John Fletcher - Beggars Bush - A Comedy

Ger. Heaven bless my Master. [ Exeunt .

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.

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 hour.

Fer. What is't? see: Snap has got it.

Snap. A good crown, marry.

Prig. A crown of gold.

Fer. For our new King: good luck.

Ginks. To the common treasury with it; if't be gold,
Thither it must.

Prig. Spoke like a Patriot, Ferret —
King Clause , I bid God save thee first, first, Clause ,
After this golden token of a crown;
Where's oratour Higgen with his gratuling speech now
In all our names?

Fer. Here he is pumping for it.

Gin. H'has cough'd the second time, 'tis but once more
And then it comes.

Fer. So, out with all: expect now—

Hig. That thou art chosen, venerable Clause ,
Our King and Soveraign; Monarch o'th'Maunders,
Thus we throw up our Nab-cheats, first for joy,
And then our filches; last, we clap our fambles,
Three subject signs, we do it without envy:
For who is he here did not wish thee chosen,
Now thou art chosen? ask 'em: all will say so,
Nay swear't: 'tis for the King, but let that pass.
When last in conference at the bouzing ken
This other day we sat about our dead Prince
Of famous memory: (rest go with his rags:)
And that I saw thee at the tables end,
Rise mov'd, and gravely leaning on one Crutch,
Lift the other like a Scepter at my head,
I then presag'd thou shortly wouldst be King,
And now thou art so: but what need presage
To us, that might have read it in thy beard
As well, as he that chose thee? by that beard
Thou wert found out, and mark'd for Soveraignty.
O happy beard! but happier Prince, whose beard
Was so remark'd, as marked out our Prince,
Not bating us a hair. Long may it grow,
And thick, and fair, that who lives under it,
May live as safe, as under Beggars Bush ,
Of which this is the thing, that but the type.

Om. Excellent, excellent orator, forward good Higgen ,
Give him leave to spit: the fine, well-spoken Higgen .

Hig. This is the beard, the bush, or bushy-beard,
Under whose gold and silver raign 'twas said
So many ages since, we all should smile
On impositions, taxes, grievances,
Knots in a State, and whips unto a Subject,
Lye lurking in this beard, but all kemb'd out:
If now, the Beard be such, what is the Prince
That owes the Beard? a Father; no, a Grand-father;
Nay the great Grand-father of you his people.
He will not force away your hens, your bacon,
When you have ventur'd hard for't, nor take from you
The fattest of your puddings: under him
Each man shall eat his own stolen eggs, and butter,
In his own shade, or sun-shine, and enjoy
His own dear Dell, Doxy, or Mort, at night
In his own straw, with his own shirt, or sheet,
That he hath filch'd that day, I, and possess
What he can purchase, back, or belly-cheats
To his own prop: he will have no purveyers
For Pigs, and poultry.

Clau. That we must have, my learned oratour,
It is our will, and every man to keep In his own path and circuit.