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Mercurie. Raph fhe fhall trouble none of vs; Ile charme her
fast a fleepe.

Zelota.

Come, Raph, lets goe fleepe, for thou muft mend
Queene Guiniuers fhooes to morrow.

I haue a pillowe of my owne, Ile neither begge nor borrow.

Mercurie. So fleepe thy fill, now, Raph, come forth to mee.
Raph. Come forth, quoth he; marrie, God bleffe vs.

Erit.

Now you haue made my wife mad, what fhal become of me?
Mercurie.') Feare not, come forth, I meane no hurt to thee.
Well, Ile truft you for once; what say yee?

Raph.
Mercurie.

Raph.

Raph, hie the home, & thou fhalt finde vpon thy bed
Attire that for a prophets fute fhal ftand thee in good ftead;
A prophet thou must be and leaue thy worke a while.
A Prophet fpeaker? Ha, ha, ha, heres a coyle.
What are you, I pray?

Mercurie. I am Mercurie, the Meffenger of the Gods.

Raph.

Mercurie.

Raph.

Mercurie.

And I am Raph Cobler, twixt vs there is fome odds.2)
But heare ye, God Markedy, haue you retoritie

To take a free man of his companie

And hinder him to be your Prophet speaker,

And, when ye fet him a worke, giue him nothing for his labor?

I muft charme him afleepe, or he will still be prating.
Ile please thee well, I prethee, Raph, fit downe.

Now I am fet, would I had a pot of ale.

We will haue twaine, but firft attend my tale.
He charmes him with his rod asleepe.
Not farre hence ftandeth Mars his Court,
to whom thus fee thou fay:

1) Original: Mar.

Mars, though thou be a Cocke of the game,
that wontst to croe by day,
And with thy sharpned spurres

the crauen Cockes didst kill and slay;
Sith now thou dost but prune thy wings
and make thy fethers gay,

A dunghill Cocke, that croes by night,
shall flilie thee betray

And tread thy Hen, and for a time

shall carrie her away.

And she by him shall hatch a Chicke,
this Countrey to decay.

And for this pretie Pullets name

2) Das Exemplar des Britischen Museums enthält den Druckfehler Gods statt odds, wie die anderen Exemplare richtig vermerken.

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Sateros.

And me thought in my fleep, this was God Markedy,

that had chaunted my wife mad for good caufe why. Aboue me thought I saw God Shebiter,

that marloufly did frowne,

With a dart of fier in his hand,

readie to throw it downe.

Below, me thought, there were falfe knaues,

walking like honeft men verie craftely

And few or none could be plainly feene

to thriue in the world by honeftie.

Me thought, I saw one, that was wondrous fat,

Picke two mens purfes, while they were large and faire,

Kept backe shops to vtter their baddeft ware.

What meddle I with trades? Men, mafters and maids,

Yea, and wiues too and all are too too bad,

Beiudgd by my wife, that was neuer well, till fhe ran mad.
But O, the Baker, how he plaid false with the ballance,
And ran away from the takers tallants.

The Bruer was as bad, the Butcher as ill,

For its their tricke to blow vp leane meate with a quill.

And with the stroke a Butcher gaue an oxe

that lowd bellowing did make,

I loft fight of all the other trickes,

and fo fodainly did wake.

But now muft Raph trudge about his prophetation

Faith ye fhall heare me troll it out after my fashion.

Zweiter Auftritt.

Enter Sateros, a souldier, and Contempt, naming himselfe Content.

Thus haue I ferued in my Princes warres

Againft the Perfian and the Alian Powers:

Erit.

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Sateros.

By honoring me thou fhalt obtaine preferment.

Vnto the Gods and Prince doo fouldiers honor,
And wert thou one of these, I would adore thee.
Contempt. I am of power more than all the Gods

To fit and rule the harts of all degrees.

They haue in me content, as thou fhalt fee

A prefent inftance in thefe entring men.

Enter Emnius, a Courtier, with him a Scholler and

a Countrey Gentleman.

Countrey G. Haile to Contents diuineft exelence!

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Scholler.

Courtier.

Raph.

Sir: what fir, or what stir haue we here? Why ye proud
Pagans and Panem noftrums, thinke ye no better of a Prophet
than ye would of a Pedlar: and make ye no more account of me

than ye doo of a Cobler?

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blundring God of the thundring warre, to Mars, to Maua aua aua ars: twill come nere your nofe, little God; I can tell ye. Contempt. Well, hold thy peace of that, and let vs hear these Gentlemen difpute.

Raph.

Contempt.

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Raph.

Contempt.

Raph.

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Contempt.
Emnius.

Raph.

Emnius.

Souldier.

Emnius.

Will they fpout? whereon?

He of the Court, the other of the Countrey, this of Bookes, that of Battels.

And I of Prophefie.

No, thou and I will fit ftill and giue our iudgements of1) this controuerfie.

Well, Content, but Ile fpeake my minde when I lift, thats flat.

Sit downe then, Gentlemen, when you pleafe, begin.

First I am a Courtier, daily in my Prince's eye: which one good of it felfe alone is able to make my Estate aboue all other happy. By it I get wealth, fauor, credit, countenance: on me attend futers, praying, paying and promifing more, than either fometimes they are able to performe, or I at moft times expect.

Thats true; for I was a futer three yere vnto ye for mending your pantables, and I was promift more than I could euer get, or did euer looke for.

At the entertainment of strangers, who but the Courtier is in braue account? or to the heauenly fellowship of diuineeft beautie and fweete confort of louely Ladies, who but the Courtier is called? while the Scholler fits all day inuenting fyllogifmes, the Countrey Gentleman plodding among poore hinds, and this bare fouldier here carrowfing among his prating companions.

Why, a fouldier of a defert (as with no other do I confort) can be no leffe than a Gentleman, and fome Courtiers are fcarce fo much. Defert, I denie not, is oft preferd, but oftner flattrie. Because I am homely clad, you hold me difhonorable: but in this plaine fute haue I been, where you dare not with all your filkes.

Why, I haue been, where thou dareft not come. 80 Souldier. I, thats in the Mercers booke, where I will not come. A word with ye Mas, fouldier.

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Raph.

Souldier.

Raph.

Now, fir.

Tis, 'caufe the Mercer will not truft ye: for he knowes his booke is as good as a fconce for ye; youle neuer out, till you bee torne or fired out.

1) Original: indgemeets.

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Souldier.

Raph.

How ere defpifed, yet am I a Gentleman, and in the conflict of Arbaces, Generall of Perfia at Marathon, I refcued the colours of Boeotia. I haue had hony words and fome reward, too little to bestow among my maimed fouldiers. Souldiers obferue lawes therein appeares their iuftice, at least equalling the fcholler: bring Princes to thraldom, then triumphing ouer courtiers: are liberall to giue wherein for the most they excell the Countrey Gentleman. In briefe, they are the fwords of heauen') to punifh the falue of heauen to pitie. Of whofe number beeing not the meaneft, I thinke my felfe nothing inferiour to anie of thefe Gentlemen.

But thou haft made manie a Cocke a cuckold by stealing away his Hen.

Countrey G. Nay, my life excelleth all; I in the Countrey liue a King; my Tenaunts (as vaffailes) are at my will commaunded: fearfuller, I know, they are to difpleafe mee, than diuers of you Courtiers to offend the Duke. Come there anie taskes to bee leuied, I tuch not mine owne store; for on them I take it: and, I * B 3 may fay to you, with fome furplufage: my wood they bring me home, my hay and corne in harueft: their cattell, feruants, fonnes and felues are at my commaund.

Scholler.
Raph.

O iure, quaque iniuria!

Nay, and you fpeake Latin, reach me my lafte.

Harke ye, mas Scholler, harke ye!

The time shall come, not long before the doome,
That in defpite of Roome

Latin fhall lacke,

And Greeke fhall beg with a wallet at his backe.
For all are not fober that goes in blacke.

Goe too, fcholler, theres a learning for your knacke. Countrey G. At my lift can I rack their rents, fet them to fines, bind them to forfets, force them to what I pleafe. If I build, they bee my labourers: if bargaine, on them I build: and for my good looke they are content to endure any trauell.

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But for all this ill and wrong

Marke the Coblers fong:

The hie hill and the deepe ditch,

Which ye digd to make your felues rich,

The chimnies fo manie, and almes not anie,
The widowes wofull cries,

And babes in streete that lies,

The bitter fweate and paine

That tenants poore fuftaine,

Will turne to your bane, I tell ye plaine,
When burning fire fhall raine,

1) Original: heaun.

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