Beggars Bush | Page 5

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 Uprightest in his calling: Now, 'cause we thought We ne're should 'gree on't our selves, because Indeed 'tis hard to say: we all dissolv'd, to put it To him that should come next, and that's your Master-ship, Who, I hope, will 'termine it as your mind serves you, Right, and no otherwise we ask it: which? Which does your worship think is he? sweet Master Look over us all, and tell us; we are seven of us, Like to the seven wise Masters, or the Planets.
Gos. I should judge this the man with the grave beard, And if he be not--
Clau. Bless you, good Master, bless you.
Gos. I would he were: there's something too amongst you To keep you all honest. [Exit.
Snap. King of Heaven go with you.
Omn. Now good reward him, May he never want it, to comfort still the poor, in a good