        May not he then compel his mind to mirth,
        As well as puling stomachs are made strong
        By eating against appetite?

258OldrentsForced mirth though is not good.

259HeartyIt relishes not, you’ll say. No more does meat
        That is most savoury to a long–sick stomach,
        Until by strife and custom ’tis made good.

260OldrentsYou argue well.   [He gestures at RANDALL.]   But do you see yond fellow?

261HeartyI never noted him so sad before.
        He neither sings nor whistles.

262OldrentsSomething troubles him.
        Can he force mirth out of himself now, think you?

263HeartyWhat, speak you of a clod of earth, a hind?
        But one degree above a beast, compared
        To th’airy spirit of a gentleman?

264OldrentsHe looks as he came laden with ill news
        To meet me on my way.

265Hearty’Tis very pretty.
        Suppose the ass be tired with sadness. Will you disburden him
        To load yourself? Think of your covenant to be merry
        In spite of fortune and her riddle–makers.

266Oldrents   [Calling out]   Why, how now, Randall! Sad? Where’s Springlove?

267Hearty   [Aside]   He’s ever in his care. But that I know
        The old squire’s virtue, I should think Springlove
        Were sure his bastard*.

268Randall   [To OLDRENTS]   Here’s his money, sir.
        I pray that I be charged with it no longer.
The devil and I have strained courtesy these two hours about it. I would not be corrupted with the trust of more than is mine own. Master Steward gave it me, sir, to order it for the beggars. He has made me steward of the barn and them while he is gone, he says, a journey to survey and measure lands abroad about the countries. Some purchase, I think, for your worship.

269OldrentsI know his measuring of land*. He’s gone his old way.
        And let him go. Am not I merry, Hearty?

270HeartyYes; but not hearty merry*. There’s a whim now.

271Oldrents   [To RANDALL]   The poor’s charge shall be mine. Keep you the money for him.

272RandallMine is the greater charge then.
        Knew you but my temptations and my care,
        You would discharge me of it.

273OldrentsHa, ha, ha!

274RandallI have not had it so many minutes, as I have been in several minds about it, and most of them dishonest.

275OldrentsGo then, and give it to one of my daughters to keep for Springlove.

276RandallOh, I thank your worship ―He exits.

277OldrentsAlas, poor knave!
        How hard a task it is to alter custom!

278HeartyAnd how easy for money to corrupt it.
        What a pure treasurer would he make!

279OldrentsAll were not born for weighty offices ―
        Which makes me think of Springlove.
        He might have ta’en his leave though.

280HeartyI hope he’s run away with some large trust.
        I never liked such demure downlooked fellows.

281OldrentsYou are deceived in him.

282HeartyIf you be not,
        ’Tis well. But this is from the covenant*.

283OldrentsWell, sir. I will be merry. I am resolved
        To force my spirit only unto mirth.
        Should I hear now my daughters were misled
        Or run away, I would not send a sigh
        To fetch ’em back.

284HeartyT’other old song for that.

        There was an old fellow at Waltham Cross*,
        Who merrily sung when he lived by the loss.
        He never was heard to sigh with ‘Hey-ho’,
        But sent it out with a ‘Hey trolly lo’.
He cheered up his heart, when his goods went to wrack,
With a ‘Hem*, boy, hem’ and a cup of old sack.


285OldrentsIs that the way on’t? Well, it shall be mine then.
RANDALL enters [with a letter].

286Randall   [To OLDRENTS]   My mistresses are both abroad, sir.

287Oldrents How? Since when?

288RandallOn foot, sir, two hours since, with the two gentlemen, their lovers. Here’s a letter they left with the butler. And there’s a muttering in the house.

289OldrentsI will not read nor open it, but conceive
        Within myself the worst that can befall them:
        That they are lost and no more mine. What follows?
        That I am happy. All my cares are flown.
        The counsel I anticipated from
        My friend shall serve to set my rest upon,
        Without all further helps, to jovial mirth,
        Which I will force out of my spleen so freely
        That grief shall lose her name where I have being;
        And sadness, from my furthest foot of land
        While I have life, be banished.

290HeartyWhat’s the whim now?

291OldrentsMy tenants shall sit rent–free for this twelvemonth
        And all my servants have their wages doubled;
        And so shall be my charge in housekeeping.
        I hope my friends will find and put me to’t.

292HeartyFor them I’ll be your undertaker, sir.
        But this is overdone. I do not like it.*

293Oldrents    [To RANDALL]   And for thy news, the money that thou hast
        Is now thine own. I’ll make it good to Springlove.
        Be sad with it and leave me. For I tell thee,
        I’ll purge my house of stupid melancholy.

294RandallI’ll be as merry as the charge that’s under me.*
A confused noise within of laughing and singing, and one crying out.

The beggars, sir. Do’e hear ’em in the barn?

295OldrentsI’ll double their allowance too, that they may
        Double their numbers and increase their noise.
        These bear not sound enough, and one, methought,
        Cried out among ’em.

296RandallBy a most natural cause. For there’s a doxy
        Has been in labour, sir. And ’tis their custom
        With songs and shouts to drown the woman’s cries:
        A ceremony which they use, not for
        Devotion, but to keep off notice of
        The work they have in hand. Now she is in
        The straw, it seems; and they are quiet.

297HeartyThe straw*! That’s very proper there. That’s Randall’s whim.

298OldrentsWe will have such a lying-in, and such
        A Christ’ning; such upsitting and gossiping!
        I mean to send forty miles circuit at the least
        To draw in all the beggars can be found;
        And such devices we will have for jollity
        As fame shall boast to all posterity!
        Am I not merry, Hearty? Hearty merry?

299HeartyWould you were else. I fear this over-doing.*

300OldrentsI’ll do’t for expiation of a crime*
        That’s charg’d upon my conscience till’t be done.

301HeartyWhat’s that?   [To RANDALL]   What says he?

302OldrentsWe will have such a festival month on’t.
        Randall ――

303RandallSir, you may spare the labour and the cost.
        They’ll never thank you for’t. They’ll not endure
        A ceremony that is not their own,
        Belonging either to the child or mother.
        A month, sir? They’ll not be detained so long
        For your estate! Their work is done already.
        The bratling’s born, the doxy’s in the strummel
        Laid by an autem mort of their own crew
        That served for midwife, and the childbed woman
        Eating of hasty pudding for her supper,
        And the child, part of it for pap,
        I warrant you, by this time; then to sleep;
        So to rise early to regain the strength
        By travel, which she lost by travail*.

304HeartyThere’s Randall again.

305OldrentsCan this be?

306RandallShe’ll have the bantling at her back tomorrow
        That was today in her belly, and march afoot–back
        With it.

307HeartyArt there again, old Randall?

308RandallAnd for their gossiping, now you are so nigh,
        If you’ll look in, I doubt not but you’ll find ’em
        At their high feast already.

309HeartyPray let’s see ’em, sir.
RANDALL opens the scene*: the beggars discovered at their feast. After they have scrambled a while at their victuals, this song.

        Here, safe in our skipper, let’s cly off our peck
        And booze in defiance o’th’ harman–beck.
        Here’s pannum and lap, and good poplars of yarrum,
        To fill up the crib and to comfort the quarron*.
Now booze a round health to the go–well and come–well
Of Cisley Bumtrinket* that lies in the strummel.
Now booze a round health to the go–well and come–well
Of Cisley Bumtrinket that lies in the strummel.

        Here’s ruff–peck and cassan, and all of the best,
        And scraps of the dainties of gentry cove’s* feast.
        Here’s grunter and bleater, with Tib of the buttery
        And margery–prater all dressed without sluttery.
For all this bene cribbing and peck let us then
Booze a health to the gentry cove of the ken*.
Now booze a round health to the go–well and come–well
Of Cisley Bumtrinket that lies in the strummel.

311OldrentsGood heaven, how merry they are!

312HeartyBe not you sad at that.

313OldrentsSad, Hearty? No, unless it be with envy
        At their full happiness. What is an estate
        Of wealth and power, balanced with their freedom,
        But a mere load of outward compliment,
        When they enjoy the fruits of rich content?
        Our dross but weighs us down into despair,
        While their sublimèd spirits* dance i’th’ air.

314HeartyI ha’not so much wealth to weigh me down,
        Nor so little, I thank chance, as to dance naked.

315OldrentsTrue, my friend Hearty, thou having less than I ―
        Of which I boast not ― art the merrier man.
        But they exceed thee in that way so far
        That, should I know my children now were beggars ―
        Which yet I will not read ― I must conclude
        They were not lost, nor I to be aggrieved.

316HeartyIf this be madness, ’tis a merry fit.
[The] PATRICO enters. Many of the beggars look out.

317PatricoTour out with your glaziers. I swear by the ruffin
        That we are assaulted by a queer cuffin.

318RandallHold! What d’ye mean, my friends? This is our master,
        The master of your feast and feasting–house.

319PatricoIs this the gentry cove?

320All the BeggarsLord bless his worship!
        His good worship! Bless his worship![The] Beggars exit.
PATRICO remains.

321Patrico   [To OLDRENTS]   Now, bounteous sir, before you go,*
        Hear me, the beggar Patrico,
        Or priest, if you do rather choose
        That we no word of canting use.
        Long may you live, and may your store
        Never decay, nor balk the poor,
        And as you more in years do grow,
        May treasure to your coffers flow.
        And may your care no more thereon
        Be set than ours are, that have none,
        But as your riches do increase,
        So may your heart’s content and peace.
        And, after many many years,
        When the poor have quit their fears
        Of losing you, and that with heaven
        And all the world you have made even,
        Then may your blessed posterity,
        Age after age successively
        Until the world shall be untwined,
        Inherit your estate and mind.
        So shall the poor to the last day,
        For you in your succession*, pray.

322Hearty’Tis a good vote, Sir Patrico, but you are too grave. Let us hear and see something of your merry grigs that can sing, play gambols, and do feats.

323PatricoSir, I can lay my function by
        And talk as wild and wantonly
        As Tom or Tib, or Jack or Jill,
        When they at boozing ken do swill.
        Will you therefore deign to hear
        My autem mort, with throat as clear
        As was Dame Annis’* of the name?
        How sweet in song her notes she’ll frame,
        That when she chides, as loud is yawning
        As Chanticleer* waked by the dawning.

324HeartyYes, pray let’s hear her. What, is she your wife?

325PatricoYes, sir. We of our ministry,
        As well as those o’th’ presbytery*,
        Take wives and defy dignity*.He exits.

326HeartyA learned clerk in verity!
[The] PATRICO enters with his old wife, with a wooden bowl of drink. She is drunk.

327PatricoBy Sol’mon, I think my mort is in drink.
        I find by her stink, and the pretty pretty pink
        Of her neyes, that half wink,
        That the tippling feast with the doxy in the nest
        Hath turned her brain to a merry merry vein.

328Autem MortGo fiddle, Patrico, and let me sing. First set me down here on both my prats. Gently, gently, for cracking of my wind, now I must use it. Hem, hem.
She sings.
        This is bene booze, this is bene booze,
Too little is my skew.
        I booze no lage, but a whole gage!
Of this I’ll booze to you.

        This booze is better than rum booze;
It sets the gan a–giggling;
        The autem mort finds better sport
In boozing than in niggling.
This is bene booze, etc.
She tosses off her bowl, falls back, and is carried out.

329PatricoSo, so. Your part is done ―He exits with her.

330HeartyHow find you, sir, yourself?

331OldrentsWondrous merry, my good Hearty.
[The] PATRICO enters.

332Patrico   [To OLDRENTS]   I wish we had, in all our store,
        Something that could please you more.
        The old or autem mort’s asleep,
        But before the young ones creep
        Into the straw, sir, if you are ―
        As gallants sometimes love coarse fare,
        So it be fresh and wholesome ware ―
        Disposed to doxy, or a dell
        That never yet with man did mell,
        Of whom no upright–man is taster,
        I’ll present her to you, master.

333OldrentsAway! You would be punished. ― Oh!*

334HeartyHow is it with you, sir?

335OldrentsA sudden qualm*
        Overchills my stomach*. But ’twill away.
Dancers enter.

336PatricoSee, in their rags, then, dancing for your sports,
        Our clapperdudgeons and their walking morts.
Dance.

337Patrico   [To the dancers]   You have done well. Now let each tripper
        Make a retreat into the skipper,
        And couch a hogshead till the darkman’s passed;
        Then all with bag and baggage bing awast.[The] beggars exit.

338RandallI told you, sir, they would be gone tomorrow.
        I understand their canting.

339Oldrents   [To the PATRICO]   Take that amongst you. ―Gives money.

340PatricoMay rich plenty so you bless,
        Though you still give, you ne’er have less.He exits.

341Hearty   [Calling after him]   And as your walks may lead this way,
        Pray strike in here another day.
        So you may go, Sir Patrico ―
How think you, sir? Or what? Or why do you think at all, unless on sack and supper-time? Do you fall back? Do you not know the danger of relapses?

342OldrentsGood Hearty, thou mistak’st me. I was thinking upon this Patrico. And that he has more soul then a born beggar in him*.

343HeartyRogue enough, though, to offer us his what– d’e–call’ts, his doxies! ’Heart and a cup of sack, do we look like old beggar–nigglers?

344OldrentsPray forbear that language.

345HeartyWill you then talk of sack, that can drown sighing? Will you in to supper, and take me there your guest? Or must I creep into the barn among your welcome ones?

346OldrentsYou have rebuked me timely and most friendly. He exits.

347HeartyWould all were well with him.He exits.

348RandallIt is with me.
        For now these pounds are, as I feel them swag,
        Light at my heart, though heavy in the bag*.He exits.

Edited by Helen Ostovich, Eleanor Lowe, Richard Cave, Elizabeth Schafer