169Pye. 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

171Fencer, and as lowsie as a Schoole-master; now thou

172art put to silence like a Sectary,---War sits now like a

173Justice of peace, and does nothing: where be your Mus-

174kets, Calivers and Hotshots? in Long-lane, at pawn, at

175pawn;---Now keyes are our onely Guns, Key-guns, Key-

176guns, and Bawdes the Gunners,---who are your senti-

177nells in peace, and stand ready charg'd to give warning;

178with hems, hums, and pocky-coffs; onely your Chambers

179are licenst to play upon you, and Drabs enow to give fire

180to 'em.

181Skir. Well, I cannot tell, but I am sure it goes wrong

182with me, for since the cessure of the wars, I have spent a-

183bove a hundred Crownes out a purse: I have been a Sol-

184dier any time this forty yeares, and now I perceive an old

185Soldier, and an old Courtier have both one destiny, and in

186the end turn both into hob-nayles.

187Pye. Pretty mystery for a Beggar, for indeed a hob-

188naile is the true embleme of a Beggar's Shoe-soale.

189Skir. I will not say but that War is a bloud-sucker,

190and so; but in my conscience, (as there is no soldier but

191has a piece of one, though it be full of holes like a shot

192Ancient, no matter, 'twill serve to swear by) in my con-

193science, I think some kinde of Peace has more hidden op-

194pressions, and violent heady sins, (though looking of a

195gentle nature) then a profest warre.

196Pye. Troth, and for mine own part, I am a poor Gen-

197tleman, and a Schollar, I have been matriculated in the

198University, wore out six Gowns there, seen some fools,

199and some Schollars, some of the City, and some of the

200Countrey, kept order, went bare-headed over the Qua-

201drangle, eat my Commons with a good stomack, and

202Battled with Discretion; at last, having done many

203slights and tricks to maintain my wit in use (as my brain

204would never endure me to be idle,) I was expell'd the

205University, onely for stealing a Cheese out of Jesus Col-

206ledge.

207Skir. Is't possible?

208Pye. Oh! there was one Welshman (God forgive him)

209pursued it hard? and never left, till I turn'd my staffe to-

210ward London, where when I came, all my friends were

211pit-hold, gone to Graves, (as indeed there was but a few

212left before) then was I turn'd to my wits, to shift in the

213world, to towre among Sons and Heires, and Fooles, and

214Gulls, and Ladies eldest Sons, to work upon nothing, to

215feed out of Flint, and ever since has my belly been much

216beholding to my brain: But now to return to you, old

217Skirmish. I say as you say, and for my part wish a Tur-

218bulency in the world, for I have nothing in the world,

219but my wits, and I think they are as mad as they will be:

220and to strengthen your Argument the more, I say an ho-

221nest warre, is better than a bawdy peace: as touching

222my profession; the multiplicity of Schollars, hatcht, and

223nourisht in the idle Calmes of peace, makes'em like Fi-

224shes one devour another; and the communitie of Learn-

225ing has so plaid upon affections, and there by almost Re-

226ligion is come about to Phantasie, and discredited by be-

227ing too much spoken of--in so many and mean mouths. I

228my self being a Schollar and a Graduate, have no other

229comfort by my learning, but the affection of my words,

230to know how Schollar-like to name what I want, and

231can call my self a Beggar both in Greek and Latine, and

232therefore not to cog with Peace, I'le not be afraid to say,

233'tis a great Breeder, but a bad Nourisher: a great getter

234of Child

ren, which must either be Thieves or Rich men,

235Knaves or Beggars.

236Skirmish. Well, would I had been born a Knave then,

237when I was born a Beggar, for if the truth were known,

238I think I was begot when my Father had never a penny

239in his purse.

240Pye.Puh, faint not old Skirmish, let this warrant thee,

241Facilis Descensus Averni, 'tis an easie journey to a

242Knave, thou maist be a Knave when thou wilt; and

243Peace is a good Madam to all other professions, and an

244arrant Drab to us, let us handle her accordingly, and by

245our wits thrive in despight of her; for the law lives by

246quarrels, the Courtier by smooth good-morrows, and

247every profession makes it self greater by imperfections,

248why not we then by shifts, wiles, and forgeries? and

249seeing our brains are the onely Patrimonies, let's spend

250with judgement, not like a desperate son and heir, but

251like a sober and discreet Templer,---one that will never

252march beyond the bounds of his allowance, and for our

253thriving means, thus, I my self will put on the Deceit of

254a Fortune-teller, a Fortune-teller.

255Skirm. Very proper.

256Pye. And you a figure-caster, or a Conjurer.

257Skir. A Conjurer.

258Pye. Let me alone, I'le instruct you, and teach you to

259deceive all eyes, but the Devils.

260Skir. Oh I, for I would not deceive him and I could

261choose, of all others.

262Pye. Fear not I warrant you; and so by these means

263we shall help one another to Patients, as the condition of

264the age affords creatures enow for cunning to work upon.

265Skir. Oh wondrous, new fools and fresh asses.

266Pye. Oh, fit, fit, excellent.

267Skir. What in the name of Conjuring?

268Pye-boord. My memory greets me happily with an ad-

269mirable subject to graze upon. The Lady-Widow, who

270of late I saw weeping in her Garden, for the death of her

271Husband, sure she's but a watrish soul, and half on't by

272this time is dropt out of her eyes: device well manag'd

273may do good upon her: it stands firme, my first practise

274shall be there.

275Skir. You have my voice, George.

276Pye-board. Sh'as a gray Gull to her Brother, a fool to

277her onely son, and an ape to her youngest Daughter;---

278I over-heard'em severally, and from their words I'le drive

279my device; and thou old Peter Skirmish shalt be my se-

280cond in all slights.

281Skir. Ne're doubt me, George Pye-board,----only you

282must teach me to conjure.

285Pye. Puh, I'le perfect thee, Peter:

286How now? what's he?

287Skir. Oh George! this sight kills me,

288'Tis my sworn Brother, Captain Idle.

289Pye. Captain Idle.

290Skir. Apprehended for some fellonious act or other,

291he has started out, h'as made a Night on't, lackt silver;

292I cannot but commend his resolution, he would not pawn

293his Buff-Jerkin, I would either some of us were employed,

294or might pitch our Tents at Usurers doors, to kill the

295slaves as they peep out at the Wicket.

296Pye. Indeed those are our ancient enemies; they keep

297our money in their hands, and make us to be hang'd for

298robbing of'em, but come let's follow after to the Prison,

299and know the nature of his offence, and what we can

300stead him in, he shall be sure of; and I'le uphold it still,

301that a charitable Knave, is better then a soothing Puri-

302tan. Exeunt.