And gaue my oath vnto the King, I swore
By thy true constancy.
_Cæl._ Then keep that word
|1355| To sweare by, O let me be constant still.
_Ter._ What shall I cancell faith, and breake my oath?
_Cæl._ If breaking constancie, thou breakst them both.
_Ter._ Thy constancie no euill can pursue.
_Cæl._ I may be constant still, and yet not true.
|1360| _Ter._ As how?
_Cæl._ As thus, by violence detain’d,
They may be constant still, that are constrain’d.
_Ter._ Constrain’d? that word weighs heauy, yet my oath
Weighes downe that word; the kinges thoughts are at oddes,
|1365| They are not euen ballanst in his brest;
The King may play the man with me; nay more,
Kings may vsurpe; my wife’s a woman; yet
Tis more then I know yet, that know not her,
If she should prooue mankinde, twere rare, fye, fye,
|1370| See how I loose my selfe, amongst my thoughts,
Thinking to finde my selfe; my oath, my oath.
_Sir quin._ I sweare another, let me see, by what,
By my long stocking, and my narrow skirtes,
Not made to sit vpon, she shall to Court.
|1375| I haue a tricke, a charme, that shall lay downe
The spirit of lust, and keep thee vndeflowred;
Thy husbands honor sau’d, and the hot King,
Shall haue enough too. Come, a tricke, a charme.
_Exit._
_Cæl._ God keep thy honour safe, my bloud from harme.
|1380| _Ter._ Come, my sicke-minded Bride, Ile teach thee how,
To relish health a little: Taste this thought,
That when mine eyes seru’d loues commission,
Vpon thy beauties I did seise on them,
To a Kings vse; cure all thy griefe with this,
|1385| That his great seale was grauen vpon this ring,
And that I was but Steward to a King.
_Exeunt._
_A banquet set out: Enter_ Sir Vaughan, Horace, Asinius Bubo,
_Lady_ Petula, Dicache, Philocalia, _Mistris_ Miniuer _and_
Peter Flash.
|1390| _Sir Vaugh._ Ladies and Sentlemen, you are almost all welcome,
to this sweet nuncions of Plums.
_Dicach._ Almost all Sir Vaughan? why to which of vs are you so
niggardly, that you cut her out but a peice of welcome.
_Sir Vaugh._ My interpretations is that almost all are welcome, |1395|
because I indited a brace or two more that is not come, I am sorrie my
Ladie Pride is not among you.
_Asi._ Slid, he makes hounds of vs Ningle, a brace quoth a?
_Sir Vaug._ Peter Salamanders draw out the pictures of all the ioynt
stooles, & Ladies sit downe vpon their wodden faces.
|1400| _Flash._ I warrant Sir, Ile giue euerie one of them a good
stoole.
_Sir Vau._ Master Horace, Master Horace, when I pray to God, and desire
in hipocritnes that bald Sir Adams were heer, then, then, then begin to
make your railes at the pouertie and beggerly want of haire.
|1405| _Hor._ Leaue it to my iudgement.
_Sir Vau._ M. Bubo sit there, you and I wil thinke vpon our ends at
the Tables: M. Horace, put your learned bodie into the midst of these
Ladies; so tis no matter to speake graces at nuncions, because we are
all past grace since dinner.
|1410| _Asini._ Mas I thanke my destinie I am not past grace, for by
this hand full of Carrawaies, I could neuer abide to say grace.
_Dica._ Mistris Miniuer, is not that innocent Gentleman a kinde of
foole?
_Min._ Why doe you aske Madam?
|1415| _Dicach._ Nay for no harme, I aske because I thought you two had
been of acquaintaine.
_Min._ I thinke he’s within an Inch of a foole.
_Dicach._ Madam Philocalia, you sit next that spare Gentleman, wod you
heard what Mistris Miniuer saies of you.
|1420| _Philo._ Why what saies she Madam Dicache.
_Dica._ Nay nothing, but wishes you were married to that small timber’d
gallant.
_Philo._ Your wish and mine are twinnes, I wish so too, for Then I
should be sure to lead a merrie life.
|1425| _Asini._ Yes faith Ladie, Ide make you laugh, my bolts now and
then should be soone shot; by these comfits, weed let all slide.
_Petu._ He takes the sweetest oathes that euer I heard a gallant of his
pitch sweare; by these Comfits, & these Carrawaies, I warrant it does
him good to sweare.
|1430| _Asin._ Yes faith tis meate and drinke to me.
I am glad Ladie Petula (by this Apple) that they please you.
_Sir Vau._ Peter Salamanders wine, I beseech you Master Asinius Bubo,
not to sweare so deeplie, for there comes no fruite of your oathes;
heere Ladies, I put you all into one corners together, |1435| you shall
all drinke of one cup.
_Asi._ Peter I prethee fill me out too.
_Flash._ Ide fling you out too and I might ha my will, a pox of all
fooles.
_Sir Vau._ Mistris Miniuers, pray bee lustie, wod Sir Adams |1440|
Prickshaft stucke by you.
_Hor._ Who, the balde Knight Sir Vaughan?
_Sir Vau._ The same M. Horace, he that has but a remnant or parcell of
haire, his crowne is clipt and par’d away; me thinkes tis an excellent
quallitie to bee balde; for and there stucke a |1445| nose and two nyes
in his pate, he might weare two faces vnder one hood.
_Asi._ As God saue me la, if I might ha my will, Ide rather be a balde
Gentleman then a hairy; for I am sure the best and tallest Yeomen in
England haue balde heads: me thinkes haire is a |1450| scuruie lowsie
commodity.
_Hor._ Bubo, heerein you blaze your ignorance.
_Sir Vau._ Pray stop and fill your mouthes, and giue M. Horace all your
eares.
_Hor._ _For, if of all the bodies parts, the head
|1455| Be the most royall: if discourse, wit, Iudgement,
And all our vnderstanding faculties,
Sit there in their high Court of Parliament,
Enacting lawes to sway this humorous world:
This little Ile of Man: needes must that crowne,
|1460| Which stands vpon this supreame head, be faire,
And helde inualuable, and that crowne’s the_ Haire:
_The head that wants this honour stands awry,
Is bare in name and in authority_.
_Sir Vau._ He meanes balde-pates Mistris Miniuers.
|1465| _Hor._ Haire, _tis the roabe which curious nature weaues,
To hang vpon the head: and does adorne,
Our bodies in the first houre we are borne:
God does bestow that garment: when we dye,
That (like a soft and silken Canopie)
|1470| Is still spred ouer vs; In spight of death
Our hayre growes in our graue, and that alone
Lookes fresh, when all our other beauty’s gone.
The excellence of_ Haire, _in this shines cleere,
That the foure Elements take pride to weare
|1475| The fashion of it: when_ Fire _most bright does burne,
The flames to golden lockes doe striue to turne;
When her lasciuious armes the_ Water _hurles,
About the shoares wast, her sleeke head she curles:
And rorid cloudes being suckt into the_ Ayre,
|1480| _When downe they melt, hangs like fine siluer hayre.
You see the_ Earth _(whose head so oft is shorne)
Frighted to feele her lockes so rudely torne,
Stands with her haire an end, and (thus afraide)
Turnes euery haire to a greene naked blade.
|1485| Besides, when (strucke with griefe) we long to dye,
We spoile that most, which most does beautifie,
We rend this_ Head-tyre _off. I thus conclude,
Cullors set cullors out; our eyes iudge right,
Of vice or vertue by their opposite:
|1490| So, if faire haire to beauty ad such grace,
Baldnes must needes be vgly, vile and base._
_Sir Vau._ True M. Horace, for a bald reason, is a reason that has no
haires vpon’t, a scuruy scalded reason.
_Mi._ By my truely I neuer thought you could ha pickt such |1495|
strange things out of haire before.
_Asini._ Nay my Ningle can tickle it, when hee comes too’t.
_Min._ Troth I shall neuer bee enameld of a bare-headed man for this,
what shift so euer I make.
_Sir Vaug._ Then Mistris Miniuer S. Adams Prickshaft must not |1500|
hit you; Peter take vp all the cloathes at the table and the Plums.
_Enter_ Tucca _and his boy_.
_Tuc._ Saue thee my little worshipfull Harper; how doe yee my little
cracknels? how doe ye?
|1505| _Sir Vau._ Welcome M. Tucca, sit and shoote into your belly some
Suger pellets.
_Tuc._ No, Godamercy Cadwallader, how doe you Horace?
_Ho._ Thankes good Captaine.
_Tu._ Wher’s the Sering thou carriest about thee? O haue I found |1510|
thee my scowring-sticke; what’s my name Bubo?
_Asini._ Wod I were hang’d if I can call you any names but Captaine and
Tucca.
_Tuc._ No Fye’st; my name’s Hamlet reuenge: thou hast been at Parris
garden hast not?
|1515| _Hor._ Yes Captaine, I ha plaide Zulziman there.
_Sir Vau._ Then M. Horace you plaide the part of an honest man.
_Tuc._ Death of Hercules, he could neuer play that part well in’s life,
no Fulkes you could not: thou call’st Demetrius Iorneyman Poet, but
thou putst vp a Supplication to be a poore Iorneyman |1520| Player, and
hadst beene still so, but that thou couldst not set a good face vpon’t:
thou hast forgot how thou amblest (in leather pilch) by a play-wagon,
in the high way, and took’st mad Ieronimoes part, to get seruice among
the Mimickes: and when the Stagerites banisht thee into the Ile of
Dogs, thou turn’dst Bandog |1525| (villanous Guy) & euer since bitest
therefore I aske if th’ast been at Parris-garden, because thou hast
such a good mouth; thou baitst well, read, _lege_, saue thy selfe and
read.
_Hor._ Why Captaine these are _Epigrams_ compos’d on you.
_Tuc._ Goe not out Farding Candle, goe not out, for trusty _Damboys_
|1530| now the deed is done, Ile pledge this Epigram in wine, Ile
swallow it, I, yes.
_Sir Vau._ God blesse vs, will he be drunke with nittigrams now.
_Tuc._ So, now arise sprite ath Buttry; no Herring-bone Ile not pull
thee out, but arise deere Eccho rise, rise deuill or Ile coniure |1535|
thee vp.
_Min._ Good Master Tucca lets ha no coniuring heere.
_Sir Vau._ Vddes bloud you scald gouty Captaine, why come you to set
encombrances heere betweene the Ladies.
_Tuc._ Be not so tart my precious Metheglin, be not (my old |1540|
whore a Babilon, sit fast.)
_Min._ O Iesu if I know where abouts in London Babilon stands.
_Tuc._ Feede and be fat my faire Calipolis, stir not my beauteous
wriggle-tailes, Ile disease none of you, Ile take none of you vp, but
onely this table-man, I must enter him into some filthy |1545| sincke
point, I must.
_Hor._ Captaine, you doe me wrong thus to disgrace me.
_Tuc._ Thou thinkst thou maist be as sawcy with me as my Buffe Ierkin,
to sit vpon me, dost?
_Ho._ Dam me, if euer I traduc’d your name,
|1550| What imputation can you charge me with?
_Sir Vau._ Sblud, I, what cõputations can you lay to his sarge? answer,
or by Sesu Ile canuas your coxcombe Tucky.
_Min._ If they draw sweet hearts, let vs shift for our selues.
_Tuc._ My noble swaggerer, I wil not fall out with thee, I cannot
|1555| my mad Cumrade, finde in my heart to shed thy bloud.
_Sir Vau._ Cumrade? by Sesu call me Cumrade againe, and Ile Cumrade
ye about the sinnes and shoulders; ownds, what come you to smell out
heere? did you not dine and feede horribly well to day at dinner, but
you come to munch heere, and giue vs |1560| winter-plummes? I pray
depart, goe marse, marse, marse out a doores.
_Tuc._ Adew Sir Eglamour, adew Lute-stringe, Curtin-rod, Goose-quill;
heere, giue that full-nos’d Skinker, these rimes; & harke, Ile tagge my
Codpeece point with thy legs, spout-pot Ile |1565| empty thee.
_Asin._ Dost threaten mee? Gods lid Ile binde thee to the good
forbearing.
_Sir Vau._ Will you amble Hobby-horse, will you trot and amble?
|1570| _Tuc._ Raw Artichocke I shall sauce thee.
_Exit._
_Min._ I pray you Master Tucca, will you send me the fiue pound you
borrowed on me; O you cannot heare now, but Ile make you heare me and
feele me too in another place, to your shame I warrant you, thou shalt
not conny-catch mee for fiue pounds; |1575| he tooke it vp Sir Vaughan
in your name, hee swore you sent for it to Mum withall, twas fiue pound
in gold, as white as my kercher.
_Sir Vaughan._ Ownds, fiue pound in my name to Mum about withall.
|1580| _Min._ I, to Mum withall, but hee playes mum-budget with me.
_Sir Vau._ Peter Salamander, tye vp your great and your little sword,
by Sesu Ile goe sing him while tis hot. Ile beate fiue pound out of his
leather pilch: Master Horace, let your wittes inhabite in your right
places; if I fall hansomely vpon the Widdow, |1585| I haue some cossens
Garman at Court, shall beget you the reuersion of the Master of the
Kings Reuels, or else be his Lord of Mis-rule nowe at Christmas: Come
Ladyes, whoreson Stragling Captaine, Ile pound him.
_Exeunt._
_Manet_ Horace _and_ Asinius.
|1590| _Hor._ How now? what ail’st thou, that thou look’st so pale.
_Asin._ Nay nothing, but I am afraide the Welsh Knight has giuen me
nothing but purging Comfits: this Captaine stickes pockily in my
stomack; read this scroule, he saies they’r rimes, and bid me giue them
you.
|1595| _Hor._ Rimes? tis a challenge sent to you.
_Asin._ To me?
_Hor._ He saies heere you divulg’d my Epigrams.
_Asin._ And for that dares he challenge me?
_Hor._ You see he dares, but dare you answer him?
|1600| _Asin._ I dare answer his challenge, by word of mouth, or by
writing, but I scorne to meete him, I hope he and I are not Paralels.
_Hor._ Deere Bubo, thou shalt answere him; our credites
Lye pawn’d vpon thy resolution,
|1605| Thy vallor must redeeme them; charge thy spirits,
To waite more close, and neere thee: if he kill thee,
Ile not suruiue; into one Lottery
We’ll cast our fates; together liue and dye.
_Asi._ Content, I owe God a death, and if he will make mee |1610| pay’t
against my will, Ile say tis hard dealing.
_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Sir Adam, Tucca, _with two pistols by his sides, his boy
laden with swords and bucklers._
_Tuc._ Did Apolloes Freeze gowne watchman (boy, dost heare
Turkie-cockes tayle, haue an eye behinde, least the enemie assault
|1615| our Rere-ward) on proceede Father Adam; did that same
tiranicall-tongu’d rag-a-muffin Horace, turne bald-pates out so naked?
_Sir Ad._ He did, and whipt them so with nettles, that
The Widdow swore that a bare-headed man,
|1620| Should not man her: the Ladie Petula
Was there, heard all, and tolde me this.
_Tuc._ Goe too. Thy golde was accepted, it was, and she shall bring
thee into her Paradice, she shall small Adam, she shall.
_Sir Ada._ But how? but how Capten?
|1625| _Tuc._ Thus, goe, couer a table with sweet meates, let all the
Gentlewomen, and that same Pasquils-mad-cap (mother Bee there) nibble,
bid them bite: they will come to gobble downe Plummes; then take vp
that paire of Basket hiltes, with my commission, I meane Crispinus and
Fannius; charge one of |1630| them to take vp the Bucklers, against
that hayre-monger Horace, and haue a bout or two, in defence of
balde-pates: let them cracke euerie crowne that has haire on’t: goe,
let them lift vp baldenes to the skie, and thou shalt see, twill turne
Miniuers heart quite against the haire.
|1635| _Sir Ada._ Excellent, why then M. Tucca----
_Tuc._ Nay, whir, nymble Prickshaft; whir, away, I goe vpon life and
death, away, flie Scanderbag flie.
_Exit._
_Enter_ Asinius Bubo, _and_ Horace _aloofe_.
_Boy._ Arme Captaine, arme, arme, arme, the foe is come downe.
|1640| Tucca _offers to shoote_.
_Asi._ Hold Capten Tucca holde, I am Bubo, & come to answer any thing
you can lay to my charge.
_Tuc._ What, dost summon a parlie my little Drumsticke? tis too late;
thou seest my red flag is hung out, Ile fill thy guts |1645| with thine
owne carrion carcas, and then eate them vp in steed of Sawsages.
_Asin._ Vse me how you will; I am resolute, for I ha made my Will.
_Tuc._ Wilt fight Turke-a-ten-pence? wilt fight then?
|1650| _Asini._ Thou shalt finde Ile fight in a Godly quarrell, if I be
once fir’d.
_Tuc._ Thou shalt not want fire, Ile ha thee burnt when thou wilt, my
colde Cornelius: but come: _Respice funem_; looke, thou seest; open thy
selfe my little Cutlers Shoppe, I challenge thee |1655| thou slender
Gentleman, at foure sundrie weapons.
_Asi._ Thy challenge was but at one, and Ile answere but one.
_Boy._ Thou shalt answer two, for thou shalt answer me and my Capten.
_Tuc._ Well said Cockrell out-crowe him: art hardy noble Huon? |1660|
art Magnanimious? licke-trencher; looke, search least some lye in
ambush; for this man at Armes has paper in’s bellie, or some friend in
a corner, or else hee durst not bee so cranke.
_Boy._ Capten, Capten, Horace stands sneaking heere.
_Tuc._ I smelt the foule-fisted Morter-treader, come my most |1665|
damnable fastidious rascall, I haue a suite to both of you.
_Asi._ O holde, most pittifull Captaine holde.
_Hor._ Holde Capten, tis knowne that Horace is valliant, & a man of the
sword.
_Tuc._ A Gentleman or an honest Cittizen, shall not Sit in your |1670|
pennie-bench Theaters, with his Squirrell by his side cracking nuttes;
nor sneake into a Tauerne with his Mermaid; but he shall be Satyr’d,
and Epigram’d vpon, and his humour must run vpo’th Stage: you’ll ha
_Euery Gentleman in’s humour_, and _Euery Gentleman out on’s humour_:
wee that are heades of Legions and |1675| Bandes, and feare none but
these same shoulder-clappers, shall feare you, you Serpentine rascall.
_Hor._ Honour’d Capten.
_Tuc._ Art not famous enough yet, my mad _Horastratus_, for killing
a Player, but thou must eate men aliue? thy friends? Sirra |1680|
wilde-man, thy Patrons? thou Anthropophagite, thy Mecænasses?
_Hor._ Captaine, I’m sorry that you lay this wrong
So close vnto your heart: deare Captaine thinke
I writ out of hot bloud, which (now) being colde,
I could be pleas’d (to please you) to quaffe downe,
|1685| The poyson’d Inke, in which I dipt your name.
_Tuc._ Saist thou so, my _Palinodicall_ rimester?
_Hor._ Hence forth Ile rather breath out _Solœcismes_
(To doe which Ide as soone speake blasphemie)
Than with my tongue or pen to wound your worth,
|1690| Beleeue it noble Capten; it to me
Shall be a Crowne, to crowne your actes with praize,
Out of your hate, your loue Ile stronglie raize.
_Tuc._ I know now th’ast a number of these _Quiddits_ to binde men
to’th peace: tis thy fashion to flirt Inke in euerie mans face; and
|1695| then to craule into his bosome, and damne thy selfe to wip’t off
agen: yet to giue out abroad, that hee was glad to come to composition
with thee: I know _Monsieur Machiauell_ tis one a thy rules; My
long-heel’d T_roglodite_, I could make thine eares burne now, by
dropping into them, all those hot oathes, to which, thy selfe |1700|
gau’st voluntarie fire, (whē thou wast the man in the Moone) that thou
wouldst neuer squib out any new Salt-peter Iestes against honest Tucca,
nor those Maligo-tasters, his _Poetasters_; I could Cinocephalus, but
I will not, yet thou knowst thou hast broke those oathes in print, my
excellent infernall.
|1705| _Ho._ Capten.
_Tuc._ Nay I smell what breath is to come from thee, thy answer is,
that there’s no faith to be helde with Heritickes & Infidels, and
therfore thou swear’st anie thing: but come, lend mee thy hand, thou
and I hence forth will bee _Alexander_ and _Lodwicke_, the |1710|
Gemini: sworne brothers, thou shalt be _Perithous_ and Tucca _Theseus_;
but Ile leaue thee i’th lurch, when thou mak’st thy voiage into hell:
till then, T_hine-assuredly_.
_Hor._ With all my soule deare Capten.
_Tuc._ Thou’lt shoote thy quilles at mee, when my terrible |1715|
backe’s turn’d for all this, wilt not Porcupine? and bring me & my
Heliconistes into thy Dialogues to make vs talke madlie wut not Lucian?
_Hor._ Capten, if I doe----
_Tuc._ Nay and thou dost, hornes of Lucifer, the _Parcell-Poets_ |1720|
shall Sue thy wrangling Muse, in the Court of Pernassus, and neuer
leaue hunting her, till she pleade in _Forma Pauperis_: but I hope
th’ast more grace: come: friendes, clap handes, tis a bargaine; amiable
Bubo, thy fist must walke too: so, I loue thee, now I see th’art a
little Hercules, and wilt fight; Ile Sticke thee |1725| now in my
companie like a sprig of Rosemary.
_Enter_ Sir Rees ap Vaughan _and_ Peter Flash.
_Fla._ Draw Sir Rees he’s yonder, shall I vpon him?
_Sir Vau._ Vpon him? goe too, goe too Peter Salamander; holde, in Gods
name holde; I will kill him to his face, because I meane he |1730|
shall answer for it; being an eye-witnes; one vrde Capten Tucky.
_Tuc._ Ile giue thee ten thousand words and thou wilt, my little Thomas
Thomasius.
_Sir Vau._ By Sesu, tis best you giue good vrdes too, least I beate out
your tongue, and make your vrde nere to bee taken |1735| more; doe you
heare, fiue pounds, fiue pounds Tucky.
_Tuc._ Thou shalt ha fiue, and fiue, and fiue, and thou wantst money my
Iob.
_Sir Vau._ Leaue your fetches and your fegaries, you tough
leather-Ierkins; leaue your quandaries, and trickes, and draw vpon
|1740| me y’ are best: you conny-catch Widdow _Miniuer-caps_ for fiue
pounds, and say tis for me to cry Mum, and make mee run vp and downe in
dishonors, and discredites; is ’t not true, you winke-a-pipes rascall?
is not true?
_Tuc._ Right, true, guilty, I remember’t now; for when I spake |1745|
a good word to the Widdow for thee my young Sampson----
_Sir Vau._ For fiue pounds you cheating scab, for 5. pounds, not for me.
_Tuc._ For thee ô Cæsar, for thee I tooke vp fiue pounds in golde, that
lay in her lap, & said Ide giue it thee as a token |1750| from her: I
did it but to smell out how she stood affected to thee, to feele her;
I, and I know what she said, I know how I carried away the golde.
_Sir Vau._ By Sesu, I ha not the mercy to fall vpon him now: M. Tucky,
did widdow Miniuers part quietly from her golde, |1755| because you
lyed, and said it was for me?
_Tuc._ Quietly, in peace, without grumbling; made no noise, I know how
I tempted her in thy behalfe; my little Trangdo.
_Sir Vau._ Capten Tucky, I will pay back her 5. £. (vnles you be damn’d
in lyes) & hold you, I pray you pocket vp this; by the |1760| crosse a
this sword & dagger, Capten you shall take it.
_Tuc._ Dost sweare by daggers? nay then Ile put vp more at thy hands
then this.
_Flash._ Is the fray done sir?
_Sir Vau._ Done Peter, put vp your smeeter.
|1765| _Tuc._ Come hether, my soure-fac’d Poet; fling away that
beard-brush Bubo, casheere him and harke: Knight attend: So, that
raw-head and bloudy-bones Sir Adam, has fee’d another brat (of those
nine common wenches) to defend baldnes and to raile against haire:
he’ll haue a fling at thee, my noble Cock-Sparrow.
|1770| _Sir Vau._ At mee? will hee fling the cudgels of his witte at
mee?
_Tuc._ And at thy button-cap too; but come, Ile be your leader, you
shall stand, heare all, & not be seene; cast off that blew coate, away
with that flawne, and follow, come.
_Exit._
_Hor._ Bubo, we follow Captaine.
|1775| _Sir Va._ Peter, leaue comming behinde me, I pray any longer,
for you and I must part Peter.
_Flash._ Sounds Sir, I hope you will not serue me so, to turne me away
in this case.
_Sir Vau._ Turne you into a fooles coate; I meane I will go _solus_,
|1780| or in solitaries alone; ounds y-are best giue better words, or
Ile turne you away indeed; where is Capten Tucky? come Horace; get you
home Peter.
_Flash._ Ile home to your cost, and I can get into the Wine-Seller.
_Exit._
|1785| _Hor._ Remember where to meete mee.
_Asin._ Yes Ile meete; Tucca should ha found I dare meete.
_Exit._
_Ho._ Dare defend baldnes, which our conquering Muse
Has beaten downe so flat? Well, we will goe,
|1790| And see what weapons theyr weake wittes doe bring;
If sharpe, we’ll spred a large and nobler wing;
Tucca, heere lyes thy Peace: warre roares agen;
My Swoord shall neuer cutte thee, but my pen.
_Exit._
_Enter_ Sir Adam, Crispinus, Fannius, Blunt, Miniuer, Petula,
|1795| Philocalia _and_ Dicace.
_Ladies._ Thankes good Sir Adam.
_Sir Ada._ Welcome red-cheekt Ladies,
And welcome comely Widdow; Gentlemen,
Now that our sorry banquet is put by,
|1800| From stealing more sweet kisses from your lips
Walke in my garden: Ladyes let your eyes
Shed life into these flowers by their bright beames,
Sit, Sit, heere’s a large bower, heere all may heare,
Now good Crispinus let your praize begin
|1805| There, where it left off Baldnes.
_Cris._ I shall winne
No praise, by praising that, which to depraue,
All tongues are readie, and which none would haue.
_Blu._ To prooue that best, by strong and armed reason,
|1810| Whose part reason feares to take, cannot but prooue,
Your wit’s fine temper, and from these win loue.
_Min._ I promise you has almost conuerted me, I pray bring forward your
bald reasons M. Poet.