1

But bring him hither, though I know him not.

Artemia.

Coufin, farewel; I fhall be look'd for straight.

Manet Euphues.
Euphues.

[Exit Artemia.

Rich Earthworm's fon! why, in the name of wonder,
Should it be her defire to speak with him?
She knows him not: Well, let it be a riddle;
I have not fo much wit as to expound it;
Nor yet fo little, as to lofe my thoughts,
Or ftudy to find out, what the no reason
Of a young wench's will is: Should I guess,
I know not what to think; she may have heard
That he's a proper man, and fo defire
To fatisfy herself? What reason then
Can fhe alledge to him? Tut, that's not it;
Her beauty, and large dower, need not to seek
Out any fuitors; and the odious name

Of his old wretched father would quite choke it:
Or have fome tattling goffips, or the maids,
Told her perchance that he's a conjurer?
He goes in black; they fay he is a scholar;
Has been beyond fea too: there it may lie :
And he must fatisfy her longing thought,
What, or how many husbands the shall have ;
Of what degree, upon what night she shall
Dream of the man; when she shall fast 4, and walk
In the church-yard, to fee him paffing by,
Juft in thofe clothes that firft he comes a fuitor :
Thefe things may be. But why should she make me
To be her inftrument? Some of the men,

Or maids, might do't as well. Well, fince you have

4

when she shall faft, &c.] Thefe customs are ftill preserved by the inferior ranks of females in different parts of the kingdom. Among others, they frequently faft on Saint Agnes'-eve, and at the fame time make use of feveral fingular rites and ceremonies; all which are defcribed and ridiculed in Gay's comedy of the Wife of Bath. See also, Brand's Olfervations on popular Antiquities, 1777, P. 387.

Us'd

Us'd me, fair coufin, I will found your drifts,
Or't fhall go hard. The fellow may abuse her;
Therefore I'll watch him too, and straight about it:
But, now I think on 't, I'll folicit him
By letter first, and meet him afterward.

[Exit.

I

A C T. II.

Earthworm, Theodore.
Earthworm.

Do not more rejoice in all my ftores,

My wealthy bags, fill'd garners, crouded chefts,

And all the envy'd heaps that I have glean'd,
With fo long care and labour; than I do
In thy most frugal nature, Theodore,

Concurring juft with mine: In thee, my fon,
I fee, methinks, a perpetuity

Of all the projects which my foul has hatch'd,
And their rich fruits. I fee my happiness,
When I confider what great hoards of wealth,
With long care rak'd together, I have seen
Even in a moment fcatter'd ; when I view
The gaudy heirs of thriving aldermen
Fleeting, like fhort-liv'd bubbles, into air;
And all that fire expiring in one blaze,
That was fo long a kindling. But do thou,
Do thou, my fon, go on, and grow in thrift;
It is a virtue that rewards itself.

'Tis matterlefs, in goodness who excels:
He that hath coin, hath all perfections else.
Theodore.

Sir, I am wholly yours; and never can
Degenerate from your frugality:
Or, if my nature did a little stray,
Your good example would direct it ftill,
Till it were grown in me habitual.

Earthworm.

Earthworm.

"Twill be a greater patrimony to thee
Than all my wealth: Strive to be perfect in't;
Study the rules; one rule is general;
And that is, Give away nothing, fon;
For thrift is like a journey; every gift,
Though ne'er fo fmall, is a step back again.
He that would rife to riches or renown,

Muft not regard though he pull millions downs
Theodore.

That leffon, fir, is eafy to be learn'd.

Earthworm.

Laugh at thofe fools that are ambitious
Of empty air; to be ftil'd liberal!

That fell their fubftance for the breath of others,
And with the flattering thanks of idle drones
Are fwelled, while their folid parts decay.
What clothes to wear, the firft occafion
Of wearing clothes, will teach a wife man beft.
Theodore.

True, fir; it teacheth us how vain a thing
It is for men to take a pride in that,

Which was at firft the emblem of their fhame.
Earthworm.

Thou hit'ft it right; but can't thou be content
With my poor diet too?

Oh, wond'rous well!

Theodore.

'Twas fuch a diet which that happy age,
That poets ftile the golden, firft did use.

Earthworm.

And fuch a diet, to our chefts will bring

The golden age again.

Befide the gain

Theodore.

That flows upon us, health and liberty

Attend on these bare meals: if all were blest

With fuch a temperance, what man would fawn,

Or to his belly fell his liberty?

There would be then no flaves, no fycophants

At

At great men's tables. If the base Sarmentus,
Or that vile Galba 5, had been thus content,
They had not borne the fcoffs of Cæfar's board.

He whofe cheap thirst the springs and brooks can quench, How many cares is he exempted from ?

He's not indebted to the merchant's toil,

Nor fears that pirates' force, or storms, should rob him
Of rich Canaries, or fweet Candian wines:

He smells, nor seeks, no feasts; but in his own
True ftrength contracted lives; and there enjoys
A greater freedom than the Parthian king.

Earthworm.

Thou mak'ft me more in love with my bleft life.
Theodore.

Befides, pure chearful health ever attends it ;
Which made the former ages live fo long.
With riotous banquets fickneffes came in ;
When death 'gan musfter all his dismal band
Of pale difeafes, fuch as poets feign
Keep centinel before the gates of hell,
And bade them wait about the gluttons tables;
Whom they, like venom'd pills, in fweeteft wines
Deceiv'd, fwallow down, and haften on

(What most they would efchew) untimely death.
But from our tables here, no painful furfeits,
No fed difeafes, grow, to ftrangle nature
And fuffocate the active brain; no fevers,
No apoplexies, palfies, or catarrhs

Are here; where nature, not entic'd at all
With fuch a dangerous bait as pleasant cates,
Takes in no more than fhe can govern well.
Earthworm.

But that which is the greatest comfort, fon,
Is to obferve, with pleasure, our rich hoards
Daily increase, and ftuff the fwelling bags.

quæ nec Sarmentus iniquas

Cæfaris ad menfas, nec vilis Galba tuliffet. Juv. Sat. VI.

S.

Come,

Come, thou art mine, I fee! Here, take these keys.

[Gives Theodore the keys.

These keys can fhew thee fuch amazing plenty,
Whofe very fight would feed a famish'd country.
I durft not trust my fervants.

Me you may,

Theodore.

Who equal with my life do prize your profit."

Earthworm.

Well, I'll go in; I feel myself half sleepy, After the drink I took.

Theodore.

"Twill do you good, fir.

Work fweetly, gentle cordial! and restore
Thofe fpirits again, which pining avarice

Has 'reft him of. Ah me! how wond'rous thin,
How lean and wan he looks! How much, alas!
Has he defrauded his poor genius,

In raking wealth, while the pale grifly fighs
Of famine dwell upon his aged cheeks.
Oh Avarice! than thee, a greater plague
Did ne'er infeft the life of wretched man!
Heaven aid my work! That rare extraction
Which he has drank, befide the nourishment,
Will caft him in a safe and gentle fleep,
While I have liberty to work my ends;
And, with his body's cure, a means I'll find
To cure his fame, and, which is more, his mind.
Jafper!

[Exit.

Then, at the hour which I appointed thee,