mor to stand hamering upon two individuum vagum, 2 schollers some whole yeare. These same Phil, and Studio have beene followed with a whip and a verse, like a couple of vagabonds, through England and Italy. The pilgrimage to Pernassus, and the returne from Pernassus, have stoode the honest stage-keepers in many a crownes expence; for linckes and vizardes purchased a sophister a knock, which a clubbe hindered the buttler's box, and emptied the colledge barrells; and now unlesse you know the subject well, you may returne home as wise as you came, for this last is the least parte of the returne from Pernassus, that is both the first and the last time that the authors wit wil turue upon the toe in this vaine, and at this time the scene is not at Pernassus, that is, lookes not good invention in the face.

Defen. If the catastrophe please you not, impute it to the unpleasing fortunes of discontented schollers:

Mom. For catastrophe ther's never a tale in Sir John Mandevil, or Bevis of Southampton, but hath a better turning.

Stage-K. What, you jeering asse, be gon with a pox.

Mom. You may doe better to busy your selfe in providing beere, for the shewe will be pittifull drie, pittifull drie.

[Exit.

No more of this, I heard the spectators aske for a blanke verse.

What we shew, is but a Christmas jest,
Conceive of this, and guesse of all the rest:
Full like a schollers haplesse fortunes pen'd,
Whose former griefes seldome have happy end.
Frame aswell, we might with easy straine,
With far more prayse, and with as little paine,
Storyes of love, where forne the wondring bench,
The lisping gallant might enjoy his wench;
Or make some sire acknowledge his lost sonne,
Found when the weary act is almost done.
Nor unto this, nor unto that our scene is bent,
We onely shew a schollers discontent;
In scholers fortunes twise forlorne and dead,
Twise hath our weary pen earst laboured.
Making them pilgrims in Pernassus hill,
Then penning their returne with ruder quill.
Now we present unto each pittying eye,
The schollers progresse in their miserye.
Refined wits your patience is our blisse,
Too weake our scene, too great your judgment is.
To you we seeke to shew a schollers state,
His scorned fortunes, his unpittyed fate.
Το

you; for if you did not schollers blesse,
Their case, poore case, were too too pittilesse.
You shade the muses under fostering,
And make them leave to sigh, and learne to sing.

Pay home the world according to his merit.
Thy purer soule could not endure to see,
Even smallest spots of base impurity;
Nor could small faults escape thy cleaner hands,
Then foule faced vice was in his swadling bands.
Now like Anteus growne a monster is,
A match for none but mighty Hercules.
Now can the world practise in playner guise,
Both sinnes of old and new borne villanyes.
Stale sinnes are stole; now doth the world begin,
To take sole pleasure in a witty sinne.
Unpleasant is the lawlesse sinne has bin,
At inidnight rest, when darknesse covers sin.
It's clownish unbeseeming a young knight,
Unlesse it dare outface the gloring light.
Nor can it nought our gallants prayses reape,
Unlesse it be done in staring cheape.
In a sinne-guilty coach not cloasely pent,
Jogging along the harder pavement.
Did not feare check my repining sprit,
Soone should my angry ghost a story write;
In which I would new fostred sinnes combine,
Not knowne earst by truth telling Aretine.

SCENA H.

INGENIOSO, JUDICIO.

Jud. What, Ingenioso, carrying a vinegar bottle about thee, like a great schiole-boy, giving the world a bloudy nose?

Ing. Faith, Judicio, if I carry the vinegar bottle, it's great reason I should confer it upon the bald pated world; and again, if my kitchen want the utensilies of viands, it's great reason other men should have the sauce or vinegar; and for the bloudie nose, Judicio, I may chance indeed give the world a bloudie nose, but it shall hardly give me a crakt crowne, though it gives other poets French crownes.

Jud. I would wish thee, Ingenioso, to sheath thy pen, for thou canst not be successefull in the fray, considering thy enemies have the advantage of the ground.

Ing. Or rather, Judicio, they have the grounds with advantage, and the French crownes with a | pox, and I would they had them with a plague too; but hang them swadds, the basest corner in my thoughts, is too gallant a roome to lodge them in; but say, Judicio, what newes in your presse, did you keepe any late corrections upon any tardy pamphlets?

Jud. Veterem jubes renovare dolorem, Ingenioso; what ere befalls thee, keepe thee from the trade of the corrector of the presse.

Ing. Mary so I will, I warrant thee, if poverty presse not too much, ile correct no presse, but the presse of the people.

Jud. Would it not grieve any good spirits to sit a whole moneth nitting out a lousy beggarly pamphlet, and like a needy phisitian to stand whole yeares, tossing and tumbling, the filth that falleth from so many draughty inventions as dayly swarme in our printing-house?

Ing. Come, I thinke, we shall have you put finger in the eye, and crie, O friends, no friends; say man, what new paper hobby horses, what rattle babies are come out in your late May morrice daunce?

Jud. Sly my rimes as thick as flies in the sunne, I think there be never an alle house in England, not any so base a May pole on a country greene, but setts forth some poets petteruels, or demilaunces, to the paper warres in Paules churchyard.

Ing. And well too may the issue of a strong hop, learne to hop all over England, when as better wittes sit like lame coblers in their studies. Such barmy heads wil alwaies be working, when us sad vinegar witts sit souring at the bottome of a barrell; plaine meteors, bred of the exhalation of tobacco, and the vapors of a moyst pot, that soure up into the open ayre, when as sounder wit keepes belowe.

Jud. Considering the furyes of the times, I could better endure to se those young can quaffing hucksters shoot of their pellets, so they would keepe them from these English flores-poetarum; but now the world is come to that passe, that there starts up every day an old goose that sits hatching up those eggs which have ben filcht from the nest of crowes and kestrells; here is a book, Ingenioso; why to condemne it to cleare the usuall Tiburue of all misliving papers, weare too faire a death for so foule an offender.

Ing. What's the name of it, I pray thee, Judicio?

Jud. Looke its here, Belvedere.

Ing. What a belwether in Paules church-yard, so cald, because it keeps a bleating, or because it hath the tinckling bel of so many poets about the neck of it, what is the rest of the title?

Jud. The garden of the Muses.

Ing. What have we here, the poet garish gayly bedeket like fore horses of the parish? what follows?

Jud. Quem referent musæ, vivet dum robore tellus,

Dum cælum stellas, dum vehit amnis aquas.
Who blurres fayer paper, with foule bastard rimes,
Shall live full many an age in latter times;
Who makes a ballet for an ale-house doore,
Shall live in future times for ever more.
Then () thy muse shall live so long,
As drafty ballats to thy praise are song.

(ita.)

But what's his devise, Pernassus, with the sunne and the lawrel? I wonder this owle dares looke on the sunne, and I marvaill this gose flies not the lawrell; his devise might have been better a foole going in to the market place to be seene, with this motto, scribimus indocti, or a poore beggar gleaning of eares in the end of harvest, with this word, sua cuiq. gloria.

Jud. Turne over the leafe, Ingenioso, and thou shalt see the paynes of this worthy gentleman; sentences gathered out of all kind of poetts, referred to certaine methodicall heades, profitable

Good men and true, stand togither; heare your censure, what's thy judgement of Spencer?

Jud. A sweeter swan then ever song in poe, A shriller nightingale then ever blest, The prouder groves of selfe admiring Rome. Blith was each vally, and each sheapeard proud, While he did chaunt his rurall minstralsye. Attentive was full many a daintie eare; Nay hearers hong upon his melting tong, While sweetly of his Faiery Queene he sorg. While to the waters fall he tuned for fame, And in each barke engrav'd Elizaes name. And yet for all this, unregarding soile Unlac't the line of his desired life, Denying mayntenance for his deare reliefe. Carelesse care to prevent his exequy, Scarce deigning to shut up his dying eye.

Ing. Pitty it is that gentler witts should breed, Where thickskin chuffes laugh at a schollers neede. But softly may our honors ashes rest, That lie by mery Chaucers noble chest.

But I pray thee proceede breefly in thy censure, that I may be proud of my selfe, as in the first, so in the last, my censure may jumpe with thine, Henry Constable, Samuel Daniell, Thomas Lodge, Thomas Watson.

Jud. Sweete Constable doth take the wondring

eare,

And layes it up in willing prisonment;
Sweete hony dropping Daniell doth wage
Warre with the proudest big Italian,
That melts his heart in sugred sonetting.
Onely let him more sparingly make use
Of others wit, and use his owne the more;
That well may scorne base imitation.

For Lodge and Watson, men of some desert,
Yet subject to a critticks marginall.
Lodge for his oare in every paper boate,
He that turnes over Galen every day,
To sit and simper Euphues legacy.
Ing. Michaell Drayton.

Jud. Drayton's sweete muse is like a sanguine dy, Able to ravish the rash gazers eye.

Ing. How ever he wants one true note of a poet of our times, and that is this, hee cannot swagger it well in a taverne, nor dominere in a hothouse.

Jud. John Davis.

Acute John Davis, I affect thy rimes,

That jerck in hidden charmes these looser times:
Thy playner verse, thy unaffected vaine,
Is grac't with a fayre and a sooping traine.
Ing. Locke and Hudson.

Jud. Locke and Hudson, sleepe you quiet sha-
VOL. I.

vers, among the shavings of the presse, and let your bookes lie in some old nookes amongst old bootes and shooes, so you may avoyde my cen

sure.

Ing. Why then clap a locke on their feete, and tarne them to commons.

John Marston.

Jud. What, Monsieur Kinsayder, lifting up your legge and pissing against the world, put up man, put up for shame.

Me thinks he is a ruffian in his stile,
Withouten bands or garters ornament,
He quaffes a cup of Frenchman's helicon.
Then royster doyster in his oylie tearmes,
Cutts, thrusts, and foines at whomesoever he meets.
And strewes about Ram-ally meditations,
Tut what cares he for modest close coucht tearmes,
Cleanly to gird our looser libertines.
Give him plaine naked words stript from their
shirts,

That might besceme plaine dealing Aretine :
I there is one that backes a paper steed,
And manageth a pen-knife gallantly;
Strikes his poinado at a buttons breadth,
Brings the great battering ram of tearms to towns,
And at first volly of his cannon shot,
Batters the walles of the old fustie world.

Ing. Christopher Marlowe.

Jud. Marlowe was happy in his buskind muse, Alas unhappy in his life and end, Pitty it is that wit so ill should dwell, Wit lent from heaven, but vices sent from hell. Ing. Our theater hath lost, Pluto hath got, A tragick penman for a driery plot. Benjamin Johnson.

Jud. The wittiest fellow of a bricklayer in England.

Ing. A meere empyrick, one that getts what he hath by observation, and makes onely nature privy to what he endites; so slow an inventor, that he were better betake himself to his old trade of bricklaying, a bloud whorson, as confident now in making of a booke, as he was in times past in laying of a brick. William Shakespeare.

Jud. Who loves Adonis love, or Lucre's rape, His sweeter verse contaynes hart robbing life, Could but a graver subject him content, Without loves foolish lazy languishment.

Ing. Churchyard.

Hath not Shor's wife, although a light skirts she, Given him a chast long lasting memory?

Jud. No, all light pamphlets once I finden shall, A church-yard and a grave to bury all. Ing. Thomas Nashdo.

I heare is a fellowe, Judicio, that carried the deadly stocke in his pen, whose muse was armed with a gagtooth, and his pen possest with Hercules furies.

G

Jud. Let all his faultes sleepe with his mournful chest,

And then for ever with his ashes rest.
His stile was wittie, though he had some gal,

Something he might have meuded, so may all.
Yet this I say, that for a mother witt,
Fewe men have ever seene the like of it.

Ing. Reades the rest.

Jud. As for these, they have some of them beene the old hedgstakes of the presse, and some of them are at this instant the botts and glanders of the printing house. Fellowes that stand onely upon tearmes to serve the tearme, with their blotted papers, write as men goe to stoole for needes, and when they write, they write as a beare pisses, now and then drop a pamphlet.

Ing. Durum telum necessitas. Good fayth they do as I do, exchange words for mony: I have some traffique this day with Danter, about a little booke which I have made, the name of it is a Catalogue of Cambridge Cuckolds, but this Belvedere, this methodicall asse, hath made me almost forget my time; Ile now to Paules churchyard, meete me an hour hence, at the signe of the Pegasus, in Cheap-side, aud Ile moyst thy temples with a cuppe of claret, as hard as the world goes. [Exit JUDICIO.

SCENA III.

Enter DANTER the Printer. Ing. Danter, thou art deceived; wit is dearer then thou takest it to be; I tell thee this libel of Cambridge has much fatt and pepper in the nose; it will sell sheerly underland, when al these bookes of exhortations and catechismes lie moulding on thy shopbourd.

Dan. It's true; but good fayth, M. Ingenioso, I lost by your last booke, and you knowe there is many a one that payes me largely, for the printing of their inventions; but for all this, you shall have 40 shillings, and an odde pottle of wine.

Ing. 40 shillings? a fit reward for one of your reumatick poets, that beslavers all the paper he comes by, and furnishes the chaundlers with wast papers to wrap candles in; but as for me, Ile be payd deare, even for the dreggs of my witt; little knowes the worlde what belonge to the keeping of a good wit in waters, dietts, drinckes, tobacco, &c. it is a daynty and costly creature, and therefore I must be payd sweetly: furnish mee with money, that I may put my selfe in a new suite of clothcs, and Ile suite thy shop with a new suite of tearmes; it's the gallantest child my invention was ever delivered off. The title is, a Chronicle of Cambridge Cuckolds; here a man may see what day of the moneth such a man's commons were inclosed, and when throwne open, and when any entayled some odde crownes, upon the heires of their bodies unlawfully begotten; speake quickly ells I am gone.

Dan. Oh this will sell gallantly; Ile have it whatsoever it cost; will ye walke on, M. Ingenioso, weele sit over a cup of wine and agree on it.

Ing. A cup of wine is as good a constable as can be, to take up the quarrell betwixt us. [Exeunt.

3

SCENA IV.

PHILOMUSUS, in a Phisitions habit, STUDIOSO,: that is JAQUES Man, and Patient.

Phil. Tit tit tit, non poynte, non debet fieri phlebetomotio in coitu Luna; here is a recipe. Pat. A recipe!

Phil. Nos gallia non curamus quantitatem syllabarum; let me heare how many stooles you doe make. Adieu, monsieur, adieu good monsieur, what Jaques Il n' a personne apres icy. Stud. Non.

Phil. Then let us steale time for this borrowed
shape,

Recounting our unequall happs of late.
Late did the ocean graspe us in his armes,
Late did we live within a stranger ayre;
Late did we see the cinders of great Rome,
We thought that English fugitives there eate
Gold, for restorative, if gold were meate.
Yet now we finde by bought experience,
That where so ere we wander up and downe,
On the rounde shoulders of this massy world,
Or our ill fortunes, or the worldes ill eye,
Forspeake our good, procures our miserye.

Stud. So oft the northen winde with frozen wings
Hath beate the flowers that in our garden grewe:
Throwne downe the stalkes of our aspiring youth,
So oft hath winter nipt our trees faire rinde,
That now we seeme nought but two bared boughes,
Scorned by the basest bird that chirps in groave.
Nor Rome, nor Rhemes, that wonted ar to give,
A cardinall cap, to discontented clarkes,
That have forsooke the home-bred thanked roofes,
Yeelded us any equal maintenance :
And it's as good to starve mongst English swine,
As in a forraine land to begge and pine.

Phil. Ile scorne the world, that scorneth me