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Bartholomew Fair.
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393

BARTHOLMEW  FAIR.

A   C O M E D Y.

Acted in the Year 1614. By the L A D Y  E L I Z A B E T H' S Servants.

And then dedicated to K I N G  J A M E S, of most blessed Memory.

By the Author Benjamin Johnson.

Si foret in terris, rideret Democritus: nam
Spectaret populum ludis attentius ipsis,
Ut sibi præbentem, mimo spectacula plura.
Scriptores autem narrare putaret asello
Fabellam surdo.              Hor. lib. 2. Epist. 1.


T H E

P R O L O G U E  to the KING's MAJESTY.

Y
Our Majesty is welcome to a Fair;

Such Place, such Men, such Language, and such Ware,

You must expect: with these, the zealous noise

Of your Lands Faction, scandaliz'd at Toys,

As Babies, Hobby-horses, Puppet-plays,

And such like rage, whereof the petulant ways

Your self have known, and have bin vext with long.

These for your Sport, without particular wrong,

Or just complaint of any private Man,

(Who of himself, or shall think well or can)

The Maker doth present: and hopes, to Night

To give you for a Fairing, true delight.



E e e                         




394

The P E R S O N S of the P L A Y.

J O H N  L I T T L E - W I T, A Proctor.
W I N  L I T T L E - W I T, His Wife.
D A M E  P U R E C R A F T, Her Mother and a Widow.
Z E A L - O F - T H E - L A N D  B U S Y, Her Suiter, a Banbury Man.
W I N - W I F E, His Rival, a Gentleman.
Q U A R L O U S, His Companion, a Gamester.
B A R T H O L M E W  C O K E S, An Esquire of Harrow.
H U M P H R E Y  W A S P E, His Man.
A D A M  O V E R D O, A Justice of Peace.
D A M E  O V E R D O, His Wife.
G R A C E  W E L B O R N, His Ward.
L A N T.  L E A T H E R H E A D, A Hobbi-Horse seller.
J O A N  T R A S H, A Ginger-Bread Woman.
E Z E C H I E L  E D G W O R T H, A Cutpurse.
N I G H T I N G A L E, A Ballad-singer.
U R S L A, A Pig-Woman.
M O O N - C A L F, Her Tapster.
J O R D A N  K N O C K - H U M, A Horse-courser, and a ranger o' Turnbull.
V A L.  C U T T I N G, A Roarer.
C A P T A I N  W H I T, A Bawd.
P U N Q U E  A L I C E, Mistriss o' the Game.
T R O U B L E - A L L, A Mad man.

W A T C H M E N, three.

C O S T A R D - monger.

M O U S T R A P - man.

C L O T H I E R.

W R E S T L E R.

P O R T E R S.

D O O R - K E E P E R S.

P U P P E T S.



T H E



395

T H E
I N D u C T I O N
O N   T H E
S T A G E.


Stage-keeper.

G

Entlemen, have a little patience, they are e'en
 upon coming, instantly. He that should be-
 gin the Play, Master Little-wit, the Proctor,
 has a stitch new faln in his black silk Stock-
ing; 'twill be drawn up ere you can tell twenty. He
plays one o' the Arches that dwells about the Hospital,
and he has a very pretty part. But for the whole Play,
will you ha' the truth on't? (I am looking, lest the Poet
hear me, or his Man, Master Broom, behind the Arras)
it is like to be a very conceited scurvy one, in plain En-
glish. When't comes to the Fair once, you were e'en
as good go to Virginia, for any thing there is of Smith-
field. He has not hit the Humours, he do's not know
'em; he has not convers'd with the Bartholmew-birds,
as they say; he has ne'er a Sword and Buckler Man in
his Fair; nor a little Davy, to take Toll o' the Bawds
there, as in my time; nor a Kind-heart, if any bodies
Teeth should chance to ake in his Play; nor a Jugler
with a well-educated Ape, to come over the Chain for
the King of England, and back again for the Prince,
and sit still on his Arse for the Pope, and the King of
Spain! None o' these fine sights! Nor has he the Can-
vas-cut i' the Night, for a Hobby-horse-man to creep in-
to his she-neighbour, and take his leap there! Nothing!
No, and some writer (that I know) had had but the Pen-
ning o' this matter, he would ha' made you such a Jig-
ajog i' the Boothes, you should ha' thought an Earth-
quake had been i' the Fair! But these Master-Poets,
they will ha' their own absurd courses; they will be
inform'd of nothing. He has (sirreverence) kick'd me
three or four times about the Tyring-house, I thank him,
for but offering to put in with my experience. I'll
be judg'd by you, Gentlemen, now, but for one conceit
of mine! Would not a fine Pump upon the Stage ha'
done well, for a property now? and a Punque set under
upon her Head, with her Stern upward, and ha' been
sous'd by my witty young Masters o' the Inns o' Court?
What think you o' this for a shew, now? he will not
hear 'o this! I am an Ass! I! and yet I kept the Stage
in Master Tarleton's time, I thank my Stars. Ho! and
that Man had liv'd to have play'd in Bartholmew Fair,
you should ha' seen him ha' come in, and ha' been co-
zened i' the Cloath-quarter, so finely! And Adams,
the Rogue, ha' leap'd and caper'd upon him, and ha'
dealt his Vermine about, as though they had cost him
nothing. And then a substantial Watch to ha' stoln in

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upon 'em, and taken 'em away, with mistaking words,
as the fashion is in the Stage-practice.

[To him.
Book-holder, Scrivener.

B
Ook. How now? what rare discourse are you faln
 upon? ha? ha' you found any familiars here, that
you are so free? what's the business?
   Sta. Nothing, but the understanding Gentlemen o'the
Ground here, ask'd my judgment.
   Book. Your judgment, Rascal? for what? sweeping
the Stage? or gathering up the broken Apples for the
Bears within? Away Rogue, it's come to a fine degree
in these Spectacles, when such a Youth as you pretend
to a judgment. And yet he may, i' the most o' this
matter i' faith: For the Author hath writ it just to his
Meridian, and the Scale of the grounded Judgments here,
his Play-fellows 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 Scrivener, and certain Articles drawn out
in haste between our Author and you; which if you
please to hear, and as they appear reasonable, to approve
of; the Play will follow presently. Read, Scribe, gi' me
the Counterpain.
   Scr. Articles of Agreement, indented, between the
Spectators or Hearers, at the Hope on the Bankside, in the
County of Surry on the one party; And the Author of
Bartholmew Fair in the said place and County, on the
other party: the one and thirtieth day of Octob. 1614.
and in the twelfth year of the Reign of our Sovereign
Lord, James, by the Grace of God, King of England,
France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith: And of Scot-
land the Seven and fortieth.
   Inprimis, It is covenanted and agreed, by and between
the Parties above-said, and the said Spectators, and Hear-
ers, as well the curious and envious, as the favouring
and judicious, as also the grounded judgments and un-
derstandings, do for themselves severally covenant and
agree to remain in the Places their Money or Friends
have put them in, with patience, for the space of two
Hours and an half, and somewhat more. In which
time the Author promiseth to present them by us, with a
new sufficient Play, called Bartholmew Fair, merry, and
as full of noise, as sport: made to delight all, and to of-
fend none; provided they have either the wit or the ho-
nesty to think well of themselves.
   It is further agreed, That every Person here, have his
or their free-will of Censure, to like or dislike at their
own charge, the Author having now departed with his
E e e 2                             right:                


396 The Induction.                   

right: it shall be lawful for any Man to judge his six
Pen'orth, his twelve Pen'orth, so to his eighteen Pence,
two Shillings, half a Crown, to the value of his Place;
provided always his Place get not above his Wit. And
if he pay for half a dozen, he may censure for all them
too, so that he will undertake that they shall be silent.
He shall put in for Censures here, as they do for Lots at
the Lottery: marry, if he drop but six Pence at the
Door, and will Censure a Crowns worth, it is thought
there is no Conscience, or Justice in that.
   It is also agreed, That every Man here exercise his
own Judgment, and not Censure by Contagion, or upon
trust, from anothers Voice, or Face, that sits by him,
be he never so first in the Commission of Wit: As also,
that he be fixt and settled in his Censure, that what he
approves, or not approves to day, he will do the same
to morrow; and if to morrow, the next day, and so
the next week (if need be:) and not to be brought
about by any that sits on the Bench with him, though
they indite and arraign Plays daily. He that will swear,
Jeronimo, or Andronicus are the best Plays, yet shall pass
unexcepted at here, as a Man whose Judgment shews it
is constant, and hath stood still these five and twenty
or thirty years. Though it be an Ignorance, it is a
vertuous and staid Ignorance; and next to truth, a con-
firm'd error does well; such a one the Author knows
where to find him.
   It is further covenanted, concluded and agreed, That
how great soever the expectation be, no Person here is
to expect more than he knows, or better Ware than a
Fair will afford: neither to look back to the Sword and
Buckler-age of Smithfield, but content himself with the
present. Instead of a little Davy, to take Toll o' the
Bawds, the Author doth promise a strutting Horse-courser,
with a leer-Drunkard, two or three to attend him, in as
good Equipage as you would wish. And then for Kind-
heart, the Tooth-drawer, a fine Oily Pig-woman with her
Tapster, to bid you welcome, and a Consort of Roarers
for Musick. A wise Justice of Peace meditant, instead
of a Jugler, with an Ape. A civil Cutpurse searchant. A
sweet Singer of new Ballads allurant: and as fresh an

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Hypocrite, as ever was broach'd, rampant. If there be ne-
ver a Servant-monster i' the Fair, who can help it, he
says, nor a Nest of Antiques? He is loth to make Na-
ture afraid in his Plays, like those that beget Tales, Tem-
pests, and such like Drolleries, to mix his Head with other
Mens Heels; let the concupiscence of Jigs and Dances,
reign as strong as it will amongst you: yet if the Pup-
pets 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 neither in
themselves conceal, nor suffer by them to be concealed,
any State-decipherer, or Politick Picklock of the Scene, so so-
lemnly ridiculous, as to search out, who was meant by
Ginger-bread-woman, who by the Hobby-horse-man, who by
the Costard-monger, nay, who by their Wares. Or that
will pretend to affirm (on his own inspired Ignorance)
what Mirror of Magistrates is meant by the Justice,
what great Lady by the Pig-woman, what conceal'd States-
man, by the Seller of Mouse-traps, and so of the rest.
But that such Person, or Persons so found, be left disco-
vered 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 fool by his
place aforesaid, to challenge the Author of scurrility, be-
cause the Language somewhere favours of Smithfield, the
Booth, and the Pig-broath, or of prophaneness, because
a Mad-man cries, God quit you, or bless you. In witness
whereof, as you have preposterously put to your Seals
already (which is your Money) you will now add the
other part of suffrage, your Hands. The Play shall pre-
sently begin. And though the Fair be not kept in the
same Region, that some here, perhaps, would have it;
yet think, that therein the Author hath observ'd a speci-
al Decorum, the place being as dirty as Smithfield, and
as stinking every whit.
   Howsoever, he prays you to believe, his Ware is still
the same, else you will make him justly suspect that he
that is so loth to look on a Baby, or an Hobby-horse here,
would be glad to take up a Commodity of them, at any
laughter or loss in another place.









BARTHOL-










397

BARTHOLMEW  FAIR.

Act I.    Scene I.

Little-wit.  [To him]  Win.

A   


Pretty Conceit, and worth the finding! I ha'
such luck to spin out these fine things still,
and like a Silk-worm, out of my self. Here's
Master Bartholomew Cokes, of Harrow o' th'
Hill, i' th' County of Middlesex, Esquire,
takes forth his Licence to marry Mistress Grace Well-born,
of the said Place and County: And when do's he take
it forth? to day! the Four and Twentieth of August!
Bartholmew-day! Bartholmew upon Bartholmew! there's
the Device! who would have mark'd such a Leap-Frog
Chance now? A very less than Ames-ace, on two Dice!
Well, go thy ways, John Little-wit, Proctor John Little-
wit: One o' the pretty Wits o' Pauls, the Little-wit of
London (so thou art call'd) and something beside. When
a Quirk or a Quiblin do's scape thee, and thou dost not
watch and apprehend it, and bring it afore the Con-
stable of Conceit: (there now, I speak Quib too) let
'em carry thee out o' the Arch-deacons Court into his
Kitchin, and make a Jack of thee, instead of a John.
(There I am again la!) Win, Good Morrow, Win. I
marry, Win! Now you look finely indeed, Win! this
Cap do's convince! you'ld not ha' worn it, Win, nor ha'
had it Velvet, but a rough Countrey Bever, with a
Copper Band, like the Conney-skin-woman of Budge-
Row? Sweet Win, let me kiss it! And her fine high
Shooes, like the Spanish Lady! Good Win, go a little, I
would fain see thee pace, pretty Win! By this fine Cap,
I could never leave kissing on't.
   Win. Come indeed la, you are such a Fool still!
   Litt. No, but half a one, Win, you are the t'other
half: Man and Wife make one Fool, Win. (Good!)
Is there the Poctor,Proctor or Doctor indeed, i' the Diocess,
that ever had the Fortune to win him such a Win!
(There I am again!) I do feel Conceits coming upon
me, more than I am able to turn Tongue too. A Pox
o' these Pretenders to Wit! Your Three Cranes, Miter
and Mermaid men! Not a Corn of true Salt, not a
Grain of right Mustard amongst them all. They may
stand for Places, or so, again the next Wit fall, and
pay Two Pence in a Quart more for their Canary
than other Men. But gi' me the Man can start up a
Justice of Wit out of Six Shillings Beer, and give the
Law to all the Poets and Poet-Suckers i' Town, because
they are the Players Gossips. 'Slid, other Men have
Wives as fine as the Players, and as well drest. Come
hither, Win.

Act I.    Scene II.

Win-wife, Little-wit, Win.

W
Hy, how now, Master Little-wit! measuring of
 Lips? or molding of Kisses? which is it?
   Litt. Troth, I am a little taken with my Wins dres-
sing here! Dost not fine, Master Win-wife? How do
you apprehend, Sir? She would not ha' worn this Ha-
bit. I challenge all Cheapside to shew such another:
More-fields, Pimlico-path, or the Exchange, in a Summer-

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Evening, with a Lace to boot, as this has. Dear Win,
let Master Win-wife kiss you. He comes a wooing to our
Mother, Win, and may be our Father perhaps, Win. There's
no harm in him, Win.
   Win-w. None i' the Earth, Master Little-wit.
   Litt. I envy no Man my Delicates, Sir.
   Win-w. Alas, you ha' the Garden where they grow
still! A Wife here with a Strawberry-Breath, Cherry-
Lips, Apricot-Cheeks, and a soft Velvet Head, like a
Melicotton.
   Litt. Good, i'faith! now dulness upon me, that I had
not that before him, that I should not light on't as well
as he! Velvet Head!
   Win-w. But my taste, Master Little-wit, tend to
Fruit of a latter kind: the Sober Matron, your Wives
Mother.
   Litt. I! 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 fain have a fine Young
Father i' Law, with a Feather: that her Mother
might Hood it, and Chain it, with Mistris Over-
doe. But you do not take the right course, Master
Win-wife.
   Win-w. No? Master Little-wit, why?
   Lit. You are not mad enough.
   Win-w. How? Is Madness a right course?
   Lit. I say nothing, but I wink upon Win. You have
a Friend, one (Master Quarlous) comes here some-
times.
   Win-w. Why? he makes no Love to her, do's he?
   Lit. Not a Tokenworth that ever I saw, I assure you:
But ——
   Win-w. What?
   Lit. He is the more Mad-cap o' the Two. You do
not apprehend me.
   Win. You have a hot Coal i' your Mouth now, you
cannot hold.
   Lit. Let me out with it, dear Win.
   Win. I'll tell him my self.
   Lit. Do, and take all the Thanks, and much do good
thy pretty heart, Win.
   Win. Sir, my Mother has had her Nativity-water
cast lately by the Cunning-Men in Cow-lane, and they
ha' told her her Fortune, and do ensure her, she shall
never have happy hour, unless she marry within this
Sen'night; and when it is, it must be a Mad Man,
they say.
   Lit. I, but it must be a Gentleman-Mad Man.
   Win. Yes, so the t' other man of More-fields says.
   Win-w. But do's she believe 'em?
   Lit. Yes, and has been at Bedlam twice since evetyevery
day, to enquire if any Gentleman be there, or to come
there mad!
   Win-w. Why, this is a Confederacy, a meer piece of
practice upon her by these Impostors.
   Lit. I tell her so; or else, say I, that they mean some
Young Madcap-Gentleman (for the Devil can equivo-
cate as well as a Shop-keeper) and therefore would I ad-
vise you to be a little madder than Master Quarlous here-
after.
   Win.Win-w. Where is she? stirring yet?

Lit.                


398 Bartholmew Fair.                

   Lit. Stirring! Yes, and studying an Old Elder come
from Banbury, a Suitor that puts in here at Meal-tide, to
praise the painful Brethren, or pray that the Sweet
Singers may be restor'd; Says 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 fain to fetch it again with Malmsey, or Aqua
Cœlestis.
   VVin. Yes indeed, we have such a tedious Life
with him for his Dyet, and his Clothes too, he
breaks his Buttons, and cracks Seams at every Saying
he sobs out.
   John. He cannot abide my Vocation, he says.
   VVin. No, he told my Mother, a Proctor was a
Claw of the Beast, and that she had little less |thanthan
committed Abomination in marrying me so as she ha's
done.
   Joh. Every Line (he says) that a Proctor writes,
when it comes to be read in the Bishop's Court,
is a long black Hair, kemb'd out of the Tail of An-
ti-Christ.
   VVin-w. When came this Proselyte?
   Joh. Some three days since.

Act I.    Scene III.

Quarlous, John, VVin, VVin-wife.

O
 Sir, ha' you tane Soyl here? it's well a Man may
 reach you after three hours running yet! what an
unmerciful Companion art thou, to quit thy Lodging
at such ungentlemanly hours? None but a scatter'd
Covey 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 Descri-
ption. I pray thee what ailest thou, thou canst not
sleep? hast thou Thorns i' thy Eye-lids, or Thistles
i' thy Bed?
   Win-w. I cannot tell: It seems you had neither i' your
Feet, that took this pain to find me.
   Quar. No, and I had, all the Lime-hounds o' the Ci-
ty should have drawn after you by the Scent rather.
Mr. John Little-wit! God save you, Sir. 'Twas a
hot Night with some of us, last Night, John: shall
we pluck a Hair o' the same Wolf to day, Proctor
John?
   Joh. Do you remember, Master Quarlous, what we
discours'd on last night?
   Quar. Not I, John: nothing that I either discourse or
do, at those times I forfeit all to forgetfulness.
   Joh. No? not concerning Win, look you: there she
is, and drest, as I told you she should be: Hark you, Sir,
had you forgot?
   Quar. By this Head, I'll beware how I keep you
company, John, when I am drunk, and you have this
dangerous memory! that's certain.
   Joh. Why Sir?
   Quar. Why? we were all a little stain'd last Night,
sprinkled with a Cup or two, and I agreed with Pro-
ctor John here, to come and do somewhat with Win
(I know not what 'twas) to day; and he puts me in
mind on't now; he says he was coming to fetch me:
Before Truth, if you have that fearful Quality, John,
to remember when you are sober, John, what you pro-
mise drunk, John; I shall take heed of you, John. For
this once I am content to wink at you; where's your
[He kisseth her.
Wife? Come hither, Win.
   Win. Why, John! do you see this, John? look you!
help me, John.
   Joh. O Win, fie, what do you mean, Win? Be wo-
manly Win; make an Out-cry to your Mother, Win?
Master Quarlous is an honest Gentleman, and our wor-
shipful good Friend, Win: and he is Master VVin-wifes
Friend too: And Master VVinwife comes a Suitor to

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your Mother, VVin; as I told you before, VVin, and
may perhaps be our Father, VVin: they'l do you no
harm, VVin, they are both our Worshipful good
Friends. Master Quarlous! you must know Master
Quarlous, VVin; you must not quarrel with Master
Quarlous, VVin.
   Quar. No, we'll kiss again, and fall in.
   Joh. Yes, do, good VVin.
   VVin. I' faith you are a Fool, John.
   Joh. A Fool-John, she calls me; do you mark
that, Gentlemen? Pretty Little-wit of Velvet! a Fool-
John.
   Quar. She may call you an Apple-John, if you use
this.
   VVin-w. Pray thee forbear, for my Respect, some-
what.
   Quar. Hoy-day! how respective you are become
o' the sudden! I fear this Family will turn you reform-
ed too; pray you come about again. Because she is in
possibility to be your Daughter-in-Law, and may ask
you Blessing hereafter, when she courts it to Totnam
to eat Cream. Well, I will forbear, Sir; but i' faith,
would thou would'st leave thy Exercise of Widow-
hunting once! this drawing after an Old Reverend
Smock by the Splay-Foot: There cannot be an anci-
ent Tripe or Trillibub i' the Town, but thou art straight
nosing it, and 'tis a fine Occupation thou'lt confine thy
self to, when thou hast got one; scrubbing a piece of
Buff, as if thou hadst the perpetuity of Pannyer-Alley
to stink in; or perhaps worse, currying a Carkass that
thou hast bound thy self to alive. I'll be sworn, some
of them (that thou art, or hast been a Suitor to) are
so old, as no chaste or married pleasure can ever be-
come 'em: the honest Instrument of Procreation has
(Forty Years since) left to belong to 'em; thou must
visit 'em as thou wouldst do a Tomb, with a Torch, or
Three Handfuls of Link, flaming hot, and so thou
maist hap to make 'em feel thee, and after, come to in-
herit according to thy Inches. A sweet course for a
man to waste the Brand of Life for, to be still raking
himself a Fortune in an Old Womans Embers; we
shall ha' thee, after thou hast been but a Month marri-
ed to one of 'em, look like the Quartane Ague and the
Black Jaundise met in a Face, and walk as if thou hadst
borrow'd Legs of a Spinner, and Voice of a Cricket. I
would endure to hear Fifteen Sermons a week for her,
and such course, and loud ones, as some of 'em must
be; I would e'en desire of Fate, I might dwell in a
Drum, and take in my Sustenance with an old broken
Tabacco-pipe and a Straw. Dost thou ever think to
bring thine Ears or Stomach to the patience of a dry
Grace, as long as thy Table-Cloath? and droan'd out
by thy Son here (that might be thy Father), till all the
meat o' thy Board has forgot it was that day i' the
Kitchin? Or to brook the noise made in a Question of
Prædestination, by the good Labourers and painful Eat-
ers assembled together, put to 'em by the Matron your
Spouse; who moderates with a Cup of Wine, ever and
anon, and a Sentence out of Knoxe between? Or the
perpetual spitting before and after a sober drawn Exhor-
ation of Six Hours, whose better part was the Hum-ha-
hum? Or to hear Prayers groan'd out over thy Iron
Chests, as if they were Charms to break 'em? And all
this for the hope of Two Apostle-Spoons, to suffer! and a
Cup to eat a Cawdle in! For that will be thy Legacy.
She'll ha' convey'd her State safe enough from thee, an'
she be a right Widow.
   VVin.Win-w. Alas, I am quite off that Scent now.
   Quar. How so?
   VVin-w. Put off by a Brother of Banbury, one that,
they say, is come here, and governs all already.
   Quar. What do you call him? I knew divers of those
Banburians when I was in Oxford.

VVin-w.        


            Bartholmew Fair. 399

   VVin-w. Master Little-wit can tell us.
   Joh. Sir! good VVin, go in, and if Master Barthol-
mew Cokes his Man come for the Licence (the little Old
Fellow) let him speak with me; what say you, Gen-
tlemen?
   VVin-w. What call you the Reverend Elder you told
me of? your Banbury-man?
   Joh. Rabbi Busy, Sir, he is more than an Elder, he is a
Prophet, Sir.
   Quar. O, I know him! a Baker, is he not?
   Joh. He was a Baker, Sir, but he do's dream now, and
see Visions, he has given over his Trade.
   Quar. I remember that too: out of a Scruple he took,
that (in spic'd Conscience) those Cakes he made, were
serv'd to Bridales, May-Poles, Morrisses, and such pro-
phane Feasts and Meetings; his Christen-Name is Zeal-
of-the-land.
   Joh. Yes, Sir, Zeal-of-the-land Busy.
   VVin-w. How! what a Name's there!
   Joh. O, they have all such Names, Sir; he was Wit-
ness for VVin here, (they will not be call'd God-fathers)
and nam'd her VVin-the-fight, you thought her Name had
been VVinnifred, did you not?
   VVin-w. I did indeed.
   Joh. He would ha' thought himself a stark Reprobate,
if it had.
   Quar. I, for there was a Blew-starch-woman o' the
Name, at the same time. A notable hypocritical Ver-
mine it is; I know him. One that stands upon his
Face, more than his Faith, at all times; Ever in sedi-
tious motion, and reproving for Vain-glory: of a most
Lunatick Conscience and Spleen, and affects the Vio-
lence of Singularity in all he do's: (He has undone a
Grocer here, in Newgate-Market, that broke with him,
trusted him with Currans, as errant a Zeal as he, that's
by the way:) By his Profession, he will ever be i' the
State of Innocence, though; and Childhood; de-
rides all Antiquity, defies any other Learning than
Inspiration; and what Discretion soever Years should
afford him, it is all prevented in his Original Ignorance;
ha' not to do with him: for he is a Fellow of a
most arrogant and invincible dullness, I assure you;
who is this?

Act I.    Scene IV.

VVaspe, John, VVin-wife, Quarlous.

B
Y your leave, Gentlemen, with all my heart to
 you: and God give you good morrow; Master
Little-wit, my business is to you. Is this License
ready?
   Joh. Here I ha' it for you in my hand, Master Hum-
phrey.
   Was. That's well; nay, never open or read it to me,
it's labour in vain, you know. I am no Clerk, I scorn
to be sav'd by my Book, i'faith I'll hang first; fold it
up o' your word, and gi' it me; what must you ha'
for't?
   Joh. We'll talk of that anon, Master Humphrey.
   Was. Now or not at all, good Mr. Proctor, I am for no
anon's, I assure you.
   Joh. Sweet Win, bid Solomon send me the little black
Box within in my Study.
   Was. I, quickly, good Mistris, I pray you: for I have
both Eggs o' the Spit, and Iron i' the Fire, say what you
must have, good Mr. Little-wit.
   Joh. Why, you know the price, Mr. Numps.
   Was. I know? I know nothing. I, what tell you
me of knowing? (now I am in haste) Sir, I do not
know, and I will not know, and I scorn to know, and
yet, (now I think on't) I will, and do know as well as
another; you must have a Mark for your thing here,
and Eight Pence for the Box; I could ha' sav'd Two Pence

[column break]

i' that, an' I had bought it my self, but here's Fourteen
Shillings for you. Good Lord! how long your little wife
stays! pray God Solomon, your Clerk, be not looking
i' the wrong Box, Mr. Proctor.
   Joh. Good i' faith! no, I warrant you, Solomon is wi-
ser than so, Sir.
   Was. Fie, fie, fie, by your leave, Master Little-wit, this
is scurvy, idle, foolish and abominable, with all my heart;
I do not like it.
   Win-w. Do you hear? Jack Little-wit, what business
does thy pretty head think this Fellow may have, that he
keeps such a coyl with?
   Quar. More than buying of Ginger-bread i' the Cloy-
ster, here, (for that we allow him) or a guiltalternate spelling of 'gilt' pouch i' the
Fair?
   Joh. Master Quarlous, do not mistake him: he is his
Master's Both-hands, I assure you.
   Quar. What? to pull on his Boots a Mornings, or his
Stockings, do's he?
   Joh. Sir, if you have a mind to mock him, mock him
softly, and look t'other way: for if he apprehend you
flout him once, he will fly at you presently. A terrible
testy old Fellow, and his Name is Waspe too.
   Quar. Pretty Insect! make much on him.
   Was. A Plague o' this Box, and the Pox too, and on
him that made it, and her that went for't, and all that
should ha' sought it, sent it, or brought it! do you see,
Sir?
   Joh. Nay, good Mr. Waspe.
   VVas. Good Master Hornet, turd i' your teeth, hold
you your tongue: do not I know you? Your Father was
a Pothecary, and sold Glisters, more than he gave, I wusse:
and turd i' your little Wives teeth too (here she comes),
'twill make her spit as fine as she is, for all her Velvet
Custard on her head, Sir.
   Joh. O! be civil, Master Numps.
   VVas. Why, say I have a Humour not to be civil; how
then? who shall compel me? you?
   Joh. Here is the Box now.
   VVas. Why a Pox o' your Box, once again: let your
little Wife stale in it, and she will. Sir, I would have
you to understand, and these Gentlemen too, if they
please ——
   VVin-w. With all our Hearts, Sir.
   VVas. That I have a charge, Gentlemen.
   Joh. They do apprehend, Sir.
   VVas. Pardon me, Sir, neither they nor you can ap-
prehend me yet. (You are an Ass) I have a Young Ma-
ster, he is now upon his making and marring; the whole
care of his well-doing, is now mine. His foolish School-
masters have done nothing, but run up and down the
Countrey with him to beg Puddings, and Cake-bread of
his Tenants, and almost spoiled him; he has learn'd
nothing but to sing Catches, and repeat Rattle Bladder,
rattle, and O, Madge. I dare not let him walk alone,
for fear of learning of vile Tunes, which he will sing at
Supper, and in the Sermon-times! If he meet but a
Carman i' the Street, and I find him not talk to keep
him off on him, he will whistle him, and all his Tunes
over at Night in his Sleep! he has a head full of Bees!
I am fain now (for this little time I am absent) to leave
him in charge with a Gentlewoman::extra colon should be omitted 'Tis true, she is
a Justice of Peace his Wife, and a Gentlewoman o' the
Hood, and his Natural Sister: But what may happen
under a Womans Government, there's the doubt. Gen-
tlemen, you do not know him: he is another manner of
piece than you think for! but Nineteen years old, and
yet he is taller than either of you by the Head, God
bless him.
   Quar. Well, methinks this is a fine Fellow!
   VVin-w. He has made his Master a finer by this Descrip-
tion, I should think.
   Quar. 'Faith, much about one, it's Cross and Pile,
whether for a New Farthing.
VVas.  


400 Bartholmew Fair.                

   VVas. I'll tell you, Gentlemen ——
   Joh. Will't please you drink, Master VVaspe?
   VVas. Why, I ha' not talk't so long to be dry, Sir;
you see no Dust or Cobwebs come out o' my Mouth:
do you? you'ld ha' me gone, would you?
   Joh. No, but you were in haste e'en now, Mr.
Numps.
   Was. What an' I were? so I am still, and yet I will
stay too; meddle you with your match, your Win, there,
she has as little Wit as her Husband, it seems: I have o-
thers to talk to.
   Joh. She's my match indeed, and as little Wit as I,
Good!
   VVas. We ha' been but a day and a half in Town,
Gentlemen, 'tis true, and yesterday i' the Afternoon
we walk'd London, to shew the City to the Gentlewo-
man he shall marry, Mistris Grace; but afore I will en-
dure such another half day with him, I'll be drawn with
a good Gib-cat, through the great Pond at home, as his
Uncle Hodge was! why, we could not meet that Heathen
thing all day, but staid him: he would name you all the
Signs over, as he went, aloud: and where he spi'd a
Parrat, or a Monkey, there he was pitch'd, with all the
little Long-Coats about him, Male and Female; no get-
ting him away! I thought he would ha' run mad o' the
black boy in Bucklers-bury, that takes the scurvy, roguy
Tabacco there.
   Joh. You say true, Master Numps: there's such a one
indeed.
   VVas. It's no matter whether there be or no, what's
that to you?
   Quar. He will not allow of John's reading at any
hand.

Act I.    Scene V.

Cokes, Mistris Over-doe, VVaspe, Grace, Quarlous, VVin-
wife, John, VVin.

O
 Numps! are you here, Numps? look where I am.
 Numps! and Mistris Grace too! nay, do not look
angerly, Numps, my Sister is here and all, I do not come
without her.
   VVas. What the mischief do you come with her? or
she with you?
   Cok. We came all to seek you, Numps.
   VVas. To seek me? why, did you all think I was lost,
or run away with your Fourteen Shillings worth of small
Ware here? or that I had chang'd it i' the Fair for Hob-
by-horses? S' precious —— to seek me!
   Over. Nay, good Mr. Numps do you shew discretion,
tho he be exorbitant, (as Mr. Over-do says) and't be but
for conservation of the Peace.
   VVas. Marry gip, Goodly She-Justice, Mistris French-
hood! turd i' your teeth; and turd i' your French-hoods
teeth too, to do you service, do you see? must you
quote your Adam to me! you think you are Madam Re-
gent still, Mistris Over-do; when I am in place? No
such matter, I assure you, your Raign is out, when I am
in, Dame.
   Over. I am content to be in abeyance, Sir, and be go-
vern'd by you; so should he too, if he did well; but
'till'twill be expected you should also govern your Passions.
   Was. Will't so, forsooth? good Lord! how sharp you
are! with being at Beth'lem yesterday? VVhetstone has set
an Edge upon you, has he?
   Over. Nay, if you know not what belongs to your
Dignity, I do yet to mine.
   VVas. Very well then.
   Cok. Is this the Licence, Numps? for Loves sake let me
see't; I never saw a Licence.
   VVas. Did you not so? why, you shall not see't then.
   Cok. An' you love me, good Numps.
   VVas. Sir, I love you, and yet I do not love you i'these

[column break]

Fooleries; set your heart at rest; there's nothing in't but
hard words; and what would you see't for?
   Cok. I would see the length and the breadth on't, that's
all; and I will see't now, so I will.
   VVas. You sha' not see it here.
   Cok. Then I'll see't at home, and I'll look upon the
Case here.
   VVas. Why, do so; a man must give way to him a
little in Trifles: Gentlemen. These are Errors, Diseases
of Youth: which he will mend when he comes to Judg-
ment and knowledge of matters. I pray you conceive
so, and I thank you. And I pray you pardon him, and
I thank you again.
   Quar. Well, this Dry-Nurse, I say still, is a delicate man.
   VVin-w. And I am, for the Cosset, his charge! Did you
ever see a Fellows Face more accuse him for an Ass?
   Quar. Accuse him? it confesses him one without accu-
sing. What pity 'tis yonder wench should marry such a
Cokes?
   VVin-w. 'Tis true.
   Quar. She seems to be discreet, and as sober as she is
handsome.
   VVin-w. I, and if you mark her, what a restrain'd
scorn she casts upon all his behaviour and speeches?
   Cok. Well, Numps, I am now for another piece of bu-
siness more, the Fair, Numps, and then —
   VVas. Bless me! deliver me, help, hold me! the Fair!
   Cok. Nay, never fidg up and down, Numps, and vex it
self. I am resolute Bartholmew in this; I'll make no suit
on't to you; 'twas all the end of my Journey indeed, to
shew Mrs. Grace my Fair. I call't my Fair, because of
Bartholmew: you know my Name is Bartholmew, and
Bartholmew Fair.
   Joh. That was mine afore, Gentlemen: this morning.
I had that i'faith upon his Licence, believe me, there he
comes after me.
   Quar. Come, John, this ambitious Wit of yours (I am
afraid) will do you no good i' the end.
   Joh. No? why Sir?
   Quar. You grow so insolent with it, and over-doing,
John; that if you look not to it, and tie it up, it will
bring you to some obscure place in time, and there 'twill
leave you.
   VVin-w. Do not trust it too much, John, be more spa-
ring, and use it but now and then; a Wit is a dangerous
thing in this Age; do not over-buy it.
   Joh. Think you so, Gentlemen? I'll take heed on't
hereafter.
   VVin. Yes, do John.
   Cok. A pretty little Soul, this same Mrs. Little-wit
would I might marry her.
   Gra. So would I, or any body else, so I might scape you.
   Cok. Numps, I will see it, Numps, 'tis decreed: never
be melancholly for the matter.
   VVas. Why, see it, Sir, see it, do, see it! who hinders
you? why do you not go see it? 'Slid see it.
   Cok. The Fair, Numps, the Fair.
   VVas. Would the Fair, and all the Drums and Rattles
in't were i' your belly for me: they are already i' your
Brain: he that had the means to travel your head now,
should meet finer sights than any are i' the Fair; and
make a finer Voyage on't; to see it all hung with Cockle-
shels, Pebbles, fine Wheat-straws, and here and there a
Chicken's Feather, and a Cob-web.
   Quar. Good faith, he looks, methinks, an' you mark
him, like one that were made to catch Flies, with his Sir
Cranion-Legs.
   VVin-w. And his Numps, to flap 'em away.
   VVas. God, be w'you, Sir, there's your Bee in a Box,
and much good do't you.
   Cok. Why, your Friend, and Bartholmew; an' you be
so contumacious.
   Quar. What mean you, Numps?
   VVas. I'll not be guilty, I, Gentlemen.
Over.        


            Bartholmew Fair. 401

   Over. You will not let him go, Brother, and lose
him?
   Cok. Who can hold that will away? I had rather
lose him than the Fair, I wusse.
   Was. You do not know the inconvenience, Gentle-
tlemen,Gentlemen you perswade to, nor what trouble I have with
him in these humours. If he go to the Fair, he will buy
of every thing to a Baby there; and Houshold-stuff for
that too. If a Leg or an Arm on him did not grow
on, he would lose it i' the Press. Pray Heaven I bring
him off with one Stone! And then he is such a ravener
after Fruit! you will not believe what a coil I had
t'other day, to compound a business between a Katern-
pear-woman, and him, about snatching! 'tis intolerable,
Gentlemen.
   Win-w. O! but you must not leave him now to these
hazards, Numps.
   Was. Nay, he knows too well, I will not leave him,
and that makes him presume: well, Sir, will you go
now? if you have such an itch i' your feet, to foot it to
the Fair, why do you stop, am I your Tarriars? go,
will you go? Sir, why do you not go?
   Cok. O Numps! have I brought you about? come
Mistriss Grace, and Sister, I am resolute Bat, i' faith,
still.
   Gra. Truly, I have no such fancy to the Fair; nor
ambition to see it; there's none goes thither of any qua-
lity or fashion.
   Cok. O Lord, Sir! you shall pardon me, Mistriss Grace,
we are enow of our selves to make it a fashion: and for
qualities, let Numps alone, he'll find qualities.
   Quar. What a Rogue in apprehension is this! to un-
derstand her Language no better.
   Win-w. I, and offer to marry to her. Well, I will leave
the chase of my Widow, for to day, and directly to the
Fair. These Flies cannot, this hot season, but engender
us excellent creeping sport.
   Quar. A Man that has but a Spoon full of Brain
would think so. Farewel, John.
   Joh. Win, you see, 'tis in fashion, to go to the Fair,
Win: we must to the Fair too, you and I, Win. I have
an affair i' the Fair, Win, a Puppet-play of mine own
making: say nothing, that I writ for the motion Man,
which you must see, Win.
   Win. I would I might John; but my Mother will
never consent to such a prophane motion: she will
call it.
   Joh. Tut, we'll have a device, a dainty one: (Now,
Wit, help at a pinch, good Wit come, come good Wit, and
't be thy will.) I have it, Win, I have it i' faith, and 'tis
a fine one. Win, long to eat of a Pig, sweet Win, i' the
Fair; do you see? i' the heart o' the Fair; not at Pye-
corner. Your Mother will do any thing, Win, to satis-
fie your longing, you know; pray thee long presently,
and be sick o' the sudden, good Win. I'll go in and tell
her; cut thy Lace i' the mean time, and play the Hy-
pocrite, sweet Win.
   Win. No, I'll not make me unready for it. I can
be Hypocrite enough, though I were never so straight
lac'd.
   Joh. You say true, you have bin bred i' the Family,
and brought up to't. Our Mother is a most elect Hypo-
crite, and has maintain'd us all this seven year with it,
like Gentle-folks.
   Win. I, Let her alone, John, she is not a wise wilful
Widow for nothing; nor a sanctified Sister for a Song.
And let me alone too, I ha' somewhat o' the Mother in
me, you shall see, fetch her, fetch her, ah, ah.

[column break]

Act I.    Scene VI.

Purecraft, Win, John, Busy, Salomon.

N
Ow, the blaze of the beauteous Discipline, fright
 away this evil from our House! how now Win-
the-fight, Child: how do you? Sweet Child, speak to me.
   Win. Yes, forsooth.
   Pur. Look up, sweet Win-the-fight, and suffer not the
Enemy to enter you at this Door, remember that your
Education has bin with the purest; what polluted one
was it, that nam'd first the unclean Beast, Pig, to you,
Child?
   Win. (Uh, uh.)
   Joh. Not I, o' my sincerity Mother: she long'd above
three hours e'er she would let me know it; who was it
Win?
   Win. A prophane black thing with a Beard, John.
   Pur. O! resist it, Win-the-fight, it is the Tempter, the
wicked Tempter, you may know it by the fleshly mo-
tion of Pig, be strong against it, and it's foul temptati-
ons, in these assaults, whereby it broacheth Flesh and
Blood, as it were on the weaker side, and pray against
it's carnal provocations; good Child, sweet Child, pray.
   Joh. Good Mother, I pray you, that she may eat some
Pig, and her belly full too; and do not you cast away
your own Child, and perhaps one of mine, with your
tale of the Tempter: how do you, Win? Are you not
sick?
   Win. Yes, a great deal, John, (uh, uh.)
   Pur. What shall we do? call our zealous Brother Bu-
sy hither, for his faithful fortification in this charge of
the adversary; Child, my dear Child, you shall eat Pig,
be comforted, my sweet Child.
   Win. I, but i' the Fair, Mother.
   Pur. I mean i' the Fair, if it can be any way made
or found lawful; where is our Brother Busy? Will he not
come? look up, Child.
   Joh. Presently, Mother, as soon as he has cleans'd
his Beard. I found him fast by the Teeth, i' the cold
Turkey-pie i' the Cupboard, with a great white Loaf
on his left-hand, and a Glass of Malmsey on his right.
   Pur. Slander not the Brethren, wicked one.
   Joh. Here he is now, purified Mother.
   Pur. O Brother Busy! your help here to edifie and
raise us up in a scruple; my Daughter Win-the-fight is
visited with a natural Disease of Women; call'd, A long-
ing to eat Pig.
   Joh. I Sir, a Bartholmew-Pig: and in the Fair.
   Pur. And I would be satisfied from you, Religiously-
wise, whether a Widow of the sanctified Assembly, or
a Widows Daughter, may commit the act without of-
fence to the weaker Sisters.
   Bus. Verily, for the Disease of Longing, it is a Di-
sease, a carnal Disease, or Appetite, incident to Women:
and as it is carnal, and incident, it is natural, very natu-
ral: Now Pig, it is a Meat, and a Meat that is nourish-
ing, and may be long'd for, and so consequently eaten;
it may be eaten; very exceeding well eaten: but in the
Fair, and as a Bartholmew-Pig, it cannot be eaten; for
the very calling it a Bartholmew-Pig; and to eat it so, is
a spice of Idolatry, and you make the Fair no better than
one of the high Places. This I take it is the state of the
question. A high place.
   Joh. I, but in state of necessity: Place should give
place, Mr. Busy, (I have a conceit left yet.)
   Pur. Good Brother, Zeal-of-the-land, think to make it
as lawful as you can.
   Joh. Yes Sir, and as soon as you can: for it must be
Sir; you see the danger my little Wife is in, Sir.
   Pur. Truly, I do love my Child dearly, and I would
not have her miscarry, or hazard her first fruits, if it
might be otherwise.
F f f                                  Bus. Surely,     


402 Bartholmew Fair.                

   Bus. Surely, it may be otherwise, but it is subject to
construction, subject, and hath a face of offence with
the weak, a great face, a foul face, but that face may
have a veil put over it, and be shaddowed as it were, it
may be eaten, and in the Fair, 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
humbleness; not gorg'd in with gluttony, or greediness;
there's the fear: for, should she go there, as taking pride
in the place, or delight in the unclean dressing, to feed
the vanity of the Eye, or the lust of the Palate, it
were not well, it were not fit, it were abominable, and
not good.
   Joh. Nay, I knew that afore, and told her on't; but
courage, Win, we'll be humble enough, we'll seek out
the homeliest Booth i' the Fair; that's certain, rather
thenthan fail, we'll eat it o' the Ground.
   Pur. I, and I'll go with you my self, Win-the-fight, and
my Brother Zeal of-the-land shall go with us too, for our
better consolation.
   Win. Uh, uh.
   Joh. I, and Salomon too Win, (the more the merrier)
Win, we'll leave Rabby Busy in a Booth. Salomon, my
Cloke.
   Sal. Here, Sir.
   Bus. In the way of comfort to the weak, I will go
and eat. I will eat exceedingly, and prophesie; there
may be a good use made of it too, now I think on't:
by the publick eating of Swines Flesh, to profess our
hate and loathing of Judaism, whereof the Brethren
stand taxed. I will therefore eat, yea I will eat exceed-
ingly.
   Joh. Good i' faith, I will eat heartily too, because I
will be no Jew, I could never away with that stiffnecked
generation: and truly, I hope my little one will be like
me, that cries for Pig so i' the Mothers Belly.
   Bus. Very likely, exceeding likely, very exceeding
likely.


Act II.    Scene I.

Justice Overdoo.

W
Ell, in Justice name, and the Kings, and for the
 Commonwealth! defie all the World, Adam
Overdoo, for a disguise, and all story; for thou hast fitted
thy self I swear; fain would I meet the Linceus now,
that Eagles Eye, that piercing Epidaurian Serpent (as
my Quint. Horace calls him) that could discover a Ju-
stice of Peace, (and lately of the Quorum) under this
covering. They may have seen many a fool in the ha-
bit of a Justice; but never till now, a Justice in the ha-
bit of a fool. Thus must we do, though that wake for
the publick 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. Never shall I enough
commend a worthy worshipful Man, sometime a capi-
tal Member of this City, for his high wisdom in this
point, who would take you now the habit of a Porter,
now of a Carman, now of the Dog-killer, in this month
of August; and in the Winter, of a seller of Tinder-
boxes; and what would he do in all these shapes? mar-
ry, go you into every Alehouse, and down into every
Celler; measure the length of Puddings, take the gage
of Black-pots, and Cans, I, and Custards with a Stick;
and their circumference with a Thread; weigh the
Loaves of Bread on his middle-finger; then would he
send for 'em home; give the Puddings to the Poor, the
Bread for the Hungry, the Custards to his Children;
break the Pots, and burn the Cans himself; he would
not trust his corrupt Officers, he would do't himself.
Would all Men in Authority would follow this worthy

[column break]

president.precedent For (alas) as we are publick Persons, what
do we know? nay, what can we know? we hear with
other Mens Ears, we see with other Mens Eyes. A foo-
lish Constable, or a sleepy Watchman, is all our infor-
mation, he slanders a Gentleman, by the vertue of his
place, (as he calls it) and we by the vice of ours, must
believe him. As a while agone, they made me, yea me,
to mistake an honest zealous Pursivant, for a Seminary:
and a asecond 'a' should be omitted proper young Batchellor of Musick, for a Bawd.
This we are subject to, that live in high place, all our
intelligence is idle, and most of our intelligencers
Knaves: and by your leave, our selves thought little
better, if not errant Fools for believing 'em. I Adam
Overdoo, am resolv'd therefore, to spare spy-mony here-
after, and make mine own discoveries. Many are the
yearly enormities of this Fair, in whose Courts of Pye-
poulders I have had the honour, during the three days,
sometimes to sit as Judge. But this is the special day for
detection of those foresaid enormities. Here is my
black Book for the purpose; this the Cloud that hides
me; under this Covert I shall see and not be seen. On
Junius Brutus. And as I began, so I'll end; in Ju-
stice name, and the Kings, and for the Common-
wealth.

Act II.    Scene II.

Leatherhead, Trash, Justice, Urs'la, Moon-calf, Nightingale,
Costermonger, Passengers.

T
HE Fair's pestlence dead methinks; People come
 not abroad to day, what ever the matter is. Do
you hear, Sister Trash, Lady o' the Basket? sit farther
with your Ginger-bread progeny there, and hinder not
the prospect of my Shop, or I'll ha' it proclaim'd i' the
Fair, what stuff they are made on.
   Tra. Why, what stuff are they made on, Brother
Leather-head? nothing but what's wholsome, I assure
you.
   Lea. Yes, stale Bread, rotten Eggs, musty Ginger, and
dead Hony, you know.
   Jus. I! have I met with enormity so soon?
   Lea. I shall mar your Market, old Jone.
   Tra. Mar 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 parcel-Poet, and an
Ingineer. I'll find a Friend shall right me, and make
a Ballad of thee, and thy Cattle all over. Are you puft
up with the pride of your Wares? your Arsedine?
   Lea. Go too, old Jone, I'll talk with you anon; and
take you down too, afore Justice Overdoo, he is the Man
must charm you, I'll ha' you i' the Pie-pouldres.
   Tra. Charm me? I'll meet thee Face to Face, afore
his Worship, when thou dar'st: and though I be a lit-
tle crooked o' my body, I'll be found as upright in my
dealing as any Woman in Smithfield; I, charm me?
   Jus. I am glad to hear my name is their terror, yet
this is doing of Justice.
   Lea. What do you lack? what is't you buy? what
do you lack? Rattles, Drums, Halberts, Horses, Babies
[Enter Cost.
o' the best? Fiddles o' th' finest?
   Cos. Buy any Pears, Pears, fine, very fine Pears.
   Tra. By any Ginger-bread, guilt'gilt' Ginger-bread!
   Nig. Hey, now the Fairs a filling!
         O, for a Tune to startle
         The Birds o' the Booths here billing:
         Yearly with old Saint Barthle!
         The Drunkards they are wading,
         The Punques, and Chapmen trading;
         Who'ld see the Fair without his lading? Buy any
Ballads; new Ballads?
   Urs. Fie upon't: who would wear out their youth,
and prime thus, in roasting of Pigs, that had any cooler
vocation?            


            Bartholmew Fair. 403

vocation? Hell's a kind of cold Cellar to't, a very fine
Vault, o' my Conscience! what Moon-calf.
   Moo. Here, Mistriss.
   Nig. How now Ursla? in a heat, in a heat?
   Urs. My Chair, you false Faucet you; and my Morn-
ings draught, quickly, a Bottle of Ale, to quench me,
Raskal. I am all fire, and fat, Nightingale, I shall e'en
melt away to the first Woman, a Rib again, 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. I make.
   Nig. Alas, good Urs, was Zekiel here this morn-
ing?
   Urs. Zekiel? what Zekiel?
   Nig. Zekiel Edgworth, the civil Cut-purse, you know
him well enough; he that talks bawdy to you still: I
call him my Secretary.
   Urs. He promis'd to be here this morning, I re-
member.
   Nig. When he comes, bid him stay: I'll be back again
[Moon-calf brings in the Chair.
presently.
   Urs. Best take your morning Dew in your Belly,
Nightingale: come, Sir, set it here; did not I bid you
should get this Chair let out o' the sides, for me, that my
Hips might play? you'll never think of any thing, till
your Dame be rump-gall'd; 'tis well, Changeling: be-
cause it can take in your Grass-hoppers Thighs, you
care for no more. Now you look as you had been i'
the corner o' the Booth, fleaing your Breech with a
Candles end, and set fire o' the Fair. Fill, Stote: fill.
   Jus. This Pig-woman do I know, and I will put her in,
for my second enormity; she hath been before me,
Punk, Pinnace, and Bawd, any time these two and twen-
ty years upon Record i' the Pie-poudres.
   Urs. Fill again, you unlucky Vermine.
   Moo. 'Pray you be not angry, Mistriss, I'll ha' it wi-
den'd anon.
   Urs. No, no, I shall e'en dwindle away to't, e'er the
Fair be done: you think, now you ha' heated me? A
poor vex'd thing I am, I feel my self dropping already,
as fast as I can: two Stone a Sewet'two Stone o' Suet' a day is my propor-
tion: I can but hold Life and Soul together, with this
(here's to you, Nightingale) and a whiff of Tabacco,
at most. Where's my Pipe now? not fill'd? thou errant
Incubee.
   Nig. Nay, Ursla, thou'lt gall between the Tongue and
the Teeth, with fretting, now.
   Urs. How can I hope that ever he'll discharge his
place of trust, Tapster, a Man of reckoning under me,
that remembers nothing I say to him? but look too't,
Sirrah, you were best, three Pence a Pipe full, I will ha'
made, of all my whole half Pound of Tabacco, and a
quarter of a Pound of Coltsfoot, mixt with it too, to eech
it out. I that have dealt so long in the fire, will not be
to seek in smoke, now. Then six and twenty Shillings
a Barrel I will advance o' my Beer, and fifty Shillings a
hundred o' my Bottle-Ale; I ha' told you the ways how
to raise it. Froth your Cans well i' the filling, at length
Rogue, and jog your Bottles o' the Buttock, Sirrah,
then skink out the first Glass, ever, and drink with all
Companies, though you be sure to be drunk; you'll
mis-reckon the better, and be less asham'd on't. But
your true trick, Raskal, must be, to be ever busie, and
mis-take away the Bottles and Cans, in haste, before
they be half drunk off, and never hear any body call,
(if they should chance to mark you) till you ha' brought
fresh, and be able to forswear 'em. Give me a drink of
Ale.
   Jus. This is the very Womb, and Bed of enormity!
gross as her self! this must all down for enormity, all,
[One knocks.
every whit on't.
   Urs. Look, who's there, Sirrah? five Shillings a Pig is
my Price, at least; if it be a Sow-pig, six Pence more;
if she be a great bellied Wife, and long for't, six Pence
more for that.

[column break]

   Jus. O tempora! O mores! I would not ha' lost my dis-
covery of this one grievance, for my place, and worship
o' the Bench, how is the poor abus'd here! well, I
will fall in with her, and with her Moon-calf, and win
out wonders of enormity. By thy leave, goodly Wo-
man, and the fatness of the Fair: oily as the King's Con-
stables Lamp, and shining as his Shooing-horn! hath thy
Ale vertue, or thy Beer strength? that the Tongue of
Man may be tickled? and his Palate pleas'd in the Morn-
ing? let thy pretty Nephew here, go search and see.
   Urs. What new Roarer is this?
   Moo. O Lord! do you not know him, Mistris? 'tis mad
Arthur of Bradley, that makes the Orations. Brave Ma-
ster, old Arthur of Bradley, how do you? welcome to
the Fair; when shall we hear you again, to handle your
matters? with your Back again a Booth, ha? I ha' bin
one o' your little disciples, i' my days!
   Jus. Let me drink, Boy, with my Love, thy Aunt,
here; that I may be eloquent: but of thy best, lest
it be bitter in my Mouth, and my words fall foul on
the Fair.
   Urs. Why dost thou not fetch him Drink? and offer
him to sit?
   Moo. Is't Ale, or Beer? Master Arthur?
   Jus. Thy best, pretty stripling, thy best; the same
thy Dove drinketh, and thou drawest on Holy-days.
   Urs. Bring him a six Penny Bottle of Ale; they say,
a Fools hansel is lucky.
   Jus. Bring both, Child. Ale for Arthur, and Beer
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 discover enough, and more: and yet get off
with the reputation of what I would be. A certain
midling thing, between a Fool and a Madman.

Act II.    Scene III.

[To them.
                  Knockhum.

W
Hat! my little lean Ursla! my she-Bear! art
 thou alive yet? with thy litter of Pigs, to grunt
out another Bartholmew Fair? ha!
   Urs. Yes, and to amble afoot, when the Fair is done,
to hear you groan out of a Cart, up the heavy Hill.
   Kno. Of Holborn, Ursla, mean'st thou so? for what?
for what, pretty Urs?
   Urs. For cutting Half-penny Purses: or stealing little
penny Dogs, out o' the Fair.
   Kno. O! good words, good words, Urs.
   Jus. Another special enormity. A cut-purse of the
Sword, the Boot, and the Feather! those are his
marks.
   Urs. You are one of those Horse-leaches that gave
out I was dead, in Turn bull-street, of a surfeit of Bottle
Ale and Tripes?
   Kno. No, 'twas better Meat Urs: Cows Udders, Cows
Udders!
   Urs. Well, I shall be-meet with your mumbling Mouth
one day.
   Kno. What? thou'lt poyson me with a Neust in a Bot-
tle of Ale, will't thou? or a Spider in a Tabacco-pipe,
Urs? Come, there's no malice in these fat Folks, I never
fear thee, and I can scape thy lean Moon-calf here. Let's
drink it out, good Urs, and no vapours!
   Jus. Dost thou hear, Boy? (there's for thy Ale, and
the remnant for thee) speak in thy faith of a Faucet,
now; is this goodly Person before us here, this Vapours,
a Knight of the Knife?
   Moo. What mean you by that, Master Arthur?
   Jus. I mean a Child of the Horn-thumb, a Babe of
booty, Boy, a Cutpurse.
   Moo. O Lord, Sir! far from it. This is Master Dan.
Knockhum: Jordane the Ranger of Turnbull. He is a
Horse-courser, Sir.
F f f 2                                Jus. Thy              


404 Bartholmew Fair.                

   Jus. Thy Dainty Dame, though, call'd him Cutpurse.
   Moo. Like enough, Sir, she'll do forty such things in
an hour (an you listen to her) for her recreation, if the
toy take her i' the greasie Kerchief: it makes her fat you
see. She battens with it.
   Jus. Here might I ha' been deceiv'd, now, and ha'
put a Fools blot upon my self, if I had not play'd an af-
[Ursla comes in again dropping.
Gameafter-Game o' discretion.
   Kno. Alas poor Urs, this's an ill season for thee.
   Urs. Hang your self, Hackney-man.
   Kno. How? how? Urs, Vapours, motion breed Va-
pours?
   Urs. Vapours? never tusk, nor twirle your Dibble,
good Jordane, I know what you'll take to a very drop.
Though you be Captain o' the Roarers, and fight well
at the case of piss-pots, you shall not fright me with
your Lyon-chap, Sir, nor your Tusks; you angry? you
are hungry: come, a Pigs-head will stop your Mouth,
and stay your Stomach at all times.
   Kno. Thou art such another mad merry Urs, still!
Troth I do make conscience of vexing thee, now i' the
Dog-days, this hot weather, for fear of foundring thee
i' the Body, and melting down a Pillar of the Fair. Pray
thee take thy Chair again, and keep state; and let's have
a fresh Bottle of Ale, and a Pipe of Tabacco; and no
Vapours. I'll ha' this Belly o' thine taken up, and thy
Grass scour'd, Wench; look, here's Ezekiel Edgworth;
a fine Boy of his inches, as any is i' the Fair! has still
Money in his Purse, and will pay all, with a kind heart,
and good Vapours.

Act II.    Scene IV.

To them.]
Edgworth, Nightingale, Corn-cutter, Tinder-box-
man, Passengers.

T
Hat I will indeed, willingly, Master Knockhum, fetch
 some Ale, and Tabacco.
   Lea. What do you lack, Gentlemen? Maid, see a
fine Hobby-horse for your young Master: cost you but
a token a Week his Provender.
   Cor. Ha' you any Corns i' your Feet and Toes?
   Tin. Buy a Mouse-trap, a Mouse-trap, or a Tormen-
tor for a Flea.
   Tra. Buy some Ginger-bread.
   Nig. Ballads, Ballads! fine new Ballads:
   Hear for your Love, and buy for your Money.
   A delicate Ballad o' the Ferret and the Coney.
   A preservative again' the Punques evil.
   Another of Goose-green-starch, and the Devil.
   A dozen of Divine Points, and the Godly Garters.
   The Fairing of good Counsel, of an Ell and three quar-
ters. What is't you buy?
   The Wind-mill blown down by the Witches Fart!
   Or Saint George, that O! did break the Dragons Heart!
   Edg. Master Nightingale, come hither, leave your
Mart a little.
   Nig. O my Secretary! what says my Secretary?
   Jus. Child o' the Bottles, what's he? what's he?
   Moo. A civil young Gentleman, Master Arthur, that
keeps company with the Roarers, and disburses all still.
He has ever Money in his Purse; He pays for them;
and they roar for him: one do's good offices for another.
They call him the Secretary, but he serves no body. A
great Friend of the Ballad-mans, they are never asunder.
   Jus. What pitty 'tis, so civil a young Man should
haunt this debaucht company? here's the bane of the
youth of our time apparent. A proper pen-man, I see't
in his countenance, he has a good Clerks look with him,
and I warrant him a quick hand.
   Moo. A very quick hand, Sir.
   Edg. All the Purses, and purchase, I give you to day
by conveyance, bring hither to Ursla's presently. Here
we will meet at night in her Lodg, and share. Look

[column break]

you chuse good places for your standing i' the Fair, when
you sing, Nightingale.
[This they whisper, that Overdo hears it not.

   Urs. I, near the fullest passages; and shift 'em often.
   Edg. And i' your singing, you must use your Hawks
Eye nimbly, and fly the Purse to a mark, still, where 'tis
worn, and o' which side; that you may gi' me the sign
with your Beak, or hang your head that way i' the tune.
   Urs. Enough, talk no more on't: your friendship
(Masters) is not now to begin. Drink your draught
of Indenture, your sup of Covenant, and away, the
Fair fills apace, company begins to come in, and I ha'
ne'er a Pig ready yet.
   Kno. Well said! fill the Cups, and light the Tabacco:
let's give fire i' th' Works, and noble Vapours.
   Edg. And shall we ha' Smocks Ursla, and good whim-
sies, ha?
   Urs. Come, you are i' your bawdy vain! the best the
Fair will afford, Zekiel, if Bawd Whit keep his word;
how do the Pigs, Moon-calf?
   Moo. Very passionate, Mistris, on' on 'em has wept
out an Eye. Master Arthur o'Bradley is melancholy,
here, no body talks to him. Will you any Tabacco
Master Arthur?
   Jus. No, Boy, let my meditations alone.
   Moo. He's studying for an Oration, now.
   Jus. If I can with this days travel, and all my policy,
but rescue this youth here out of the hands of the lewd
Man, and the strange Woman, I will sit down at night,
and say with my Friend Ovid, Jamque opus exegi, quod
nec Jovis ira, nec ignis, &c.
   Kno. Here Zekiel; here's a Health to Ursla, and a
kind Vapour: thou hast Money i' thy Purse still, and
store! how dost thou come by it? Pray thee Vapour thy
Friends some in a courteous Vapour.
   Edg. Half I have, Master Dan. Knockhum, is always at
your service.
   Jus. Ha, sweet nature! what Goshawk would prey
upon such a Lamb?
   Kno. Let's see, what 'tis, Zekiel! count it, come, fill
him to pledge me.

Act II.    Scene V.

[To them.
                 Win-wife, Quarlous.

W
E are here before 'em, methinks.
   Quar. All the better, we shall see 'em come in
now.
   Lea. What do you lack, Gentlemen, what is't you
lack? a fine Horse? a Lyon? a Bull? a Bear? a Dog,
or a Cat? an excellent fine Bartholmew-bird? or an
Instrument? what is't you lack?
   Quar. 'Slid! here's Orpheus among the Beasts, with his
Fiddle, and all!
   Tra. Will you buy any comfortable Bread, Gen-
tlemen?
   Quar. And Ceres selling her Daughters Picture, in
Ginger-work!
   Win.'Win-w.' as are the other references to 'Win.' in this scene That these People should be so ignorant to
think us chapmen for 'em! do we look as if we would
buy Ginger-bread? or Hobby-horses?
   Quar. Why, they know no better Ware than they
have, nor better Customers than come. And our very
being here makes us fit to be demanded, as well as o-
thers. Would Cokes would come! there were a true
customer for 'em.
   Kno. How much is't? thirty Shillings? who's yonder!
Ned Winwife? and Tom Quarlous, I think! yes, (gi' me it
all) (gi' me it all) Master Winwife! Master Quarlous!
will you take a Pipe of Tabacco with us? do not dis-
credit me now, Zekiel.
   Win. Do not see him! he is the roaring Horse-courser,
pray thee let's avoid him: turn down this way.
Quar. 'Slud                        


            Bartholmew Fair. 405

   Quar. 'Slud, I'll see him, and roar with him too, and
he roar'd as loud as Neptune; pray thee go with me.
   VVin. You may draw me to as likely an inconveni-
ence, when you please, as this.
   Quar. Go to then, come along, we ha' nothing to do,
man, but to see sights now.
   Kno. Welcome Master Quarlous, and Master Win-wife!
will you take any froth, and smoak with us?
   Quar. Yes, Sir, but you'l pardon us, if we knew not of
so much familiarity between us afore.
   Kno. As what, Sir?
   Quar. To be so lightly invited to Smoak and Froth.
   Kno. A good Vapour! will you sit down, Sir? this is
Old Ursla's Mansion, how like you her Bower? here you
may ha' your Punck and your Pig in State, Sir, both pi-
ping hot.
   Quar. I had rather ha' my Punck cold, Sir.
   Jus. There's for me, Punck! and Pig!
[She calls within.
   Urs. What Mooncalf, you Rogue?
   Moo. By and by, the Bottle is almost off, Mistris; here
Master Arthur.
   Urs. I'll part you, and your Play-fellow there, i' the
garded Coat, an' you sunder not the sooner.
   Kno. Master Win-wife, you are proud (me thinks) you
do not talk, nor drink, are you proud?
   Win. Not of the company I am in, Sir, nor the place,
I assure you.
   Kno. You do not except at the Company! do you!
are you in Vapours, Sir?
   Moo. Nay, good Master Dan. Knockhum, respect my
Mistris Bower, as you call it; for the Honour of our
Booth, none o' your Vapours here.
   Urs. Why, you thin lean Polecat you, and they have
a mind to be i' their Vapours, must you hinder 'em?
what did you know, Vermine, if they would ha' lost a
Cloak, or such a Trifle? must you be drawing the Air
of Pacification here? while I am tormented within i'the
[She comes out with a fire-brand.
fire, you Weasel?
   Moo. Good Mistris, 'twas in the behalf of your Booth's
Credit that I spoke.
   Urs. Why! would my Booth ha' broke, if they had
fal'n out in't, Sir? or would their heat ha' fir'd it? In,
you Rogue, and wipe the Pigs, and mend the Fire, that
they fall not, or I'll both baste and roast you till your
Eyes drop out, like 'em. (Leave the Bottle behind you,
and be curst a while.)
   Quar. Body o' the Fair! what's this? Mother o' the
Bawds?
   Kno. No, she's Mother o' the Pigs, Sir, Mother o' the
Pigs.
   Win. Mother o' the Furies, I think, by her Fire-
brand.
   Quar. Nay, she is too fat to be a Fury, sure some walk-
ingwalking Sow of Tallow!
   VVin. An inspir'd Vessel of Kitchin-stuff!
   Quar. She'll make Excellent Geer for the Coachma-
kers here in Smithfield, to anoint Wheels and Axel-trees
[She drinks this while.
with.
   Urs. I, I, Gamesters, mock a plain plump soft Wench
o' the Suburbs, do, because she's juicy and wholesome:
you must ha' your thin pinch'd Ware, pent up i' the
compass of a Dog-Collar, (or 'twill not do) that looks
like a long lac'd Conger, set upright, and a green feather,
like Fennel i' the Joll on't.
   Kno. Well said, Urs, my good Urs; to 'em Urs.
   Quar. Is she your Quag-mire, Dan. Knockhum? is this
your Bog?
   Nig. We shall have a quarrel presently.
   Kno. How, Bog? Quagmire? foul Vapours! humh!
   Quar. Yes, he that would venture for't, I assure him,
might sink into her, and be drown'd a week, e're any
Friend he had could find where he were.
   VVin. And then he would be a fort'night weighing up
again.

[column break]

   Quar. 'Twere like falling into a whole Shire of But-
ter: they had need be a Team of Dutchmen should draw
him out.
   Kno. Answer 'em, Urs, where's thy Bartholmew-wit
now, Urs, thy Bartholmew-wit?
   Urs. Hang 'em, rotten, Roguy Cheaters, I hope to
see 'em plagu'd one day (pox'd they are already, I am
sure) with lean Play-house Poultry, that has the Bony
Rump, sticking out like the Ace of Spades, or the point
of a Partizan, that every Rib of 'em is like the Tooth
of a Saw: and will so grate 'em with their Hips and
Shoulders, as (take 'em altogether) they were as good lie
with a hurdle.
   Quar. Out upon her, how she drips! She's able to
give a Man the Sweating Sickness with looking on
her.
   Urs. Marry look off, with a patch o' your face, and
a Dozen i' your Breech, tho they be o' Scarlet, Sir. I ha'
seen as fine out-sides as either o' yours, bring lowsie Li-
nings to the Brokers, e're now, twice a week.
   Quar. Do you think there may be a fine new
Cucking-stool i' the Fair, to be purchas'd? one large
enough, I mean. I know there is a Pond of Capacity
for her.
   Urs. For your Mother, you Rascal, out you Rogue,
you Hedge-bird, you Pimp, you Pannier-man's Ba-
stard, you.
   Quar. Ha, ha, ha.
   Urs. Do you sneer, you Dogs-head, you Trendle Tail!
you look as you were begotten a' top of a Cart in Har-
vest-time, when the Whelp was hot and eager. Go,
snuff after your Brother's Bitch, Mrs. Commodity;
that's the Livery you wear, 'twill be out at the El-
bows shortly. It's time you went to't for the to'ther
Remnant.
   Kno. Peace, Urs, peace, Urs, they'll kill the poor
Whale, and make Oil of her. Pray thee go in.
   Urs. I'll see 'em pox'd first, and pil'd, and double
pil'd.
   Win. Let's away, her Language grows greasier than
her Pigs.
   Vrs.Urs. Does't so, Snotty-nose? good Lord! are you
sniveling? You were engendred on a She-beggar, in a
Barn, when the bald Thrasher, your Sire, was scarce
warm.
   Win. Pray thee let's go.
   Quar. No, faith: I'll stay the end of her now: I know
she cannot last long; I find by her Similies she wanes a
pace.
   Urs. Does she so? I'll set you gone. Gi' me my Pig-
pan hither a little. I'll scald you hence, and you will
not go.
   Kno. Gentlemen, these are very strange Vapours! and
very idle Vapours! I assure you.
   Quar. You are a very serious Ass, we assure you.
   Kno. Humh! Ass? and serious? nay, then pardon
me my Vapour. I have a foolish Vapour, Gentlemen:
any man that does vapour me the Ass, Master Quar-
lous —
   Quar. What then, Master Jordan?
   Kno. I do vapour him the lie.
   Quar. Faith, and to any man that vapours me the lie,
I do vapour that.
   Kno. Nay then, Vapours upon Vapours.
   Edg. Nig. 'Ware the Pan, the Pan, the Pan, she
comes with the Pan, Gentlemen. God bless the Wo-
[Ursla comes in with the Scalding-Pan.
man.
[They fight.
   Urs. Oh.
   Era.Tra. What's the matter?
   Jus. Goodly woman!
[She falls with it.
   Moo. Mistress!
   Urs. Curse of Hell, that ever I saw these Fiends, oh!
I ha' scalded my Leg, my Leg, my Leg, my Leg. I
ha' lost a Limb in the Service! run for some Cream
and


406 Bartholmew Fair.                

and Sallad Oil, quickly. Are you under-peering,
you Baboon? rip off my Hose, an' you be men, men,
men.
   Moo. Run you for some Cream, good Mother Jone.
I'll look to your Basket.
   Lea. Best sit up i' your Chair, Ursla. Help, Gen-
tlemen.
   Kno. Be of good cheer, Urs, thou hast hindred me
the currying of a Couple of Stallions here, that abus'd
the good Race-Bawd o' Smithfield; 'twas time for 'em
to go.
   Nig. I'faith, when the Pan came, they had made you
run else. (This had been a fine time for purchase, if you
had ventur'd.)
   Edg. Not a whit, these fellows were too fine to carry
Money.
   Kno. Nightingale, get some help to carry her Leg out
o' the Air; take off her Shooes; body o' me, she has the
Mallanders, the Scratches, the Crown Scab, and the Quit-
ter Bone i' the to'ther Leg.
   Urs. Oh, the Pox! why do you put me in mind o'
my Leg thus, to make it prick and shoot? would you ha'
me i'the Hospital afore my time?
   Kno. Patience, Urs, take a good heart, 'tis but a Bli-
ster as big as a Windgall; I'll take isit away with the white
of an Egg, a little Honey and Hogs Grease, ha' thy Pa-
sterns well roll'd, and thou shalt pace again by to mor-
row. I'll tend thy Booth, and look to thy Affairs the
while: Thou shalt sit i' thy Chair, and give Directions,
and shine Ursa major.

Act II.    Scene VI.

Justice, Edgworth, Nightingale, Cokes, Waspe, Mistris
Overdoo, Grace.

T
Hese are the Fruits of Bottle Ale and Tabacco! the
 Fome of the one, and the Fumes of the other! Stay
young man, and despise not the Wisdom of these few
Hairs that are grown gray in care of thee.
   Edg. Nightingale, stay a little. Indeed I'll hear some
o' this!
   Cok. Come, Numps, come, where are you? Welcome
into the Fair, Mistris Grace.
   Edg. 'Slight, he will call Company, you shall see, and
put us into doings presently.
   Jus. Thirst not after that frothy Liquor, Ale: for
who knows when he openeth the Stopple, what may be
in the Bottle? Hath not a Snail, a Spider, yea, a Neust
been found there? thirst not after it, youth: thirst not
after it.
   Cok. This is a brave Fellow, Numps, let's hear him.
   Was. 'Sblood, how brave is he? in a garded Coat?
You were best truck with him, e'en strip, and truck
presently, it will become you, why will you hear
him, because he is an Ass, and may be a-kin to the
Cokeses.
   Cok. O, good Numps!
   Jus. Neither do thou lust after that Tawny Weed,
Tabacco.
   Cok. Brave words!
   Jus. Whose Complexion is like the Indians that
vents it!
   Cok. Are they not brave words, Sister?
   Jus. And who can tell, if before the gathering and
making up thereof, the Alligarta hath not piss'd
thereon?
   Was. 'Heart let 'em be brave words, as brave as they
will! and they were all the brave words in a Countrey,
how then? will you away yet? ha' you enough on 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.

[column break]

   Cok. Avoid i' your Sattin Doublet, Numps.
   Jus. The creeping Venome of which subtil Ser-
pent, as some late Writers affirm, neither the cut-
ting of the perillous Plant, nor the drying of it, nor
the lighting or burning, can any way persway or as-
swage.
   Cok. Good i' faith! is't not, Sister?
   Jus. Hence it is that the Lungs of the Tabacconist
are rotted, the Liver spotted, the Brain smoak'd like
the Back-side of the Pig-womans Booth here, and the
whole Body within, black as her Pan you saw e'en now
without.
   Cok. A fine Similitude, that, Sir! did you see the
Pan?
   Edg. Yes, Sir.
   Jus. Nay, the hole in the Nose here, of some Ta-
bacco-takers, or the Third Nostril, (if I may so call it)
which makes, that they can vent the Tabacco out,
like the Ace of Clubs, or rather the Flower-de-lice, is
caused from the Tabacco, the meer Tabacco! when
the poor innocent Pox, having nothing to do there, is
miserably and most unconscionably slander'd.
   Cok. Who would ha' mist this, Sister?
   Over. Not any body but Numps.
   Cok. He does not understand.
[He picketh his Purse.
   Edg. Nor you feel.
   Cok. What would you have, Sister, of a Fellow
that knows nothing but a Basket-Hilt, and an Old
Fox in't? the best Musick i' the Fair will not move a
Log.
   Edg. In, to Ursla, Nightingale, and carry her comfort:
see it told. This Fellow was sent to us by Fortune, for
our first Fairing.
   Jus. But what speak I of the Diseases of the Body,
Children of the Fair?
   Cok. That's to us, Sister. Brave i' faith!
   Jus. Hark, O you Sons and Daughters of Smithfield!
and hear what malady it doth the Mind: It causeth
swearing, it causeth swaggering, it causeth snuffling and
snarling, and now and then a hurt.
   Over. He hath something of Master Over-doo, me
thinks, brother.
   Cok. So me thought, Sister, very much of my Brother
Over-doo: And 'tis when he speaks.
   Jus. Look into any Angle o' Town, (the Streights, or
the Bermuda's) where the Quarrelling Lesson is read,
and how do they entertain the time, but with Bottle
Ale and Tabacco? The Lecturer is o' one side, and his
Pupils o' the other; But the Seconds are still Bottle Ale
and Tabacco, for which the Lecturer reads, and the
Novices pay. Thirty Pound a week in Bottle Ale!
Forty in Tabacco! and Ten more in Ale again. Then
for a Suit to drink in, so much, and (that being slaver'd)
so much for another Suit, and then a Third Suit, and a
Fourth Suit! and still the Bottle Ale slavereth, and the
Tabacco stinketh!
   Was. Heart of a mad man! are you rooted here?
Will you never away? What can any man find out in
this bawling Fellow, to grow here for? He is a full hand-
ful higher sin' he heard him. Will you fix here, and set
up a Booth, Sir?
   Jus. I will conclude briefly —
   Was. Hold your peace, you roaring Rascal, I'll run
my Head i' your Chaps else. You were best build a
Booth, and entertain him; make your Will, and you
say the Word, and him your Heir! Heart, I never
knew one taken with a Mouth of a Peck afore. By
this Light, I'll carry you away o' my back, and you will
[He gets him up on pick-pack.
not come.
   Cok. Stay, Numps, stay, set me down: I ha' lost my
Purse, Numps, O my Purse! One o' my fine Purses is
gone.
   Over. Is't indeed, Brother?

Cok.      


            Bartholmew Fair. 407

   Cok. I, as I am an honest man, would I were an er-
rant Rogue else! a plague of all roguy damn'd Cut-
purses for me.
   VVas. Bless 'em with all my heart, with all my heart,        
do you see! Now, as I am no Infidel, that I know of,
I am glad on't. I, I am, (here's my Witness) 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 justly serv'd, i' your Conscience now? Speak
i' your Conscience. Much good do you with all
my heart, and his good heart that has it, with all my
heart again.
   Edg. This Fellow is very Charitable, would he
had a Purse too! But I must not be too bold all at a
time.
   Cok. Nay, Numps, it is not my best Purse.
   Was. Not your best! death! why should it be your
worst? why should it be any, indeed, at all? Answer
me to that, gi' me a Reason from you, why it should
be any?
   Cok. Nor my Gold, Numps; I ha' that yet, look here
else, Sister.
   Was. Why so, there's all the feeling he has!
   Over. I pray you, have a better care of that, Bro-
ther.
   Cok. Nay, so I will, I warrant you; let him catch
this that catch can. I would fain see him get this, look
you here.
   VVas. So, so, so, so, so, so, so, so! Very good.
   Cok. I would ha' him come again now, and
but offer at it. Sister, will you take notice of
a good Jest? I will put it just where th' other
was, and if we ha' good luck, you shall see
a delicate fine Trap to catch the Cut-purse nib-
bling.
   Edg. Faith, and he'll try e're you be out o' the
Fair.
   Cok. Come, Mistris Grace, pre'thee be not melan-
choly for my mischance; sorrow wi' not keep it, Sweet
heart.
   Gra. I do not think on't, Sir.
   Cok. 'Twas but a little scurvy white money, hang
it: it may hang the Cut-purse one day. I ha' Gold left
to gi' thee a Fairing yet, as hard as the World goes: no
thing angers me but that no body here look'd like a
Cut-purse, unless 'twere Numps.
   VVas. How? I? I look like a Cut-purse? Death!
your Sister's a Cut-purse! and your Mother and Fa-
ther, and all your Kin were Cut-purses! And here is a
Rogue is the Bawd o' the Cut-purses, whom I will beat
to begin with.

They speak all together: and Waspe beats the
Justice.

  (
  |
  |
  |
<
  |
  |
  ( 		     Jus. Hold thy Hand,
  Child of Wrath, and
  Heir of Anger, make it
  not Childermas Day in
  thy Fury, or the Feast
  of the French Bartholmew,
  Parent of the Massacre.
   Cok. Numps, Numps.
   Over. Good Mr. Hum-
phrey.
   VVas. You are the Pa-
trico! are you? the Patri-
arch of the Cut-purses?
You share, Sir, they say,
let them share this with
you. Are you i' your hot fit of preaching again? I'll
cool you.
   Jus. Murther, murther, murther.

[column break]

Act III.    Scene I.

VVhit, Haggise, Bristle, Leather-head, Trash.

N
AY, tish all gone, now! dish tish, phen tou
 vilt not be phitin call, Master Offisher, phat ish
a man te better to lishen out noyshes for tee, and tou
art in an oder 'orld, being very shuffishient noyshes
and gallantsh too, one o' their brabblesh would have
fed ush all dish fortnight, but tou art so bushy about
beggersh still, tou hast no leshure to intend shentlemen,
and't be.
   Hag. Why, I told you, Davy Bristle.
   Cri.Bri. Come, come, you told me a Pudding, Toby
Haggise; A matter of nothing; I am sure it came to
nothing! You said, let's go to Ursla's indeed; but then
you met the man with the Monsters, and I could not
get you from him. An Old Fool, not leave seeing
yet?
   Hag. Why, who would ha' thought any body would
ha' quarrell'd so early? or that the Ale o' the Fair would
ha' been up so soon.
   Whi. Phy? phat a Clock toest tou tink it ish
man?
   Hag. I cannot tell.
   VVhi. Tou art a Vish Vatchman, i'te mean teem.
   Hag. Why? should the Watch go by the Clock, or
the Clock by the Watch, I pray?
   Bri. One should go by another, if they did well.
   VVhi. Tou art right now! phen didst tou ever know
or hear of a shuffishient Vatchman, but he did tell the
Clock, phat bushiness soever he had?
   Bri. Nay, that's most true, a sufficient Watchman
knows what a Clock it is.
   VVhi. Shleeping or vaking! ash well as te Clock him-
shelf, or te Jack dat shtrikes him!
   Bri. Let's enquire of Master Leatherhead, or Jone Trash
here. Master Leatherhead, do you hear, Master Lea-
ther-head?
   VVhi. If it be a Ledderhead, tish a very tick Ledder-
head, tat sho mush noish vill not peirsh him.
   Lea. I have a little business now, good friends, do not
trouble me.
   VVhi. Phat? because o' ty wrought neet Cap,
and ty Phelvet Sherkin, Man? Phy? I have sheene
tee in ty Ledder Sherkin, e're now, Mashter o' de
Hobby-Horses, as bushy and as stately as tou sheem'st
to be.
   Tra. Why, what an' you have, Captain VVhit? He
has his choice of Jerkins, you may see by that, and his
Caps too, I assure you, when he pleases to be either sick
or imploy'd.
   Lea. God a mercy Jone, answer for me.
   VVhi. Away, be not sheen i' my Company, here be
Shentlemen, and men of Vorship.

Act III.    Scene II.

Quarlous, Whit, Win-wife, Busy, John, Pure-craft, Win,
Kockhum, Moon-calf, Ursla.

W
E had wonderful ill luck, to miss this Prologue
 o' the Purse, but the best is, we shall have Five
Acts of him e're Night: He'll be Spectacle enough! I'll
answer for't.
   Whi. O Creesh! Duke Quarlous, how dosht tou? tou
dosht not know me, I fear? I am te vishesht man, but
Justish Over-doo, in all Bartholmew Fair now. Gi' me
Twelve Pence from tee, I vill help