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Re-enter LEATHERHEAD, with BRISTLE, HAGGISE, and other Officers.
Leath. Here he is, pray you lay hold on his zeal; we cannot sell a whistle for him in tune. Stop his noise first.
Busy. Thou canst not; 'tis a sanctified noise: I will make a loud and most strong noise, till I have daunted the profane enemy; And for this cause
Leath. Sir, here's no man afraid of you, or your cause. You shall swear it in the stocks, sir.
Busy. I will thrust myself into the stocks, upon the pikes of the land. [They seize him.
Leath. Carry him away.
Pure. What do you mean,
[Exeunt Officers with Busy, followed by Dame PURECRAFT.]
[Rabbi Busy is put into the stocks, and finds singular companions in adversity.
[As they open the stocks, WASPE puts his shoe on his hand, and slips it in for his leg.
Waspe. I shall put a trick upon your Welsh diligence perhaps. [Aside. [TO BUSY.
Bri. Put in your leg, sir.
Quar. What, rabbi Busy! is he come?
Busy. I do obey thee; the lion may roar, but he cannot bite. I am glad to be thus separated from the heathen of the land, and put apart in the stocks, for the holy cause.
Waspe. What are you, sir?
Busy. One that rejoiceth in his affliction, and sitteth here to prophesy the destruction of fairs and May-games, wakes and Whitson-ales, and doth sigh and groan for the reformation of these abuses.
Waspe. [to OVERDO.] And do you sigh and groan too, or rejoice in your affliction ?
Over. I do not feel it, I do not think of it, it is a thing without me: Adam, thou art above these batteries, these contumelies. In te manca ruit fortuna, as thy friend Horace says; thou art one, Quem neque pauperies, neque mors, neque vincula, terrent. And therefore, as another friend of thine says, I think it be thy friend Persius, Non te quæsiveris extra.
Quar. What's here! a stoic in the stocks? the fool is turn'd philosopher.
Busy. Friend, I will leave to communicate my spirit with you, if I hear any more of those superstitious relics, those lists of Latin, the very rags of Rome, and patches of popery.
Waspe. Nay, an you begin to quarrel, gentlemen, I'll leave you. I have paid for quarrelling too lately: look you, a device, but shifting in a hand for a foot. God be wi' you. [Slips out his hand. Busy. Wilt thou then leave thy brethren in tribulation?
Waspe. For this once, sir.
Busy. Thou art a halting neutral; stay him there, stop him, that will not endure the heat of persecution?
Bri. How now, what's the matter?
Busy. He is fled, he is fled, and dares not sit it out. Bri. What, has he made an escape! which way! follow, neighbour Haggise.
[Exeunt HAGGISE and WATCH.
Enter Dame PURECRAFT.
Pure. O me, in the stocks! have the wicked prevail'd? Busy. Peace, religious sister, it is my calling, comfort yourself; an extraordinary calling, and done for my better standing, my surer standing, hereafter.
[Rabbi Busy, unexpectedly delivered from the stocks, blunders into a booth where Mr. Littlewit's Interlude of Hero and Leander is being played. On this occasion also he displays his zeal, which is subdued by arguments.]
Rabbi Busy rushes in.
Busy. Down with Dagon! down with Dagon! 'tis I, I will no longer endure your profanations.
Leath. What mean you, sir?
Busy. I will remove Dagon there, I say, that idol, that heathenish idol, that remains, as I may say, a beam, a very beam,-not a beam of the sun, nor a beam of the moon, nor the beam of a balance, neither a house-beam, nor a weaver's beam, but a beam in the eye, in the eye of the brethren; a very great beam, an exceeding great beam; such as are your stage-players, rimers, and morrice-dancers, who have walked hand in hand, in contempt of the brethren, and the cause; and been born out by instruments of no mean countenance.
Leath. Sir, I present nothing but what is licensed by authority.
Busy. Thou art all license, even licentiousness itself, Shimei !
Leath. I have the master of the revels' hand for't, sir. Busy. The master of the rebels' hand thou hast. Satan's hold thy peace, thy scurrility, shut up thy mouth, thy profession is damnable, and in pleading for
it thou dost plead for Baal. I have long opened my mouth wide, and gaped; I have gaped as the oyster for the tide, after thy destruction: but cannot compass it by suit or dispute; so that I look for a bickering, ere long, and then a battle.
Knock. Good Banbury vapours!
Cokes. Friend, you'd have an ill match on't, if you bicker with him here; though he be no man of the fist, he has friends that will to cuffs for him. Numps, will not you take our side?
Edg. Sir, it shall not need; in my mind he offers him a fairer course, to end it by disputation: hast thou nothing to say for thyself, in defence of thy quality ?
Leath. Faith, sir, I am not well-studied in these controversies, between the hypocrites and us. But here's one of my motion, puppet Dionysius, shall undertake him, and I'll venture the cause on't.
Cokes. Who, my hobby-horse! will he dispute with him?
Leath. Yes, sir, and make a hobby-ass of him, I hope. Cokes. That's excellent! indeed he looks like the best scholar of them all. Come, sir, you must be as good as our word now.
Busy. I will not fear to make my spirit and gifts known: assist me zeal, fill me, fill me, that is, make me full !
Winw. What a desperate, profane wretch is this! is there any ignorance or impudence like his, to call his zeal to fill him against a puppet?
Quar. I know no fitter match than a puppet to commit with an hypocrite! calling.
Busy. First, I say unto thee, idol, thou hast no Dion. You lie, I am call'd Dionysius.
Leath. The motion says, you lie, he is call'd Dionysius in the matter, and to that calling he answers.
Busy. I mean no vocation, idol, no present lawful calling.
Dion. Is yours a lawful calling?
Leath. The motion asketh, if yours be a lawful calling. Busy. Yes, mine is of the spirit.
Dion. Then idol is a lawful calling.
Leath. He says, then idol is a lawful calling; for you call'd him idol, and your calling is of the spirit.
Cokes. Well disputed, hobby-horse.
Busy. Take not part with the wicked, young gallant: he neigheth and hinnieth; all is but hinnying sophistry. I call him idol again; yet, I say, his calling, his profession is profane, it is profane, idol.
Dion. It is not profane.
Leath. It is not profane, he says.
Busy. It is profane.
Dion. It is not profane.
Leath. Well said, confute him with Not, still. You cannot bear him down with your base noise, sir.
Busy. Nor he me, with his treble creeking, though he creek like the chariot wheels of Satan; I am zealous for the cause
Leath. As a dog for a bone.
Busy. And I say, it is profane, as being the page of Pride, and the waiting-woman of Vanity.
Dion. Yea! what say you to your tire-women, then? Leath. Good.
Dion. Or feather-makers in the Friers, that are of your faction of faith? are not they with their perukes, and their puffs, their fans, and their huffs, as much pages of Pride, and waiters upon Vanity? What say you, what say you, what say you?
Busy. I will not answer for them.