by Ben Jonson

Prepared from 1631 Folio (STC 14753.5) by Hugh Craig,
Department of English, University of Newcastle.
OTA A-1434-A


Prologue

Scene 1

U:

Your Maiesty is welcome to a Fayre;
Such place, such men, such language and such ware,
You must expect: with these, the zealous noyse
Of your lands Faction, scandaliz'd at toyes,
As Babies, Hobby-horses, Puppet-playes,
And such like rage, whereof the petulant wayes
Your selfe have knowne, and have been vext with long.
These for your sport, without perticular wrong,
Or iust complaint of any priuate man,
(Who of himselfe, or shall thinke well or can)
The Maker doth present: and hopes, to night
To give you for a Fayring, true delight.


Scene 2

W:

Gentlemen, have a little patience, they are
e'en upon comming, instantly. He that
should beginne the Play, Master Littlewit,
the Proctor, has a stitch new falne, in his
black silk stocking; it will be drawn up ere
you can tell twenty. He playes one of the Arches, that dwels
about the Hospitall, and he has a very pretty part. But for
the whole Play, will you have the truth of it? (I am looking,
lest the Poet heare me, or his man, Master Broome, behind
the Arras) it is like to be a very conceited scuruy one, in
plaine English. When it comes to the Fayre, once: you
Were e'en as good go to Virginia, for any thing there is of
Smith-field. He has not hit the humors, he does not know
them; he has not conuers'd with the Bartholomew-birds,
as they say; he has ne'er a Sword, and Buckler man in
his Fayre, nor a little Dauy, to take toll of the Bawds there,
as in my time, nor a Kind-heart, if any bodies teeth should
chance to ake in his Play. Nor a Iugler with a wel-educated
Ape to come ouer the chaine, for the King of England,
and backe againe for the Prince, and sit still on his arse for
the Pope; and the King of Spaine! None of these fine sights!
Nor has he the Canuas-cut in the night, for a Hobby-horseman
to creepe into his she-neighbour, and take his leap,
there! Nothing! No, if some writer (that I know) had
had but the penning of this matter, he would have made
you such a Iig-ajogge in the boothes, you should have thought
an earthquake had been in the Fayre! But these Master-Poets,
they will have their owne absurd courses; they will
be inform'd of nothing! He has (sirreuerence) kick'd me
three, or foure times about the Tyring-house, I thanke
him, for but offering to putt in, with my experience. I will
be iudg'd by you, Gentlemen, now, but for one conceit of
mine! would not a fine Pumpe upon the Stage have done
well, for a property now? and a Punque set vnder upon
her head, with her Sterne upward, and have beene sous'd
by my wity young masters of the Innes of Court? what
thinke you of this for a shew, now? he will not heare
of this! I am an Asse! I! and yet I kept the Stage in Master Tarletons
time, I thanke my starres. Ho! if that man
had liu'd to have play'd in Bartholomew Fayre, you should
have seene him have come in, and have been coozened in the
Cloath-quarter, so finely! And Adams, the Rogue, ha
leap'd and caper'd upon him, and have dealt his vermine
about, as though they had cost him nothing. And then
a substantiall watch to have stolne in upon them, and taken
them away, with mistaking words, as the fashion is, in
the Stage-practice.

[Booke-holder: Scriuener. To him.]

W:

How now? what rare discourse are you falne
upon? ha? have you found any familiars here, that you
are so free? what is the businesse?
Nothing, but the vnderstanding Gentlemen of
the ground here, ask'd my iudgement.
Your iudgement, Rascall? for what? sweeping
the Stage? or gathering up the broken Apples for the beares
within? Away Rogue, it is come to a fine degree in these
spectacles when such a youth as you pretend to a iudgement.
And yet he may, in the most of this matter i'faith:
For the Author hath writ it iust to his Meridian, and the
Scale of the grounded Iudgements here, his Play-fellowes
in wit. Gentlemen; not for want of a Prologue, but by
way of a new one, I am sent out to you here, with a Scriuener,
and certaine Articles drawne out in hast betweene
our Author, and you; which if you please to heare, and as
they appeare reasonable, to approue of; the Play will follow
presently. Read, Scribe, give me the Counterpaine.
ARTICLES of Agreement, intended, between the
Spectators or Hearers, at the Hope on the Bankeside, in
the County of Surrey on the one party; And the Author of
Bartholomew Fayre in the said place, and County on the other
party: the one and thirtieth day of Octob 1614 and in
the twelfth yeere of the Raigne of our Soueragine Lord,
IAMES by the grace of God King of England, France, and Ireland;
Defender of the faith. And of Scotland the seauen
and fortieth.

INPRIMIS, It is couenanted and agreed, by and betweene
the parties abouesaid, and the said Spectators, and
Hearers, as well the curious and enuious, as the sauouring
and iudicious, as also the grounded Iudgements and vnderstandings,
do for themselues seuerally Couenant, and
agree to remaine in the places, their money or friends have
put them in, with patience, for the space of two houres
and a halfe, and somewhat more. In which time the
Author promiseth to present them by us, with a new sufficient
Play called BARTHOLOMEW FAYRE, merry, and
as full of noise, as sport: made to delight all, and to offend
none. Prouided they have either, the wit or the honesty
to thinke well of themselues.

It is further agreed that euery person here, have his or
their free-will of censure, to like or dislike at their owne
charge, the Author hauing now departed with his right:
It shall be lawfull for any man to iudge his six pen'orth
his twelue pen'orth, so to his eighteene pence, 2. shillings,
halfe a crowne, to the value of his place: Prouided alwaies
his place get not aboue his wit. And if he pay for halfe a dozen,
he may censure for all them too, so that he will
vndertake that they shall be silent. He shall put in for
Censures here, as they do for lots at the lottery: mary if he
drop but sixe pence at the doore, and will censure a
crownes worth, it is thought there is no conscience, or
iustice in that.

It is also agreed, that euery man here, exercise his
owne Iudgement, and not censure by Contagion, or upon
trust, from anothers voice, or face, that sits by him,
be he neuer so first, in the Commission of Wit: As also,
that he be fixt and settled in his censure, that what
he approues, or not approues to day, he will do
the same to morrow, and if to morrow, the next day,
and so the next weeke (if neede be:) and not to be
brought about by any that sits on the Bench with him,
though they indite, and arraigne Playes daily. He
that will sweare, Ieronimo, or Andronicus are the best
playes, yet, shall passe vnexcepted at, here, as a man
whose Iudgement shewes it is constant, and hath stood
still, these fiue and twentie, or thirtie yeeres. Though it
be an Ignorance, it is a vertuous and stay'd ignorance;
and next to truth, a confirm'd errour does well; such
a one the Author knowes where to finde him.

It is further couenanted, concluded and agreed, that
how great soeuer the expectation be, no person here,
is to expect more then he knowes, or better ware
then a Fayre will affoord: neyther to looke backe to
the sword and buckler-age of Smithfield, but content
himselfe with the present. In stead of a little Dauy; to
take toll of the Bawds, the Author doth promise a strutting
Horse-courser, with a leere-Drunkard, two or three
to attend him, in as good Equipage as you would wish.
And then for Kinde-heart, the Tooth-drawer, a fine oyly
Pig-woman with her Tapster, to bid you welcome, and
a consort of Roarers for musique. A wise Iustice of Peace
meditant, in stead of a Iugler, with an Ape. A
ciuill Cutpurse searchant. A sweete Singer of new Ballads
allurant: and as fresh as Hypocrite, as euer was
broach'd rampant. If there be neuer a Seruant-monster
in the Fayre, who can helpe it? he sayes; nor a nest of
Antiques? He is loth to make Nature afraid in his
Playes, like those that beget Tales, Tempests, and such like
Drolleries, to mixe his head with other mens heeles; let
the concupisence of Iigges and Dances, raigne as strong
as it will amongst you: yet if the Puppets will please
any body, they shall be entreated to come in.

In consideration of which, it is finally agreed, by the foresaid
hearers, and spectators, that they neyther in themselues
conceale, nor suffer by them to be concealed any State-decipherer,
or politique Picklocke of the Scene, so solemnly
ridiculous, as to search out, who was meant by the
Ginger-bread-woman, who by the Hobby-horse-man, who
by the Costard-monger, nay, who by their Wares. Or that
will pretend to affirme (on his owne inspired ignorance)
what Mirror of Magistrates is meant by the Iustice,
what great Lady by the Pigge-woman, what conceal'd States-man,
by the Seller of Mouse-trappes, and so
of the rest. But that such person, or persons so found,
be left discouered to the mercy of the Author, as a forfeiture
to the Stage, and your laughter, aforesaid. As also,
such as shall so desperately, or ambitiously, play
the foole by his place aforesaid, to challenge the Author
of scurrilitie, because the language some where
fauours of Smithfield, the Booth, and the Pig-broath,
or of prophanenesse, because a Mad-man cryes, God
quit you, or blesse you. In witnesse whereof, as you have
preposterously put to your Seales already (which is
your money) you will now adde the other part of
suffrage, your hands, The Play shall presently begin.
And though the Fayre be not kept in the same Region,
that some here, perhaps, would have it, yet thinke;
that therein the Author hath obseru'd a speciall Decorum,
the place being as durty as Smithfield, and as stinking
euery whit.

Howsoeuer, he prayes you to beleeue, this Ware is still
the same, else you will make him iustly suspect that
he that is so loth to looke on a Baby, or an Hobby-horse,
here, would be glad to take up a Commodity of them, at any laughter,
or losse, in another place.



Act 1

Scene 1

[LITTLEWIT. (To him) WIN.]

A:

A pretty conceit, and worth the finding! I have
such lucke to spinne out these fine things still,
and like a Silke-worme, out of my selfe. Here is
Master Bartholomew Cokes, of Harrow o'th hill,
in the County of Middlesex, Esquire, takes forth
his Licence, to marry Mistress Grace Wel-borne
of the said place and County: and when does
he take it foorth? to day! the foure and twentieth of August!
Bartholmew day! Bartholmew upon Bartholmew! there is the deuice!
who would have mark'd such a leap-frogge chance now? A
very lesse then Ames-ace, on two Dice! well, go thy wayes Iohn Little-wit,
Proctor Iohn Little-wit: One of the pretty wits of Pauls,
the Little wit of London (so thou art call'd) and some thing beside.
When a quirk, or a quiblin does scape thee, and thou dost not watch,
and apprehend it, and bring it afore the Constable of conceit:
(there now, I speake quib too) let them carry thee out of the Arch-deacons
Court, into his Kitchin, and make a Iack of thee, in stead
of a Iohn. (There I am againe la!) Win, Good morrow, Win. I
marry Win! Now you looke finely indeed, Win! this Cap does
conuince! you would not have worne it, Win, not have had it veluet, but
a rough countrey Beauer, with a copper-band, like the Conney-skinne
woman of Budge-row? Sweete Win, let me kisse it! And.
her fine high shooes, like the Spanish Lady! Good Win, go a litle
I would faine see thee pace, pretty Win! By this fine Cap, I could
neuer leaue kissing of it.

B:

Come, indeede la, you are such a foole, still!

A:

No, but halfe a one, Win you are the tother halfe: man
and wife make one foole, Win. (Good!) Is there the Proctor, or
Doctor indeed, in the Diocesse, that euer had the fortune to win him
such a Win! (There I am againe!) I do feele conceits comming
upon me, more then I am able to turne tongue to. A poxe on
these pretenders, to wit! your Three Cranes, Miter, and Mermaid
men! Not a corne of true salt, nor a graine of right mustard
amongst them all. They may stand for places or so, againe the next
Wit fall, and pay two pence in a quart more for their Canary, then
other men. But give me the man, can start up a Iustice of Wit out of
six-shillings beare, and give the law to all the Poets, and Poet-suckers
in the Towne, because they are the Players Gossips? 'Slid, other
men have wiues as fine as the Players, and as well drest. Come
hither, Win.


Scene 2

E:

Why, how now Master Little-wit! measuring of lips:
or molding of kisses? which is it?

A:

Troth I am a little taken with my Wins dressing here!
Dost not fine Master Win-wife? How do you apprehend, Sir?
She would not have worne this habit. I challenge all Cheapside, to
shew such another: Morefields, Pimlico path, or the Exchange, in
a sommer euening, with a Lace to boot as this has. Deare Win,
let Master Win-wife kisse you. He comes a wooing to our mother
Win, and may be our father perhaps, Win. There is no harme
in him, Win.

E:

None in the earth, Master Little-wit.

A:

I enuy no man, my delicates, Sir.

E:

Alas, you have the garden where they grow still! A wife
here with a Strawbery-breath, Chery-lips, Apricot-cheekes, and a
soft veluet head, like a Melicotton.

A:

Good y'faith! now dulnesse upon me, that I had not
that before him, that I should not light on it, as well as he! Veluet
head!

E:

But my taste, Master Little-wit, tends to fruict of a
later kinde: the sober Matron, your wiues mother.

A:

Aye! we know you are a Suitor, Sir. Win, and I both, wish
you well: by this Licence here, would you had her, that your two
names were as fast in it, as here are a couple. Win would faine
have a fine young father i' law, with a fether: that her mother
might hood it, and chaine it, with Mistris Ouer-doo. But, you do
not take the right course, Master Win-wife.

E:

No? Master Little-wit, why?

A:

You are not madde enough.

E:

How? Is madnesse a right course?

A:

I say nothing, but I winke upon Win. You have a friend,
one (Master Quarlous) comes here sometimes?

E:

Why? he makes no loue to her, does he?

A:

Not a tokenworth that euer I saw, I assure you, But --

E:

What?

A:

He is the more Mad-cap of the two. You do not apprehend me.

B:

You have a hot coale in your mouth, now, you cannot
hold.

A:

Let me out with it, deare Win.

B:

I will tell him my selfe.

A:

Do, and take all the thanks, and much do good thy pretty
heart, Win.

B:

Sir, my mother has had her natiuity-water cast lately
by the Cunning men in Cow lane, and they have told her her fortune,
and do ensure her, she shall neuer have happy houre; vnlesse
she marry within this sen'night, and when it is, it must be
a Madde-man, they say.

A:

Aye, but it must be a Gentle-man Mad-man.

B:

Yes, so the tother man of More-fields sayes.

E:

But does she beleeue them?

A:

Yes, and has beene at Bedlem twice since, euery day, to
enquire if any Gentleman be there, or to come there, mad!

E:

Why, this is a confederacy, a meere piece of practice
upon her, by these Impostors?

A:

I tell her so; or else say I, that they meane some young,
Madcap-Gentleman (for the diuell can equiuocate, as well as a
Shop-keeper) and therefore would I aduise you, to be a little madder,
then Master Quarlous, hereafter.

B:

Where is she? stirring yet?

A:

Stirring! Yes, and studying an old Elder, come from
Banbury, a Suite that puts in here at meale-tyde, to praise the
painefull brethren, or pray that the sweet fingers may be restor'd;
Sayes a grace as long as his breath lasts him! Some time the spirit
is so strong with him, it gets quite out of him, and then my mother,
or Win, are faine to fetch it againe with Malmesey, or Aqua
caelestis.

B:

Yes indeed, we have such a tedious life with him for his
dyet, and his clothes too, he breakes his buttons, and cracks seames
at euery saying he sobs out.

A:

He cannot abide my Vocation, he sayes.

B:

No, he told my mother, a Proctor was a claw of the Beast,
and that she had little lesse then committed abomination in marrying
me so as she has done.

A:

Euery line (he sayes) that a Proctor writes, when it comes
to be read in the Bishops Court, is a long blacke hayre, kemb'd out
of the tayle of Anti-Christ.

E:

When came this Proselyte?

A:

Some three dayes since.


Scene 3

F:

O Sir, have you tane soyle, here? it is well, a man may reach you,
after 3. houres running, yet! what an vnmercifull companion
art thou, to quit thy lodging, at such vngentle manly houres?
None but a scatterd couey of Fidlers, or one of these Rag-rakers
in dung-hills, or some Marrow-bone man at most, would have
been up, when thou wert gone abroad, by all description. I pray
thee what aylest thou, thou canst not sleepe? hast thou Thornes
in thy eye-lids, or Thistles in thy bed.

E:

I cannot tell: It seemes you had neither in your feet;
that tooke this paine to finde me.

F:

No, and I had, all the Lime-hounds of the City should
have drawne after you, by the sent rather, Mr Iohn Little-wit! God
saue you, Sir. It was a hot night with some of us, last night, Iohn:
shall we pluck a hayre of the same Wolfe, to day, Proctor Iohn?

A:

Do you remember Master Quarlous, what we discourst
on, last night?

F:

Not I, Iohn: nothing that I eyther discourse or do,
at those times I forfeit all to forgetfulnesse.

A:

No? not concerning Win, looke you: there she is, and
drest as I told you she should be: harke you Sir, had you forgot?

F:

By this head, I will beware how I keepe you company,
Iohn, when I drunke, and you have this dangerous memory! that is
certaine.

A:

Why Sir?

F:

Why? we were all a little stain'd last night, sprinckled
with a cup or two, and I agreed with Proctor Iohn here, to come
and do somewhat with Win (I know not what it was) to day; and
he puts me in minde of it, now; he sayes he was comming to
fetch me: before Truth, if you have that fearefull quality, Iohn,
to remember, when you are sober, Iohn, what you promise drunke,
Iohn; I shall take heed of you, Iohn. For this once, I am content to
winke at you, where is your wife? come hither Win.

[He kisseth her.]

B:

Why, Iohn! do you see this, Iohn? looke you! helpe
me, Iohn.

A:

O Win, fie, what do you meane, Win! Be womanly, Win;
make an outcry to your mother, Win? Master Quarlous is an honest
Gentleman, and our worshipfull good friend, Win: and he is
Master Winwifes friends, too: And Master Win-wife comes a Suitor
to your mother Win; as I told you before, Win, and may perhaps,
be our Father, Win, they will do you no harme, Win, they are both
our worshipfull good friends. Master Quarlous! you must know
Mr Quarlous, Win; you must not quarrell with Master Quarlous,
Win.

F:

No, we will kisse againe and fall in.

A:

Yes, do good Win.

B:

Y'faith you are a foole, Iohn.

A:

A Foole-Iohn she calls me, do you marke that, Gentlemen?
pretty littlewit of veluet! a foole-Iohn!

F:

She may call you an Apple-Iohn, if you vse this.

E:

Pray thee forbeare, for my respect somewhat.

F:

Hoy-day! how respectiue you are become of the sudden!
I feare this family will turne you reformed too, pray you
come about againe. Because she is in possibility to be your daughter in Law,
and may aske you blessing hereafter, when she courts it
to Totnam to eat creame. Well, I will forbeare, Sir, but i'faith,
would thou wouldst leaue thy exercise of widdow-hunting once!
this drawing after an old reuerend Smocke by the splay-foote:
There cannot be an ancient Tripe or Trillibub in the Towne, but thou
art straight nosing it, and it is a fine occupation thou wilt confine thy selfe
to when thou hast got one; scrubbing a piece of Buffe, as if
thou hadst the perpetuity of Pannyer-alley to stinke in; or perhaps,
worse, currying a carkasse, that thou hast bound thy selfe to aliue.
I will be sworne, some of them, (that thou art, or hast beene a Suitor
to) are so old, as no chast or marryed pleasure can euer become
them: the honest Instrument or procreation, has (forty yeeres
since) left to belong to them, thou must visit them, as thou wouldst
do a Tombe, with a Torch, or three hand-fulls of Lincke, flaming
hot, and so thou maist hap to make them feele thee, and after,
come to inherit according to thy inches. A sweet course for a man
to waste the brand of life for, to be still raking himselfe a fortune
in an old womans embers; we shall have thee after thou hast beene
but a moneth marryed to one of them, looke like the quartane ague,
and the black Iaundise met in a face, and walke as if thou hadst borrow'd
legges of a Spinner, and voyce of a Cricket. I would endure
to heare fifteene Sermons a weeke for her, and such course, and
lowd one's, as some of them must be; I would een desire of Fate, I
might dwell in a drumme, and take in my sustenance, with an old
broken Tobacco-pipe and a Straw. Dost thou euer thinke to
bring thine eares or stomack, to the patience of a drie grace, as long
as thy Tablecloth? and droan'd out by thy sonne, here, (that might
be thy father;) till all the meat of thy board has forgot, it was that
day in the Kitchin? Or to brooke the noise made, in a question of
Predestination, by the good labourers and painefull eaters, assembled
together, put to them by the Matron, your Spouse; who moderates
with a cup of wine, euer and anone, and a Sentence out of
Knoxe between? or the perpetuall spitting, before, and after a sober
drawne exhortation of six houres, whose better part was the hum-ha-hum?
Or to heare prayers groan'd out, ouer thy iron-chests, as if
they were charmes to breake them? And all this for the hope of
two Apostle-spoones, to suffer! and a cup to eate a cawdle in! For
that will be thy legacy. She will have conuey'd her state, safe enough
from thee, if she be a right widdow.

B:

Alasse, I am quite off that sent now.

F:

How so?

E:

Put off by a Brother of Banbury, one, that, they say, is
come here, and gouernes all, already.

F:

What do you call him? I knew diuers of those Banbarians
when I was in Oxford.

E:

Master Little-wit can tell us.

A:

Sir! good Win, go in, and if Master Bartholmew Cokes
his man come for the Licence: (the little old fellow) let him speake
with me; what say you, Gentlemen?

E:

What call you the Reuerent Elder? you told me of?
your Banbury-man.

A:

Rabbi Busy, Sir, he is more then an Elder, he is a Prophet,
Sir.

F:

O, I know him! a Baker, is he not?

A:

He was a Baker, Sir, but he does dreame now, and see
visions, he has giuen ouer his Trade.

F:

I remember that too: out of a scruple he tooke, that
(in spic'd conscience) those Cakes he made, were seru'd to Bridales,
May-poles, Morrisses, and such prophane feasts and meetings;
his Christen-name is Zeale-of-the-land Busye.

A:

How, what a name is there!

E:

O, they have all such names, Sir; he was Witnesse, for

A:

Win, here, (they will not be call'd God-fathers) and nam'd her
Winne-the-fight, you thought her name has beene Winnifred,
did you not?

E:

I did indeed.

A:

He would have thought himselfe a starke Reprobate, if it
had.

F:

Aye, for there was a Blew-starch-woman of the name, at
the same time. A notable hypocriticall vermine it is; I know him.
One that stands upon his face, more then his faith, at all times;
Euer in seditious motion, and reprouing for vaine-glory: of a
most lunatique conscience, and splene, and affects the violence of
Singularity in all he does: (He has vndone a Grocer here, in Newgate-market,
that broke with him, trusted him with Currans, as
errant a Zeale as he, that is by the way: by his profession, he will
euer be in the state of Innocence, though; and child-hood; derides
all Antiquity; defies any other Learning, then Inspiration; and
what discretion soeuer, yeeres should afford him, it is all preuented
in his Originall ignorance; have not to do with him: for he is
a fellow of a most arrogant, and inuincible dulnesse, I assure you;
who is this?


Scene 4

H:

By your leaue, Gentlemen, with all my heart to you: and god you
good morrow; Mr Little-wit, my businesse is to you. Is this
Licence ready?

A:

Here, I have it for you, in my hand, Master Humphrey.

H:

That is well, nay, neuer open, or read it to me, it is labour
in vaine, you know. I am no Clearke, I scorne to be sau'd by my
booke, i'faith I will hang first; fold it up of your word and give it me;
what must you have for it?

A:

We will talke of that anon, Master Humphrey.

H:

Now, or not at all, good Mr Proctor, I am for no anon's,
I assure you.

A:

Sweet Win, bid Salomon send me the little blacke boxe
within, in my study.

H:

Aye, quickly, good Mistresse, I pray you: for I have both
egges of the Spit, and yron in the fire, say, what you must have, good
Mr Little-wit.

A:

Why, you know the price, Mr Numps.

H:

I know? I know nothing. I, what tell you me of knowing?
(now I am in hast) Sir, I do not know, and I will not know, and
I scorne to know, and yet (now I think of it) I will, and do know, as
well as another; you must have a Marke for your thing here, and
eight pence for the boxe; I could have sau'd two pence in that, if I had
bought it my selfe, but here is foureteene shillings for you. Good
Lord! how long your little wife staies! pray God, Salomon, your
Clerke, be not looking in the wrong boxe, Mr Proctor.

A:

Good i'faith! no, I warrant you, Salomon, is wiser then so,
Sir.

H:

Fie, fie, fie, by your leaue Master Little-wit, this is scuruy,
idle, foolish, and abominable, with all my heart; I do not like it.

E:

Do you heare? Iacke Little-wit, what businesse does
thy pretty head thinke, this fellow may have, that he keepes such
a coyle with?

F:

More then buying of ginger-bread in the Cloyster, here,
(for that we allow him) or a guilt pouch in the Fayre?

A:

Master Quarlous, do not mistake him: he is his Masters
both-hands, I assure you.

F:

What? to pull on his boots, a mornings, or his stockings,
does he?

A:

Sir, if you have a minde to mocke him, mocke him softly,
and looke the other way: for if he apprehend you flout him, once,
he will flie at you presently. A terrible testie old fellow, and his
name is Waspe too.

F:

Pretty Insect! make much of him.

H:

A plague on this boxe, and the poxe too, and on him that
made it, and her that went for it, and all that should have sought it,
sent it, or brought it! do you see, Sir?

A:

Nay, good Mr Waspe.

H:

Good Master Hornet, turd in your teeth, hold you your
tongue; do not I know you? your father was a Pothecary, and
sold glisters, more then he gaue, I wusse: and turd in your little
wiues teeth too (here she come,) it will make her spit as fine as she
is, for all her veluet-custerd on her head, Sir.

A:

O! be ciuill Master Numpes.

H:

Why, say I have a humour not to be ciuill; how then?
who shall compell me? you?

A:

Here is the boxe, now.

H:

Why a pox on your boxe, once againe: let your little
wife stale in it, if she will. Sir, I would have you to vnderstand,
and these Gentlemen too, if they please --

E:

With all our hearts. Sir.

H:

That I have a charge. Gentlemen.

A:

They do apprehend, Sir.

H:

Pardon me, Sir, neither they nor you, can apprehend
me, yet. (you are an Asse) I have a young Master, he is now
upon his making and marring; the whole care of his well doing,
is now mine. His foolish scholemasters have done nothing, but
runne up and downe the Countrey with him, to beg puddings, and
cake-bread, of his tennants, and almost spoyled him, he has learn'd
nothing, but to sing Catches, and repeat rattle bladder rattle, and
O, Madge. I dare not let him walke alone, for feare of learning
of vile tunes, which he will sing at supper, and in the
sermon-times! if he meete but a Carman in the streete, and I
finde him not talke to keepe him off of him, he will whistle
him, and all his tunes ouer, at night in his sleepe! he has a head ful
of Bees! I am faine now (for this little time I am absent) to leaue
him in charge with a Gentlewoman; It is true, she is a Iustice of Peace
his wife, and a Gentlewoman of the hood, and his naturall
sister; But what may happen, vnder a womans gouernment,
there is the doubt. Gentlemen, you do not know him: he is another
manner of peece then you think for! but nineteen yeere old,
and yet he is taller then either of you, by the head, God
blesse him.

F:

Well, mee thinkes, this is a fine fellow!

E:

He has made his Master a finer by this description,
I should thinke.

F:

'Faith, much about one, it is crosse and pile, whether for
a new farthing.

H:

I will tell you Gentlemen --

A:

Will it please you drinke, Master Waspe?

H:

Why, I have not talk't so long to be drie, Sir, you see no
dust or cobwebs come out of my mouth: do you? you would have me
gone, would you?

A:

No, but you were in hast e'en now, Mr Numpes.

H:

What if I were? so I am still, and yet I will stay too;
meddle you with your match, your Win, thee, she has a little wit,
as her husband it seemes: I have others to talke to.

A:

She is my match indeede, and as little wit as I, Good!

H:

We have bin but a day and a halfe in towne, Gentlemen,
it is true; and yesterday in the afternoone, we walk'd London, to shew
the City to the Gentlewoman, he shall marry, Mistresse Grace; but,
afore I will endure such another halfe day, with him, I will be drawne
with a good Gib-cat, through the great pond at home, as his vncle
Hodge was! why, we could not meet the heathen thing, all day, but
stayd him: he would name you all the Signes ouer, as he went,
aloud: and where he spi'd a Parrat, or a Monkey, there he was
pitch'd, with all the littl-long-coats about him, male and female;
no getting him away! I thought he would have runne madde of the
blacke boy in Bucklers-bury, that takes the scury, roguy tobacco,
there.

A:

You say true, Master Numpes: there is such a one indeed.

H:

It is no matter, whether there be, or no, what is that to
you?

F:

He will not allow of Iohn's reading at any hand,


Scene 5

G:

O Numpes! are you here Numpes? looke where I am, Numpes!
and Mistris Grace, too! nay, do not looke angerly, Numpes:
my Sister is here, and all, I do not come without her.

H:

What, the mischiefe, do you come with her? or she
with you?

G:

We came all to seeke you, Numpes.

H:

To seeke me? why, did you all thinke I was lost? or
runne away with your foureteene shillings worth of small ware,
here? or that I had chang'd it in the Fayre, for hobby-horses?
S'pretious -- to seeke me!

J:

Nay, good Mr Numpes, do you shew discretion,
though he be exorbitant, (as Mr Ouer doo saies,) if it be but for
conseruation of the peace.

H:

Mary gip, good she-Justice, Mistris French-hood! turd
in your teeth; and turd in your French-hoods teeth, too, to do you
seruice, do you see? must you quote your Adam to me! you thinke,
you are Madam Regent still, Mistris Ouer-doo; when I am in place?
no such matter, I assure you, your raigne is out, when I am in, Dame.

J:

I am content to be in abeyance, Sir, and be gouern'd by
you; so should he too, if he did well; but it will be expected,
you should also gouerne your passions.

H:

Will it so forsooth? good Lord! how sharpe you are!
with being at Bet'lem yesterday? Whetston has set an edge upon
you, has he?

J:

Nay, if you know not what belongs to your dignity:
I do, yet, to mine.

H:

Very well, then.

G:

Is this the Licence, Numpes? for Loues sake, let me see it.
I neuer saw a Licence.

H:

Did you not so? why, you shall not see it, then.

G:

If you loue me, good Numpes.

H:

Sir, I loue you, and yet I do not loue you, in these fooleries,
set your heart at rest; there is nothing in it, but hard words:
and what would you see it for?

G:

I would see the length and the breadth of it, that is all;
and I will see it now, so I will.

H:

You shall not see it, here.

G:

Then I will see it at home, and I will looke upon the case here.

H:

Why, do so, a man must give way him a little in
trifles: Gentlemen. These are errors, diseases of youth: which
he will mend, when he comes to iudgement, and knowledge of
matters. I pray you conceiue so, and I thanke you. And I pray
you pardon him, and I thanke you againe.

F:

Well, this dry-nurse, I say still, is a delicate man.

E:

And I, am, for the Cosset, his charge! Did you euer
see a fellowes face more accuse him for an Asse?

F:

Accuse him? it confesses him one without accusing.
What pitty it is yonder wench should marry such a Cokes?

E:

It is true.

F:

She seemes to be discreete, and as sober as she is
handsome.

E:

Aye, and if you marke her, what a restrain'd scorne she
casts upon all his behauiour, and speeches?

G:

Well, Numpes, I am now for another piece of businesse
more, the Fayre, Numpes, and then --

H:

Blesse me! deliuer me, helpe, hold me! the Fayre!

G:

Nay, neuer fidge up and downe, Numpes, and vexe it selfe.
I am resolute Bartholmew, in this; I will make no suite of it to
you; it was all the end of my journey, indeed, to shew Mistris Grace
my Fayre: I call it my Fayre, because of Bartholmew: you know my
name is Bartholmew, and Bartholmew Fayre.

A:

That was mine afore, Gentlemen: this morning, I had
that i'faith, upon his Licence, beleeue me, there he comes, after me.

F:

Come, Iohn, this ambitious wit of yours, (I am afraid)
will do you no good in the end.

A:

No? why Sir?

F:

You grow so insolent with it, and ouerdoing, Iohn: that
if you looke not to it, and tie it up, it will bring you to some obscure
place in time, and there it will leaue you.

E:

Do not trust it too much, Iohn, be more sparing, and
vse it, but now and then; a wit is a dangerous thing, in this age;
do not ouer buy it.

A:

Thinke you so, Gentlemen? I will take heed of it, hereafter.

B:

Yes, do Iohn.

G:

A prety little soule, this same Mistris Little-wit! would
I might marry her.

K:

So would I, or any body else, so I might scape you,

G:

Numps, I will see it, Numpes, it is decreed: neuer be melancholy
for the matter.

H:

Why, see it, Sir, see it, do see it! who hinders you?
why do you not go see it? 'Slid see it.

G:

The Fayre, Numps, the Fayre.

H:

Would the Fayre and all the drums, and Rattles in it,
were in your belly for me: they are already in your braine: he that
had the meanes to trauell you head, now, should meet finer sights
then any are in the Fayre; and make a finer voyage of it; to see it
all hung with cockle-shels, pebbles, fine wheat-strawes, and here
and there a chicken's feather, and a cob-web.

F:

Goodfaith, he lookes, me thinkes if you marke him,
like one that were made to catch flies, with his Sir Cranion legs.

E:

And his Numpes, to flap them away.

H:

God, be with you, Sir, there is your Bee in a box, and much
good do it, you.

G:

Why, your friend, and Bartholmew; if you be so contumacious.


F:

What meane you, Numpes?

H:

I will not be guilty, I, Gentlemen.

J:

You will not let him go, Brother, and loose him?

G:

Who can hold that will away? I had rather loose him
then the Fayre, I wusse.

H:

You do not know the inconuenience, Gentlemen,
you perswade to: nor what trouble I have with him in these humours.
If he go to the Fayre, he will buy of euery thing, to a Baby
there; and houshold-stuffe for that too. If a legge or an arme
on him did not grown on, he would lose it in the presse. Pray heauen
I bring him off with one stone! And then he is such a Rauener
after fruite! you will not beleeue what a coyle I had, the other day,
to compound a businesse betweene a Katerne-peare-woman, and
him, about snatching! it is intolerable, Gentlemen.

E:

O! but you must not leaue him, now, to these hazards,
Numpes.

H:

Nay, he knowes too well, I will not leaue him, and
that makes him presume: well, Sir, will you go now? if you
have such an itch in your feete, to foote it to the Fayre, why do
you stop, am I your Tarriars? go, will you go? Sir, why do
you not go?

G:

O Numps! have I brought you about? come Mistresse Grace,
and Sister, I am resolute Batt i'faith, still.

K:

Truely, I have no such fancy to the Fayre; nor ambition
to see it; there is none goes thither of any quality or fashion.

G:

O Lord, Sir! you shall pardon me, Mistris Grace, we are
inow of our selues to make it a fashion: and for qualities, let
Numps alone, he will find qualities.

F:

What a Rogue in apprehension is this! to vnderstand
her language no better.

E:

Aye, and offer to marry to her? well, I will leaue the chase
of my widdow, for to day, and directly to the Fayre. These flies
cannot this hot season, but engender us excellent creeping sport.

F:

A man that has but a spoone full of braine, would think
so. Farewell, Iohn.

A:

Win, you see, it is in fashion, to go to the Fayre, Win: we
must to the Fayre too, you, and I, Win. I have an affaire in the Fayre,
Win, a Puppet-play of mine owne making, say nothing, that I writ
for the motion man, which you must see, Win.

B:

I would I might Iohn, but my mother will neuer consent
to such a prophane motion: she will call it.

A:

Tut, we will have a deuice, a dainty one; (Now, Wit, helpe
at a pinch, good Wit come, come, good Wit, if it be thy will.) I
have it, Win, I have it 'i faith, and it is a fine one. Win, long to eate
of a Pigge, sweet Win, in the Fayre; do you see? in the heart of the
Fayre; not at Pye-Corner. Your mother will do any thing, Win,
to satisfie your longing, you know, pray thee long, presently, and
be sicke on the sudden, good Win. I will go in and tell her, cut thy
lace in the meane time, and play the Hypocrite, sweet Win.

B:

No, I will not make me vnready for it. I can be Hypocrite
enough, though I were neuer so straight lac'd.

A:

You say true, you have bin bred in the family, and brought
up to it. our mother is a most elect Hypocrite, and has maintain'd us
all this seuen yeere with it, like Gentle-folkes.

B:

Aye, Let her alone, Iohn, she is not a wise wilfull widdow for
nothing, not a sanctified sister for a song. And let me alone too, I
have somewhat of the mother in me, you shall see, fetch her, fetch
her, ah, ah.


Scene 6

C:

Now, the blaze of the beauteous discipline, fright away this
euill from our house! how now Win-the-fight, Child: how do
you? Sweet child, speake to me.

B:

Yes, forsooth.

C:

Looke up, sweet Win-the-fight, and suffer not the enemy
to enter you at this doore, remember that your education has bin
with the purest, what polluted one was it, that nam'd first the vncleane
beast, Pigge, to you, Child?

B:

(Vh, vh.)

A:

Not I, on my sincerity, mother: she long'd aboue three
houres, ere she should let me know it; who was it Win?

B:

A prophane blacke thing with a beard, Iohn.

C:

O! resist it, Win-the-fight, it is the Tempter, the wicked
Tempter, you may know it by the fleshly motion of Pig, be strong
against it, and its foule temptations, in these assaults, whereby it
broacheth flesh and blood, as it were, on the weaker side, and pray
against its carnall prouocations, good child, sweet child, pray.

A:

Good mother, I pray you; that she may eate some Pigge,
and her belly full, too; and do not you cast away your owne child,
and perhaps one of mine, with your tale of the Tempter: how do
you, Win? Are you not sicke?

B:

Yes, a great deale, Iohn, (vh,vh.)

C:

What shall we do? call our zealous brother Busy hither,
for his faithfull fortification in this charge of the aduersary; child,
my deare childe, you shall eate Pigge, be comforted, my sweet
child.

B:

Aye, but in the Fayre, mother.

C:

I meane in the Fayre, if it can be any way made, or found
lawfull; where is our brother Busy? Will he not come? looke
up, child.

A:

Presently, mother, as soone as he had cleans'd his beard.
I found him, fast by the teeth, in the cold Turkey-pye, in the cupbord,
with a great white loafe on his left hand, and a glasse of Malmesey
on his right.

C:

Slander not the Brethren, wicked one.

A:

Here he is, now, purified, Mother.

C:

O brother Busy! your helpe here to edifie, and raise us
up in a scruple; my daughter Win-the-fight is visited with a naturall
disease of women; call'd, A longing to eate Pigge.

A:

Aye Sir, a Bartholmew pigge: and in the Fayre.

C:

And I would be satisfied from you, Religiously-wise,
whether a widdow of the sanctified assembly, or a widdowes
daughter, may commit the act, without offence to the weaker
sisters.

D:

Verily, for the disease of longing, it is a disease, a carnall
disease, or appetite, incident to women: and as it is carnall, and
incident, it is naturall, very naturall: Now Pigge, it is a meat, and
a meat that is nourishing, and may be long'd for, and so consequently
eaten; it may be eaten; very exceeding well eaten: but in
the Fayre, and as a Bartholmew-pig, it cannot be eaten, for the very
calling it a Bartholmew-pigge, and to eat it so, is a spice of Idolatry,
and you make the Fayre, no better then one of the high Places. This
I take it, is the state of the question. A high place.

A:

Aye, but in state of necessity: Place should give place, Mr Busy,
(I have a conceit left, yet.)

C:

Good Brother, Zeale-of-the-land, thinke to make it as
lawfull as you can.

A:

Yes Sir, and as soone as you can: for it must be Sir;
you see the danger my little wife is in, Sir.

C:

Truely, I do loue my child dearely, and I would not
have her miscarry, or hazard her first fruites, if it might be otherwise.


D:

Surely, it may be otherwise, but it is subiect, to construction,
subiect, and hath a face of offence, with the weake, a great
face, a foule face, but that face may have a vaile put ouer it, and be
shaddowed, as it were, it may be eaten, and in the Fayre, I take it,
in a Booth, the tents of the wicked: the place is not much, not very
much, we may be religious in midst of the prophane, so it be eaten
with a reformed mouth, with sobriety, and humblenesse; not
gorg'd in with gluttony, or greedinesse; there is the feare: for,
should she go there, as taking pride in the place, or delight in the
vncleane dressing, to feed the vanity of the eye, or the lust of the
palat, it were not well, it were not fit, it were abominable, and
not good.

A:

Nay, I knew that afore, and told her of it, but courage,
Win, we will be humble enough; we will seeke out the homeliest Booth
in the Fayre, that is certaine, rather then faile, we will eate it on the
ground.

C:

Aye, and I will go with you my selfe, Win-the-fight, and my
brother, Zeale-of-the-Land, shall go with us too, for our better consolation.

B:

Vh, vh.

A:

Aye, and Salomon too, Win, (the more the merrier) Win,
we will leave Rabby Busy in a Booth. Salomon, my cloake.

W:

Here, Sir.

D:

In the way of comfort to the weake, I will go, and eat.
I will eate exceedingly, and prophesie; there may be a good vse
made of it, too, now I thinke of it: by the publike eating of Swines
flesh, to professe our hate, and loathing of Iudaisme, whereof the
brethren stand taxed. I will therefore eate, yet, I will eate exceedingly.

A:

Good, i'faith, I will eate heartily too, because I will be
no Iew, I could neuer away with that stiffenecked generation: and
truely, I hope my little one will be like me, that cries for Pigge so,
in the mothers belly.

D:

Very likely, exceeding likely, very exceeding likely.



Act 2

Scene S2.1

I:

Well, in Iustice name, and the Kings; and
for the common-wealth! defie all the
world, Adam Ouerdoo, for a disguise, and
all story; for thou hast fitted thy selfe,
I sweare; faine would I meet the Linceus
now, that Eagles eye, that peircing Epidaurian
serpent (as my Quint Horace cal's
him) that could discouer a Iustice of Peace,
(and lately of the Quorum) vnder
this couering. They may have seene many
a foole in the habite of a Iustice; but neuer till now, a Iustice in
the habit of a foole. Thus must we do, though, that wake for
the publike good: and thus hath the wise Magistrate done in all
ages. There is a doing of right out of wrong, if the way be found.
Neuer shall I enough commend a worthy worshipfull man, sometime
a capitall member of this City, for his high wisdome, in this
point, who would take you, now the habit of a Porter; now of a
Carman; now of the Dog-killer, in this moneth of August; and in
the winter, of a Seller of tinder-boxes; and what would he do in
all these shapes? mary go you into euery Alehouse, and down into
euery Celler; measure the length of puddings, take the gage of
blacke pots, and cannes, Aye, and custards with a sticke; and their
circumference, with a third; weigh the loaues of bread on his
middle-finger; then would he send for them, home; give the puddings
to the poore, the bread to the hungry, the custards to his
children; breake the pots, and burne the cannes, himselfe; he
Would not trust his corrupt officers; he would do it himselfe.
would all men in authority would follow this worthy president!
For (alas) as we are publike persons, what do we know? nay,
what can we know? we heare with other mens eares; we see
with other mens eyes? a foolish Constable, of a sleepy Watchman,
is all our information, he slanders a Gentleman, by the vertue
of his place, (as he calls it) and we by the vice of ours, must beleeue
him. As a while agone, they made me, yea me, to mistake
an honest zealous Pursiuant, for a Seminary: and a proper yong
Batcheler of Musicke, for a Bawd. This we are subiect to, that
liue in high place, all our intelligence is idle, and most of our
intelligencers, knaues: and by your leaue, our selues, thought
little better, if not errant fooles, for beleeuing them. I Adam Ouerdoo,
am resolu'd therefore, to spare spy-money hereafter, and
make mine owne discoueries. Many are the yeerely enormities
of this Fayre, in whose courts of Pye-pouldres I have had the honour
during the three dayes sometimes to sit as Iudge. But this
is the speciall day for detection of those foresaid enormities. Here
is my blacke booke, for the purpose; this the cloud that hides me:
vnder this couert I shall see, and not be seene. On Iunius Brutus.
And as I began, so I will end: in Iustice name, and the Kings;
and for the Common-wealth.


Scene S2.2

L:

The Fayre is pestilence dead, me thinkes; people come not abroad,
to day, what euer the matter is. Do you heare, Sister Trash,
Lady of the Basket? sit farther with your ginger-bread-progeny
there, and hinder not the prospect of my shop, or I will have it
proclaim'd in the Fayre, what stuffe they are made on.

M:

Why, what stuffe are they made on, Brother Leatherhead?
nothing but what is wholesome, I assure you.

L:

Yes, stale bread, rotten egges, musty ginger, and dead
honey, you know.

I:

Aye! have I met with enormity, so soone?

L:

I shall marre your market, Old Ione.

M:

Marre my market, thou too-proud Pedler? do thy worst;
I defie thee, I, and thy stable of hobby-horses. I pay for my
ground, as well as thou dost, and thou wrong'st me for all thou
art parcell-poet, and an Inginer. I will finde a friend shall right me,
and make a ballad of thee, and thy cattell all ouer. Are you puft
up with the pride of your wares? your Arsedine?

L:

Go to, old Ione, I will talke with you anone; and take you
downe too, afore Iustice Ouerdoo, he is the man must charme
you, I will have you in the Piepouldres.

M:

Charme me? I will meet thee face to face, afore his worship,
when thou dar'st: and though I be a little crooked of my body,
I will be found as upright in my dealing, as any woman in Smithfield,
Aye, charme me?

I:

I am glad, to heare, my name is their terror, yet, this is
doing of Iustice.

L:

What do you lacke? what is it you buy? what do you
lacke? Rattles, Drums, Halberts, Horses, Babies of the best? Fiddles
of the finest?

[Enter Cost]

W:

Buy any peares, peares, fine, very fine peares.

M:

Buy any ginger-bread, guilt ginger-bread!

O:
Hey, now the Fayre is a filling!
The Birds of the Booths here billing:
Yeerely with old Saint Barthle!
The Drunkards they are wading,
The Punques, and Chapmen trading;
Who would see the Fayre without his lading? Buy any ballads;
new ballads?

P:

Fye upon it: who would weare out their youth, and
prime thus, in roasting of pigges, that had any cooler vocation?
Hell is a kind of cold cellar to it, a very fine vault, on my conscience!
what Moone-calfe.

Q:

Here, Mistresse.

O:

How now Vrsla? in a heate, in a heat?

P:

My chayre, you false saucer you; and my mornings
draught, quickly, a botle of Ale, to quench me, Rascall. I am all
fire, and fat, Nightingale, I shall e'en melt away to the first woman,
a ribbe againe, I am afraid. I do water the ground in knots, as I
go, like a great Garden-pot, you may follow me by the S.S.s
I make.

O:

Alas, good Vr's; was Zekiel here this morning?

P:

Zekiel? what Zekiel?

O:

Zekiel Edgeworth, the ciuill cut-purse, you know him well
enough; he that talkes bawdy to you still: I call him my Secretary.


P:

He promis'd to be here this morning, I remember.

O:

When he comes, bid him stay: I will be backe againe presently.

P:

Best take your mornings dew in your belly, Nightingale,

[Moon-calfe brings in the Chaire.]

P:

come, Sir, set it here, did not I bid you should get this chayre let
out on the sides, for me, that my hips might play? you will neuer
thinke of any thing, till your dame be rumpgall'd; it is well,
Changeling: because it can take in your Grasse-hoppers thighes,
you care for no more. Now, you looke as you had been in the corner
of the Booth, fleaing your breech, with a candles end, and set
fire on the Fayre. Fill, Stote: fill.

I:

This Pig-woman do I know, and I will put her in, for
my second enormity, she hath beene before me, Punke, Pinnace
and Bawd, any time these two and twenty yeeres, upon record in the
Pie-poudres.

P:

Fill againe, you vnlucky vermine.

Q:

Pray you be not angry, Mistresse, I will have it widen'd
anone.

P:

No, no, I shall e'en dwindle away to it, ere the Fayre be
done, you thinke, now you have heated me? A poore vex'd thing
I am, I feele my selfe dropping already, as fast as I can: two stone of
sewet aday is my proportion: I can but hold life and soule together,
with this (here is to you, Nightingale) and a whiffe of tobacco,
at most. Where is my pipe now? not fill'd? thou errant Incubee.

O:

Nay, Vrsla, thou wilt gall betweene the tongue and the
teeth, with fretting, now.

P:

How can I hope, that euer he will discharge his place to
trust, Tapster, a man of reckoning vnder me, that remembers nothing
I say to him? but looke to it, sirrah, you were best, three
pence a pipe full, I will have made, of all my whole halfe pound of
tabacco, and a quarter of a pound of Colesfoot, mixt with it too, to
itch it out. I that have dealt so long in the fire, will not be to seek in
smoak, now. Then 6. and 20. shillings a barrell I will aduance on my
Beere; and fifty shillings a hundred on my bottle-ale, I have told you
the waies how to raise it. Froth your cannes well in the filling, at
length Rogue, and iogge your bottles on the buttocke, Sirrah, then
skinke out the first glasse, euer, and drinke with all companies,
though you be sure to be drunke; you will mis-reckon the better,
and be lesse asham'd of it. But your true tricke, Rascall, must be, to
be euer busie, and mis-take away the bottles and cannes, in hast, before
they be halfe drunke off, and neuer heare any body call, (if
they should chance to marke you) till you have brought fresh, and
be able to forsweare them. Give me a drinke of Ale.

I:

This is the very wombe, and bedde of enormitie! grosse,
as her selfe! this must all downe for enormity, all, euery whit of it.

[One knocks.]

P:

Looke, who is there, Sirrah? fiue shillings a Pigge is my
price, at least; if it be a sow-pig, six pence more, if she be a great
bellied wife, and long for it, six pence more for that.

I:

O Tempora! O mores! I would not have lost my discouery
of this one grieuance, for my place, and worship of the Bench, how
is the poore subiect abus'd, here! well, I will fall in with her, and
with her Moon-calfe, and winne out wonders of enormity. By
thy leaue, goodly women, and the fatnesse of the Fayre: oyly
as the Kings constables Lampe, and shining as his Shooing-horne!
hath thy Ale vertue, or thy Beere strength? that the tongue of man
may be tickled? and his palate pleas'd in the morning? let
thy pretty Nephew here, go search and see.

P:

What new Roarer is this?

Q:

O Lord! do you not know him, Mistris, it is mad Arthur of Bradley,
that makes the Orations. Braue Master, old Arthur of Bradley,
how do you? welcome to the Fayre, when shall we
heare you againe, to handle your matters? with your backe againe
a Booth, ha? I have bin one of your little disciples, in my dayes!

I:

Let me drinke, boy, with my loue, thy Aunt, here; that
I may be eloquent: but of thy best, lest it be bitter in my mouth,
and my words fall foule on the Fayre.

P:

Why dost thou not fetch him drinke? and offer him to
sit?

Q:

Is it Ale, or Beere? Master Arthur?

I:

Thy best, pretty stripling, thy best; the same thy Doue
drinketh, and thou drawest on holy daies.

P:

Bring him a sixe penny bottle of Ale; they say, a fooles
handsell is lucky.

I:

Bring both, child. Ale for Arthur, and Beere for Bradley.
Ale for thine Aunt, boy. My disguise takes to the very wish, and
reach of it. I shall by the benefit of this, discouer enough, and
more: and yet get off with the reputation of what I would be. A
certaine midling thing, betweene a foole and a madman.


Scene S2.3

[KNOCKHVM. to them.]

R:

What! my little leane Vrsla! my shee-Beare! art thou
aliue yet? with thy litter of pigges, to grunt out another
Bartholmew Fayre? ha!

P:

Yes, and to amble afoote, when the Fayre is done, to heare
you groane out of a cart, up the heauy hill.

R:

Of Holbourne, Vrsla, meanst thou so? for what? for
what, pretty Vrs?

P:

For cutting halfe-penny purses: or stealing little penny
dogges, out of the Fayre.

R:

O! good words, good words Vrs.

I:

Another speciall enormitie. A cutpurse of the sword! the
boote, and the feather! those are his marks.

P:

You are one of those horsleaches, that gaue out I was
dead, in Turne-bull streete, of a surfet of botle ale, and tripes?

R:

No, it was better meat Vrs: cowes vdders, cowes vdders!


P:

Well, I shall be meet with your mumbling mouth one
day.

R:

What? thou wilt poyson me with a neust in a bottle of
Ale, wilt thou? or a spider in a tobacco-pipe, Vrs? Come,
there is no malice in these fat folkes, I neuer feare thee, and I can
scape thy leane Moonecalfe here. Let us drinke it out, good Vrs, and
no vapours!

I:

Dost thou heare, boy? (there is for thy Ale, and the remnant
for thee) speake in thy faith of a faucet, now; is this goodly
person before us here, this vapours, a knight of the knife?

Q:

What meane you by that, Master Arthur?

I:

I meane a child of the horne-thumb, a babe of booty, boy;
a cutpurse.

Q:

O Lord, Sir! far from it. This is Master Dan Knockhum:
Iordane the Ranger of Turnebull. He is a horse-courser,
Sir.

I:

Thy dainty dame, though, call'd him cutpurse.

Q:

Like enough, Sir, she will do a forty such things in an
houre (if you listen to her) for her recreation, if the toy take her
in the greasie kerchiefe: it makes her fat you see. She battens
with it.

I:

Here might I have beene deceiu'd, now: and have put a fooles
blot upon my selfe, if I had not play'd an after game of discretion.

[Vrsla comes in againe dropping.]

R:

Alas poor Vrs, this is an ill season for thee.

P:

Hang your selfe, Hacney-man.

R:

How? how? Vrs, vapours! motion breede vapours?

P:

Vapours? Neuer tuske, nor twirle your dibble, good
Iordane, I know what you will take to a very drop. Though you be
Captaine of the Roarers, and fight well at the case of pis-pots, you
shall not fright me with your Lyon-chap, Sir, not your tuskes, you
angry? you are hungry: come, a pigs head will stop your mouth,
and stay your stomacke, at all times.

R:

Thou art such another and merry Vrs still! Troth I
do make conscience of vexing thee, now in the dog-daies, this hot
weather, for feare of foundring thee in the bodie; and melting down
a Piller of the Fayre. Pray thee take thy chayre againe, and keepe
state; and let us have a fresh bottle of Ale, and a pipe of tabacco;
and no vapours. I will have this belly of thine taken up, and thy grasse
scour'd, wench; looke! here is Ezechiel Edgworth; a fine boy of
his inches, as any is in the Fayre! has still money in his purse, and
will pay all, with a kind heart; and good vapours.


Scene S2.4

[To them EDGWORTH. NIGHTINGALE. Corne-cutter. Tinder-box-man. Passengers.]

N:

That I will, indeede, willingly, Master Knockhum, fetch some
Ale, and Tabacco.

L:

What do you lacke, Gentlemen? Maid: see a fine
hobby horse for your young Master: cost you but a token a weeke
his prouander.

W:

Have you any cornes in your feete, and toes?
Buy a Mouse-trap, a Mouse-trap, or a Tormentor for a
Flea.

M:

Buy some Ginger-bread.

O:

Ballads, Ballads! fine new ballads:
Heare for your loue, and buy for your money.
A delicate ballad of the Ferret and the Coney.
A preseruative again' the Punques euill.
Another of Goose-greene-starch, and the Godly garters.
The Fairing of good councell, of an ell and three quarters. What
is it you buy?
The Wind-mill blowne downe by the witches fart!
Or Saint George, that O! did breake the Dragons heart!

N:

Master Nightingale, come hither, leaue your mart a
little.

O:

O my Secretary! what sayes my Secretarie?

I:

Childe of the bottles, what is he? what he?

Q:

A ciuill young Gentleman, Master Arthur, that keepes
company with the Roarers, and disburses all, still. He has euer money
in his purse; He payes for them; and they roare for him: one
does good offices for another. They call him the Secretary, but he
serues no body. A great friend of the Ballad-mans they are neuer
asunder.

I:

What pitty it is, so ciuill a young man should haunt this
debaucht company? here is the bane of the youth of our time apparant.
A proper penman, I see it in his countenance, he has a good
Clerks looke with him, and I warrant him a quicke hand.

Q:

A very quicke hand, Sir.

N:

All the purses, and purchase, I give you to day by conueyance,
bring hither to Vrsla's presently. Here we will meet at
night in her lodge, and share. Looke you choose good places, for
your standing in the Fayre, when you sing, Nightingale.

[This they whisper, that Ouerdoo heares it not.]

P:

Aye, neere the fullest passages; and shift them often.

N:

And in your singing, you must vse your hawks eye nimbly,
and flye the purse to a marke, still, where it is worne, and of which
side; that you may give me the signe with your beake, or hand your
head that way in the tune.

P:

Enough, talke no more of it: your friendship (Masters)
is not now to beginne. Drinke your draught of Indenture, your
sup of Conuenant, and away, the Fayre fils apace, company begins to
come in, and I have ne'er a Pigge ready, yet.

R:

Well said! fill the cups, and light the tabacco: let us
give fire in the works, and noble vapours.

N:

And shall we have smockes Vrsla, and good whimsies,
ha?

P:

Come, you are in your bawdy vaine! the best the Fayre
will afford, Zekiel, if Bawd Whit keepe his word; how do the
Pigges, Moone-calfe?

Q:

Very passionate, Mistresse, one of them has wept out an
eye. Master Arthur O'Bradley is melancholy, here, no body talkes
to him. Will you any tabacco Master Arthur?

I:

No, boy, let my meditation alone.

Q:

He is studying for an Oration, now.

I:

If I can, with this daies trauell, and all my policy, but rescue
this youth, here, out of the hands of the lewd man, and the
strange woman. I will sit downe at night, and say with my friend
Ouid, Iamq; opus exegi, quod nec Iouis ira, nec ignis, Etc


R:

Here Zekiel; here is a health of Vrsla, and a kind vapour,
thou hast money in thy purse still; and store! how dost thou come
by it? Pray thee vapour thy friends some in a courteous vapour.

N:

Halfe I have, Master Dan Knockhum, is alwaies at your seruice,

I:

Ha, sweete nature! what Goshawke would prey upon
such a Lambe?

R:

Let us see, what it is, Zekiel! count it, come, fill him to
pledge me.


Scene S2.5

[to them.]

E:

We are here before them, me thinkes.

F:

All the better, we shall see them come in now.

L:

What do you lacke, Gentlemen, what is it you lacke? a
fine Horse? a Lyon? a Bull? a Beare? a Dog, or a Cat? an excellent
fine Bartholmew-bird? or an Instrument? what is it you
lacke?

F:

S'lid! here is Orpheus among the beasts, with his
Fiddle, and all!

M:

Will you buy any comfortable bread, Gentlemen?

F:

And Ceres selling her daughters picture, in Ginger-worke!


E:

That these people should be so ignorant to thinke us
chapmen for them! do we looke as if we would buy Ginger-bread?
or Hobby-horses?

F:

Why, they know no better ware then they have, nor
better customers then come. And our very being here makes us fit
to be demanded, as well as others. Would Cokes would come!
there were a true customer for them.

R:

How much is it? thirty shillings? who is yonder! Ned Winwife?
and Tom Quarlous, I thinke! yes, (give me it all) (give
me it all) Master Win-wife! Master Quarlous! will you take a pipe
of tabacco with us? do not discredit me now, Zekiel.

E:

Do not see him! he is the roaring horse-courser, pray
thee let us auoyd him: turne downe this way.

F:

S'lud, I will see him, and roare with him, too, if he
roar'd as loud as Neptune, pray thee go with me.

E:

You may draw me to as likely an inconuenience, when
you please, as this.

F:

Go to then, come along, we have nothing to do, man,
but to see sights, now.

R:

Welcome Master Quarlous, and Master Winwife! will
you take any froth, and smoake with us?

F:

Yes, Sir, but you will pardon us, if we knew not of so much
familiarity betweene us afore.

R:

As what, Sir?

F:

To be so lightly inuited to smoake, and froth.

R:

A good vapour! will you sit downe, Sir? this is old
Vrsla's mansion, how like you her bower? here you may have your
Punque, and your Pigge in state, Sir, both piping hot.

F:

I had rather have my Punque, cold, Sir.

I:

There is for me, Punque! and Pigge!

P:

What Moonecalfe? you Rogue.

[She calls within.]

Q:

By and by, the bottle is almost off Mistresse, here Master Arthur.

P:

I will part you, and your play-fellow there, in the garded
coat, if you sunder not the sooner.

R:

Master Winwife, you are proud (me thinkes) you do not
talke, nor drinke, are you proud?

E:

Not of the company I am in, Sir, nor the place, I assure
you.

R:

You do not except at the company! do you? are you
in vapours, Sir?

Q:

Nay, good Master Dan Knockhum, respect my Mistris Bower,
as you call it; for the honour of our Booth, none of your
vapours, here.

[She comes out with a fire-brand.]

P:

Why, you thinne leane Polcat you, if they have a
minde to be in their vapours, must you hinder them? what did you
know Vermine, if they would have lost a cloake, or such a trifle?
must you be drawing the ayre of pacification here? while I am
tormented, within, in the fire, you Weasell?

Q:

Good Mistresse, it was in the behalfe of your Booth's credit,
that I spoke.

P:

Why? would my Booth have broake, if they had fal'ne
out in it? Sir? or would their heate have fir'd it? in, you Rogue, and
wipe the pigges, and mend the fire, that they fall not, or I will both
baste and roast you, till your eyes drop out, like them. (Leaue the
bottle behinde you, and be curst a while.)

F:

Body of the Fayre! what is this? mother of the Bawds?

R:

No, she is mother of the Pigs, Sir, mother of the Pigs!

E:

Mother of the Furies, I thinke, by her firebrand.

F:

Nay, she is too fat to be a Fury, sure, some walking
Sow of tallow?

E:

An inspir'd vessel of Kitchin stuffe!

[She drinkes this while.]

F:

She will make excellent geere for the Coach-makers, here
in Smithfield, to anoynt wheeles and axell trees with.

P:

Aye, Aye, Gamesters, mocke a plaine plumpe soft wench of
the Suburbs, do, because she is iuicy and wholesome: you must
have your thinne pinch'd ware, pent up in the compasse of a dogge-collar,
(or it will not do) that lookes like a long lac'd Conger, set up-right,
and a greene feather, like fennell in the loll of it.

R:

Well said Vrs, my good Vrs; to them Vrs.

F:

Is she your quagmire, Dan Knockhum? is this your
Bogge?

O:

We shall have a quarrell presently.

R:

How? Bog? Quagmire? foule vapours! hum'h!

F:

Yes, he that would venture for it, I assure him, might
sinke into her, and be drown'd a weeke, ere any friend he had,
could find where he were.

E:

And then he would be a fort'night weighing up againe.

F:

It were like falling into a whole Shire of butter: they
had need to be a teeme of Dutchmen, should draw him out.

R:

Answer them, Vrs, where is thy Bartholmew-wit, now?
Vrs, thy Bartholmew-wit?

P:

Hang them, rotten roguy Cheaters, I hope to see them
plagu'd one day (pox'd they are already, I am sure) with leane play-house
poultry, that has the boany rumpe, sticking out like the Ace of Spades,
or the point of a Partizan, that euery rib of them is like
the tooth of a Saw: and will so grate them with their hips, and shoulders,
as (take them altogether) they were as good lye with a hurdle.

F:

Out upon her, how she drips! she is able to give a man
the sweating Sicknesse, with looking on her.

P:

Mary looke off, with a patch on your face; and a dosen
in your breech, though they be of scarlet, Sir. I have seene as fine outsides,
as either of yours, bring lowsie linings to the Brokers, ere
now, twice a weeke?

F:

Do you thinke there may be a fine new Cuckingstoole
in the Fayre, to be purchas'd? one large inough, I meane. I know
there is a pond of capacity, for her.

P:

For your mother, you Rascall, out you Rogue, you hedge
bird, you Pimpe, you pannier-mans bastard, you.

F:

Ha, ha, ha.

P:

Do you sneere, you dogs-head, you Trendle tayle! you
looke as you were begotten a'top of a Cart in haruest-time, when
the whelp was hot and eager. Go, snuffe after your brothers bitch,
Mrs Commodity, that is the Liuory you weare, it will be out at the elbows,
shortly. It is time you went to it, for the to'ther remnant.

R:

Peace, Vrs, peace, Vrs, they will kill the poore Whale, and
make oyle of her. Pray thee go in.

P:

I will see them pox'd first, and pil'd, and double pil'd.

E:

Let us away, her language growes greasier then her Pigs.

P:

Does it so, snotty nose? good Lord! are you sniueling?
you were engendred on a she-begger, in a barne, when the bald
Thrasher, your Sire, was scarce warme.

E:

Pray thee, let us go.

F:

No, faith: I will stay the end of her, now: I know she
cannot last long; I finde by her similes, she wanes a pace.

P:

Does she so? I will set you gone. Give me my Pig-pan hither
a little. I will scald you hence, if you will not go.

R:

Gentlemen, these are very strange vapours! and very
idle vapours! I assure you.

F:

You are a very serious asse, we assure you.

R:

Humh! Asse? and serious? nay, then pardon me my
vapour. I have a foolish vapour, Gentlemen: any man that does
vapour me, the Asse, Master Quarlous --

F:

What then, Master Iordan?

R:

I do vapour him the lye.

F:

Faith, and to any man that vapours me the lie, I do
vapour that.

R:

Nay, then, vapours upon vapours.

X:

'Ware the pan, the pan, the pan, she comes with
the pan, Gentlemen. God blesse the woman.

[Vrsla comes in, with the scalding-pan. They fight. She falls with it.]

P:

O.

V:

What is the matter?

I:

Goodly woman!

Q:

Mistresse!

P:

Curse of hell, that euer I saw these Feinds, o! I have scalded
my leg, my leg, my leg, my leg. I have lost a limb in the seruice!
run for some creame and sallad oyle, quickly. Are you vnder-peering,
you Baboun? rip off my hose, if you be men, men, men.

Q:

Runne you for some creame, good mother Ione. I will
looke to your basket.

L:

Best sit up in your chaire, Vrsla. Helpe, Gentlemen.

R:

Be of good cheere, Vrs, thou hast hindred me the currying
of a couple of Stallions, here, that abus'd the good race-Bawd
of Smithfield; it was time for them to go.

O:

I faith, when the panne came, they had made you runne
else. (this had beene a fine time for purchase, if you had ventur'd.)

N:

Not a whit, these fellows were too fine to carry money.

R:

Nightingale, get some helpe to carry her legge out of the
ayre; take off her shooes; body of me, she has the Mallanders, the
scratches, the crowne scabbe, and the quitter bone, in the tother
legge.

P:

O! the poxe, why do you put me in minde of my leg,
thus, to make it prick, and shoot? would you have me in the Hospitall,
afore my time?

R:

Patience, Vrs, take a good heart, it is but a blister, as
big as a Windgall; I will take it away with the white of an egge, a
little honey, and hogs grease, have thy pasternes well rol'd, and thou
shalt pase againe by to morrow. I will tend thy Booth, and looke to
thy affaires, the while: thou shalt sit in thy chaire, and give directions,
and shine Vrsa maior.


Scene S2.6

I:

These are the fruites of bottle ale, and tabacco! the fome of the
one, and the fumes of the other! Stay young man, and despise
not the wisedome of these few hayres, that are growne gray in care
of thee.

N:

Nightingale, stay a while. Indeede I will heare some of
this!

G:

Come, Numps, come, where are you? welcome into
the Fayre, Mistris Grace.

N:

S'light, he will call company, you shall see, and put us
into doings presently.

I:

Thirst not after that frothy liquor, Ale: for, who knowes,
when he openeth the stopple, what may be in the bottle? hath
not a Snaile, a Spider, yea, a Neust bin found there? thirst not after
it, youth: thirst not after it.

G:

This is a braue fellow, Numps, let us heare him.

H:

S'blood, how braue is he? in a garded coate? you were
best trucke with him, e'en strip, and trucke presently, it will become
you, why will you heare him, because he is an Asse, and may
be a kinne to the Cokeses?

G:

O, good Numps!

I:

Neither do thou lust after that tawney weede, tabacco.

G:

Braue words!

I:

Whose complexion is like the Indians that vents it!

G:

Are they not braue words, Sister?

I:

And who can tell, if, before the gathering, and making
up thereof, the Alliganta hath not piss'd thereon?

H:

'Heart let them be braue words, as braue as they will!
if they were all the braue words in a Countrey, how then? will
you away yet? have you inough of him? Mistris Grace, come you
away, I pray you, be not you accessary. If you do lose your Licence,
or somewhat else, Sir, with listning to his fables: say, Numps,
is a witch, with all my heart, do, say so.

G:

Avoyd in your sattin doublet, Numps.

I:

The creeping venome of which subtill serpent, as some
late writers affirme; neither the cutting of the perrillous plant,
nor the drying of it, nor the lighting, or burning, can any way
perssway or, asswage.

G:

Good, i'faith! is it not Sister?

I:

Hence it is, that the lungs of the Tabacconist are rotted,
the Liuer spotted, the braine smoak'd like the backside of the Pig-womans
Booth, here, and the whole body within, blacke, as her
Pan, you saw e'en now, without.

G:

A fine similitude, that, Sir! did you see the panne?

N:

Yes, Sir.

I:

Nay, the hole in the nose here, of some tabacco-takers,
or the third nostrill, (if I may so call it) which makes, that they can
vent the tabacco out, like the Ace of clubs, or rather the Flowerde-lice,
is caused from the tabacco, the meere tabacco! when the
poore innocent pox, hauing nothing to do there, is miserably,
and most vnconscionably slander'd.

G:

Who would have mist this, Sister?

J:

Not any body, but Numps.

G:

He does not vnderstand.

N:

Nor you feele.

[He picketh his purse.]

G:

What would you have, Sister, of a fellow that knowes
nothing but a basket-hilt, and an old Fox in it? the best musique
in the Fayre, will not moue a logge.

N:

In, to Vrsla, Nightingale, and carry her comfort: see it
told. This fellow was sent to us by fortune, for our first fairing.

I:

But what speake I of the diseases of the body, children of
the Fayre?

G:

That is to us, Sister. Braue i'faith!

I:

Harke, O, you sonnes and daughters of Smithfield! and
heare what mallady it doth the minde: It causeth swearing, it
causeth swaggering, it causeth snuffling, and snarling, and now and
then a hurt.

J:

He hath something of Master Ouerdoo, mee thinkes, brother.

G:

So mee thought, Sister, very much of my brother Ouerdoo:
And it is, when he speakes.

I:

Looke into any Angle of the towne, (the Streights, or the
Bermuda's) where the quarrelling lesson is read, and how do
they entertaine the time, but with bottle-ale, and tabacco? The
Lecturer is on one side, and his Pupils on the other; But the seconds
are still bottle ale and tabacco, for which the Lecturer reads, and
the Nouices pay. Thirty pound a weeke in bottle ale! forty in tabacco!
and ten more in Ale againe. Then for a sute to drinke in,
so much, and (that being slauer'd) so much for another sute, and
then a third sute, and a fourth sute! and still the bottle ale slauereth,
and the tabacco stinketh!

H:

Heart of a mad-man! are you rooted here? well you
neuer away? what can any man finde out in this bawling fellow,
to grow here for? he is a full handfull higher, sin' he heard him,
will you fix here? and set up a Booth? Sir?

I:

I will conclude briefely --

H:

Hold your peace, you roaring Rascall, I will runne
my head in your chaps else. You were best build a Booth, and entertaine
him, make your Will, and you say the word, and him your
heyre! heart, I neuer knew one taken with a mouth of a pecke, afore.
By this light, I will carry you away on my backe, if you will
not come.

[He gets him up on pick-packe.]

G:

Stay Numpes, stay, set me downe: I have lost my purse,
Numps, O my purse! one of my fine purses is gone.

J:

Is it indeed, brother?

G:

Aye, as I am an honest man, would I were an errant Rogue,
else! a plague of all rogy, camn'd cut-purses for me.

H:

Bless them with all my heart, with all my heart, do you
see! Now, as I am no Infidell, that I know of, I am glad of it. I
I am, (here is my witnesse!) do you see, Sir? I did not tell you of
his fables, I? no, no, I am a dull malt-horse, I, I know nothing. Are
you not iustly seru'd in your conscience now? speake in your conscience.
Much good do you with all my heart, and his good heart
that has it, with all my heart againe.

N:

This fellow is very charitable, would he had a purse too!
but, I must not be too bold, all at a time.

G:

Nay, Numps, it is not my best purse.

H:

Not your best! death! why should it be your worst?
why should it be any, indeed, at all? answer me to that, give me a
reason from you, why it should be any?

G:

Nor my gold, Numps; I have that yet, looke here else,
Sister.

H:

Why so, there is all the feeling he has!

J:

I pray you, have a better care of that, brother.

G:

Nay, so I will, I warrant you; let him catch this, that
catch can. I would faine see him get this, looke you here.

H:

So, so, so, so, so, so, so, so! Very good.

G:

I would have him come againe, now, and but offer at it.
Sister, will you take notice of a good iest? I will put it iust where
the other was, and if we have good lucke, you shall see a delicate fine
trap to catch the cutpurse, nibling.

N:

Faith, and he will trye ere you be out of the Fayre.

G:

Come, Mistresse Grace, pre'thee be not melancholy for
my mis-chance; sorrow will not keepe it, Sweetheart.

K:

I do not thinke of it, Sir.

G:

It was but a little scuruy white money, hang it: it may
hang the cutpurse, one day. I have gold left to give thee a fayring,
yet, as hard as the world goes: nothing angers me, but that
no body here, look'd like a cutpurse, vnlesse it were Numps.

H:

How? I? I looke like a cutpurse? death! your Sister is
a cutpurse! and your mother and father, and all your kinne were
cutpurses! And here is a Rogue is the baud of the cutpurses, whom
I will beat to begin with.

[They speake all together: and Waspe beats the Iustice.]

I:

Hold thy hand, childe
of wrath, and heyre of anger,
make it not Childermasse day
in thy fury, or the feast of the
French Bartholmew, Parent of
the Massacre.

G:

Numps, Numps.

J:

Good Mr Humphrey.

H:

You are the Patrico!
are you? the Patriarch of the
cutpurses? you share, Sir, they
say, let them share this with
you. Are you in your hot fit of preaching againe? I will coole you.

I:

Murther, murther, murther.



Act 3

Scene S3.1

W:

Nay it is all gone, now! this it is, when
thou wilt not be phitin call, Master Offisher,
what is a man the better to lishen
out noyshes for thee, if thou art in an oder 'orld,
being very shuffishient noyshes
and gallantsh too, one of their brabblesh
would have fed us all this fortnight, but
thou art so bushy about beggersh stil, thou
hast no leshure to intend thentlemen,
if it be.
Why, I told you, Dauy Bristle.
Come, come, you told me a pudding, Toby Haggise; A
matter of nothing; I am sure it came to nothing! you said, let us
go to Vrsla's, indeede; but then you met the man with the monsters,
and I could not get you from him. An old foole, not leaue
seeing yet?
Why, who would have thought any body would have quarrell'd
so earely? or that the ale of the Fayre would have beene
up so soone.
Why? what a clocke toest thou tinke it is, man?
I cannot tell.
Thou art a vishe vatchman, in the meane teeme.
Why? should the watch go by the clocke, or the clock
by the watch, I pray?
One should go by another, if they did well.
Thou art right now! when didst thou euer know, or heare
of a shuffishient vatchman, but he did tell the clocke, what bushinesse
soeuer he had?
Nay, that is most true, a sufficient watchman knowes
what a clocke it is.
Shleeping, or vaking! as well as the clocke himshelfe, or
the lack that shtrikes him!
Let us enquire of Master Leatherhead, or Ione Trash here.
Master Leatherhead, do you heare, Master Leatherhead?

W:

If it be a Ledderhead, it is a very tick Ledderhead, that
so mush noish will not peirsh him.

L:

I have a little businesse now, good friends do not trouble
me.

W:

What? because of thy wrought neet cap, and thy pheluct
sherkin, Man? why? I have sheene thee in thy Ledder sherkin, ere
now, Mashter of the hobby-Horses, as bushy and as stately as Thou
shem'st to be.

M:

Why, what if you have, Captaine Whit? he has his
choyce of Ierkins, you may see by that, and his caps too, I assure
you, when he pleases to be either sicke, or imploy'd.

L:

God a mercy Ione, answer for true.

W:

Away, be not sheen in my company, here be shentlemen,
and men of vorship.


Scene S3.2

F:

We had a wonderfull ill lucke, to misse this prologue of the
purse, but the best is, we shall have five Acts of him ere
night: he will be spectacle enough! I will answer for it.

W:

O Creesh! Duke Quarlous, how dosht thou? thou dosht
not know me, I feare? I am the vishesht man, but Iustish Ouerdoo, in
all Bartholmew Fayre, now. Give me tweluepence from thee, I will help
thee to a vife vorth forty marks for it, if it be.

F:

Away, Rogue, Pimpe away.

W:

And thee shall shew thee as fine cut o'rke for it in her
shmock too, as thou cansht vishe i'faith; wilt thou have her, vorshipfull
Vin wife? I will helpe thee to her, here, be if it be, in the pig-quarter,
give me thy twelpence from thee.

E:

Why, there is twelpence, pray thee wilt thou be gone.

W:

Thou art a vorthy man, and a vorshipfull man still.

F:

Get you gone, Rascall.

W:

I do meane it, man, Prinsh Quarlous if thou hasht need
of me, thou shalt find me here, at Vrsla's, I will see what ale, and
punque is in the pigshty, for thee, blesse thy good vorship.

F:

Looke! who comes here! Iohn Little-wit!

E:

And his wife, and my widdow, her mother: the whole
family.

F:

'Slight, you must give them all fairings, now!

E:

Not I, I will not see them,

F:

They are going a feasting. What Schole-master is that
is with them?

E:

That is my Riuall, I beleeue, the Baker!

D:

So, walke on in the middle way, fore-right, turne neyther
to the right hand, nor to the left: let not your eyes be drawne
aside with vanity, nor your eare with noyses.

F:

O, I know him by that start!

L:

What do you lack? what do you buy, pretty Mistris! a fine
Hobby-Horse, to make your sonne a Tilter? a Drum to make him
a Souldier? a Fiddle, to make him a Reueller? What is it you lack?
Little Dogs for your Daughters! or Babies, male, or female?

D:

Look not toward them, harken not: the place is Smithfield,
or the field of Smiths, the Groue of Hobbi-horses and trinkets,
the wares are the wares of diuels. And the whole Fayre is the shop
of Satan! They are hooks, and baites, very baites, that are hung out
on euery side, to catch you, and to hold you as it were, by the gills;
and by the nostrills, as the Fisher doth: therefore, you must not
looke, nor turne toward them -- The Heathen man could stop his
eares with wax, against the harlot of the sea: Do you the like,
with your fingers against the bells of the Beast.

E:

What flashes comes from him!

F:

O, he has those of his ouen! a notable hot Baker it was,
when he ply'd the peele: he is leading his flock into the Fayre,
now.

E:

Rather driuing them to the Pens: for he will let them
looke upon nothing.

R:

Gentlewomen, the weather is hot! whither walke you?

[Little-wit is gazing at the signe; which is the Pigs-head with a large writing vnder it.]

R:

Have a care of your fine veluet caps, the Fayre is dusty. Take a sweet
delicate booth, with boughs, here, in the way, and coole your selues
in the shade: you and your friends. The best pig and bottle-ale in
the Fayre, Sir. Old Vrsla is Cooke, there you may read: the pigges
head speakes it. Poore soule, she has had a Sringhalt the Maryhinchco:
but she is prettily amended.

W:

A delicate show-pig, little Mistris, with shweet sauce, and
crackling, like the bay-leafe in the fire, la! Thou shalt have the cleane side
of the table-clot and the glass vash'd with phatersh of Dame Anneshsh
Cleare.

A:

This is fine, verily, here be the best pigs: and she does
roast them as well as euer she did; the Pigs head sayes.

R:

Excellent, excellent, Mistris, with fire of Iuniper and Rosemary
branches! The Oracle of the Pigs head, that, Sir.

C:

Sonne, were you not warn'd of the vanity of the eye? have
you forgot the wholesome admonition, so soone?

A:

Good mother, how shall we finde a pigge, if we do not
looke about for it? will it run off of the spit, into our mouths thinke
you? as in Lubberland? and cry, wee, wee?

D:

No, but your mother, religiously wise, conceiueth it may
offer it selfe, by other meanes, to the sense, as by way of steeme,
which I thinke it doth, here in this place,

[Busy sents after it like a Hound.]

D:

(Huh, huh) yes, it doth.
and it were a sinne of obstinacy, great obstinacy, high and horrible
obstinacy, to decline, or resist the good titillation of the
famelick sense, which is the smell. Therefore be bold (huh, huh,
huh) follow the sent. Enter the Tents of the vncleane, for once, and
satisfie your wiues frailty. Let your fraile wife be satisfied: your
zealous mother, and my suffering selfe, will also be satisfied.

A:

Come, Win, as good winny here, as go farther, and
see nothing.

D:

We scape so much of the other vanities, by our earely
entring.

C:

It is an aedifying consideration.

B:

This is scuruy, that we must come into the Fayre, and
not looke on it.

A:

Win, have patience, Win, I will tell you more anon.

R:

Moone-calfe, entertaine within there, the best pig in the
Booth; a Porklike pig. These are Banbury-bloods, of the sincere
stud, come a pigge-hunting. Whit, wait Whit, looke to your
charge.

D:

A pigge prepare, presently, let a pigge be prepared to
us.

Q:

S'light, who be these?

P:

Is this the good seruice, Iordan, you would do me?

R:

Why, Vrs? why Vrs? thou wilt have vapours in thy legge
againe presently, pray thee go in, it may turne to the scatches else.

P:

Hang your vapours, they are stale, and stinke like you,
are these the guests of the game, you promis'd to fill my pit with all,
to day?

R:

Aye, what aile they Vrs?

P:

Aile they? they are all sippers, sippers of the City, they
looke as they would not drinke off two penn'orth of bottle-ale amongst
them.

Q:

A body may read that in their small printed ruffes.

R:

Away, thou art a foole, Vrs, and thy Moone-calfe too,
in your ignorant vapours, now? hence, good guests, I say right
hypocrites, good gluttons. In, and set a couple of pigs on the board,
and halfe a dozen of the biggest bottles afore them, and call Whit,
I do not loue to heare Innocents abus'd: Fine ambling hypocrites!
and a stone puritane, with a sorrell head, and beard, good
mouth'd gluttons: two to a pigge, away.

P:

Are you sure they are such?

R:

Of the right breed, thou shalt try them by the teeth, Vrs,
where is this Whit?

W:

Behold, man and see, what a worthy man am I!
With the fury of my sword, and the shaking of my beard,
I will make ten thousand men afeard.

R:

Well said, braue Whit, in, and feare the ale out of the
bottles, into the bellies of the brethren, and the sisters drinke to the
cause, and pure vapours.

F:

My Roarer is turn'd Tapster, mee thinks. Now were a
fine time for thee, Win-wife, to lay aboard the widdow, thou wilt neuer
be Master of a better season, or place; she that will venture
her selfe into the Fayre, and a pig-boxe, will admit any assault, be
assur'd of that.

B:

I loue not enterprises of that suddennesse, though.

F:

I will warrant thee, then, no wife out of the widdowes
Hundred: if I had but as much Title to her, as to have breath'd
once on that streight stomacher of hers, I would now assure my selfe
to carry her, yet, ere she went out of Smithfield. Or she should
carry me, which were the fitter sight, I confesse. But you are a modest
vndertaker, by circumstances, and degrees; come, it is Disease
in thee, not Iudgement, I should offer at all together. Looke, here is
the poore foole, againe, that was flung by the waspe, ere while.


Scene S3.3

I:

I will make no more orations, shall draw on these tragicall conclusions.
And I begin now to thinke, that by a spice of collaterall
Iustice, Adam Ouerdoo, deseru'd this beating; for I the said Adam,
was one cause (a by-cause) why the purse was lost: and my wiues
brothers purse too, which they know not of yet. But I shall make
very good mirth with it, at supper, (that will be the sport) and put
my little friend, Mr Humphrey Wasp's choler quite out of countenance.
When, sitting at the upper end of my Table, as I vse, and drinking
to my brother Cokes, and Mrs Alice Ouerdoo, as I will, my wife, for
their good affection to old Bradley, I deliuer to them, it was I, that was
cudgell'd, and shew them the marks. To see what bad euents may
peepe out of the taile of good purposes! the care I had of that ciuil
yong man, I tooke fancy to this morning, (and have not left it yet)
drew me to that exhortation, which drew the company, indeede,
which drew the cut-purse; which drew the money; which drew
my brother Cokes his losse; which drew on Wasp's anger; which
drew on my beating: a pretty gradation! And they shall have it
in their dish, i'faith, at night for fruit: I loue to be merry at my Table.
I had thought once, at one speciall blow he ga' me, to have reuealed
my selfe? but then (I thank thee fortitude) I remembered
that a wise man (and who is euer so great a part, of the Common-wealth
in himselfe) for no particular disaster ought to abandon a
publike good designe. The husbandman ought not for one vnthankful
yeer, to forsake the plough; The Shepheard ought not, for
one scabb'd sheep, to throw by his tar-boxe; The Pilot ought not
for one leake in the poope, to quit the Helme; Nor the Alderman
ought not for one custerd more, at a meale, to give up his cloake;
The Constable ought not to breake his staffe, and forsweare the
watch, for one roaring night; Nor the Piper of the Parish (Vt paruis
componere magna solebam) to put up his pipes, for one rainy
Sunday. These are certaine knocking conclusions; out of which,
I am resolu'd, come banishment, nay, come the rack, come
the hurdle, (welcome all) I will not discouer who I am, till my
due time; and yet still, all shall be, as I said euer, in Iustice name,
and the King's, and for the Common-wealth.

E:

What does he talke to himselfe, and act so seriously?
poore foole!

F:

No matter what. Here is fresher argument, intend that.


Scene S3.4

G:

Come, Mistresse Grace, come Sister, here is more fine sights,
yet i'faith. Gods 'lid where is Numps?

L:

What do you lacke, Gentlemen? what is it you buy?
fine Rattles? Drummes? Babies? little Dogges? and Birds for
Ladies? What do you lacke?

G:

Good honest Numpes, keepe afore, I am so afraid thou wilt
lose somewhat: my heart was at my mouth, when I mist thee.

H:

You were best buy a whip in your hand to driue me.

G:

Nay, do not mistake, Numps, thou art so apt to mistake:
I would but watch the goods. Looke you now, the treble
fiddle, was e'en almost like to be lost.

H:

Pray you take heede you lose not your selfe: your best
way, were e'en get up, and ride for more surety. Buy a tokens
worth of great pinnes, to fasten your selfe to my shoulder.

L:

What do you lacke, Gentlemen? fine purses, pouches,
pincases, pipes? What is it you lacke? a paire of smithes to wake
you in the morning? or a fine whistling bird?

G:

Numps, here be finer things then any we have bought by
oddes! and more delicate horses, a great deal! good Numpes,
stay, and come hither.

H:

will you scourse with him? you are in Smithfield, you
may sit your selfe with a fine easy-going street-nag, for your saddle
againe Michaelmasse-terme, do has he ne'er a little odde cart for
you, to make a Carroch on, in the countrey, with foure pyed hobbyhorses?
why the meazills, should you stand here, with your
traine, cheaping of Dogges, Birds, and Babies? you have no children
to bestow them on? have you?

G:

No, but again' I have children Numpes, that is all one.

H:

Do, do, do, do; how many shall you have, think you?
if I were as you, I would buy for all my Tenants, too, they are a kind
of ciuill Sauages, that will part with their children for rattles, pipes,
and kniues. You were best buy a hatchet, or two, and truck with them.

G:

Good Numps, hold that little tongue of thine, and saue
it a labour. I am resolute Bat, thou know'st.

H:

A resolute foole, you are, I know, and a very sufficient
Coxcombe; with all my heart; nay you have it, Sir, if you be
angry, turd in your teeth, twice: (if I said it not once afore)
and much good do you.

B:

Was there euer such a selfe-affliction? and so impertinent?

F:

Alas! his care will go neere to cracke him, let us in,
and comfort him.

H:

Would I had beene set in the gronnd, all but the head on
me, and was my braines, bowl'd at, or thresh'd out, when first I
vnderwent this plague of a charge!

F:

How now, Numps! almost tir'd in your Protectorship?
ouerparted? ouerparted?

H:

Why, I cannot tell, Sir, it may be I am, does it grieue
you?

F:

No, I sweare does it not, Numps: to satisfie you.

H:

Numps? S'blood, you are fine and familiar! how long
have we bin acquainted, I pray you?

F:

I thinke it may be remembered, Numps, that? it was
since morning sure.

H:

Why, I hope I know it well enough, Sir, I did not aske
to be told.

F:

No? why then?

H:

It is no matter why, you see with your eyes, now, what
I said to you to day? you will beleeue me another time?

F:

Are you remouing the Fayre, Numps?

H:

A pretty question! and a very ciuill one! yes faith, I
have my lading you see; or shall have anon, you may know whose
beast I am, by my burthen. If the pannier-mans Iacke were euer
better knowne by his loynes of mutton, I will be flead, and feede
dogs for him, when his time comes.

B:

How melancholi' Mistresse Grace is yonder! pray thee
let us go enter our selues in Grace, with her.

G:

Those sixe horses, friend I will have --

H:

How!

G:

And the three Iewes trumps; and halfe a dozen of Birds,
and that Drum, (I have one Drumme already) and your Smiths;
I like that deuice of your smiths, very pretty well, and foure Halberts
-- and (le' me see) that fine painted great Lady, and her three
women for state, I will have.

H:

No, the shop; buy the whole shop, it will be best, the
shop, the shop!

L:

If his worship please.

H:

Yes, and