GENTLEMEN, inductions are out of date, and a Prologue in verse is as stale as a black velvet cloak and a bay garland; therefore you shall have it in plain prose, thus: If there be any amongst you that come to hear lascivious scenes, let them depart; for I do pronounce this, to the utter discomfort of all two-penny gallery-men, you shall have no bawdry in it: Or if there be any lurking amongst you in corners, with table-books, who have some hope to find fit matter to feed his--malice on, let them clasp them up, and slink away, or stay and be converted. For he that made this play means to please auditors so, as he may be an auditor himself hereafter, and not purchase them with the dear loss of his ears. I dare not call it comedy or tragedy; 'tis perfectly neither: A play it is,

which was meant to make you laugh; how it will please you, is not written in my part: For though you should like it to-day, perhaps yourselves know not how you should digest it to-morrow. Some things in it you may meet with, which are out of the common road: A duke there is, and the scene lies in Italy, as those two things lightly we never miss. But you shall not find in it the ordinary and over-worn trade of jesting at lords, and courtiers, and citizens, without taxation of any parti cular or new vice by them found out, but at the persons of them: Such, he, that made this, thinks vile, and for his own part vows, That he did never think, but that a lord, lord-born, might be a wise man, and a courtier an honest man.

LADIES, take't as a secret in your ear,
Instead of homage, and kind welcome here,
I heartily could wish you all were gone;
For if you stay, 'good faith, we are undone.
Alas! you now expect the usual ways
Of our address, which is your sex's praise:
But we to-night, unluckily, must speak
Such things will make your lovers' heart-strings
Be-lie your virtues, and your beauties stain, [break,
With words, contrived long since, in your disdain,
'Tis strange you stir not yet; not all this while
Lift up your fans to hide a scornful smile;

Whisper, or jog your lords to steal away,
So leave us to act, unto ourselves, our play:
Then sure, there may be hope, you can subdue
Your patience to endure an act or two;
Nay more, when you are told our poet's rage
Pursues but one example, which that age
Wherein he lived produced; and we rely
Not on the truth, but the variety.
His Muse believed not what she then did write;
Her wings were wont to make a nobler flight,
Soar'd high, and to the stars your sex did raise:
For which, full twenty years he wore the bays.

'Twas he reduced Evadne from her scorn,
And taught the sad Aspatia how to mourn;
Gave Arethusa's love a glad relief;
And made Panthea elegant in grief.
If those great trophies of his noble muse
Cannot one humour 'gainst your sex excuse,

Which we present to-night, you'll find a way
How to make good the libel in our play:
So you are cruel to yourselves; whilst he
(Safe in the fame of his integrity)
Will be a prophet, not a poet thought,

And this fine web last long, though loosely wrought.

SCENE I.-Night. A Street.

Enter DUKE, ARRIGO, and LUCIO.

Duke. 'Tis now the sweetest time for sleep; the Scarce spent: Arrigo, what's o'clock ? [night is Arr. Past four.

Duke. Is it so much, and yet the morn not up? See yonder, where the shame-faced maiden comes: Into our sight how gently doth she slide,

Hiding her chaste cheeks, like a modest bride,
With a red veil of blushes: as is she,
Even such all modest virtuous women be!
Why thinks your lordship I am up so soon?
Lucio. About some weighty state-plot.
Duke. And what thinks

Arr. 'Tis in the chamber of Lazarillo.

Duke. Lazarillo? what is he?

Arr. A courtier, my lord; and one that I wonder your grace knows not, for he hath followed your court, and your last predecessor's, from place to place, any time this seven year, as faithfully as your spits and your dripping-pans have done, and almost as greasily.

Duke. Oh, we know him: As we have heard, he keeps

A calendar of all the famous dishes

Of meat, that have been in the court, ever since Our great-grandfather's time; and when he can thrust

In at no table, he makes his meat of that.
Lucio. The very same, my lord.

Duke. A courtier call'st thou him? Believe me, Lucio, there be many such About our court, respected, as they think, Even by ourself. With thee I will be plain : We princes do use to prefer many for nothing, and to take particular and free knowledge, almost in the nature of acquaintance, of many whom we do use only for our pleasures; and do give largely to numbers, more out of policy to be thought liberal, and by that means to make the people strive to deserve our love, than to reward any particular desert of theirs to whom we give; and do suffer ourselves to hear flatterers, more for recreation than for love of it, though we seldom hate it:

And yet we know all these; and when we please, Can touch the wheel, and turn their names about. Lucio. I wonder they that know their states so well,

Should fancy such base slaves.

Duke. Thou wonder'st, Lucio ? Dost not thou think if thou wert Duke of Milan, Thou shouldst be flatter'd?

Lucio. I know, my lord, I would not.

Duke. Why, so I thought till I was a duke; I thought I should have left me no more flatterers than there are now plain-dealers; and yet, for all this my resolution, I am most palpably flatter'd : The poor man may loath covetousness and flattery, but fortune will alter the mind when the wind turns; there may be well a little conflict, but it will drive the billows before it. Arrigo, it grows late;

In stirring glances, and art still thyself
More toying than thy team of sparrows be;
Thou laughing Erecina, oh, inspire

Her heart with love, or lessen my desire! [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-LAZARILLO'S Lodging.

Enter LAZARILLO and Boy.

Laz. Go, run, search, pry in every nook and angle of the kitchens, larders, and pasteries; know what meat's boiled, baked, roast, stewed, fried, or soused, at this dinner, to be served directly, or indirectly, to every several table in the court; begone!

Boy. I run; but not so fast as your mouth will do upon the stroke of eleven. [Exit.

Lax. What an excellent thing did God bestow upon man, when he did give him a good stomach ! What unbounded graces there are pour'd upon them that have the continual command of the very best of these blessings! 'Tis an excellent thing to be a prince; he is served with such admirable variety of fare, such innumerable choice of delicates; his tables are full fraught with most nourishing food, and his cupboards heavy laden with rich wines; his court is still fill'd with most pleasing varieties: in the summer his palace is full of green-geese, and in winter it swarmeth woodcocks. Oh, thou goddess of Plenty !

Fill me this day with some rare delicates,
And I will every year most constantly,
As this day, celebrate a sumptuous feast
(If thou wilt send me victuals) in thine honour!
And to it shall be bidden, for thy sake,
Even all the valiant stomachs in the court;
All short-cloak'd knights, and all cross-garter'd
gentlemen ;

All pump and pantofle, foot-cloth riders;
With all the swarming generation

Of long stocks, short pain'd hose, and huge stuff'd doublets :

All these shall eat, and, which is more than yet
Hath e'er been seen, they shall be satisfied!-
I wonder my ambassador returns not.

Enter Boy.

Boy. Here I am, master.

Lax. And welcome!

Never did that sweet virgin in her smock,
Fair-cheek'd Andromeda, when to the rock
Her ivory limbs were chain'd, and straight before
A huge sea-monster, tumbling to the shore,
To have devour'd her, with more longing sight
Expect the coming of some hardy knight,
That might have quell'd his pride, and set her free,
Than I with longing sight have look'd for thee.
Boy. Your Perseus is come, master, that will
destroy him;

The very comfort of whose presence shuts
The monster Hunger from your yelping guts.
Lax. Brief, boy, brief!

Discourse the service of each several table

Can Heaven be so propitious to the duke?

Boy. Yes, I'll assure you, sir, 'tis possible; Heaven is so propitious to him.

Laz. Why then, he is the richest prince alive! He were the wealthiest monarch in all Europe, Had he no other territories, dominions, Provinces, seats, nor palaces, but only That umbrana's head.

Boy. 'Tis very fresh and sweet, sir; the fish was taken but this night, and the head, as a rare novelty, appointed by special commandment for the duke's own table, this dinner.

Laz. If poor unworthy I may come to eat Of this most sacred dish, I here do vow (If that blind huswife Fortune will bestow But means on me) to keep a sumptuous house, A board groaning under the heavy burden of the beast that cheweth the cud, and the fowl that cutteth the air: It shall not, like the table of a coun

try justice, be sprinkled over with all manner of cheap sallads, sliced beef, giblets, and pettitoes, to fill up room; nor should there stand any great. cumbersome, un-cut-up pies, at the nether-end, filled with moss and stones, partly to make a show with, and partly to keep the lower mess from eating; nor shall my meat come in sneaking, like the city service, one dish a quarter of an hour after another, and gone as if they had appointed to meet there, and had mistook the hour; nor should it, like the new court service, come in in haste, as if it fain would be gone again, all courses at once, like a hunting breakfast; but I would have my several courses, and my dishes well filed: My first course should be brought in after the ancient manner, by a score of old bleer-eyed serving-men, in long blue coats;-Marry, they shall buy silk, facing, and buttons themselves; but that's by the way

Boy. Master, the time calls on; will you be walking?

Laz. Follow, boy, follow! my guts were half an hour since in the privy kitchen. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.-An Apartment in the House of COUNT VALOre.

me.

Enter VALORE and ORIANA.

Ori. 'Faith, brother, I must needs go yonder. Val. And i'faith, sister, what will you do yonder? Ori. I know the lady Honoria will be glad to see

Val. Glad to see you? 'Faith, the lady Honoria cares for you as she doth for all other young ladies; she is glad to see you, and will shew you the privy. garden, and tell you how many gowns the duchess had. Marry, if you have ever an old uncle, that would be a lord, or ever a kinsman that hath done a murder, or committed a robbery, and will give good store of money to procure his pardon, then the lady Honoria will be glad to see you.

Ori. Ay, but they say one shall see fine sights at the court.

Val. I'll tell you what you shall see; you shall see many faces of man's making, for you shall find very few as God left them: And you shall see many legs too; amongst the rest you shall behold one pair, the feet of which were in times past sockless, but are now, through the change of time (that alters all things,) very strangely become the legs of a knight and a courtier; another pair you shall see, that were heir-apparent legs to a glover, these legs hope shortly to be honourable; when they pass by they will bow, and the mouth to these legs will seem to offer you some courtship; it will swear, but it will lie; hear it not !

Ori. Why, and are not these fine sights?
Val. Sister,

In seriousness you yet are young, and fair;
A fair young maid, and apt-

Ori. Apt?

Val. Exceeding apt ;

Apt to be drawn to

Ori. To what?

Val. To that you should not be; 'tis no dispraise; She is not bad that hath desire to ill,

But she that hath no power to rule that will:
For there you shall be woo'd in other kinds
Than yet your years have known;

The chiefest men will seem to throw themselves
As vassals at your service, kiss your hand,
Prepare you banquets, masks, shows, all intice-
That Wit and Lust together can devise,
To draw a lady from the state of grace
To an old lady widow's gallery ;

[ments

And they will praise your virtues; beware that !
The only way to turn a woman whore,
Is to commend her chastity: You'll go?

Ori. I would go, if it were but only to shew you, that I could be there, and be moved with none of these tricks.

Val. Your servants are ready?

Ori. An hour since.

Val. Well, if you come off clear from this hot service, your praise shall be the greater. Farewell, sister!

Ori. Farewell, brother!

Val. Once more! If you stay in the presence till candle-light, keep on the foreside o' th' curtain; and, do you hear, take heed of the old bawd, in the cloth-of-tissue sleeves, and the knit mittens! Farewell, sister!-[Exit ORIANA.] Now am I idle; I would I had been a scholar, that I might have studied now! the punishment of meaner men is, they have too much to do; our only misery is, that without company we know not what to do. I must take some of the common courses of our nobility, which is thus: if I can find no company that likes me, pluck off my hat-band, throw an old cloak over my face, and, as if I would not be known, walk hastily through the streets, till I be discovered; then there goes count Such-a-one," says one; "There goes count Such-a-one," says another; "Look how fast he goes," says a third; "There's some great matters in hand questionless," says a fourth; when all my business is to have them say so. This hath been used. Or, if I can find any company, I'll after dinner to the stage to see a play; where, when I first enter, you shall have a murmur in the house; every one that does not know, cries, "What nobleman is that?" all the gal

lants on the stage rise, vail to me, kiss their hand, offer me their places: Then I pick out some one, whom I please to grace among the rest, take his seat, use it, throw my cloak over my face, and laugh at him the poor gentleman imagines himself most highly graced, thinks all the auditors esteem him one of my bosom-friends, and in right special regard with me. But here comes a gentleman, that I hope will make me better sport than either street and stage fooleries. [Retires to one side of the Stage.

Enter LAZARILLO and Boy.

This man loves to eat good meat; always provided, he do not pay for it himself. He goes by the name of the Hungry Courtier; marry, because I think that name will not sufficiently distinguish him (for no doubt he hath more fellows there) his name is Lazarillo; he is none of these same ord'nary eaters, that will devour three breakfasts, and as many dinners, without any prejudice to their bevers, drinkings, or suppers; but he hath a more courtly kind of hunger, and doth hunt more after novelty than plenty. I'll over-hear him.

Laz. Oh, thou most itching kindly appetite,
Which every creature in his stomach feels,

Oh, leave, leave yet at last thus to torment me!
Three several sallads have I sacrificed,
Bedew'd with precious oil and vinegar,
Already to appease thy greedy wrath.—
Boy!

Boy. Sir?

Laz. Will the count speak with me?

Boy. One of his gentlemen is gone to inform him of your coming, sir.

Laz. There is no way left for me to compass this fish-head, but by being presently made known to the duke.

Boy. That will be hard, sir.

Laz. When I have tasted of this sacred dish, Then shall my bones rest in my father's tomb In peace; then shall I die most willingly, And as a dish be served to satisfy Death's hunger; and I will be buried thus: My bier shall be a charger borne by four, The coffin where I lie a powd'ring-tub, Bestrew'd with lettuce, and cool sallad-herbs; My winding-sheet of tansies; the black guard Shall be my solemn mourners; and, instead Of ceremonies, wholesome burial prayers; A printed dirge in rhyme shall bury me. Instead of tears let them pour capon-sauce Upon my hearse, and salt instead of dust, Manchets for stones; for other glorious shields Give me a voider; and above my hearse, For a trutch sword, my naked knife stuck up! [VALORE comes forward. Boy. Master, the count's here. Laz. Where?-My lord, I do beseech you[Kneeling. Val. You are very welcome, sir; I pray you stand up; you shall dine with me.

Laz. I do beseech your lordship, by the love I still have borne to your honourable house-Val. Sir, what need all this? you shall dine with me. I pray rise.

Laz. Perhaps your lordship takes me for one of these same fellows, that do, as it were, respect victuals.

Val. Oh, sir, by no means.

Laz. Your lordship has often promised, that