Beggars Bush | Page 5

Bless my good Master, The prayers of your poor Beads-man ever
shall Be sent up for you.
Gos. God o' mercy Clause, There's something to put thee in mind
hereafter To think of me.
Ger. May he that gave it you Reward you for it, with encrease, good
Master.
Gos. I thrive the better for thy prayers.
Ger. I hope so. This three years have I fed upon your bounties, And by
the fire of your blest charity warm'd me, And yet, good Master, pardon
me, that must, Though I have now receiv'd your alms, presume To
make one sute more to you.
Gos. What is't Clause?

Ger. Yet do not think me impudent I beseech you, Since hitherto your
charity hath prevented My begging your relief, 'tis not for mony Nor
cloaths (good Master) but your good word for me.
Gos. That thou shalt have, Clause, for I think thee honest.
Ger. To morrow then (dear M'r.) take the trouble Of walking early unto
Beggars Bush, And as you see me, among others (Brethren In my
affliction) when you are demanded Which you like best among us,
point out me, And then pass by, as if you knew me not.
Gos. But what will that advantage thee?
Ger. O much Sir, 'Twill give me the preheminence of the rest, Make me
a King among 'em, and protect me From all abuse, such as are stronger,
might Offer my age; Sir, at your better leisure I will inform you further
of the good It may do to me.
Gos. 'Troth thou mak'st me wonder; Have you a King and
common-wealth among you?
Ger. We have, and there are States are govern'd worse.
Gos. Ambition among Beggars?
Ger. Many great ones Would part with half their states, to have the
place, And credit to beg in the first file, Master: But shall I be so much
bound to your furtherance In my Petition?
Gos. That thou shalt not miss of, Nor any worldly care make me forget
it, I will be early there.
Ger. Heaven bless my Master. [Exeunt.

ACTUS SECUNDUS. SCENA PRIMA.
Enter Higgen, Ferret, Prig, Clause, Jaculine, Snap, Ginks, and other

beggars.
Hig. Come Princes of the ragged regiment, You o' the blood, Prig my
most upright Lord, And these (what name or title, e're they bear)
Jarkman, or Patrico, Cranke, or Clapperdudgeon, Frater, or
Abram-man; I speak to all That stand in fair Election for the title Of
King of Beggars, with the command adjoyning, Higgen, your Orator, in
this Inter-regnum, That whilom was your Dommerer, doth beseech you
All to stand fair, and put your selves in rank, That the first Comer, may
at his first view Make a free choice, to say up the question.
Fer. Pr. 'Tis done Lord Higgen.
Hig. Thanks to Prince Prig, Prince Ferret.
Fer. Well, pray my Masters all, Ferret be chosen, Y'are like to have a
mercifull mild Prince of me.
Prig. A very tyrant, I, an arrant tyrant, If e're I come to reign; therefore
look to't, Except you do provide me hum enough And Lour to bouze
with: I must have my Capons And Turkeys brought me in, with my
green Geese, And Ducklings i'th' season: fine fat chickens, Or if you
chance where an eye of tame Phesants Or Partridges are kept, see they
be mine, Or straight I seize on all your priviledge, Places, revenues,
offices, as forfeit, Call in your crutches, wooden legs, false bellyes,
Forc'd eyes and teeth, with your dead arms; not leave you A durty clout
to beg with o' your heads, Or an old rag with Butter, Frankincense,
Brimston and Rozen, birdlime, blood, and cream, To make you an old
sore; not so much soap As you may fome with i'th' Falling-sickness;
The very bag you bear, and the brown dish Shall be escheated. All your
daintiest Dells too I will deflower, and take your dearest Doxyes From
your warm sides; and then some one cold night I'le watch you what old
barn you go to roost in, And there I'le smother you all i'th' musty hay.
Hig. This is tyrant-like indeed: But what would Ginks Or Clause be
here, if either of them should raign?
Clau. Best ask an Ass, if he were made a Camel, What he would be; or

a dog, and he were a Lyon.
Ginks. I care not what you are, Sirs, I shall be A Beggar still I am sure,
I find my self there.
Enter Goswin.
Snap. O here a Judge comes.
Hig. Cry, a Judge, a Judge.
Gos. What ail you Sirs? what means this outcry?
Hig. Master, A sort of poor souls met: Gods fools, good Master, Have
had some little variance amongst our selves Who should be honestest
of us, and which lives