I do not doubt, sufficient: but beware!
Mar. You are merry, cousin.
Cler. Yet your patience;

You shall learn that too, but not like itself,
Where it is held a virtue. Tell me, sir,
Have you cast up your state, rated your land,
And find it able to endure the change
Of time and fashion? Is it always harvest?
Always vintage? Have you ships at sea,
To bring you gold and stone from rich
Peru,

Monthly returning treasure? Doth the king
Open his large exchequer to your hands,
And bid you be a great man? Can your wife
Coin off her beauty? or the week allow
Suits to each day, and know no ebb in
honour?

If these be possible, and can hold out,
Then be a courtier still, and still be wasting!
Mar. Cousin, pray give me leave!
Cler. I have done.

[strain

Mar. I could requite your gall, and in a As bitter, and full of rhubarb, preach Against your country life; but 'tis below me, And only subject to my pity! Know, The eminent court, to them that can be wise, And fasten on her blessings, is a sun That draws men up from coarse and earthly being,

(I mean these men of merit that have power And reason to make good her benefits)

Learns them a manly boldness, gives their tongues [please, Sweetness of language, makes them apt to Files off all rudeness and uncivil 'haviour, Shews them as neat in carriage as in cloaths. Cousin, have you e'er seen the court?

Cler. No, sir;

Nor am I yet in travail with that longing.
Mur. Oh, the state
[found
And greatness of that place, where men are
Only to give the first creation glory!
Those are the models of the ancient world,
Left like the Roman statues to stir up
Our following hopes; the place itself puts on
The brow of majesty, and flings her lustre
Like the air newly lighten'd; form, and order,
Are only there themselves, unforc'd, and
sound,

As they were first created to this place.

Cler. You nobly came, but will go from thence base!

[ceit;

Mar. 'Twas very pretty, and a good conYou have a wit, good cousin: I do joy in't; Keep it for court. But to myself again! When I have view'd these pieces, turn'd these eyes,

And, with some taste of superstition, Look'd on the wealth of nature, the fair dames, [show Beauties, that light the court, and make it Like a fair heaven in a frosty night, And 'mongst these mine, not poorest-'Tis før tongues

Of blessed poets, such as Orpheus was,
To give their worth and praises! Oh, dear
cousin,

You have a wife, and fair; bring her hither,
Let ber not live to be the mistress of
A farmer's heir, and be confined ever
T'a searge, far coarser than my horse-cloth!
Let her have velvets, titlinies, jewels, pearls,
A coach, an usher, and her two lacquies;
And I will send my wife to give her rules,
And read the rudiments of court to her.

Cler. Sir, I had rather send her to Vir-
ginia 2,

To help to propagate the English nation.

Enter a Servant.

Mar. Sirrah, how slept your mistress, and Are to pay service? [what visitants

Serv. Sir, as I came out, Two counts were newly enter'd.

1610.

R.

Mar.

Mar. What, any learned Doctor!

You will be welcome: give her health and youth,

And I will give you gold.

[Exit Doctor. Cousin, how savours this? Is it not sweet, And very great? tastes it not of nobleness? Cler. Faith, sir, my palate is too dull and lazy;

I cannot taste it; 'tis not for my relish :
But be so still! since your own misery
Must first reclaim you; to which I leave you,
sir!

If you will yet be happy, leave the humour,
And base subjection to your wife; be wise,
And let her know with speed you are her
husband!

I shall be glad to hear it. My horse is sent for. [Exit.

Mar. Even such another country thing
as this

Was I; such a piece of dirt, so heavy,
So provident to heap up ignorance,
And be an ass; such musty cloaths wore I,
So old and thread-bare: I do yet remember
Divers young gallants, lighting at my gate
To see my honour'd wife, have offer'd pence,
And bid me walk their horses. Such a slave
Was I in show then; but my eyes are open'd.

Enter Lady.

Many sweet morrows to my worthy wife! Lady. 'Tis well, and aptly giv'n; as much for you!

But to my present business, which is money. Mar. Lady, I have none left. [imagine Lady. I hope you dare not say so, nor So base and low a thought: 'I have none left?'

Are these words fitting for a man of worth, And one of your full credit? Do you know The place you live in? me? and what I la

bour

For you, and your advancement?

Mar. Yes, my dearest. [slight answer, Lady. And do you pop me off with this In troth, I have none left?' In troth, you must have!

Nay, stare not; 'tis most true: send speedily
To all that love you, let your people fly
Like thunder thro' the city, and not return
Under five thousand crowns. Try all, take
all;

Let not a worthy merchant be untempted,
Or any one that hath the name of money;
Take up at any use; give band3, or land,
Or mighty statutes, able by their strength
To tie up Samson were he now alive,
There must be money gotten; for, be per-
suaded,

If we fall now, or be but seen to shrink
Under our fair beginnings, 'tis our ruin,
And then good night to all but our disgrace!
Farewell, the hope of coming happiness,
And all the aims we levell'd at so longs!
Are you not mov'd at this? No sense of
want,

Towards yourself yet breeding?

Be old, and common, jaded to the eyes
Of grooms, and pages, chamberinaids, and
guarders;
[house in order
And when you have done, put your poor
And hang yourself! for such must be the end
Of him that willingly forsakes his hopes,
And hath a joy to tumble to his ruin.
All that I say is certain; if you fail,
Do not impute me with it; I am clear.
Mar. Now Heav'n forbid I should do
wrong to you,
My dearest wife, and madam! Yet give
To your poor creature to unfold himself:
You know my debts are many more than

means,

[leave

Sympson.

For

Jaques. Sir, did

Mar. I did so. Down to the bank,

you

call? Hie thec, Jaques, and there to some good merchant [private) (Conceive me well, good Jaques, and be Offer three hundred acres of my land: Say it is choice and fertile; ask upon it Five thousand crowns: this is the business I must employ thee in; be wise and speedy! Jaques. Sir, do not do this.

Mar. Knave, I must have money.
Jaques. If you have money thus, your
knave must tell you,
[more wary,

You will not have a foot of land left: be And more friend to yourself! This honest land,

Your worship has discarded, has been true, And done you loyal service.

Mar. Gentle Jaques,

You have a merry wit; employ it well About the business you have now in hand. When you come back, enquire me in the presence;

If not i' th' Tennis-court, or at my house.

[Exit. Jaques. If this vein hold, I know where to enquire you. [bandry, Five thousand crowns? This, with good husMay hold a month out; then five thousand more, [more, And more land a-bleeding for't; as many And more land laid aside! God, and St. Dennis,

Keep honest-minded young men batchelors! 'Tis strange, my master should be yet so

young

A puppy, that he cannot see his fall,
And got so near the sun. I'll to his cousin,
And once more tell him of it; if he fail,
Then to my mortgage, next unto my sale!

[Exit. Enter Longueville, Beaufort, and Gentleman. Gent. Gentlemen, hold on discourse a while;

I shall return with knowledge how and where We shall have best access unto my mistress, To tender your devotions.

[Exit.

master;

An open and an excellent whoremaster;
And take a special glory that I am so!
I thank my stars I am a whoremaster;
And such a one as dare be known and seen,
And pointed at to be a noble wencher.

Beau. Do not let all ears hear this: hark you, sir!

I am myself a whoremaster; I am,
Believe it, sir; (in private be it spoken)
I love a whore directly: most men are
Wenchers, and have profess'd the science;
few men

That look upon ye now, but whoremasters,
Or have a full desire to be so.

Long. This is noble!

[vate,

Beau. It is without all question, being priAnd held as needful as intelligence; But, being once discover'd, blown abroad; And known to common senses, 'tis no more Than geometrical rules in carpenters, That only know some measure of an art, But are not grounded. Be no more deceiv'd! I have a conscience to reclaim you, sir; (Mistake me not! I do not bid you leave Your whore, or less to love her; Heaven forbid it,

I should be such a villain to my friend, Or so unnatural! 'twas ne'er harbour'd here!) Learn to be secret first; then strike your deer! [shalll earn. Long. Your fair instructions, monsieur, Beau. And you shall have them: I desire your ears.

Long. They are your servants.

Beau. You must not love

Long. How, sir!

Beau. I mean a lady; there is danger:

She hath an usher, and a waiting-gentlewo

[fee'd, A page, a coachman; these are fee'd, and And yet for all that will be prating. Long. So!

[discover't,

Sympson.

Long.

Long. Proceed, good sir!

Beau. Next, leave your city dame; The best of that tribe are most merely coy, Or most extremely foolish; both which vices Are no great stirrers up, unless in husbands That owe this cattle; fearing her that's coy To be but seeming, her that's fool too forward.

Long. This is the rarest fellow, and the soundest,

I mean in knowledge, that e'er wore a codpiece?;

H' has found out that will pass all Italy,
All France and England (to their shaines I
speak,

And to the griefs of all their gentlemen),
The noble theory of luxury10.

Beau. Your patience,

And I will lay before your eyes a course
That I myself found out; 'tis excellent,
Easy, and full of freedom.

Long. Oh, good sir,

You rack me, 'till I know it.

Beau. This it is:

Theated,

When your desire is up, your blood well And apt for sweet encounter, chuse the night, And with the night your wench; the streets have store;

[ber, There seize upon her, get her to your chamGive her a cardecue, 'tis royal payment; When ye are dull, dismiss her; no man knows,

Nor she herself, who hath encounter'd her.
Long. Oh! but their faces!
Beau. Never talk of faces!

The night allows her equal with a duchess :
Imagination doth all; think her fair,
And great, yclad in velvet', she is so.
Sir, I have tried those, and do find it certain,
It never fails me: 'tis but twelve nights since
My last experience.

Long. Oh, my miching varlet,

I'll fit you, as I live!—

'Tis excellent; I'll be your scholar, sir.

Enter Lady and Gentleman.

Lady. You are fairly welcome both! Troth, gentlemen,

You have been strangers; I could chide you for't, [news?

And task you with unkindness. What's the The town was never empty of some novelty: Servant, what's your intelligence?

Gent. Faith, nothing:

I have not heard of any worth relating. Beau. Nor I, sweet lady.

Cler. There's no good to be done, no cure to be wrought

Upon my desp'rate kinsman: I'll to horse,
And leave him to the fool's whip, misery.
I shall recover twenty miles this night;
My horse stands ready; I'll away with speed.
Enter Shattillion.

Shat. Sir, may I crave your name?
Cler. Yes, sir, you may:

My name is Clerimont.

Shut. 'Tis well. Your faction?

What party knit you with?
Cler. I know no parties,

Nor no factions, sir.

Shat. Then wear this cross of white: And where you see the like, they are ny friends;

Observe them well; the time is dangerous.

Cler. Sir, keep your cross; I'll wear none. Sure this fellow

Is much beside himself, grown mad.

Shat. A word, sir!

You can pick nothing out of this; this cross
Is nothing but a cross, a very cross,
Plain, without spell, or witchcraft; search it!!

10 The noble theory.] Sympson varies to,

You