The Puritan Widow (Folio 3, 1664)
Not Peer Reviewed
¶
Enter George Py-bord a Schollar and a Citizen, and un-
¶
to him an old Souldier, Peter Skirmish.
¶Pye. What's to be done now, old Lad of War, thou
170that wert wont to be as hot as a turn-spit, as nimble as a
¶kets, Calivers and Hotshots? in Long-lane, at pawn, at
175pawn;---Now keyes are our onely Guns, Key-guns, Key-
¶guns, and Bawdes the Gunners,---who are your senti-
¶nells in peace, and stand ready charg'd to give warning;
¶with hems, hums, and pocky-coffs; onely your Chambers
¶are licenst to play upon you, and Drabs enow to give fire
180to 'em.
¶bove a hundred Crownes out a purse: I have been a Sol-
¶dier any time this forty yeares, and now I perceive an old
185Soldier, and an old Courtier have both one destiny, and in
¶the end turn both into hob-nayles.
¶naile is the true embleme of a Beggar's Shoe-soale.
¶has a piece of one, though it be full of holes like a shot
195gentle nature) then a profest warre.
¶Pye. Troth, and for mine own part, I am a poor Gen-
¶tleman, and a Schollar, I have been matriculated in the
200Countrey, kept order, went bare-headed over the Qua-
¶drangle, eat my Commons with a good stomack, and
¶would never endure me to be idle,) I was expell'd the
¶ledge.
210ward London, where when I came, all my friends were
¶pit-hold, gone to Graves, (as indeed there was but a few
¶left before) then was I turn'd to my wits, to shift in the
¶world, to towre among Sons and Heires, and Fooles, and
¶Gulls, and Ladies eldest Sons, to work upon nothing, to
215feed out of Flint, and ever since has my belly been much
¶beholding to my brain: But now to return to you, old
¶bulency in the world, for I have nothing in the world,
¶but my wits, and I think they are as mad as they will be:
¶nest warre, is better than a bawdy peace: as touching
¶nourisht in the idle Calmes of peace, makes'em like Fi-
¶shes one devour another; and the communitie of Learn-
¶my self being a Schollar and a Graduate, have no other
¶comfort by my learning, but the affection of my words,
230to know how Schollar-like to name what I want, and
¶can call my self a Beggar both in Greek and Latine, and
¶therefore not to cog with Peace, I'le not be afraid to say,
¶'tis a great Breeder, but a bad Nourisher: a great getter
¶of Child
ren, which must either be Thieves or Rich men,
235Knaves or Beggars.
¶Skirmish. Well, would I had been born a Knave then,
¶when I was born a Beggar, for if the truth were known,
¶I think I was begot when my Father had never a penny
¶in his purse.
¶Knave, thou maist be a Knave when thou wilt; and
¶arrant Drab to us, let us handle her accordingly, and by
245our wits thrive in despight of her; for the law lives by
¶quarrels, the Courtier by smooth good-morrows, and
¶why not we then by shifts, wiles, and forgeries? and
¶march beyond the bounds of his allowance, and for our
¶thriving means, thus, I my self will put on the Deceit of
¶a Fortune-teller, a Fortune-teller.
255Skirm. Very proper.
¶Skir. A Conjurer.
¶deceive all eyes, but the Devils.
260Skir. Oh I, for I would not deceive him and I could
¶choose, of all others.
¶we shall help one another to Patients, as the condition of
¶the age affords creatures enow for cunning to work upon.
¶Pye. Oh, fit, fit, excellent.
¶Skir. What in the name of Conjuring?
¶Pye-boord. My memory greets me happily with an ad-
¶mirable subject to graze upon. The Lady-Widow, who
270of late I saw weeping in her Garden, for the death of her
¶this time is dropt out of her eyes: device well manag'd
¶shall be there.
275Skir. You have my voice, George.
¶Pye-board. Sh'as a gray Gull to her Brother, a fool to
¶I over-heard'em severally, and from their words I'le drive
280cond in all slights.
¶Skir. Ne're doubt me, George Pye-board,----only you
¶must teach me to conjure.
¶
Enter Captain Idle, pinion'd, and with a guard
¶
of Officers passeth over the Stage.
285Pye. Puh, I'le perfect thee, Peter:
¶How now? what's he?
¶'Tis my sworn Brother, Captain Idle.
¶Pye. Captain Idle.
¶I cannot but commend his resolution, he would not pawn
¶his Buff-Jerkin, I would either some of us were employed,
¶or might pitch our Tents at Usurers doors, to kill the
295slaves as they peep out at the Wicket.
¶our money in their hands, and make us to be hang'd for
¶robbing of'em, but come let's follow after to the Prison,
¶and know the nature of his offence, and what we can
¶that a charitable Knave, is better then a soothing Puri-
¶tan.
Exeunt.
