becauſe you can doe nothing elſe. Thirdly you mightily diſreliſh the audience, and diſgrace the author: marry, you take up (though it be at the worſt hand) a ſtrong opinion of your owne judgement, and inforce the poet to take pity of your weakeneſſe, and by ſome dedicated ſonnet to bring you into a better paradice, onely to ſtop your mouth.
If you can (either for love or money) provide yourſelfe a lodging by the water ſide: for above the conveniencie it brings to ſhun ſhoulder-clapping, and to ſhip away your cockatrice betimes in the morning, it addes a kind of ſtate unto you, to be carried from thence to the ſtaires of your play-houſe: hate a ſculler (remember that) worſe then to be acquainted with one ath’ ſcullery. No, your oares are your onely ſea-crabs, boord them, and take heed you never go twice together with one paire: often ſhifting is a great credit to gentlemen: and that dividing of your fare wil make the poore waterſnaks be ready to pul you in peeces to enjoy your cuſtome. No matter whether upon landing you have money or no; you may ſwim in twentie of their boates over the river upon ticket: mary, when ſilver comes in, remember to pay trebble their fare, and it will make your flounder-catchers to ſend more thankes after you, when you doe not draw, then when you doe: for they know, it will be their owne another daie.
Before the play begins, fall to cardes; you may win or looſe (as fencers doe in a prize) and beate one another by confederacie, yet ſhare the money when you meete at ſupper: notwithſtanding, to gul the ragga-muffins that ſtand a loofe gaping at you, throw the cards (having firſt torne foure or five of them) round about the ſtage, juſt upon the third ſound, as though you had loſt: it ſkils not if the foure knaves ly on their backs, and outface the audience, there’s none ſuch fooles as dare take exceptions at them, becauſe ere the play go off, better knaves than they, will fall into the company.
Now, Sir, if the writer be a fellow that hath either epigram’d you, or hath had a flirt at your miſtris, or hath brought either your feather, or your red beard, or your little legs, &c. on the ſtage, you ſhall diſgrace him worſe then by toſſing him in a blanket, or giving him the baſtinado in a taverne, if in the middle of his play, (bee it paſtorall or comedy, morall or tragedic) you riſe with a ſkreud and diſcontented face from your ſtoole to be gone: no matter whether the ſcenes be good or no; the better they are, the
