Fiue daies being expited, Iacke in a box (according to his Bargaine) being a man of his word comes againe to the Shop or stall (at which hee angles for fresh Fish) and there casting out his line with the siluer hooke, thats to say, pouring out the forty pound which hee borrowed, The Citizen sends in, or steps himselfe for the Boxe with the Golden deuill in it: it is opened, and the army of angels being mustred together, they are all found to bee there. The Box is shut agen and set on the Stall, whilst the Cittizen is telling of his money: But whilst this musicke is sounding, Iacke in a Boxe actes his part in a dumb shew thus; hee shifts out o his fingers another Boxe of the same mettall and making, that the former beares, which second Boxe is filled onely with shillings & being p•zed in the hand, shall seeme to cary the weight of the former, and is clap’d down in place of the first. The Citizen in the meane time (whilst this Pit-fall is made for him) telling the fortie poundes, misseth thirtie or fortie shillinges in the whole summe, at which the Iacke in a Boxe starting backe (as if it were a matter strange vnto him) at last making a gathering within himselfe) for his wits, hee remembers (he saies) that hee laid by so much money as is wanting (of the fortie poundes to dispatch some businesse or other, and forgot to put it into the Bag again•, notwithstanding, hee intreates the Citizen, to keepe his golde still, hee will take the white money home to fetch the rest, and make vp the Summe, his absence shall not bee aboue an houre or two: before which time he shall bee sure to heare of him, and with this the little Diuell vanisheth, carrying that away with him, which in the end will send him to the Gallowes, (thats to say his owne golde,) and fortie pound besides of the Shop-keepers, which hee borrowed, the other béeing glad to take forty shillings for the whole debt, and yet is soundly box’d for his labour.
This Iacke in a boxe, is yet but a Chicken, and hath laide verie few Egges, if the Hang-man doe not spoyle it with treading, it will prooue and excellent Henne of the Game. It is a knot of Cheators but newly tyed, they are not yet a company. They flie not like Wilde-Geese (in flockes) but like Kites (single) as loath that any should share in their pray. They haue two or thrée names, (yet they are no Romaines, but errant Rogues) for some-times they call themselues Iacke in a boxe, but now that their infantrie growes strong, and that it is knowne abroad, that they carrie the Philosophers stone •bout them, and are able of fortie shillings to make fortie pound, they therefore vse a deade March, and the better to cloake their villanies, doe put on these Masking suites: viz.
1. This art or sleight of changing golde into siluer, is called Trimming.
2. They that practise it, terme them-selues Sheepeshearers.
3 The Gold which they bring to the Cittizen, is cald Iasons Fleece.
4 The siluer which they pick vp by this wandring, is White-wooll.
5 They that are Cheated by Iacke in a Boxe, are called Bleaters.
Oh Fleete-streete, Fleete-streete! how hast thou bene trimd, washed, Shauen and Polde by these deere and damnable Barbers? how often hast thou mette with these Sheep-shearers? how many warme flakes of wooll haue they pulled from thy Back? yet if thy Bleating can make the flockes that graze nere vnto thee and round about thee, to lift vp thy eyes, and to shunne such Wolues and Foxes, when they are approaching, or to haue them worryed to death before they sucke the blood of others, thy misfortunes are the lesse, because thy neighbours by them shall be warned from danger.
Many of thy Gallants (O Fleete-streete) haue spent hundreds of poundes in thy presence, and yet neuer were so much as drunke for it: but for euerie fortye pound that thou layest out in this Indian commoditie (of gold) thou hast a Siluer Boxe bestowed vpon thee, to carry thy Tobacco in, because thou hast euer loued that costlye and Gentleman-like Smoak. Iacke in a Boxe hath thus plaide his part. There is yet another Actor to step vpon the stage, and he seemes to haue good skil in Cosmography for he holdes in his hand a Map, wherein hee hath layde downe a number of Shires in England, and with small pricks hath beaten out a path, teaching how a man may easily, (tho not verry honestly) trauell from Country to Country, and haue his charges borne; and thus it is.
He that vnder-takes this strange iourney, layes his first plotte how to be turned into a Braue man, which he findes can be done by none better then by a trusty Tailor: working therefore hard with him, till his suite be granted, Out of the Cittie, beeing mounted on a good gelding, he tides vpon his owne bare credit, not caring whether •e trauell to meete the Sunne at his Rysing or at his going downe. He knowes his Kitchin smokes in euery Countie, and his table couered in euery Shire. For when he comes within a mile of the Towne, where hee meanes to catche Quas•es, setting Spurres to his horse, away he gallops, with his cloake off (for in these Beseigings of Townes hee goes not armd with any (his Hatte thrust into his Hose, as if it were lost, and onely an emptie paire of Hangers by his side, to shew that hee has bene disarmed. And you must note, that this Hot spurre does neuer set vppon any places but onely such, where hee knowes (by intelligence) there are store of Gentlemen, or wealthy Farmers at the least. Amongst whome when hee is come, hee tels with distracted lookes, and a voice almoste breathlesse, how many Uillaines set vppon him, what golde & siluer they tooke from him, what woods they are fled into, from what part of Engla¯d he is come, to what place he is going, how farre he is from home, how farre from his iornies end, or from any Gentleman of his acquaintance, and so liuely personates the lying Greek (Synon) in telling a lamentable tale: that the mad Troianes (the Gentlemen of the towne, beleeuing him, & the rather because he carries the shape of an honest man in shew, and of a Gentleman in his apparrell) are liberall of their purses, lending him money to beare him on his iourney, to pay which he offers either his bill or bond (naming his lodging in London) or giues his word (as hées a Gentleman, which they rather take, knowing the like misfortu¯e may be theirs at any time.
And thus with the feathers of other birdes, is this Monster stuck, making wings of sundry fashions, with which he thus basely flies ouer a whole kingdom. Thus doth he ride from Towne to Towne, from Citty to City as if he were a La¯d-lord in euery shire and that he were to gather Rents vp of none but Gentlemen.
There is a Twin-brother to this False galloper, and hee cheats Inne-keepers onely, or their Tapsters, by learning first what Country-men they are, and of what kindred: and then bringing counterfeit letters of commendations from such an Uncle, or such a Coozen (wherin is requested, that the Bearer thereof may bee vsed kindely) hee lyes in the Iune till he haue fetcht ouer the Maister or Seruant for some mony (to draw whome to him he hath many bookes) and when they •ang fast enough by the Gills, vnder water Our Sharke diues, and is neuer seene to swimme againe in that Riuer.
Uppon this Scaffold, also might be mounted a number of Quack-saluing Empericks, who ariuing in some Country towne, clappe vp their Terrible Billes, in the Market-place, and filling the Paper with such horrible names of diseases, as if euery disease were a Diuell, and that they could coniure them out of any Towne at their pleasure. Yet these Beggerly Mountibancks are meate Coozeners, and haue not so much skill as Horsele•es. The poore people not giuing money to them to be cured of any infirmities, but rather with their money buying worse infirmities of them:
Uppon the same post, doe certain stragling Scribling Writers deserue to haue both their names and them-selues hung vp, insteed of those faire tables which they hang vp in Townes, as gay pictures to intice Schollers to them: the Tables are witten with sundry kindes of hands, but not one finger of those hands (not one letter there) drops from the Penne of such a false wandring Scribe. He buyes other mens cunning good cheape in London, and sels it deere in the Country. These Swallowes bragge of no qualitie in them so much as of swiftnesse. In foure & twenty houres, they will worke foure and twenty wonders, and promise to teach those, that know no more what belongs to an A. then an Asse, to bee able (in that narrow compasse) to write as faire and as fast as a country Uicar, who commonly reads all the Townes Letters.
But wherefore doe these counterfeit Maisters of that Noble Science of Writing, kéepe such a fl
orishing with the borrowed weapons of other Mens Pennes? onely for this to gette halfe the Birdes (which they striue to catch) into their hands, thats to say, to bee payde halfe the money which is agréed vpon for the Scholler, and his nest being halfe fild with such Gold-finches, he neuer stayes till the rest be fledge, but suffers him that comes next, to beate the bush for the other halfe. At this Caréere the Ryder that set out last from Smithfield, stop’d: and alighting from Pacolet (the horse that carried him) his next iourney was made on foote.
THE BEL-MANS SECOND NIGHT-WALKE. CHAP. XII.
SIR Lancelot of the infernall Lake, or the Knight Errant of Hell, hauing thus (like a yong country gentleman) gone round about the Citty, to see the sights not onely within the walles but those also in the Subburbes, was glad when hee sawe hauing put on the vizard that Hell lends her (cald darkenes to leap in to her Coach) because now he knew he should meete with other strange birdes and beasts fluttring from their nests, and crawling out of their dennes. His prognostication held currant, and the foule-weather (which hee fore-told,) fell out accordingly. For Candle-light ha• scarce opend his eye (to looke at the Citty like a gunner shooting at a marke,) but fearefully (their feet trembling vnder the¯) their •es suspitiously rouling from euery nooke to nooke round about them, & their heads (as if they stood vppon oyled shrewes) still turning back behinde them, came créeping out of hollow-trées, where they lay hidden, a number of couzning Bankrupts in the shapes of Owles, who when the Marshall of light, the sunne, went vp and downe to search the Citty, durst not stir abroad, for feare of •éeing houted at and followed by whole flockes of vndon creditors.
But now when the stage of the world was hung in blacke, they ietted vppe & downe like proud Tragedians O what thankes they gaue to Darknesse! what songes they balladed out in praise of Night, for bestowing vpon them so excellent a cleake wherein they might so safely walke muftled! Now durst they, as if they had beene Constables, rappe alowd at the dores of those to whom they owed most money, & braue them with hie wordes, tho they payd them not a penny.
Now did they boldly step into some priuiledged Tauerne, and there drinke healthes, dance with Harlets, & pay both Drawers and Fidlers after mid-night with other mens money, & then march home againe fearelesse of the blowes that any showlder-clapper durst giuethe¯. Out of another Nest flew certaine Murderers and Theeues in the shapes of Skreech-owles, who, being set on by the Night, did beate with their bold and ve¯turous fatall wings at the very dores whereas, informer times, their villanies had entred.
Not farre fro¯ These, came crawling out of their bushes a company of graue & wealthy Lechers in the shapes of Glowe-wormes, who with gold, Iyngling in their pockets, made such a shew in the night, that the dores of Common Brothelryes flew open to receiue them, the in the day time they durst not passe that way, for seate that noted Curtizans should challenge them of acquaintance, or that others should laugh at them to see white heads growing vpon greene stalkes.
Then came forth certaine infamou• earthy minded Creatures in the shapes of Snailes, who all the day time hyding their heads in their shells, lea• b•ies should we two fingers point at them for liuing b•ly vpo¯ the prostitutio¯ of their wiues bodies, cared not now, before candle-light, to shoote out their largest & longest Hornes.
A number of other monsters, like These, were seene (as the sunne went downe) to venture from their de¯nes, only to ingender with Darknesse: but candle-lights eyesight growing dimmer & dimmer, and hée at last falling starke blind, Lucifers Watch-man went strumbling vp and down in the darke.
HOW TO WEANE HORSES.
EUERY dore on a sudden was shut, not a candle stood peeping through any window, not a Vintner was to be séene brewing in his Cellor, not a drunkerd to be met réeling, not a Mouse to be heard stiring: al ye Citty shewed like one Bed, for all in that Bed were sou¯dly cast into a •éepe. Noyse made no noise, for euery one that wrought with the ha¯mer was put to silence. Yet notwithsta¯ding when euen the Diuel himselfe could haue béene conte¯ted to take a nap, there were few Inkeepers about ye towne but had their spirits walking. To watch which spirits what they did, our Spy, that came lately out of ye Lowercountries, stole into one of their Circles, where lucking very closely, hée perceiued ye whe¯ all the guests were profoundly sleeping, when Cariers were soundly snorting, & not so much as the Chamberlaine of the house but was layd vp, suddenly out of his bed started an Hostler. who hauing no apparell on but his shirt, a paire of slip-shooes on his feete, and a Candle burning in his hand like olde Ieronimo step’d into the stable amo¯gst a number of poore hungry Iades, as if that night he had beene to ride poast to ye Diuell. But his iorney not lying that way till some other time, he neither bridled nor sadled any of his fourefooted guests that stood there at racke and manger, but seeing them so late at supper, and knowing that to ouereate them-selues would fill them full of diseases, (they being subiect to aboue a hundred & thirty already) hée first (without a voyder) after a most vnmanerly fashion tooke away, not onely all the Prouander that was set before them, but also all the hay, at which before they were glad to lick their lippes. The poore Horses looked very rufully vpon him for this, but hee rubbing their teeth onely with the end of a Candle (in steed of a Cortall) tolde them, that for their Iadish trickes it was now time to weane them: And so wishing them not to bee angry if they lay vpon the hard boards, co¯sidering all the beddes in the house were full, back againe hee stole to his Coach, till breake of day: yet fearing least the sunne should rise to discouer his knauery, vp hee started, & into the stable he stumbled, scarce halfe awake, giuing to euery Iade a bottle of hay for his breake-fast, but al of them being troubled we the greazy tooth-ach, could eate none, which their maisters in the •ing espying swore they were either fullen or els that prouender pricked them.
This Hostler for this peece of seruice was afterwards preferred to be one of the Groomes in Belzebubs stable.
ANOTHER NIGHT-PEECE DRAWNE IN SUNDRY COLLOURS.
SHALL I shew you what other bottomes of mischiefe, Plutos Beadle saw wound vpon the blacke spindels of the Night, in this his priuy search? In some streetes he met Mid-w•ies running, till they sweat, & following them close at hecles, he spied them to be let in, at the backe dores of houses, seated either in blind lanes, or in by-gardens: which houses had roomes builded for the purpose, where young Maides, being bigge with child by vnlawful Fathers, or young wiues (in their husbands abscence at sea, or in the warres) hauing wrastled with batchilers or maried men, til they caught falls, lay safely til they wer deliuered of them. And for reasonable summes of mony, the bastards that at these windows crept into the world, were as closely now and then sent presently out of the world, or els were so vnmannerly brought vp, that they neuer spake to their owne parents that begot them.
In some streetes he met seruants in whose brest albeit the arrowes of the plague stuck halfe way, yet by cruell maisters were they driuen out of dores at mid-night and conuaid to Garden-houses, where they either died before next morning, or else were carried thither dead in their coffins as tho they had lien sicke there before and there had dyed.
Now and then at the corner of a turning hee spyed seruants purloyning fardels of their maisters goods, and deliuering them to the hands of common strumpets.
This dore opend, and Lust with Prodigality were heard to stand closely kissing: and (wringing one another by the hand) softly to whisper out foure of fiue goodnights, till they met abroad the next morning.
A thousand of these comedies were acted in dumb shew, and onely in the priuat houses: at which the Diuells messenger laught so loud that Hell heard him, and for ioy range foorth loude and lustie Plaudities. But beeing driuen into wonder why the night would fall in labour, and bring foorth so many Uillantes, whose births she practised to couer (as she had reason) because so many watchmen were co•tinually called and charged to haue an eye to her dooings, at length he perceiued that Bats (more vgly and more in number then these) might flye vp and downe in darkenesse: for tho with their Letherne Wings they should strik
e the verry billes out of those Watchmens handes, such leaden plummets were commo¯ly hung by sleepe at all their eyelids, that hardly they could be awakned to strike them agen.
On therefore he walkes, with intent to hasten home, as hauing fil’d his Table Bookes with sufficient notes of intelligence. But, at the last, meeting with the Bell-man, and not knowing what he was because he went without his Lanthorne and some other implements: for the man in the Moone was vp the most part of the night and lighted him which way soeuer he turned, he tooke him for some churlish Hobgoblin, seeing a long staffe on his necke, and therefore to be one of his owne fellowes. The Bel-ringer Smelling what strong scent he had in his nose, soothed him vp, and questioning with him how he had spent his time in the citty, and what discouery of Land-villanies he had made in this Iland voiage: ye Mariner of hell, opened his chart, which he had linedwith all abuseslying either East, West, North, or South: he shewed how he had pricked it, vpon what points he had saild, where he put in: vnder what height he kept him-selfe: where he went a shore, what stra¯ge people he met: what land he had discouered, and what commodities he was laden with from the¯ce. Of all which the Bell-man drawing forth a perfect Map, they parted: which Map he hath set out in such collors as you see, tho not with such cunning as he could wish: the paines are his owne, the pleasure, if this can yeelde any pleasure, onely yours, on whome he bestowes it: to him that embraceth his labours, he dedicats both them and his loue: with him that either knowes not how, or cares not to entertaine them, he will not be angry, but onely to Him sayes thus much for a farrewell.
Complete Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker Page 238