NEWS FROM PLYMOUTH.

ACT I.

Enter SEAWIT, TOPSAIL, CABLE.

SEA. The wind still southerly? here we are like To stay till grass grow on our decks, and all Our masts take root, bud forth too and bear acorns, Which, as I take't my salt-sea friends, is like To be our food when all our victual's spent. How thrives your treasure, Cable? when your looks Are heavy, we shall need small magic to Divine your pockets light.

CA. A few mild-sixpences with which

My purser casts account is all I've left.

TOP. There are ith' harbour, sir, those of the faithful

That will trust, upon a good pawn: you must
Engage your plate.

SEA. His plate! alas! poor soul,

What plate hath he more than his boatswain's whistle.

As for the silver seal that hung at's wrist,

Whereon was carv'd the lover's scutcheons, sir,
The bleeding heart; that's gone long since t'adorn
His mistress' court cupboard, which, on a cloth
Of network edg'd with a ten-penny lace,
Stands now between her thimble and her bodkin ;
Objects of state, believ't, and ornament.

CA. This town is dearer than Jerusalem

After a year's siege; they would make us pay
For day-light, if they knew how to measure
The sun-beams by the yard. Nay, sell the very
Air too if they could serve it out in fine
China-bottles. If you walk but three turns
In the High-street, they will ask you money
For wearing out the pebbles.

SEA. This is your region, Topsail, for you sea

men

Love to converse of plenty, where you may
Be coz'ned for your ware, and meat, and think
Such negligence becomes a noble spirit,

As well as thrift a lean attorney or

Fat alderman, until your mercer and

Your man that squeezes your lusty wine of Greece,
Or brisk vin-dy, remove from's smokey habitation
In the town, unto your manor house:

There ride in triumph o'er your conquer'd land,
As if he did bestride my Lord Mayor's horse,
As if your meadows were Cheapside, and all
Your woods the just precincts of his own ward.
CA. And these two disciples to St. Tantlin,
That rise to long exercise before day,
And cozen'd soundly before noon; these shall
Grow old within your manor house, and die
There too, and be buried in your own chapel;
And have their sinful seacoal dust mingled
With th' ashes of your warlike ancestors.

TOP. 'Tis true, to these unpleasant hazards
Riot and youth must bring us:

The gallant humour of the age, no remedy.
Whilst yet the mother's blessing quarrels and

chimes

Ith' pocket thus: the thrift of thirty years
Sav'd out of mince pies, butter, and dry'd hops.
It must away; but where? In the metropolis,
London, the sphere of light and harmony;

Where still your tavern bush is green and flourish

ing,

Your punk dancing in purple,

With music that would make a hermit frisk
Like a young dancer on a rope. But alas!
There's no such pure materials for delight
In this dull harbour, I will sooner draw
My sword than my purse here. 'Tis a place fit
Only for midnight battles with the watch.

CA. And vildly destitute of women.
Are none but a few matrons of Biscay,
That the Spaniards left here
In eighty eight.

Here

SEA. Your hostesses' daughter at the Hoop
Desir'd me last night I would speak to you
For an old sprit-sail to make her a smock.
CA. You have money, sir; you may be
SEA. In sober truth, thou art--
CA. Why, what am I?

SEA. As great a sinner

As e'er eat biscuit and salt beef.

But, gentlemen, it lies much now within

merry.

My power, although here wind-bound and distrest,

To make your sad hearts light.

CA. Proceed any news of a late shipwreck, Of two strangers seen floating on a plank, Each with a bag of Portuguez under

His left arm?

SEA. No, sir! but since our navy anchor'd in
This port, our fame hath prospered so,

That to behold our pride, and strength, there is
This day arriv'd a lady.

TOP. How a lady?

SEA. The very flower and pleasure of the Spring, And hath a wit so prosperous, one hour

Of her converse would make a courtier of

A carman: so rich, that the Turk's vast army

Cannot starve upon her land: [all there]
Are prime gamesters; the very housewives of
Her dairy play at cent: and her plough-boys
Double their wages at cribbage and picket.
CA. Well, I'm the luckiest rogue that ever
By this hand, gentlemen!

seckt.*

I think if my brains were knocked out o'er night,
I should find them in my skull again next morning.
O my good stars, I do thank your bright worships!
Send such a purchase hither just in the nick
And period of distress.

TOP. Seawit, a little more intelligence!
Where doth this lady lie?

SEA. At widow Carrack's house,

Where there are wells new digg'd to lay her bottled wine,

Grottos to keep her person cool, and kitchens

That would serve Mark Anthony.

CA. But will she eat and drink?

SEA. How Do you think I bring you tidings

of

The Maid of Brabant, that lived by her smell,
That din'd on a rose, and supt on a tulip.+

CA. I mean, will she feed high, and drink deep,

like

A Saxon-bride, until her lover sleep

* Kicked-i.e., lived.-Teste the phrase, "Alive and kick

ing."

t

"What would ye have me do?

D'ye think I'm the Dutch Virgin that could live

By the scent of flowers?"-Mayne's City Match, A. 2, S. 4. "But the strangest I have met with in this kinde is the historie of Eve Fleigen, out of the Dutch translated into English and printed at London, Anno 1611: who, being borne at Meurs, is said to have taken no kind of sustenance by the space of fourteen yeeres together; that is from the yeere of her age twenty-two to thirty-six, and from the yeere of our Lord, 1597 to 1611; and this we have confirmed by the testimony of the magistrate of Meurs, as also by the minister, who, made tryall of her in his house thirteene days together, by all the means he

Upon her lap?

SEA. She entertains! What will

You more, gentlemen? I hear not of her vices.
CA. Oh were she but a whore now, I were made.
For if she be honest, she is not worth

A hollow tooth.

SEA. Why, Cable? Why?

CA. Your honest women are still unfortunate To me, they talk of marriage, which I am prone too, Come, call in quickly her dull deacon! or small Tythe-taker in his dimity

-cassock,

And let him squeeze, and join our hands, until They ache; then there's a pause, whilst her parent, With a sour brow, and trencher beard, strait blasts My ear, with an odd heathen word, call'd jointure. Well, sir! I, as in duty bound towards

My self, promise largely then spies are sent T'enquire for one Captain Cable of the south, What lands, what farms he hath; and word is brought,

That all the purchase he e'er made was but

A noble for a map, which hangs in his
Great cabin.

TOP. Seawit Yourself and I must move alone, In visitation to this lady.

SEA. You must excuse me, sir, he shall along;

could devise, but could detect no imposture. Over the picture of this maiden, set in front of the Dutch copie, stand these Latin verses :

"Meurs hæc quem cernis decies ter sexque peregit

Annos, bis septem prorsus non vescitur annis

Nec potat, sic sola sedit, sic pallida vitam
Ducit, et exigui se oblectat floribus horti."

Thus rendered in the English copie:

"This maid of Meurs twenty-six yeares spent,
Fourteene of which she tooke no nourishment;
Thus pale and wan she sits, sad and alone,

A garden's all shee loves to looke upon."

Hakewill's Apologie. Fol. 1635.