Chapter XXVI: Act IV: Scene I

_The Roaring-School._[775]

_Enter the Colonel’s Friend_,[776] CHOUGH, TRIMTRAM,
_Usher_, _and several Roarers_.

COL.’S FR. Truth, sir, I must needs blame you for a
truant, having but one lesson read to you, and neglect
so soon; fie, I must see you once a-day at least.
CHOUGH. Would I were whipt, tutor, if it were not 'long
of my man Trimtram here!
TRIM. Who, of me?
CHOUGH. Take’t upon thee, Trim; I’ll give thee five
shillings, as I am a gentleman.
TRIM. I’ll see you whipt first:—well, I will too.—Faith,
sir, I saw he was not perfect, and I was loath he should
come before to shame himself.
COL.’S FR. How? shame, sir? is it a shame for scholars
to learn? Sir, there are great scholars that are but
slenderly read in our profession: sir, first it must be
economical, then ecumenical: shame not to practise in
the house how to perform in the field: the nail that is
driven takes a little hold at the first stroke, but more
at the second, and more at the third, but when ’tis home
to the head, then ’tis firm.
CHOUGH. Faith, I have been driving it home to the head
this two days.
TRIM. I helped to hammer it in as well as I could too,
sir.
COL.’S FR. Well, sir, I will hear you rehearse anon:
meantime peruse the exemplary of my bills, and tell me
in what language I shall roar a lecture to you; or I’ll
read to you the mathematical science of roaring.
CHOUGH. Is it mathematical?
COL.’S FR. O, sir, do[777] not the winds roar, the sea
roar, the welkin[778] roar?—indeed most things do roar
by nature—and is not the knowledge of these things
mathematical?
CHOUGH. Pray proceed, sir.
COL.’S FR. [_reads_] _The names of the languages, the
Sclavonian, Parthamenian, Barmeothian, Tyburman,
Wappinganian, or the modern Londonian: any man or woman
that is desirous to roar in any of these languages, in a
week they shall be perfect if they will take pains;
so let 'em repair into Holborn to the sign of the
Cheat-Loaf._
CHOUGH. Now your bill speaks of that I was wondering a
good while at, your sign; the loaf looks very like
bread, i’faith, but why is it called the Cheat-Loaf?
COL.’S FR. This house was sometimes a baker’s, sir, that
served the court, where the bread is called cheat.[779]
TRIM. Ay, ay, ’twas a baker that cheated the court with
bread.
COL.’S FR. Well, sir, choose your languages; and your
lectures shall be read, between my usher and myself, for
your better instruction, provided your conditions be
performed in the premises beforesaid.
CHOUGH. Look you, sir, there’s twenty pound in hand, and
twenty more I am to pay when I am allowed a sufficient
roarer. [_Gives money._
COL.’S FR. You speak in good earnest, sir?
CHOUGH. Yes, faith do I: Trimtram shall be my witness.
TRIM. Yes, indeed, sir, twenty pound is very good
earnest.
USH. Sir, one thing I must tell you belongs to my place:
you are the youngest scholar; and till another comes
under you, there is a certain garnish belongs to the
school; for in our practice we grow to a quarrel; then
there must be wine ready to make all friends, for that’s
the end of roaring, ’tis valiant, but harmless; and this
charge is yours.
CHOUGH. With all my heart, i’faith, and I like it the
better because no blood comes on it: who shall fetch?
FIRST ROAR.[780] I’ll be your spaniel, sir.
COL.’S FR. Bid Vapour bring some tobacco too.
CHOUGH. Do, and here’s money for’t.
USH. No, you shall not; let me see the money: so [_takes
the money_], I’ll keep it, and discharge him after the
combat. [_Exit First Roarer._] For your practice sake,
you and your man shall roar him out on’t—for indeed you
must pay your debts so, for that’s one of the main ends
of roaring—and when you have left him in a chafe, then
I’ll qualify the rascal.
CHOUGH. Content.—I’faith, Trim, we’ll roar the rusty
rascal out of his tobacco.

TRIM. Ay, and[781] he had the best craccus in London.
COL.’S FR. Observe, sir, we could now roar in the
Sclavonian language, but this practice hath been a
little sublime, some hairsbreadth or so above your
caput; I take it, for your use and understanding both,
it were fitter for you to taste the modern assault, only
the Londonian roar.
CHOUGH. I’faith, sir, that’s for my purpose, for I shall
use all my roaring here in London; in Cornwall we are
all for wrestling, and I do not mean to travel over sea
to roar there.
COL.’S FR. Observe then, sir;—but it were necessary you
took forth your tables[782] to note the most difficult
points for the better assistance of your memory.
CHOUGH. Nay, sir, my man and I keep two tables.
TRIM. Ay, sir, and as many trenchers, cats’ meat and
dogs’ meat enough.
COL.’S FR. Note, sir.—Dost thou confront my cyclops?
USH. With a Briarean brousted.
CHOUGH. Cyclops. [_Writes._
TRIM. Briarean. [_Writes._
COL.’S FR. I know thee and thy lineal pedigree.
USH. It is collateral, as Brutus and Posthumus.
TRIM. Brutus. [_Writes._
CHOUGH. Posthumus. [_Writes._
COL.’S FR. False as the face of Hecate! thy sister is a
——
USH. What is my sister, centaur?

COL.’S FR. I say thy sister is a bronstrops.[783]
USH. A bronstrops?
CHOUGH. Tutor, tutor, ere you go any further, tell me
the English of that; what is a bronstrops, pray?
COL.’S FR. A bronstrops is in English a hippocrene.
CHOUGH. A hippocrene; note it, Trim: I love to
understand the English as I go. [_Writes._
TRIM. What’s the English of hippocrene?
CHOUGH. Why, bronstrops.
USH. Thou dost obtrect[784] my flesh and blood.
COL.’S FR. Again I denounce, thy sister is a fructifer.
CHOUGH. What’s that, tutor?
COL.’S FR. That is in English a fucus[785] or a
minotaur.
CHOUGH. A minotaur. [_Writes._
TRIM.[786] A fucus. [_Writes._
USH. I say thy mother is a callicut, a panagron, a
duplar, and a sindicus.
COL.’S FR. Dislocate thy bladud![787]
USH. Bladud shall conjure, if his demons once appear.

_Re-enter First Roarer with wine, followed by_ VAPOUR
_with tobacco_.

COL.’S FR. Advance thy respondency.
CHOUGH. Nay, good gentlemen,[788] do not fall out.—A cup
of wine quickly, Trimtram!
USH. See, my steel hath a glister!
CHOUGH. Pray wipe him, and put him up again, good usher.
USH. Sir, at your request I pull down the flag of
defiance.
COL.’S FR. Give me a bowl of wine, my fury shall be
quenched: here, usher! [_Drinks._
USH. I pledge thee in good friendship. [_Drinks._
CHOUGH. I like the conclusion of roaring very well,
i’faith.
TRIM. It has an excellent conclusion indeed, if the wine
be good, always provided.
COL.’S FR. O, the wine must be always provided, be sure
of that.
USH. Else you spoil the conclusion, and that you know
crowns all.
CHOUGH. ’Tis much like wrestling, i’faith, for we shake
hands ere we begin; now that’s to avoid the law, for
then if he throw him a furlong into the ground, he
cannot recover himself upon him, because ’twas done in
cold friendship.
COL.’S FR. I believe you, sir.
CHOUGH. And then we drink afterwards, just in this
fashion: wrestling and roaring are as like as can be,
i’faith, even like long sword and half pike.
COL.’S FR. Nay, they are reciprocal, if you mark it, for
as there is a great roaring at wrestling, so there is a
kind of wrestling and contention at roaring.
CHOUGH. True, i’faith, for I have heard 'em roar from
the six windmills to Islington: those have been great
falls then.
COL.’S FR. Come now, a brief rehearsal of your other
day’s lesson, betwixt your man and you, and then for
to-day we break up school.
CHOUGH. Come, Trimtram.—If I be out, tutor, I’ll be bold
to look in my tables, because I doubt I am scarce
perfect.
COL.’S FR. Well, well, I will not see small faults.
CHOUGH. The wall!
TRIM. The wall of me? to thy kennel, spaniel!
CHOUGH. Wilt thou not yield precedency?
TRIM. To thee? I know thee and thy brood.
CHOUGH. Knowest thou my brood? I know thy brood too,
thou art a rook.
TRIM. The nearer akin to the choughs?[789]
CHOUGH. The rooks akin to the choughs?
COL.’S FR. Very well maintained!
CHOUGH. Dungcoer, thou liest!
TRIM. Lie? enucleate the kernel of thy scabbard.
CHOUGH. Now if I durst draw my sword, ’twere valiant,
i’faith.
COL.’S FR. Draw, draw, howsoever!

CHOUGH. Have some wine ready to make us friends, I pray
you.
TRIM. Chough, I will make thee fly and roar.
CHOUGH. I will roar if thou strikest me.
COL.’S FR. So, ’tis enough; now conclude in wine: I see
you will prove an excellent practitioner: wondrous well
performed on both sides!
CHOUGH. Here, Trimtram, I drink to thee. [_Drinks._
TRIM. I’ll pledge you in good friendship. [_Drinks._

_Enter Servant._
SERV. Is there not one master Chough here?
USH. This is the gentleman, sir.
SERV. My master, sir, your elected father-in-law,
desires speedily to speak with you.
CHOUGH. Friend, I will follow thee: I would thou hadst
come a little sooner! thou shouldst have seen roaring
sport, i’faith.
SERV. Sir, I’ll return that you are following.
CHOUGH. Do so [_exit Servant_].—I’ll tell thee, tutor, I
am to marry shortly; but I will defer it a while till I
can roar perfectly, that I may get the upper hand of my
wife on the wedding-day; 'tmust be done at first or
never.
COL.’S FR. 'Twill serve you to good use in that, sir.
CHOUGH. How likest thou this, whiffler?[790]
VAP. Very valiantly, i’faith, sir.
CHOUGH. Tush, thou shalt see more by and by.
VAP. I can stay no longer indeed, sir: who pays me for
my tobacco?
CHOUGH. How? pay for tobacco? away, ye sooty-mouthed
piper! you rusty piece of Martlemas bacon, away!
TRIM. Let me give him a mark[791] for’t.
CHOUGH. No, Trimtram, do not strike him; we’ll only roar
out a curse upon him.
TRIM. Well, do you begin then.
CHOUGH. May thy roll[792] rot, and thy pudding drop in
pieces, being sophisticated with filthy urine!
TRIM. May sergeants dwell on either side of thee, to
fright away thy twopenny customers!
CHOUGH. And for thy penny ones, let them suck thee dry!
TRIM. When thou art dead, mayest thou have no other
sheets to be buried in but mouldy tobacco-leaves!
CHOUGH. And no strawings to stick thy carcass but the
bitter stalks!
TRIM. Thy mourners all greasy tapsters!
CHOUGH. With foul tobacco-pipes in their hats, instead
of rotten rosemary;[793] and last of all, may my man and
I live to see all this performed, and to piss reeking
even upon thy grave!
TRIM. And last of all for me, let this epitaph be
remembered over thee:

_Here coldly now within is laid to rot
A man that yesterday was piping hot:
Some say he died by pudding, some by prick,
Others by roll and ball, some leaf; all stick
Fast in censure,[794] yet think it strange and rare,
He liv’d by smoke, yet died for want of air:
But then the surgeon said, when he beheld him,
It was the burning of his pipe that kill’d him._
CHOUGH. So, are you paid now, whiffler?
VAP. All this is but smoke out of a stinking pipe.
CHOUGH. So, so, pay him now, usher.
[VAPOUR _is paid by the Usher, and exit_.
COL.’S FR. Do not henceforth neglect your schooling,
master Chough.
CHOUGH. Call me rook, if I do, tutor.
TRIM. And me raven, though my name be Trimtram.
CHOUGH. Farewell, tutor.
TRIM. Farewell, usher.
[_Exeunt_ CHOUGH _and_ TRIMTRAM.
COL.’S FR. Thus when the drum’s unbrac’d, and trumpet[s]
cease,
Soldiers must get pay for to live in peace. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_A Chamber in the Colonel’s House._

_The Colonel discovered lying on a couch, several of his
friends watching him: as the Surgeon is going out,
the Colonel’s Sister enters._[795]

COL.’S SIST. O my most worthy brother, thy hard fate
’twas!—
Come hither, honest surgeon, and deal faithfully
With a distressed virgin: what hope is there?
SURG. Hope? chilis[796] was ’scap’d miraculously,
lady.
COL.’S SIST. What’s that, sir?
SURG. Cava vena: I care but little for his wound i’ th’
œsophag,[797] not thus much, trust me; but when they
come to diaphragma once, the small intestines, or the
spinal medul, or i’ th’ roots of the emunctories of the
noble parts, then straight I fear a syncope;[798] the
flanks retiring towards the back, the urine bloody, the
excrements purulent, and the dolour pricking or pungent.
COL.’S SIST. Alas, I’m ne’er the better for this answer!
SURG. Now I must tell you his principal dolour lies i’
th’ region of the liver, and there’s both inflammation
and tumefaction[799] feared; marry, I made him a
quadra[n]gular plumation, where I used sanguis draconis,
by my faith, with powders incarnative, which I tempered
with oil of hypericon, and other liquors mundificative.
COL.’S SIST. Pox a’ your mundies figatives! I would they
were all fired!
SURG. But I purpose, lady, to make another experiment
at next dressing with a sarcotic[800] medicament
made of iris of Florence; thus, mastic, calaphena,
opoponax,[801] sarcocolla[802]——
COL.’S SIST. Sacro-halter! what comfort is i’ this to a
poor gentlewoman? pray tell me in plain terms what you
think of him.
SURG. Marry, in plain terms I know not what to say to
him: the wound, I can assure you, inclines to paralism,
and I find his body cacochymic: being then in fear of
fever and inflammation, I nourish him altogether with
viands refrigerative, and give for potion the juice of
savicola dissolved with water cerefolium: I could do no
more, lady, if his best ginglymus[803] were dissevered.
[_Exit._

COL.’S SIST. What thankless pains does the tongue often
take
To make the whole man most ridiculous!
I come to him for comfort, and he tires me
Worse than my sorrow: what a precious good
May be deliver’d sweetly in few words!
And what a mount of nothing has he cast forth!
Alas, his strength decays! [_Aside._]—How cheer you,
sir,
My honour’d brother?
COL. In soul never better;
I feel an excellent health there, such a stoutness
My invisible enemies fly[804] me; seeing me arm’d
With penitence and forgiveness, they fall backward,
Whether through admiration, not imagining
There were such armoury in a soldier’s soul
As pardon and repentance, or through power
Of ghostly valour. But I have been lord
Of a more happy conquest in nine hours now
Than in nine years before.—O kind lieutenants,
This is the only war we should provide for!
Where he that forgives largest, and sighs strongest,
Is a tried soldier, a true man indeed,
And wins the best field, makes his own heart bleed.
Read the last part of that will, sir.

FIRST FR. OF COL. [_reads_][805] _I also require at the
hands of my most beloved sister, whom I make full
executrix, the disposure of my body in burial at Saint
Martin’s i’ th’ Field; and to cause to be distributed to
the poor of the same parish forty mark,[806] and to the
hospital of maimed soldiers a hundred: lastly, I give
and bequeath to my kind, dear, and virtuous sister the
full possession of my present estate in riches, whether
it be in lands, leases, money, goods, plate, jewels, or
what kind soever, upon this condition following, that
she forthwith tender both herself and all these
infeoffments to that noble captain, my late enemy,
captain Ager._
COL.’S SIST. How, sir?
COL. Read it again, sir; let her hear it plain.
COL.’S SIST. Pray, spare your pains, sir; ’tis too
plain already.—
Good sir, how do you? is your memory perfect?
This will makes question of you: I bestow’d
So much grief and compassion a’ your wound,
I never look’d into your senses’ epilepsy:
The sickness and infirmity of your judgment
Is to be doubted now more than your body’s.
Why, is your love no dearer to me, sir,
Than to dispose me so upon the man
Whose fury is your body’s present torment,
The author of your danger? one I hate
Beyond the bounds of malice. Do you not feel
His wrath upon you? I beseech you, sir,
Alter that cruel article!
COL. Cruel, sister?—
Forgive me, natural love, I must offend thee,
Speaking to this woman.—Am I content,
Having much kindred, yet to give thee all,
Because in thee I’d raise my means to goodness,
And canst thou prove so thankless to my bounty,
To grudge my soul her peace? is my intent
To leave her rich, whose only desire is
To send me poorer into the next world
Than ever usurer went, or politic statist?
Is it so burdensome for thee to love
Where I forgive? O, wretched is the man
That builds the last hopes of his saving comforts
Upon a woman’s charity! he’s most miserable:
If it were possible, her obstinate will
Will pull him down in his midway to heaven.
I’ve wrong’d that worthy man past recompense,
And in my anger robb’d him of fair fame;
And thou the fairest restitution art
My life could yield him: if I knew a fairer,
I’d set thee by and thy unwilling goodness,
And never make my sacred peace of thee;
But there’s the cruelty of a fate debarr’d,
Thou art the last, and all, and thou art hard!
COL.’S SIST. Let your griev’d heart hold better
thoughts of me;
I will not prove so, sir; but since you enforce it
With such a strength of passion, I’ll perform
What by your will you have enjoin’d me to,
Though the world never shew me joy again.
COL. O, this may be fair cunning for the time,
To put me off, knowing I hold not long;
And when I look to have my joys accomplish’d,
I shall find no such things; that were vild[807]
cozenage,
And not to be repented.
COL.’S SIST. By all the blessedness
Truth and a good life looks for, I will do’t, sir!
COL. Comforts reward you for’t whene’er you grieve!
I know if you dare swear, I may believe.
[_Exit Colonel’s Sister. Scene closes._

SCENE III.

_A Room in_ LADY AGER’S _House_.

_Enter_ CAPTAIN AGER.

CAP. AGER. No sooner have I entrance i’ this house now
But all my joy falls from me, which was wont
To be the sanctuary of my comforts:
Methought I lov’d it with a reverent gladness,
As holy men do consecrated temples
For the saint’s sake, which I believ’d my mother;
But prov’d a false faith since, a fearful heresy,
O, who’d erect th’ assurance of his joys
Upon a woman’s goodness! whose best virtue
Is to commit unseen, and highest secrecy
To hide but her own sin; there’s their perfection:
And if she be so good, which many fail of too,
When these are bad, how wondrous ill are they!
What comfort is’t to fight, win this day’s fame,
When all my after-days are lamps of shame?

_Enter_ LADY AGER.

LADY AGER. Blessings be firm to me! he’s come, ’tis
he!— [_Aside._
A surgeon speedily!
CAP. AGER. A surgeon? why, madam?
LADY AGER. Perhaps you’ll say ’tis but a little wound;
Good to prevent a danger:—quick, a surgeon!
CAP. AGER. Why, madam?
LADY AGER. Ay, ay, that’s all the fault of valiant
men,
They’ll not be known a’ their hurts till they’re past
help,
And then too late they wish for’t.
CAP. AGER. Will you hear me?
LADY AGER. ’Tis no disparagement to confess a wound;
I’m glad, sir, ’tis no worse:—a surgeon quickly!
CAP. AGER. Madam——
LADY AGER. Come, come, sir, a wound’s honourable,
And never shames the wearer.
CAP. AGER. By the justice
I owe to honour, I came off untouch’d!
LADY AGER. I’d rather believe that.
CAP. AGER. You believe truth so.
LADY AGER. My tears prevail then. Welcome, welcome,
sir,
As peace and mercy to one new departed!
Why would you go though, and deceive me so,
When my abundant love took all the course
That might be to prevent it? I did that
For my affection’s sake—goodness forgive me for’t!—
That were my own life’s safety put upon’t,
I’d rather die than do’t. Think how you us’d me then;
And yet would you go and hazard yourself too!
'Twas but unkindly done.
CAP. AGER. What’s all this, madam?
LADY AGER. See, then, how rash you were and short in
wisdom!
Why, wrong my faith I did, slander’d my constancy,
Belied my truth; that which few mothers will,
Or fewer can, I did, out of true fear
And loving care, only to keep thee here.
CAP. AGER. I doubt I’m too quick of apprehension now.
And that’s a general fault when we hear joyfully,
With the desire of longing for’t: I ask it,
Why, were you never false?
LADY AGER. May death come to me
Before repentance then!
CAP. AGER. I heard it plain sure—
Not false at all?
LADY AGER. By the reward of truth,
I never knew that deed that claims the name on’t!
CAP. AGER. May, then, that glorious reward you swore
by
Be never-failing to you! all the blessings
That you have given me, since obedient custom
Taught me to kneel and ask 'em, are not valuable
With this immaculate blessing of your truth:
This is the palm to victory,
The crown for all deserts past and to come:
Let 'em be numberless; they are rewarded,
Already they’re rewarded. Bless this frame,
I feel it much too weak to bear the joy on’t.
[_Kneels._
LADY AGER. Rise, sir.
CAP. AGER. O, pardon me!
I cannot honour you too much, too long.
I kneel not only to a mother now,
But to a woman that was never false:
Ye’re dear, and ye’re good too; I think a’ that:
What reverence does she merit! ’tis fit such
Should be distinguish’d from the prostrate sex;
And what distinction properer can be shewn,
Than honour done to her that keeps her own?
LADY AGER. Come, sir, I’ll have you rise.
CAP. AGER. To do a deed, then, [_Rises._
That shall for ever raise me. O my glory,
Why, this, this is the quarrel that I look’d for!
The other[808] but a shift to hold time play.
You sacred ministers of preservation,
For heaven’s sake send him life,
And with it mighty health, and such a strength
May equal but the cause! I wish no foul things:
If life but glow in him, he shall know instantly
That I’m resolv’d to call him to account for’t.
LADY AGER. Why, hark you, sir——
CAP. AGER. I bind you by your honour, madam,
You speak no hindrance to’s; take heed, you ought not.
LADY AGER. What an unhappiness have I in goodness!
’Tis ever my desire to intend well,
But have no fortunate way in’t. For all this
Deserve I yet no better of you
But to be griev’d again? Are you not well
With honest gain of fame, with safety purchas’d?
Will you needs tempt a ruin that avoids you? [_Exit._
CAP. AGER. No, you’ve prevail’d: things of this nature
sprung,
When they use action must use little tongue.—

_Enter Servant._

Now, sir, the news?
SER. Sir, there’s a gentlewoman
Desires some conference with you.
CAP. AGER. How, with me?
A gentlewoman? what is she?
SER. Her attendant
Deliver’d her to be the Colonel’s sister.
CAP. AGER. O, for a storm then! [_Exit Servant_] 'las,
poor, virtuous gentlewoman,
I will endure her violence with much pity!
She comes to ease her heart, good, noble soul;
’Tis e’en a charity to release the burden;
Were not that remedy ordain’d for women,
Their hearts would never hold three years together:
And here she comes; I never mark’d so much of her;

_Enter Colonel’s Sister._

That face can be the mistress of no anger
But I might very well endure a month, methinks.—
I am the man; speak, lady; I’ll stand fair.
COL.’S SIST. And I’m enjoin’d by vow to fall thus low,
[_Kneels._
And from the dying hand of a repentant
Offer, for expiation of wrongs done you,
Myself, and with myself all that was his,
Which upon that condition was made mine,
Being his soul’s wish to depart absolute man,
In life a soldier, death a Christian.
CAP. AGER. O, heaven has touch’d him nobly! how it
shames
My virtue’s slow perfection! Rise, dear brightness—
I forget manners too—up, matchless sweetness!
COL.’S SIST. I must not, sir; there is not in my vow
That liberty; I must be receiv’d first,
Or all denied; if either, I am free.
CAP. AGER. He must be without soul should deny thee;
And with that reverence I receive the gift
As it was sent me. [_Raises her._] Worthy Colonel,
Has such a conquering way i’ th’ blest things!
Who ever overcomes, he only wins. [_Exeunt._

SCENE IV.

_A Street: a noise of “hem” within._[809]

_Enter_ CAPTAIN ALBO, MEG, _and_ PRISS.

MEG. Hark of these hard-hearted bloodhounds! these
butchers are e’en as merciless as their dogs; they knock
down a woman’s fame e’en as it walks the streets by 'em.
PRISS. And the captain here that should defend us walks
by like John of the apple-loft.
CAP. ALBO. What for interjections, Priss, _hem_, _evax_,
_vah_?[810] let the carnifexes[811] scour their throats!
thou knowest there is a curse hangs over their bloody
heads; this year there shall be more butchers’ pricks
burnt than of all trades besides.
MEG. I do wonder how thou camest to be a captain.
CAP. ALBO. As thou camest to be a bawd, Meg, and Priss
to be a whore; every one by their deserts.
MEG. Bawd and whore? out, you unprofitable rascal! hast
not thou been at the new play yet, to teach thee better
manners? truly they say they are the finest players, and
good speakers of gentlewomen of our quality; bawd and
whore are[812] not mentioned amongst 'em, but the
handsomest narrow-mouthed names they have for us, that
some of them may serve as well for a lady as for one of
our occupation.
PRISS. Prithee, patroness, let’s go see a piece of that
play; if we shall have good words for our money, ’tis as
much as we can deserve, i’faith.
MEG. I doubt ’tis too late now; but another time,
servant.
CAP. ALBO. Let’s go now, sweet face; I am acquainted
with one of the pantomimics; the bulchins[813] will use
the Irish captain with respect, and you two shall be
boxed amongst the better sort.
PRISS. Sirrah captain Albo, I doubt you are but
white-livered; look that you defend us valiantly, you
know your penance else.—Patroness, you remember how you
used him once?
MEG. Ay, servant, and I shall never forget it till I use
him so again.—Do you remember, captain?
CAP. ALBO. Mum, Meg; I will not hear on’t now.
MEG. How I and my Amazons stript you as naked as an
Indian——
CAP. ALBO. Why, Meg——
MEG. And then how I bound you to the good behaviour in
the open fields——
PRISS. And then you strowed oats upon his hoppers——
CAP. ALBO. Prithee, sweet face——

PRISS. And then brought your ducks to nibble upon him.—
You remember?
CAP. ALBO. O, the remembrance tortures me again! no
more, good sweet face.
MEG. Well, lead on, sir; but hark a little.

_Enter_ CHOUGH _and_ TRIMTRAM.

CHOUGH. Didst thou bargain for the bladders with the
butcher, Trim?
TRIM. Ay, sir, I have 'em here; I’ll practise to swim
too, sir, and then I may roar with the water at London
Bridge: he that roars by land and by water both is the
perfect roarer.
CHOUGH. Well, I’ll venture to swim too: if my
father-in-law gives me a good dowry with his daughter, I
shall hold up my head well enough.
TRIM. Peace, sir; here’s practice for our roaring,
here’s a centaur and two hippocrenes.
CHOUGH. Offer the jostle, Trim.
[TRIMTRAM _jostles_ CAPTAIN ALBO.
CAP. ALBO. Ha! what meanest thou by that?
TRIM. I mean to confront thee, cyclops.
CHOUGH. I’ll tell thee what 'a means—is this thy sister?
CAP. ALBO. How then, sir?
CHOUGH. Why, then, I say she is a bronstrops; and this
is a fucus.[814]
PRISS. No, indeed, sir; we are both fucusses.
CAP. ALBO. Art thou military? art thou a soldier?
CHOUGH. A soldier? no, I scorn to be so poor; I am a
roarer.
CAP. ALBO. A roarer?
TRIM. Ay, sir, two roarers.

CAP. ALBO. Know, then, my fresh-water friends, that I am
a captain.
CHOUGH. What, and have but two to serve under you?
CAP. ALBO. I am now retiring the field.
TRIM. You may see that by his bag and baggage.
CHOUGH. Deliver up thy panagron to me.
TRIM. And give me thy sindicus.
CAP. ALBO. Deliver?
MEG. I pray you, captain, be contented; the gentlemen
seem to give us very good words.
CHOUGH. Good words? ay, if you could understand 'em; the
words cost twenty pound.
MEG. What is your pleasure, gentlemen?
CHOUGH. I would enucleate my fructifer.
PRISS. What says he, patroness?
MEG. He would enoculate: I understand the gentleman very
pithily.
CAP. ALBO. Speak, are you gentle or plebeian? can you
give arms?
CHOUGH. Arms? ay, sir; you shall feel our arms
presently.
TRIM. ’Sault you the women; I’ll pepper him till he
stinks again: I perceive what countryman he is; let me
alone with him.
CAP. ALBO. Darest thou charge a captain?
TRIM. Yes, and discharge upon him too.
CAP. ALBO. Foh, ’tis poison to my country, the slave
has eaten pippins! O, shoot no more! turn both thy
broadsides rather than thy poop; ’tis foul play; my
country breeds no poison.[815] I yield; the great O
Toole[816] shall yield on these conditions.

CHOUGH. I have given one of 'em a fair fall, Trim.
TRIM. Then thus far we bring home conquest.—
Follow me, captain; the cyclops doth command.
CHOUGH. Follow me, tweaks,[817] the centaur doth
command.
MEG. Any thing, sweet gentlemen: will’t please you to
lead to the tavern, where we’ll make all friends?
TRIM. Why, now you come to the conclusion.
CHOUGH. Stay, Trim; I have heard your tweaks are like
your mermaids, they have sweet voices to entice the
passengers: let’s have a song, and then we’ll set 'em at
liberty.
TRIM. In the commendation of roaring, not else, sir.
CHOUGH. Ay, in the commendation of roaring.
MEG. The best we can, gentlemen.
[_Sings_, PRISS _joining in chorus_.

_Then here thou shalt resign
Both captain and commander;
That name was never thine,
But apple-squire[818] and pander;
And henceforth will me grant,
In pillage or in monies,
In clothing or provant,[819]
Whate’er we get by conies:
With a hone, a hone, a hone,
No cheaters nor decoys
Shall have a share, but alone
The bravest roaring boys._

_Whate’er we get by gulls
Of country or of city,
Old fat-caps[820] or young heirs,
Or lawyers’ clerks so witty;
By sailors newly landed,
To put in for fresh waters;
By wandering gander-mooners,[821]
Or muffled late night-walkers.
With a hone, &c._

_Whate’er we get by strangers,
The Scotch, the Dutch, or Irish,
Or, to come nearer home,
By masters of the parish;
It is concluded thus,
By all and every wench,
To take of all their coins,
And pay 'em back in French.
With a hone, &c._
CHOUGH. Melodious minotaur!
TRIM. Harmonious hippocrene!
CHOUGH. Sweet-breasted[822] bronstrops!
TRIM. Most tunable tweak!
CHOUGH. Delicious duplar!
TRIM. Putrefactious panagron!
CHOUGH. Calumnious calicut!
TRIM. And most singular sindicus!
MEG. We shall never be able to deserve these good words
at your hands, gentlemen.
CAP. ALBO. Shake golls[823] with the captain; he shall
be thy valiant friend.
CHOUGH. Not yet, captain; we must make an end of our
roaring first.
TRIM. We’ll serve 'em as we did the tobacco-man, lay a
curse upon 'em; marry, we’ll lay it on gently, because
they have used us so kindly, and then we’ll shake
golls[823] together.
PRISS. As gently as you can, sweet gentlemen.
CHOUGH. For thee, O pander, mayst thou trudge till the
damned soles of thy boots fleet into dirt, but never
rise into air!
TRIM. Next, mayst thou fleet so long from place to
place, till thou be’st kicked out of Fleet Street!

CHOUGH. As thou hast lived by bad flesh, so rotten
mutton be thy bane!
TRIM. When thou art dead, may twenty whores follow thee,
that thou may st go a squire[824] to thy grave!
CAP. ALBO. Enough for me, sweet faces; let me sleep in
my grave.
CHOUGH. For thee, old sindicus, may I see thee[825] ride
in a caroch with two wheels, and drawn with one horse!
TRIM. Ten beadles running by, instead of footmen!
CHOUGH. With every one a whip, ’stead of an Irish
dart![826]
TRIM. Forty barbers’ basins[827] sounding before,
instead of trumpets!
MEG. This will be comely indeed, sweet gentlemen
roarers.
TRIM. Thy ruff starched yellow[828] with rotten eggs!
CHOUGH. And mayst thou then be drawn from Holborn to
Hounslow Heath!
TRIM. And then be burnt to Colebrook, for destroying of
Maidenhead!
MEG. I will study to deserve this kindness at your
hands, gentlemen.
CHOUGH. Now for thee, little fucus; mayst thou first
serve out thy time as a tweak, and then become a
bronstrops,[829] as she is!
TRIM. Mayst thou have a reasonable good spring, for thou
art like to have many dangerous foul falls!
CHOUGH. Mayst thou have two ruffs torn in one week!
TRIM. May spiders only weave thy cobweb-lawn!
CHOUGH. Mayst thou set up in Rogue-lane—
TRIM. Live till thou stinkest in Garden-alleys—
CHOUGH. And die sweetly in Tower-ditch!
PRISS. I thank you for that, good sir roarer.
CHOUGH. Come, shall we go now, Trim? my father-in-law
stays for me all this while.
TRIM. Nay, I’ll serve 'em as we did the tobacco-man;
I’ll bury 'em altogether, and give 'em an epitaph.
CHOUGH. All together, Trim? why, then, the epitaph will
be accessary to the sin.
TRIM. Alas, he has kept the door all his life-time! for
pity, let ’em lie together in their graves.[830]
CAP. ALBO. E'en as thou wilt, Trim, and I thank you too,
sir.
TRIM. _He that the reason would know, let him hark,
Why these three[831] were buried near Marybone Park;
These three were a pander, a bawd, and a whore,
That suck’d many dry to the bones before.
Will you know how they liv’d? here’t may be read;
The Low Countries did ever find 'em bread;
They liv’d by Flushing, by Sluys, and the Groyne,
Sicken’d in France, and died under the Line.
Three letters at last commended 'em hither,
But the hangman broke one in putting together:
P was the first, who cries out for a pardon,
O craves his book, yet could not read such a hard one,
An X was the last, which in conjunction
Was broke by Brandon;[832] and here’s the conclusion:
By three trees, three letters, these three, pander,
bawd, whore,
Now stink below ground, stunk long above before._
CHOUGH. So, now we have done with you; remember roaring
boys.
TRIM. Farewell, centaur!
CHOUGH. Farewell, bronstrops!
TRIM. Farewell, fucus!
[_Exeunt_ CHOUGH _and_ TRIMTRAM.
CAP. ALBO. Well, Meg, I will learn to roar, and
still maintain the name of captain over these
lancepresadoes.[833]
MEG. If thou dost not, mayst thou be buried under the
roaring curse! [_Exeunt._