THE
SPARAGVS
Garden:
A COMEDIE.
Acted in the yeare 1635, by the then
Company of Revels, at Saliſbury
Court
The Author Richard Brome.
Hic totus volo rideat Libellus. Mart.
LONDON:
Printed by J. Okes, for Francis Conſtable, and
are to be ſold at his ſhops in Kings-
ſtreet at the ſigne of the Goat,
and in Weſtminſter-hall. 1640.
[A1]
To the Right Honourable
WILLIAM Earle of New-
caſtle, &c. Governour to the
Prince his Highneſſe.
My LORD!
YOur favourable Conſtruction
of my poore Labours com-
manded my Service to your
Honour, and, in that, betray’d
your worth to this Dedication:
I am not ignorant how farre unworthy my
beſt endeavours are of your leaſt allowance;
yet let your Lordſhip be pleaſed to know
you, in this, ſhare but the inconveniences
of the moſt renowned Princes as you par-
take of their glories: And I doubt not,
but it will more divulge your noble Diſpoſi-
A2tion
The Epiſtle DEDICATORY.
tion to the World, when it is knowne
you can freely pardon an Officious treſpaſſe
againſt your Goodnes. Cœſar had never bin
commended for his Clemency, had there
not occaſion beene offered, wherein hee
might ſhew, how willingly hee could for-
give: I ſhall thanke my Fortune, if this
weake preſentation of mine ſhall any way
encreaſe the Glory of your Name among
Good Men, which is the chiefeſt ayme
and onely ſtudy of
Your Honours devoted ſervant,
Richard Brome.
[A2v]TO
To his deſerving friend Mr. Richard Brome
on his Sparagus Garden, a Comedy.
WHat ever walke I in your
Garden uſe,
Breeds my delight, and makes me love thy Muſe
For the deſignment; ſith I cannot ſpie
A proſpect, which doth more envite mine eye:
I’me in a maze, and know not how to find
A freedome that will more delight my mind,
Then this impriſonment within thy Bower,
Where houres ſeeme minutes, and each day an hower:
Nor, were my ſtay perpetuall, could I grieve,
Where ſuch rare fruits mine appetite relieve.
The envious
Criticke would recant to ſee
How much oppreſt is every virgin tree
With her owne burthen: Leekes, and Akornes here
Are food for Critickes; but the choycer cheere,
For thoſe, can relliſh Delicates. I might
In prayſing of thy worth, be infinite:
But thou art modeſt and diſdain’ſt to heare
A tedious, glorious, needleſſe Character
Of thee and of thy
Muſe: Yet I could ſay,
(Give me but leave) it is no common Play.
Within thy plot of ground, no Weed doth ſpring,
To hurt the growth of any Vnderling:
Nor is thy Laborinth confus’d, but wee
In that diſorder, may proportion ſee:
Thy Hearbs are phyſicall, and do more good
In purging Humors, then ſome’s letting blood.
C. G.
A3TO
To the Author on his Sparagus
Garden.
WHat doſt meane, that thus thou doſt entice
Thy Lovers, thus to walke in Paradice?
Moſt ſkilfull Artiſt! that ſo well doſt know
To plant, for profit, as for out-ward ſhow;
For on thy
Sparagus are throughly pleaſed
Our intellects; others ſcarce hunger eaſed.
The wiſeſt of the Age ſhall hither come,
And thinke their time well ſpent as was their ſumme.
The Squint-ey’d Criticke that ſuch care do’s take,
To looke for that he loatheth to partake:
Now croſſing his warp’d Nature ſhall be kind,
And vexing grieve ’cauſe he no fault can find.
The ignorant of the times that do delight,
Not in a Play, but how to waſt day-light,
Shall reſort hither, ’till that you deſcry,
With pleaſure, ſmiling
April in each eye.
Alcinou’s garden, which each day did ſpring,
And her lov’d fruit unto perfection bring,
Ought not compare with this: Here Men did grow:
Such care thy Arte and Labour did beſtow
For man’s wel-being, and a-new create,
And poyſe them up above a needy Fate.
Is it not pitty ought ſhould hurt this Spring?
(A Serpent in a Garden’s no new thing)
Yet wiſely hath thy goodneſſe tooke a care,
He ſhould ſting none, but who cenſorious are.
R. W.
[A3v]The
The Prologue to the Play.
HE, that his wonted modeſty retaynes,
And never ſet a price upon his Braines
Above your Judgments: nor did ever ſtrive
By Arrogance or Ambition to atchieve
More prayſe unto himſelfe, or more applauſe
Unto his Scenes, then ſuch, as know the Lawes
Of Comedy do give; He only thoſe
Now prayes 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 looke for none: He’le promiſe ſuch hereafter,
To take your graver judgments, now your laughter
Is all he aymes to moove. I had more to ſay.—
The Title, too, nay prejudice the Play.
It ſayes the Sparagus Garden; is you looke
To ſeaſt on that, the Title ſpoiles the Booke.
We have yet a taſt of it, which he doth lay
I’th midſt o’th journey, like a Bait by th’ way:
Now ſee with Candor: As our Poet’s free,
Pray let be ſo your Ingenuity.
The Epilogue.
AT firſt we made no boaſt, and ſtill we feare,
We have not anſwer’d 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 Judgments now: for we
Know lookers on more then the Gamſters ſee;
And what ere Poets write, we Act, or ſay,
Tis only in your hands to Crowne a Play.
[A4]The
The Perſons in the Comedy.
| Gilbert young Gentlemen and friends. |
| Walter |
| Touch-wood Old adverſaries, and Juſtices. |
| Striker |
| Samuel, Sonne to Touch-wood. |
| Mony-lacks, a needy Knight, that lives by ſhifts. |
| Brittleware Confederates with Mony-lacks. |
| Tim. Hoyden, the new made Gentleman. |
| Coulter, his Man. |
| Thomas Hoyden, Tim. Hoydens brother. |
| Sir Arnold Cautious, a ſtale Batchelour, and a ridicu- |
| lous Lover of women. |
| A Gardiner. |
| Trampler, a Lawyer. |
| Curat. |
| Three Courtiers. |
| Annabel, Daughter to Mony-lacks, and Grand- |
| child to Striker. |
| Friſwood, her nurſe; and Houſe-keeper to Striker. |
| Rebecca, wife to Brittle-ware. |
| Martha, the Gardiners wife. |
| Three Ladies. |
[A4v][THE]
Act 1. Scene 1.
Walter, Gilbert, Touchwood.
Walt.I Fearce we ſhall doe no good upon him.
Gil.We ſhall nevertheleſſe diſcharge the
office of friends in our endeavour. I meane to
Gil.But be ſure you lye at a cloſe ward the
while; for hee is a moſt ſubtill and dangerous
Gil.He has not his name for nothing; old
Touchwood! he’s all fire if he be incenſe’d; but ſo
ſoft and gentle that you may wind him about your
finger, or carry him in your boſome if you handle
him rightly; but ſtill be wary, for the leaſt ſparke
[B1]Touch.
The Sparagus Garden.
Gil.Onely a few neighbourly and friendly words ſir.
Touch.Oh you are moſt friendly welcome good Mr.
Gilbert
Goldwire, and Mr.
Walter Chamlet I take yee to be.
Ambo.The ſame ſir at your ſervice.
Touch.Your 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 Hoſpitall walls, and gates; it is
enough for me to ſay they lov’d me:
Samſon Touchwood! and I
were a wretch if I ſhould not honour their memory in their hap-
py ſucceſſion: Agen gentlemen you are welcome.
Gil.Yet you may be pleas’d ſir to remember, though our fathers
were both loving friends to you, yet they were ſometimes at odds
Touch.True, true, ever at odds: They were the common talke
of the towne for a paire of wranglers; ſtill at ſtrife for one trifle
or other they were at law logger-heads together, in one match
that held ’em tugging tone the tother by the purſe-ſtrings a matter
of nine yeares, and all for a matter of nothing. They cours’d one
another from Court to Court, and through every Court Tempo-
rall and Spirituall; and held one an other play till they loſt a
thouſand pound a man to the Lawyers, and till it was very ſuffici-
ently adjudged that your father was one foole, and your father
was another foole. And ſo againe gentlemen you are welcome:
Walt.You may now be pleas’d ſir to remember that our fathers
Touch.Heaven forbid elſe.
Gil.And note the cauſe, the ground of their reconciliation,
which was upon the love, betwixt me and this gentleman’s ſiſter.
My fathers Sonne married his fathers Daughter, and our two fa-
thers grew friends, and wiſe men agen.
Touch.To the poynt good gentlemen, yet you are welcome.
Gil.Troth ſir the poynt is this: You know (and the towne
has tane ſufficient notice of it) that there has been a long con-
tention betwixt you and old Mr.
Striker your neighbour –––
Gil.And the cauſe or ground of your quarrell (for ought any
[B1v]body
The Sparagus Garden.
body knowes but yourſelves) may be as triviall, as that which
as derided in our fathers.
Touch.Are you there with me?
Gil.And great hopes there are, and wagers laid by your friends
on both ſides, that you two will be friends.
Touch.Ile hold you an hundred pounds o’ that.
Gil.Nay, more, that Mr.
Striker will bee willing to give his
Grand-child to your Son, ſo you’l give your conſent.
Touch.And your comming is to perſwade that, is it not? if it
be ſo, ſpeake; deale plainely with me gentlemen, whilſt yet you
Walt.Inſooth it is ſo, we come to negotiate the match for your
ſonne, and your friendſhip with old Mr.
Striker.
Touch.You are not welcome.
Gil.But when you weigh the reaſons, and conſider the perfect
love of the yong paire, and how the world will praiſe your re-
conciliation, and bleſſe the providence, that made their loves the
meanes to worke their parents charity.
Touch.Againe you are not welcome.
Gil.Your ſelfe but now commended the attonement
Of our two fathers, wrought by the ſame meanes:
I meane my marriage with his ſiſter here
Againſt as great an oppoſition.
Walt.But our fathers lov’d their children.
Touch.Your fathers were a couple of doting fooles, and you a
paire of ſawcy knaves; now you are not welcome: and more
then ſo, get you out of my doores.
Gil.Will you ſir, by your wilfulneſſe, caſt away your ſonne?
Touch.My ſonne? no ſonne of mine, I have caſt him off already
for caſting an eye upon the daughter of mine enemy: let him goe,
let him packe; let him periſh: he comes not within theſe doores,
and you, that are his fine ſpoken ſpokes-men, get you off o’my
Walt.We are gone ſir: onely but wiſhing you Mr.
Touchwood
to remember that your ſonne’s your ſonne.
Touch.Indeffinitely not ſir, untill hee does not onely renounce
all intereſt in the love of that baggage; but doe ſome extraordi-
nary miſchiefe in that family to right me for the treſpaſſe hee has
B 2done;
The Sparagus Garden.
done; and ſo win my good opinion, till which bee done a daily
curſe of mine hee ſhall not miſſe; and ſo you may informe
Gil.What an uncharitable wretch is this?
Walt.The touchieſt peece of
Touchwood that e’re I met withall.
Gil.I fear’d we ſhould inflame him.
Walt.All the comfort is, his ſonne may yet out-live him.
Act 1. Scene 2.
Walter, Gilbert, Samuel.
Gil.BUt the danger is, his father may dis-inherit him.
Walt.He cannot be ſo devilliſh; here comes his ſonne,
a gentleman of ſo ſweet a diſpoſition, and ſo contrary to his crab-
bed Sire, that a man who never heard of his mothers vertue
might wonder who got him for him.
Gil.Not at all I aſſure you,
Sam is his fathers nowne ſonne: for
the old man you ſee, is gentle enough, till he be incens’d; and the
ſonne being mov’d, is as fiery as the father.
Walt.But he is very ſeldome and ſlowly mov’d; his father
often and o’the ſuddaine.
Gil.I prethee would’ſt thou have greene wood take fire as
ſoon as that which is old and ſere?
Walt.He is deepe in thought.
Gil.Over head and eares in his Mrs. contemplation.
Sam.To dis-obey a father, is a crime
In any ſonne unpardonable. Is this rule
So generall that it can beare noe exception?
Or is a fathers power ſo illimitable,
As to command his ſonnes affections?
And ſo controule the Conquerour of all men
Even
Love himſelfe? no: he, that enterprizes
So great a worke, forgets he is a man;
And muſt in that forget he is a father,
And ſo if he forgoe his nature, I
By the ſame Law may leave my Piety.
But ſtay, I would not loſe my ſelfe in following
Gil.How now
Sam, whither away?
[B2v]Sam.
The Sparagus Garden.
Sam.I was but caſting how to find the way
Unto my ſelfe. Can you direct me gentlemen?
Walt.Yes, yes; your father has told us the way.
Sam.Ha you had conference with him? ha yee? ſpeake.
Gil.Marry ſir ha we, and I thinke to purpoſe.
Sam.Ha you wonne ought upon him to my advantage?
Walt.As much as may reſtore you to acquaintance
With him againe, can you but make good uſe on’t.
Sam.Pray doe not trifle with me; tell me briefly.
Gil.Briefly he ſayes you muſt not dare to ſee him;
Nor hope to receive bleſſing to the valew
Of a new three-pence, till you diſclaime your love
In your faire
Annabell; and not onely ſo,
But you muſt doe ſome villanous miſchievous act
To vexe his adverſary, her Grand-father;
Or walke beneath his curſe in baniſhment.
Sam.A moſt uncharitable and unnaturall ſentence.
Walt.But thinke withall it is your father, that
Makes this decree; obey him in the’xecution:
He has a great Eſtate, you are his onely ſonne:
Doe not loſe him, your fortune, and your ſelfe
For a fraile peece of beauty: ſhake her off;
And doe ſome notable thing againſt her houſe.
Sam.The Divell ſpeakes it in thee,
And with this ſpell I muſt Conjure him out.
Draw.
Gil.Oh friend you are too violent.
To urge me to an act of ſuch injuſtice,
Can her faire love, to whom my faith is given,
Be anſwered with ſo loud an injury?
Or can my faith ſo broken yield a found
Leſſe terrible than thunder, to affright
All love and conſtancy out of the breaſt
Of every Virgin that ſhall heare the breach
Gil.Be not ſo paſſionate.
Sam.I have no further power to do an out-rage
B 3Againſt
The Sparagus Garden.
Againſt that Family to whome my heart
Is link’d, then to rip out this troubled heart
The onely ominous cauſe, indeed, of all.
My over paſſionate fathers cruelty; and that
(If I muſt needs doe an injurious Office)
Alone, ſhall be my act to calme his fury.
Gil.Prethee blow o’re this paſſion; thou wert wont
To affect wit, and canſt not be a Lover
Truely without it. Love is wit it ſelfe,
And through a thouſand lets will find a way
Sam.The Ballet taught you that.
Gil.Well ſaid,
Love will find out the way:
I ſee thou art comming to thy ſelfe againe,
Can there no ſhift, no witty ſlight be found
(That have been common in all times and ages)
To blind the eyes of a weake-ſighted father,
And reconcile theſe dangerous differences
But by blood-ſhedding, or outragious deeds,
To make the feud the greater? recollect
Thy ſelfe good
Sam; my houſe, my purſe, my counſell
Shall all be thine, and
Wat ſhall be thy friend.
Walt.Let me entreate your friendſhip.
Gil.So, ſo, all friends; let’s home and there conſult
To lay the tempeſt of thy fathers fury;
Which cannot long be dangerous,’tis but like
A ſtorme in
April, ſpent in ſwift extreames,
When ſtraight the Sun ſootes forth his cheerefull beames.
Ex.
Act 1. Scene 3.
Striker, Mony-lacks.
Stri.YOU will not aſſault me in mine owne houſe? I hope you
will not; nor urge me beyond my patience with your
borroughing attempts! good ſir
Hugh Mony-lacks I hope you
Mon.I hope I mov’d you not, but in faire language ſir;
Nor ſpoke a ſillable that might offend you.
[B3v]I
The Sparagus Garden.
I have not us’d the word of loane, or borrowing;
Onely ſome private conference I requeſted.
Stri.Private conference! a new coyn’d word for borrowing
of money; I tell you, your very face, your countenance (though
it be gloſl’d with Knight-hood) lookes ſo borrowingly, that the
beſt words you give me are as dreadfull as
Stand and deliver,
and there I thinke I was w’ye. I am plaine w’ye ſir, old
Will
Mon.My father
Striker, I am bold to call you.
Stri.Your father! no, I deſire no ſuch neare acquaintance with
you, good ſir
Hugh Mony-lacks:you are a Knight and a noble
gentlemen an, I am but an Eſquire and out of debt; and there I think
Mon.I ſhall be with you anon, when you have talk’d your
Stri.’Tis true I had the honour to be your Worſhips father in
law when time was, that your Knight-hood married and Lady-
fied a poore 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 fourteene hundred a yeare: But where is it now? and
where is my daughter now? poore abus’d Innocent; your rio-
touſneſſe abroad, and her long night watches at home ſhortned
her dayes, and caſt her into her grave ––– And’twas not long
before all your eſtate was buried too; and there I was w’ye againe
I take it: but that could not fetch her againe.
Mon.No ſir, I wiſh my life might have excus’d
Hers, farre more precious: never had a man
A juſter cauſe to mourne.
Stri.Nor mourn’d more juſtly, it is your onely wearing; you
have juſt none other: nor have had meanes to purchaſe better any
time theſe ſeaven yeares as I take it. By which meanes you have
got the name of the mourning Knight; and there I am ſure I
Mon.Sir, if you will not be pleas’d to heare my deſires to you,
let me depart without your deriſion.
Stri.Even when you pleaſe, and whither you pleaſe good ſir
Hugh Mony-lacks: my houſe ſhall bee no enchanted Caſtle to
detaine your Knight-errandſhip from your adventures. I hope
[B4]your
The Sparagus Garden.
your errand hither was but for your dinner; and ſo farre forth
(and eſpecially at your going forth) you are welcome. Your
daughter I doe keepe, and will for her poore mothers 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 owne name, and make her a
Striker; ſhe ſhall be no more a
Mony-lacke, and if ſhee pleaſe
me well in matching with a huſband, I know what I will doe
Stri.Doe you thanke me ſir, I aſſure you you neede not; for I
meane ſo to order her eſtate, and bind it up in that truſt that you
ſhall never finger a farthing on’t: am I w’ye ſir?
Mon.I cannot chuſe but thanke you though in behalfe of
Stri.Call her your child agen, or let mee but heare that you
ſuffer her to aſke you a bare bleſſing, ile 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 groanes under
the weight of a Knight-hood for want of meanes to ſuport it?
Mon.I ſhall finde meanes to live without your trouble
Stri.You may, you may; you have a wit ſir
Hugh, and a pro-
jective one; what, have you ſome new project a foot now, to
out-goe that of the Hand-barrowes? what call you’em the
Sedams? 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 cuſtome,
and that you play the fly of the new Inne there; and ſip with all
companies: am I w’ye there ſir?
Mon.You may be when you pleaſe ſir; I can command the
beſt entertainement there for your mony.
Mon.In the meanetime ſir, I had no mind to begge nor bor-
row of you, and though you will not give me leave to call you
father, nor my daughter my daughter, yet I thought it might be-
come my care to advertiſe you (that have taken the care of her
from me) of a danger that will much afflict you, if it bee not
[B4v]carefully
The Sparagus Garden.
Mon.You have an adverſary –––
Stri.But one that I know, the raſcall my neighbour
Touchwood.
Mon.There I am w’ye ſir, I am inform’d that his onely ſonne
is an earneſt Suitor to your Daughter: (I muſt not call her mine)
Mon.That there is a deepe ſecret love betwixt ’em; and that
they have had many private meetings: and a ſtolne match very
likely to be made if you prevent it not.
Mon.Give me but a peece from you, and if by due examination
you find it not ſo, ile never ſee your face agen till you ſend for me.
Stri.To be rid of you take it.
Gives it.
Mon.I am gone ſir, and yet I think I’me w’ye.
Exit.
Stri.Is the Divell become a match-broker? what, who with-
Act 1. Scene 4.
Friſwood, Striker.
Fris.Here ſir, I am here forſooth.
Stri.Are you ſo forſooth? but where’s your Miſtris
Fris.Liſtning is good ſometimes; I heard their talk, and am
Stri.Where is your Mrs. I ſay.
Fris.My Mrs,
Annabel, forſooth, my young Mrs.?
Stri.What other Mrs. haſt thou but the Divells Dam her ſelfe,
your old Mrs.? and her I aſke not for; good Mrs.
Flibber de Jibb
with the French fly-flap o’your coxecombe.
Fris.Is the old man mad troe?
Fris.Bleſſe me! how doe you look?
Stri.Where’s
Annabel I ſay? fetch her me quickly, leaſt I baſt
her out of your old Whit-leather hide.
Fris.How youthfull you are growne? ſhe is not farre to fetch
ſir; you know you commanded her to her chamber, and not to
Cappeare
The Sparagus Garden.
appeare in ſight, till her debauch’d father was gone out o’the
Stri.And is not he gone now forſooth? why call you her not?
Fris.I warrant hee has toed you ſome tale on her. That lewd
Knight, now he has undone himſelfe by his unthrifty practiſes,
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
Stri.I never knew thee a Witch till now.
Fris.Ha, ha, ha; I warrant hee told you that your adverſary
Touchwoods ſonne, and my Miſtris
Annabel are in love league
Stri.Marry did he; and I will know the truth.
Stri.Dart’s thou laugh at me?
Fris.No, no; but I laugh at the poore Knights officiouſnes, 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 lye, and told it him in hope
that his telling it to you, would provoke you to beate him out
o’the houſe; for reporting a thing that had had no probability or re-
ſemblance of truth in it.
Fris.Sir, I have been your creature this thirty yeares, downe
lying and upriſing; (as you know) and you ſhould beleeve mee,
you had me in my old Miſtreſſes dayes – –
Stri.I, thou waſt a handſome young wench then; now thou
Fris.Yet not ſo wondrous old as to be ſung in a Ballet for’t, or
to have beene able ere
Adam wore beard to have crept into
Eves
bed, as I did into my Miſtreſſes. (Heaven pardon you, as I doe
with all my heart.)
Weepe.
Stri.What in thy fooleries now?
Fris.Nor ſo old neither but you are content to make a ſorry
ſhift with me ſtill; as your abilities will ſerve you –
Weepe.
Stri.Come, come; thou art not old.
Fris.Nay that’s not what troubles me; but that I, that ſerv’d
you before your daughter was borne; I meane your daughter that
[C1v]was
The Sparagus Garden.
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 daugh-
ter ever ſince, till now ſhe is marriageable; and have all this
while beene as plyant as a twig about you, and as true as the
ſheath to your ſteele as we ſay, that I ſhould now be miſtruſted to
connive at an il match for her, for whom my chiefeſt care has bin
from the Cradle? there’s the unkindneſſe.
Weepe.
Stri.Enough, enough;
Fid. I beleeve there is no ſuch matter.
Fris.I thought you had knowne me–
Weepe.
Str.I doe, I doe; I prethee good
Fid be quiet, it was a witty
tricke of thee to mocke the poore Knight withall: but a poxe on
him, he coſt me a peece for his newes; there’s another for thee:
but the beſt is he hath tyed himſelfe by it, never to trouble mee
more; I have that into my bargaine.
Fris.And you would tye me ſo too; would you?
Stri.Not ſo
Fid, not ſo: but look to my Girle, and thus farre
marke me. If ever I find that young
Touchwood, the ſonne of that
miſcreant, whoſe hatred I would not loſe for all the good neigh-
bor-hood in the Pariſh; if ever I ſay, he and your charge doe but
look upon one another, ile turne her and you both out o’doores;
there I will be w’ye, look to’t.
Stri.Look to’t I ſay, I muſt abroad, my anger is not over yet:
I would l could meete my adverſary to ſcold it out; I ſhall bee
Fris.’ Twas well I overheard’em, my young lovers had bin
ſpoyl’d elſe: had not I croſt the old angry mans purpoſe before he
had met with the young timorous Virgin, ſhe had confeſt all; and
Act 1. Scene 5.
Annabel, Friſwood, Sam.
An.HOw now
Fris. is my Grand-father gone out of doore?
Fris.If he were as ſafe out o’the world, it were well
An.Nay ſay not ſo good
Fris.
Fris.Your unlucky father has deſtroyed all your hopes in Mr.
C 2Sam
The Sparagus Garden.
Sam Touchwood; in diſcovering your loves (what Divell ſoever
gave him the intelligence) and you muſt reſolve never to ſee your
An.I muſt reſolve to dye firſt: oh.
Sinkes.
Fris.Ods pitty! how now! why Mrs. why
Annabell, why Mrs.
Annabell; look up, look up I ſay, and you ſhall have him ſpight
of your Grand-father and all his workes: what doe you thinke I
am an Infidell, to take Mr.
Samuels forty peeces? and a Ronlet of
old Muſkadine for nothing? come be well, and indeed you ſhall
Fris.Theſe love-ſicke maides ſeldome call upon other Saints
then their ſweet-hearts; look up I ſay, your ſweet
Sam is com-
An.Ha, where? where is he; why doe you abuſe me?
Scene.
Enter Sam.
Fris.I ſay he will come preſently; look up I ſay, forgive me!
he comes indeed: my Mr. thought I was a witch, and I now
ſuſpect my ſelfe for one. Oh Mr.
Samuel, how came you hither?
here he is Mrs. what meane you to come now to undoe her
and your ſelfe too? yet ſhe had dyed and you had not come as
you did. Why doe you not look upon him and be well? get you
gone, we are all undone if my Mr. come backe and find you:
ſpeake to her quickly, then kiſſe her and part, you will bee parted
An.Better then when I was in earthly being,
This boſome is a heaven to me; through death
I am arriv’d at bliſſe, moſt happily
To be ſo well reviv’d thou mad’ſt me dye.
Fris.I made you not dye, as you will dye, if you ſtand pratling
till my Mr. returne and take you: for Mr.
Samuel, I muſt tell you
Mr.
Samuel, he knowes all Mr.
Samuel.
Sam.My father knowes as much, and that’s the cauſe
Of my adventuring hither to inſtruct you
In a ſtrange practice; here it is in writing,
A paper.
[C2v]’Tis
The Sparagus Garden.
’Tis ſuch a ſecret that I durſt not truſt
My tongue with the conveyance of’t; nor have I
The confidence to heare it read: take it,
And in my abſence joyne 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.
Fris.What horrible thing muſt we doe troe? pray let mee 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 bee with me, I
would be loath to ſhorten his dayes with the danger of my neck;
or making a Bon-fire in Smithfield: pray let me ſee the paper.
Sam.Not untill my departure gentle
Friſwood.
Fris.Is there ſuch horrour in it, that you dare not ſtand the
Sam.Conſider ſweet our love is Feaver ſick,
Even deſperately to death;
And nothing but a deſperate remedy
Is left us: for our bodily health, what ſowre
Unſavory loathſome medicines we will take
What ſharpe inciſions, ſearings, and cruel Corſives
Are daily ſuffer’d, and what limbes diſſever’d
To keepe a Gangreene from the vitall parts,
That a diſmembred 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 Loves attendants
An.I underſtand you, ſweet,
And doe before I read your ſtrong injunction,
Reſolve to give it faithfull execution
What ere it be. I ha got courage now,
And (with a conſtant boldneſſe let me tell you)
You dare not lay that on me Ile not beare:
And Love, predominant o’re all other paſſions,
Sam.Oh you have made me happy.
C 3Fris.
The Sparagus Garden.
Fris.As I live my Maſter –––
Kiſſe and away; whip quickly through the Garden –
Run you up to your Chamber; ile ſee you out my ſelfe.
Sam.Thus let us breath that till we’meete againe,
Fris.Whoope what d’ee meane?
Sam.We leave for truce at rayſing of the ſiege,
Our interchanged hearts each others pledge.
Fris.Goe ſooles, this ſets you both but more on edge.
