Lit. Sweet Win, bid Solomon send me the little black box within in my study.

Waspe. Ay, quickly, good mistress, I pray you; for I have both eggs on the spit, and iron in the fire. [Exit Mrs. Littlewit.] Say what you must have, good Master Littlewit.

Lit. Why, you know the price, Master Numps.

Waspe. I know! I know nothing, I: what tell you me of knowing? Now I am in haste, sir, I do not know, and I will not know, and I scorn to know, and yet, now I think on't, I will, and do know as well as another; you must have a mark for your thing here, and eightpence for the box; I could have saved twopence in that, an I had bought it myself; but here's fourteen shillings for you. Good Lord, how long your little wife stays! pray God, Solomon, your clerk, be not looking in the wrong box, Master Proctor.

Lit. Good i' faith! no, I warrant you, Solomon is wiser than so, sir.

Waspe. Fie, fie, fie, by your leave, Master Littlewit, this is scurvy, idle, foolish, and abominable, with all my heart; I do not like it. [Walks aside. Winw. Do you hear! Jack Littlewit, what business does thy pretty head think this fellow may have, that he keeps such a coil with?

Quar. More than buying of gingerbread in the cloister here, for that we allow him, or a gilt pouch in the Fair?

Lit. Master Quarlous, do not mistake him; he is his master's both-hands, I assure you.

Quar. What! to pull on his boots a mornings, or his stockings, does he?

Lit. Sir, if you have a mind to mock him, mock him softly, and look t'other way: for if he apprehend you flout him once, he will fly at you presently. A terrible testy old fellow, and his name is Waspe too.

Quar. Pretty insect! make much on

him.

Waspe. A plague o' this box, and the pox too, and on him that made it, and her that went for't, and all that should have sought it, sent it, or brought it! do you see,

sir.

Lit. Nay, good Master Waspe. Waspe. Good Master Hornet, t-in your teeth, hold you your tongue: do not I know you? your father was a 'pothecary, and sold clysters, more than he gave, I wusse; and t-in your little wife's teeth too-here she comes

Re-enter Mrs. Littlewit with the box. 'twill make her spit, as fine as she is, for all her velvet custard on her head, sir.

Lit. O, be civil, Master Numps. Waspe. Why, say I have a humour not to be civil; how then? who shall compel me, you?

Lit. Here is the box now.

Waspe. Why, a pox o' your box, once again! let your little wife stale in it, an she will. Sir, I would have you to understand, and these gentlemen too, if they please

Winw. With all our hearts, sir.

Waspe. That I have a charge, gentle

men.

Lit. They do apprehend, sir.

Waspe. Pardon me, sir, neither they nor you can apprehend me yet. You are an ass. I have a young master, he is now upon his making and marring; the whole care of his well-doing is now mine. His foolish schoolmasters have done nothing but run up and down the country with him to beg puddings and cake-bread of his tenants, and almost spoiled him; he has learned nothing but to sing catches and repeat Rattle bladder, rattle! and O, Madge! I dare not let him walk alone for fear of learning of vile tunes, which he will sing at supper, and in the sermontimes! If he meet but a carman in the street, and I find him not talk to keep him off on him, he will whistle him and all bis tunes over at night in his sleep! He has a head full of bees! I am fain now, for this little time I am absent, to leave him in charge with a gentlewoman: 'tis true, she is a justice of peace his wife, and a gentlewoman of the hood, and his natural sister; but what may happen under a woman's government, there's the doubt. Gentlemen, you do not know him; he is another manner of piece than you think for: but nineteen years old, and yet he is taller than either of you by the head, God bless him!

Quar. Well, methinks this is a fine fellow.

Winw. He has made his master a finer by this description, I should think.

Quar. 'Faith, much about one, it is cross and pile, whether for a new farthing. Waspe. I'll tell you, gentlemen

Lit. Will't please you drink, Master Waspe.

Waspe. Why, I have not talked so long to be dry, sir. You see no dust or cob

Mrs. Lit. And I am for the cosset his charge: did you ever see a fellow's face more accuse him for an ass?

Quar. Accuse him! it confesses him one without accusing. What pity 'tis yonder wench should marry such a Cokes!

Winw. 'Tis true.

Quar. She seems to be discreet, and as sober as she is handsome.

Winw. Ay, and if you mark her, what a restrained scorn she casts upon all his behaviour and speeches?

Cokes. Well, Numps, I am now for another piece of business more, the Fair, Numps, and then

Waspe. Bless me! deliver me! help, hold me! the Fair!

Cokes. Nay, never fidge up and down, Numps, and vex itself. I am resolute Bartholomew in this; I'll make no suit on't to you; 'twas all the end of my journey indeed, to shew Mistress' Grace my Fair. I call it my Fair, because of Bartholomew: you know my name is Bartholomew, and Bartholomew Fair.

Lit. That was mine afore, gentlemen; this morning. I had that, i' faith, upon his licence, believe me, there he comes after me.

Quar. Come, John, this ambitious wit of yours, I am afraid, will do you no good in the end.

Lit. No! why, sir?

Quar. You grow so insolent with it, and overdoing, John, that if you look not to it, and tie it up, it will bring you to some obscure place in time, and there 'twill leave you.

Winw. Do not trust it too much, John, be more sparing, and use it but now and then; a wit is a dangerous thing in this age; do not over-buy it.

Lit. Think you so, gentlemen? I'll take heed on't hereafter.

Mrs. Lit. Yes, do, John.

Cokes. A pretty little soul, this same Mistress Littlewit, would I might marry

her!

1 And I am for the cosset his charge :] i.e., for Cokes. "A cosset," Cole says, " is a lamb, colt, &c., brought up by hand.'

2 With his Sir Cranion-legs.] i.e., small spider-like legs; but Cranion is the fairy appellation for a fly. Thus Drayton :

"Four nimble gnats the horses were,
Their harnesses of gossamere,

Grace. So would I; or anybody else, so I might scape you.

[Aside. Cokes. Numps, I will see it, Numps, 'tis decreed: never be melancholy for the matter.

Waspe. Why, see it, sir, see it, do see it: who hinders you? why do you not go see it? 'slid, see it.

Cokes. The Fair, Numps, the Fair.

Waspe. Would the Fair, and all the drums and rattles in it, were in your belly for me! they are already in your brain. He that had the means to travel your head now, should meet finer sights than any are in the Fair, and make a finer voyage on't; to see it all hung with cockleshells, pebbles, fine wheat straws, and here and there a chicken's feather, and a cobweb.

Quar. Good faith, he looks, methinks, an you mark him, like one that were made to catch flies, with his Sir Cranion-legs." Winw. And his Numps, to flap them away.

Waspe. God be wi' you, sir, there's your bee in a box, and much good do't you. [Gives Cokes the box. Cokes. Why, your friend, and Bartholomew; an you be so contumacious. Quar. What mean you, Numps?

[Takes Waspe aside as he is going out. Waspe. I'll not be guilty, I, gentlemen. Over. You will not let him go, brother, and lose him?

Cokes. Who can hold that will away 23 I had rather lose him than the Fair, I

wusse.

Waspe. You do not know the inconvenience, gentlemen, you persuade to, nor what trouble I have with him in these humours. If he go to the Fair, he will buy of everything to a baby there; and household stuff for that too. If a leg or an arm on him did not grow on, he would lose it in the press. Pray heaven I bring him off with one stone! And then he is such a ravener after fruit!-you will not believe what a coil I had t'other day to compound a business between a Ca

ther'ne-pear woman, and him, about snatching 'tis intolerable, gentlemen.

:

Winw. O, but you must not leave him now to these hazards, Numps.

Waspe. Nay, he knows too well I will not leave him, and that makes him presume. Well, sir, will you go now? if you have such an itch in your feet, to foot it to the Fair, why do you stop, am I [o] your tarriers?' go, will you go, sir? why do you not go?

Cokes. O, Numps, have I brought you about? come, Mistress Grace, and sister, I am resolute Bat, i' faith, still.

Gra. Truly, I have no such fancy to the Fair, nor ambition to see it; there's none goes thither of any quality or fashion.

Cokes. O Lord, sir! you shall pardon me, Mistress Grace, we are enow of our

Mrs. Lit. No, I'll not make me unready for it. I can be hypocrite enough, though I were never so strait-laced.

Lit. You say true, you have been bred in the family, and brought up to't. Our mother is a most elect hypocrite, and has maintained us all this seven year with it, like gentlefolks.

Mrs. Lit. Ay, let her alone, John, she is not a wise wilful widow for nothing; nor a sanctified sister for a song. And let me alone too, I have somewhat o' the mother in me, you shall see; fetch her, fetch her-[Exit Littlewit.] Ah! ah! [Seems to swoon.

Re-enter Littlewit with Dame Purecraft. Pure. Now the blaze of the beauteous house! how now, Win-the-fight, child; how do you? sweet child, speak to me. Mrs. Lit. Yes, forsooth.

Quar. What a rogue in apprehension is this, to understand her language no better !

Winw. Ay, and offer to marry her! Well, I will leave the chase of my widow for to-day, and directly to the Fair. These flies cannot, this hot season, but engender us excellent creeping sport.

Quar. A man that has but a spoonful of brain would think so. -Farewell, John. [Exeunt Quarlous and Winwife. Lit. Win, you see 'tis in fashion to go to the Fair, Win; we must to the Fair too, you and I, Win. I have an affair in the Fair, Win, a puppet-play of mine own making, say nothing, that I writ for the motion-man, which you must see, Win.

Mrs. Lit. I would I might, John; but my mother will never consent to such a profane motion, she will call it.

Lit. Tut, we'll have a device, a dainty one. Now Wit, help at a pinch, good Wit come, come good Wit, an it be thy will! I have it, Win, I have it, i' faith, and 'tis a fine one. Win, long to eat of a pig, sweet Win, in the Fair, do you see, in the heart of the Fair, not at Pye-corner. Your mother will do anything, Win, to satisfy your longing, you know; pray thee long presently; and be sick o' the sudden, good Win. I'll go in and tell her; cut thy lace in the meantime, and play the hypocrite, sweet Win.

1 Am I [o'] your tarriers?] The old copy reads Am I your tarriars: upon which Whalley has a query. Simply, Am I of those who stay you? Do I keep you here?

Lit. Not I, on my sincerity, mother; she longed above three hours ere she would let me know it.-Who was it, Win?

Mrs. Lit. A profane black thing with a beard, John.

Pure. O, resist it, Win-the-fight, it is the tempter, the wicked tempter, you may know it by the fleshly motion of pig; be strong against it, and its foul temptations, in these assaults, whereby it broacheth flesh and blood, as it were on the weaker side; and pray against its carnal provocations; good child, sweet child, pray.

Lit. Good mother, I pray you that she may eat some pig, and her belly full too; and do not you cast away your own child, and perhaps one of mine, with your tale of the tempter. How do you do, Win, are you not sick?

Mrs. Lit. Yes, a great deal, John, uh, uh!

Pure. What shall we do? Call our zealous brother Busy hither, for his faithful fortification in this charge of the adversary.

2 No, I'll not make me unready for it, &c.] I'll not undress me. The satire of this short speech is exquisite.

3 The beauteous discipline.] See p. 37 a.

[Exit Littlewit.] Child, my dear child, you shall eat pig; be comforted, my sweet child.

Mrs. Lit. Ay, but in the Fair, mother. Pure. I mean in the Fair, if it can be any way made or found lawful.

Re-enter Littlewit.

Where is our brother Busy? will he not come? Look up, child.

Lit. Presently, mother, as soon as he has cleansed his beard. I found him fast by the teeth in the cold turkey-pie in the cupboard, with a great white loaf on his left hand, and a glass of malmsey on his right.

Pure. Slander not the brethren, wicked

one.

Lit. Here he is now, purified, mother.

Enter Zeal-of-the-land Busy. Pure. O, brother Busy! your help here, to edify and raise us up in a scruple: my daughter Win-the-fight is visited with a natural disease of women, called a longing to eat pig.

Lit. Ay, sir, à Bartholomew pig; and in the Fair.

Pure. And I would be satisfied from you, religiously-wise, whether a widow of the sanctified assembly, or a widow's daughter, may commit the act without offence to the weaker sisters.

Busy. Verily, for the disease of longing, it is a disease, a carnal disease, or appetite, incident to women; and as it is carnal and incident, it is natural, very natural; now pig, it is a meat, and a meat that is nourishing and may be longed for, and so consequently eaten; it may be eaten; very exceeding well eaten but in the Fair, and as a Bartholomew pig, it cannot be eaten; for the very calling it a Bartholomew pig, and to eat it so, is a spice of idolatry, and you make the Fair no better than one of the high-places. This, I take it, is the state of the question: a high-place.

Lit. Ay, but in state of necessity, place

1 Ay, sir, a Bartholomew pig, &c.] Roasted pigs were (and perhaps still are) the chief entertainment at Bartholomew Fair. Our old writers abound in allusions to this circumstance; and Mrs. Littlewit is not the only instance of a citizen's wife feigning a longing for pig in order to be taken to the Fair. Thus Davenant :

"Now London's Mayor, on saddle new,
Rides to the Fair of Bartlemew;
He twirls his chain, and looketh big,
As if to fright the head of pig,

should give place, Master Busy. I have a conceit left yet.

Pure. Good brother Zeal-of-the-land, think to make it as lawful as you can.

Lit. Yes, sir, and as soon as you can; for it must be, sir: you see the danger my little wife is in, sir.

Pure. Truly, I do love my child dearly, and I would not have her miscarry, or hazard her first-fruits, if it might be otherwise.

Bus. Surely, it may be otherwise, but it is subject to construction, subject, and hath a face of offence with the weak, a great face, a foul face; but that face may have a veil put over it, and be shadowed as it were; it may be eaten, and in the Fair, I take it, in a booth, the tents of the wicked: the place is not much, not very much, we may be religious in the midst of the profane, so it be eaten with a reformed mouth, with sobriety, and humbleness; not gorged in with gluttony or greediness, there's the fear: for, should she go there, as taking pride in the place, or delight in the unclean dressing, to feed the vanity of the eye, or lust of the palate, it were not well, it were not fit, it were abominable, and not good.

Lit. Nay, I knew that afore, and told her on't; but courage, Win, we'll be humble enough, we'll seek out the homeliest booth in the Fair, that's certain; rather than fail, we'll eat it on the ground.

Pure. Ay, and I'll go with you myself, Win-the-fight, and my brother Zeal-of-theland shall go with us too, for our better consolation.

Mrs. Lit. Uh, uh!

Lit. Ay, and Solomon too, Win, the more the merrier. Win, we'll leave Rabbi Busy in a booth. [Aside to Mrs. Lit.]— Solomon! my cloak.

Enter Solomon with the cloak. Sal. Here, sir.

Bus. In the way of comfort to the weak, I will go and eat. I will eat exceedingly, and prophesy; there may be a good use

That gaping lies on every stall,
Till female with great belly call."

2 I will eat exceedingly, and prophesy.] Crine senex fanaticus albo, Sacrorum antistes, rarum et memorabile magni Gutturis exemplum!

And such has been the religious hypocrite in every age! Jonson's character of the zealot of his own time, stands pre-eminent for truth and vigour, a noble instance of his acute and dis