[still. [none.

Fit. That's the ill luck of all his works P. jun, What?

Fit. To begin many works, but finish
P. jun. How does he do his mistress-work?
Fit. Imperfect.

Alm. I cannot think he finisheth that.
P. jun. Let's hear.

Mad. It is a madrigal; I affect that kind Of poem much.

P. jun. And thence you ha' the name. Fit. It is his rose, he can make nothing elsc. [play'd,

Mad. I made it to the tune the fidlers That we all lik'd so well.

P. jun. Good, read it, read it.

Mad. The Sun is father of all metals, you know,

Silver and gold.

P. jun. I, leave your prologues, say.

My man o' law will teach us all to win,
And keep our own. Old founder.

P. Ca. Nothing, I, sir?

I am a wretch, a beggar. She the fortunate, Can want no kindred; we the poor know

none.

Fit. Nor none shall know by my consent. Alm. Nor mine.

lust!

P. jun. Sing, boy, stand here. [The boy sings the song. P. Ca. Look, look, how all their eyes Dance i' their heads (observe) scatter'd with [tickled At sight o' their brave idol! how they are With a light air! the bawdy saraband! They are a kind of dancing engines all! And set by nature, thus to run alone To every sound! all things within, without them, [mere monsters, Move, but their brain, and that stands still! Here in a chamber, of most subtil feet! And make their legs in tune, passing the

streets;

These are the gallant spirits o' the age!
The miracles o' the time! that can cry up
And down men's wits! and set what rate on
things

Their half-brain'd fancies please! now pox upon 'em.

See how solicitously he learns the jig,
As if it were a mystery of his faith!
Shun. A dainty ditty!

Fit. O, he's a dainty poet!
When he sets to it!

P. jun. And a dainty scholar!

[They are all struck with admiration. Alm. No, no great scholar, he writes like a gentleman.

Shun. Pox o' your scholar!
P. Ca. Pox o' your distinction!
As if a scholar were no gentleman.

With these, to write like a gentleman, will in time

Become all one, as to write like an ass.
These gentlemen? these rascals! I am sick
Of indignation at 'em.

P. jun. How do you like't, sir?
Fit. 'Tis excellent!

Alm. 'Twas excellently sung!
Fit. A dainty air!

P. jun. What says my Lick-finger?
Lic. I am telling mistress Band, and mis-
tress Statute,

[here! What a brave gentleman you are, and Wax, How much 'twere better, that my lady's grace

Would here take up, sir, and keep house with you.

P. jun. What say they?

Sta. We could consent, sir, willingly. Band. I, if we knew her grace had the least liking.

Wax. We must obey her grace's will and pleasure.

P. jun. I thank you, gentlewomen; ply 'em, Lickfinger.

Give mother Mortgage, there

Lic. Her dose of sack,

I have it for her, and her distance of Hum. Pec. Indeed therein, I must confess, dear cousin,

I am a most unfortunate princess.

Alm. And

You still will be so, when your grace may help it.

[The gallants are all about Pecunia. Mad. Who'd lie in a room with a closestool, and garlick,

And kennel with his dogs, that had a prince Like this young Penny-boy to sojourn with? Shun. He'll let you ha' your liberty-Alm. Go forth,

Whither you please, and to what company

Mad. Scatter yourself amongst us P. jun. Hope of Parnassus! Thy ivy shall not wither, nor thy bays, Thou shalt be had into her grace's cellar, And there know sack and claret, all December;

Thy vein is rich, and we must cherish it. Poets and bees swarm now-a-days; but yet There are not those good taverns, for the one sort,

As there are flow'ry fields to feed the other. Though bees be pleas'd with dew, ask little Wax,

That brings the honey to her lady's hive: The poet must have wine; and he shall have it.

[rest?

P. Ca. Why sigh you, sir? 'cause he's at
P. sen. It breeds my unrest.
Lic. Will you take a cup,

And try if you can sleep?

P. sen. No, cogging Jack, Thou and thy cups too, perish.

[He strikes the sack out of his hand. Shun. O, the sack!

Mad. The sack, the sack!

P. Ca. A madrigal on sack!

Pic. Or rather an elegy, for the sack is gone. [and rave? Pec. Why do you this, sir? spill the wine, For Broker's sleeping?

P. sen. What through sleep and sack, My trust is wrong'd: but I am still awake, To wait upon your grace, please you to quit This strange lewd company, they are not for you.

[He would have Pecunia home, but she refuseth, and her train.

Pec. No, guardian, I do like him very

well.

P.sen. Your grace's pleasure be observ'd;

but you

[me? Statute, and Band, and Wax, will go with Stat. Truly, we will not.

Ban. We will stay, and wait here [man. Upon her grace, and this your noble kinsP. sen. Noble! how noble! who hath made him noble?

P. jun. Why, my most noble money hath, or shall; [kept, My princess here: she, that had you but And treated kindly, would have made you noble, [for you, And wise too; nay, perhaps have done that An act of parliament could not, made you

honest.

Ban. And dieted with dogs'-dung. P. sen. Why, you whores, [call you, My bawds, my instruments, what should Í Man may think base enough for you?

P. jun. Hear you, uncle:

I must not hear this of my princess' servants, And in Apollo, in Pecunia's room.

Go, get you down the stairs; home, to your kennel,

As swiftly as you can. Consult your dogs,
The Lares of your family; or believe it,
The fury of a footman and a drawer
Hangs over you.

Shun. Cudgel and pot do threaten

A kind of vengeance.

Mad. Barbers are at hand.

Is not far off; if 'twere, the sink is near,

Or a good jordan.

Mad. You have now no money.

Shun. But are a rascal.

P. sen. I am cheated, robb'd,

Jeer'd by confederacy.

Fit. No, you are kick'd, [and spurn him. And used kindly, as you should be. Shun. Spurn'd

From all commerce of men, who are a cur.
[Kicks him out.
Alm. A stinking dog in a doublet, with
foul linen.

Mad. A snarling rascal, hence.
Shun. Out.

P. sen. Well, remember, [He exclaims.

Pye. Here's his coat.

Pec. I know it, if I hear the blazon.
Pye. He bears,

In a field Azure, a sun proper, beamy,
Twelve of the second."

P. Ca. How far is this from canting?
P. jun. Her grace doth understand it.
P. Ca. She can cant, sir.

Pec. What be these? bezants?

Pyc. Yes, an't please your grace.

Pec. That is our coat too, as we come from Or.

What line is this?

Pye. The rich mines of Potosi,

The Spanish mines i' the West-Indies,
Pec. This ?

Pye. The mines o' Hungary, this of Bar

bary.

Is rarely painted: I will have such a scroll, Whate'er it cost me.

Pec. Well, at better leisure

We'll take a view of it, and so reward you. P. jun. Kiss him, sweet princess, and stile him a cousin.

Pec. I will, if you will have it. Cousin Pyed-mantle. [She kisseth. P. jun. I love all men of virtue, frommy

princess,

Unto my beggar here, old Canter; on,
On to thy proof; whom prove you the next
Canter?

P. Ca. The doctor here, I will proceed
with the learned.

When he discourseth of dissection,
Or any point of anatomy; that he tells you
Of vena cava, and of vena porta,
The meseraicks, and the mesenterium :
What does he else but cant? or if he run
To his judicial astrology,
[Sextile,
And trowl the Trine, the Quartile, and the
Platick aspect, and Partile, with his Hyleg,
Or Alchochoden, Cuspes, and Horoscope;
Does not he cant? who here does under-
stand him?

Alm. This is no Canter, though! P. Ca. Or when my muster-master Talks of his tacticks, and his ranks and files, His bringers-up, his leaders-on, and cries, "Faces about to the right-hand, the left," Now, "as you were;" then tells you of redoubts,

Of cats, and cortines; doth not he cant?
P. jun. Yes, faith.

P. Ca. My egg-chin'd laureat here, when
he comes forth

With dimeters, and trimeters, tetrameters,
Pentameters, hexameters, catalecticks,
His hyper and his brachy-catalecticks,
His pyrrhicks, epitrites, and choriambicks;
What is all this, but canting?
Mud. A rare fellow !

Shun. Some begging scholar!
Fit. A decay'd doctor, at least!

P. jun. Nay, I do cherish virtue, though

in rags.

P. Ca. And you, mas courtier.

P. jun. Now he treats of you, Stand forth to him fair.

P. Ca. With all your fly-blown projects, And looks out of the politicks, your shut faces,

And reserv'd questions and answers, that you game with; as,

Is't a clear business? will it manage well? My name must not be us'd else. Here 'twill dash.

Your business has receiv'd a taint, give off, I may not prostitute myself. Tut, tut, That little dust I can blow off at pleasure. Here's no such mountain, yet, i' the whole work!

And INDEED

But a light purse may level. I will tide
This affair for you; give it freight, and pas-
sage:
[canting,
And such mint-phrase, as 'tis the worst of
By how much it affects the sense it has not.
Fit. This is some other than he seems!
P. jun. How like you him?
Fit. This cannot be a Canter!
P. jun. But he is, sir,

And shall be still, and so shall you be too:
We'll all be Canters. Now I think of it,
A noble whimsie's come into my brain!
I'll build a college, I and my Pecunia,
And call it Canter's college: sounds it well?
[Canter's college begun to be erected.
Alm. Excellent!

P. jun. And here stands my father rector, And you professors, you shall all profess Something, and live there, with her grace and ine,

Your founders: I'll endow't with lands and means,

And Lick-finger shall be my master-cook.
What, is he gone?

P. Ca. And a professor.
P. jun. Yes.

P. Ca. And read Apicius de re culinariá To your brave doxy and you!

P.jun. You, cousin Fitton,

Shall (as a courtier) read the politicks; Doctor Almanack he shail read Astrology; Shunfield shall read the military arts.

P. Ca. As carving and assaulting the cold custard.

we

[lands,

Pic. And make 'em too, sir?
Keep all your courts, be steward o' your
Let all your leases, keep your evidences:
But first, I must procure and pass your mort-
main,

You must have licence from above, sir.
P. jun. Fear not,
Pecunia's friends shall do it.

P. Ca. But I shall stop it.

[Here his father discovers himself. Your worship's loving and obedient father, Your painful steward, and lost officer! Who have done this, to try how you would

sore

Away, I am impatient of these ulcers, (That I not call you worse.) There is no [abhor Or plague but you to infect the times. I Your very scent. Come, lady, since my prodigal

Knew not to entertain you to your worth, I'll see if I have learn'd how to receive you With more respect to you, and your fair train here.

Farewell, my beggar in velvet, for to-day; To-morrow you may put on that grave robe,

[He points him to his patch'd cloke thrown

off [lege, And enter your great work of Canter's colYour work, and worthy of a chronicle.

from