Tap. What I was, sir, it skills not: What you are, is apparent: now, for a farewell, Since you talk of father, in my hope it will torment you,

I'll briefly tell your story. Your dead father, My quondam master, was a man of worship, Old sir John Wellborn, justice of peace and quoAnd stood fair to be custos rotulorum; [rum; Bore the whole sway of the shire, kept a great house,

Relieved the poor, and so forth; but he dying, And the twelve hundred a year coming to you, Late master Francis, but now forlorn WellbornWell. Slave, stop! or I shall lose myself. Froth. Very hardly;

You cannot out of your way.

Tap. But to my story:

You were then a lord of acres, the prime gallant,
And I your under butler; note the change now:
You had a merry time of't; hawks and hounds,
With choice of running horses: mistresses
Of all sorts and all sizes, yet so hot,
As their embraces made your lordships melt;
Which your uncle, Sir Giles Overreach, observing,
(Resolving not to lose a drop of them,)
On foolish mortgages, statutes, and bonds,

For a while supplied your looseness, and then left you.

Well. Some curate hath penn'd this invective, And you have studied it. [mongrel,

Tap. I have not done yet;

Your land gone, and your credit not worth a token, You grew the common borrower; no man scaped Your paper-pellets, from the gentleman

To the beggars on highways, that sold you switches In your gallantry.

Well. I shall switch your brains out.

Tap. Where poor Tim Tapwell, with a little stock,

Some forty pounds or so, bought a small cottage; Humbled myself to marriage with my Froth here, Gave entertainment-

Well. Yes, to whores and canters, Clubbers by night.

Tap. True, but they brought in profit,
And had a gift to pay for what they called for;
And stuck not like your mastership. The poor
income

I glean'd from them hath made me in my parish
Thought worthy to be scavenger, and in time
May rise to be overseer of the poor;
Which if I do, on your petition, Wellborn,

I may allow you thirteen-pence a quarter,
And you shall thank my worship.

Well. Thus, you dog-bolt,

And thus

[Beats and kicks him.

Tap. [To his wife.] Cry out for help!
Well. Stir, and thou diest:

Your potent prince, the constable, shall not save
Hear me, ungrateful hell-hound! did not I [you,
Make purses for you? then you lick'd my boots,

Enter ALLWORTH.

Well. "Twill not be granted.

All. Hold, for my sake hold.

Deny me, Frank! they are not worth your anger. Well. For once thou hast redeem'd them from this sceptre;

But let them vanish, creeping on their knees,
And, if they grumble, I revoke my pardon.

Froth. This comes of your prating, husband; you presumed

On your ambling wit, and must use your glib Though you are beaten lame for't. [tongue,

Tap. Patience, Froth;

There's law to cure our bruises.

[They crawl off on their hands and knees. Well. Sent to your mother?

All. My lady, Frank, my patroness, my all! She's such a mourner for my father's death, And, in her love to him, so favours me, That I cannot pay too much observance to her : There are few such stepdames.

Well. 'Tis a noble widow,

And keeps her reputation pure, and clear
From the least taint of infamy; her life,
With the splendour of her actions, leaves no tongue
To envy or detraction. Prithee tell me,
Has she no suitors?

All. Even the best of the shire, Frank,
My lord, excepted; such as sue, and send,
And send, and sue again, but to no purpose;
Their frequent visits have not gain'd her presence.
Yet she's so far from sullenness and pride,
That I dare undertake you shall meet from her
A liberal entertainment: I can give you
A catalogue of her suitors' names.

I have heard all, and the choice that you have made;

And, with my finger, can point out the north star
By which the loadstone of your folly's guided;
And, to confirm this true, what think you of
Fair Margaret, the only child and heir

Of Cormorant Overreach? Does it blush and start,
To hear her only named? blush at your want
Of wit, and reason.

All. You are too bitter, sir.

Well. Wounds of this nature are not to be cured
With balms, but corrosives. I must be plain :
Art thou scarce manumised from the porter's lodge,
And yet sworn servant to the pantofle,
And dar'st thou dream of marriage? I fear
"Twill be concluded for impossible,

That there is now, or e'er shall be hereafter,
A handsome page, or player's boy of fourteen,
But either loves a wench, or drabs love him;
Court-waiters not exempted.

All. This is madness.

Will e'er consent to make her thine? Give o'er, And think of some course suitable to thy rank, And prosper in it.

All. You have well advised me.

But, in the mean time, you, that are so studious Of my affairs, wholly neglect your own:

Remember yourself, and in what plight you are. Well. No matter, no matter.

All. Yes, 'tis much material:

You know my fortune, and my means; yet something

I can spare from myself, to help your wants.
Well. How's this?

All. Nay, be not angry; there's eight pieces, To put you in better fashion.

Well. Money from thee!

From a boy! a stipendiary! one that lives
At the devotion of a stepmother,

And the uncertain favour of a lord!

I'll eat my arms first. Howsoe'er blind Fortune
Hath spent the utmost of her malice on me;
Though I am vomited out of an alehouse,
And thus accoutred; know not where to eat,
Or drink, or sleep, but underneath this canopy;
Although I thank thee, I despise thy offer:
And as I, in my madness, broke my state,
Without the assistance of another's brain,

And by this staff of office, that commands you,
This chain and double ruff, symbols of power,
Whoever misses in his function,

For one whole week makes forfeiture of his break-
And privilege in the wine-cellar.
[fast,
Amb. You are merry,

Good master steward.

Furn. Let him; I'll be angry.

Amb. Why, fellow Furnace, 'tis not twelve o'clock yet,

Nor dinner taking up; then, 'tis allow'd,
Cooks, by their places, may be choleric.
Furn. You think you have spoke wisely, good-
My lady's go-before!
[man Amble,

Ord. Nay, nay, no wrangling.

Furn. Twit me with the authority of the kitchen! At all hours, and all places, I'll be angry; And thus provoked, when I am at my prayers I will be angry.

Amb. There was no hurt meant.

Furn. I am friends with thee; and yet I will be Ord. With whom?

[angry.

Furn. No matter whom yet, now I think on it,

I am angry with my lady.

Watch. Heaven forbid, man!

Ord. What cause has she given thee?
Furn. Cause enough, master steward.

I was entertained by her to please her palate,
And, till she forswore eating, I perform'd it.
Now, since our master, noble Allworth, died,
Though I crack my brains to find out tempting
And raise fortifications in the pastry, [sauces,

Such as might serve for models in the Low Coun-
Which, if they had been practised at Breda, [tries,
Spinola might have thrown his cap at it, and ne'er
took it-

Amb. But you had wanted matter there to work on. Furn. Matter! with six eggs, and a strike of

rye meal,

I had kept the town till doomsday, perhaps longer. Ord. But what's this to your pet against my

lady?

Furn. What's this? marry this; when I am three-parts roasted,

And the fourth part parboil'd, to prepare her viands,
She keeps her chamber, dines with a panada,
Or water-gruel, my sweat never thought on.

Ord. But your art is seen in the dining-room.
Furn. By whom?

By such as pretend love to her; but come
To feed upon her. Yet, of all the harpies
That do devour her, I am out of charity
With none so much as the thin-gutted squire,
That's stolen into commission.

Ord. Justice Greedy?

Furn. The same, the same: meat's cast away upon him,

It never thrives; he holds this paradox,
Who eats not well, can ne'er do justice well:

Ord. Her presence answers for us.
L. All. Sort those silks well.
I'll take the air alone.

[Exeunt Waiting-woman and Chambermaid. Furn. You air and air;

But will you never taste but spoon-meat more?
To what use serve I?

L. All. Prithee, be not angry;

I shall ere long: i' the mean time, there is gold To buy thee aprons, and a summer suit.

Furn. I am appeased, and Furnace now grows cool.

L. All. And, as I gave directions, if this morn

I am visited by any, entertain them
As heretofore; but say, in my excuse,

I am indisposed.

Ord. I shall, madam.

L. All. Do, and leave me.

Nay, stay you, Allworth.

[ing,

Does he hold his purpose

For the Low Countries?

All. Constantly, good madam ;

But he will in person first present his service.

L. All. And how approve you of his course? you are yet

Like virgin parchment, capable of any
Inscription, vicious or honourable.

I will not force your will, but leave you free
To your own election.

All. Any form, you please,

I will put on; but, might I make my choice,
With humble emulation I would follow
The path my lord marks to me.

L. All. 'Tis well answer'd,

And I commend your spirit: you had a father,
Bless'd be his memory! that some few hours
Before the will of heaven took him from me,
Who did commend you, by the dearest ties

Of perfect love between us, to my charge:
And, therefore, what I speak you are bound to hear,
With such respect as if he lived in me.

He was my husband, and howe'er you are not
Son of my womb, you may be of my love,
Provided you deserve it.

All. I have found you,

Most honour'd madam, the best mother to me;

And, with my utmost strengths of care and service, Will labour that you never may repent

Your bounties shower'd upon me.

L. All. I much hope it.

These were your father's words: If e'er my son
Follow the war, tell him it is a school,

Where all the principles tending to honour
Are taught, if truly follow'd: but for such
As repair thither, as a place in which
They do presume they may with license practise
Their lusts and riots, they shall never merit
The noble name of soldiers. To dare boldly
In a fair cause, and, for their country's safety,
To run upon the cannon's mouth undaunted;
To obey their leaders, and shun mutinies;
To bear with patience the winter's cold,
And summer's scorching heat, and not to faint,
When plenty of provision fails, with hunger;
Are the essential parts make up a soldier,
Not swearing, dice, or drinking.

All. There's no syllable

You speak, but is to me an oracle,
Which but to doubt were impious.

L. All. To conclude:

Beware ill company, for often men

Are like to those with whom they do converse; And, from one man I warn you, and that's Well

born:

Not 'cause he's poor, that rather claims your pity;
But that he's in his manners so debauch'd,

And hath to vicious courses sold himself.
'Tis true your father loved him, while he was
Worthy the loving; but if he had lived
To have seen him as he is, he had cast him off,
As you must do.

All. I shall obey in all things.

L. All. Follow me to my chamber, you shall have gold

To furnish you like my son, and still supplied,
As I hear from you.

All. I am still your creature.

SCENE III.—A Hall in the same.

[Exeunt.

Enter OVERREACH, GREEDY, ORDER, AMBLE, FURNACE, WATCHALL, and MARRALL.

Greedy. Not to be seen!

Over. Still cloister'd up! Her reason,

I hope, assures her, though she make herself Close prisoner ever for her husband's loss, 'Twill not recover him.

Ord. Sir, it is her will,

Which we, that are her servants, ought to serve, And not dispute: howe'er, you are nobly wel

come;

And, if you please to stay, that you may think so,
There came, not six days since, from Hull, a pipe
Of rich Canary, which shall spend itself
For my lady's honour.

Greedy. Is it of the right race?
Ord. Yes, master Greedy.

Furn. A stag, sir; part of it prepared for dinAnd baked in puff-paste.

Greedy. Puff-paste too! Sir Giles,

[ner,

A ponderous chine of beef! a pheasant larded! And red deer too, sir Giles, and baked in puffpaste!

All business set aside, let us give thanks here.
Furn. How the lean skeleton's rapt!

Over. You know we cannot.

Mar. Your worships are to sit on a commission, Add if you fail to come, you lose the cause.

Greedy. Cause me no causes. I'll prove't, for such a dinner,

We may put off a commission: you shall find it Henrici decimo quarto.

Over. Fie, master Greedy!

Will you lose me a thousand pounds for a dinner? No more, for shame! we must forget the belly, When we think of profit.

Greedy. Well, you shall o'er-rule me;

I could e'en cry now.-Do you hear, master-cook,
Send but a corner of that immortal pasty,
And I, in thankfulness, will, by your boy,
Send you a brace of three-pences.
Furn. Will you be so prodigal?

Enter WELLBORN,

Over. Remember me to your lady. Who have we here?

Well. You know me.

Over. I did once, but now I will not;

Thou art no blood of mine. Avaunt, thou beggar!

If ever thou presume to own me more,

I'll have thee caged, and whipp'd.

Greedy. I'll grant the warrant. Think of pie-corner, Furnace!

[Exeunt OVERREACH, GREEDY, and MARRALL.

Watch. Will you out, sir?

I wonder how you durst creep in.

Ord. This is rudeness,

And saucy impudence.

Amb. Cannot you stay

To be serv'd, among your fellows, from the basket, But you must press into the hall?

Enter Waiting-woman and Chambermaid. Woman. Foh, what a smell's here! what thing's Cham. A creature

[this? Made out of the privy; let us hence, for love's sake, Or I shall swoon.

Woman. I begin to faint already.

[Exeunt Waiting-woman and Chambermaid. Watch. Will you know your way? Amb. Or shall we teach it you, By the head and shoulders?

Well. No; I will not stir;

Do you mark, I will not let me see the wretch
That dares attempt to force me. Why, you slaves,
Created only to make legs, and cringe;

To carry in a dish, and shift a trencher;
That have not souls only to hope a blessing
Beyond black jacks or flagons; you, that were born
Only to consume meat and drink, and batten
Upon reversions !-who advances? who
Shews me the way?

Ord. My lady!

And women's flattery, are in you no virtues ;
Nor these rags, with my poverty, in me vices.
You have a fair fame, and, I know, deserve it;
Yet, lady, I must say, in nothing more
Than in the pious sorrow you have shewn
For your late noble husband.

Ord. How she starts!

Furn. And hardly can keep finger from the eye, To hear him named.

L. All. Have you aught else to say?
Well. That husband, madam, was once in his

fortune

Almost as low as I; want, debts, and quarrels Lay heavy on him: let it not be thought