THE

GUARDIAN;

A

COMEDIE.

Acted before

Prince CHARLS

His HIGHNESS

At Trinity-Colledg in Cambridge, upon the twelfth of March, 1641.

Written by
ABRAHAM COWLEY.

LONDON,

Printed for JOHN HOLDEN at the
Anchor in the New-Exchange,

The Actors Names.

Aptain Blade the Guardian.

Old Truman, a teasty old man.

Young Truman his Son, in love with Lucia.

Col Cutter a sharking Souldier

Dogrel a sharking Poëtaster

Lodgers at the Widows house.

Puny a young Gallant, a pretender to wit.

Lucia Neece and Ward to Captain Blade, in love with young

Truman.

Aurelia daughter to Blade.

Widow, [an] old Puritan, Landlady to Colonel Cutter and Dogrel. Tabytha her Daughter.

Jaylors, Servants, and Fidlers.

The Scene London.

Ho

The

PROLOGUE.

Who says the Times do Learning disallow?

['Tis false; 'twas never honour'd so as now When you appear, great Prince, our night is done: You are our Morning-star, and shall b'our Sun. But our Scene's London now, and by the rout We perish if the Roundheads be about: For now no ornament the head must wear, No Bays, no Mitre, not so much as Hair. How can a Play pass safely, when we know, Cheapside-Cross falls for making but a show? Our onely hope is this, that it may be A Play may pass too, made ex tempore. Though other Arts poor and neglected grow, They'll admit Poetry, which was always so. Besides, the Muses of late times have bin Sanctifi'd by the Verse of Master Prin.

But we contemn the fury of these days,

And scorn as much their Censure as their Praise.
Our Muse, blest Prince, does onely on you relie;
Would gladly live, yet not refuse to die.
Accept our hastie zeal; a thing that's play'd
Ere 'tis a Play, and acted ere 'tis made.
Our Ignorance, but our Duty too, we show:
I would all ignorant people would do so.
At other times, expect our Wit and Art;
This Comedy is acted by the Heart.

Cutter.

Widow, Tabytha, Colonel Cutter, Dogrel.

Rithee widow be not incens'd, we'll shew our selves like yong Lords shortly; and you know, I Hope, they use to pay their debts.

Wid. I, you talk of great matters, I wis, but I'm sure I could never see a groat yet of your money.

Dog. Alas, we carry no silver about us,

That were mechanical and base;

Gold we about us bring:

Gold, thou art mighty in each place,

Of Metals Prince and King.

Why I tell you my pockets have not been guilty of any small money in my remembrance.

Wid. I know not, but all things are grown dear of late; our Beef costs three shillings a stone, and the price of corn is rais'd too.

Taby. Nay, mother, coals are rais'd too, they say. These things you think cost nothing.

Dog. Nay, Tabytha, Mistress Tabytha! ifaithlaw now I'll make a Psalm for you, and be but peaceable.

Contain thy tongue, and keep it in
Within thy mouths large prison.

Both jars, and also many a sin

From out the mouth has risen.

I'm onely for Odes, by the Muses, and the quickest for them,

I think, in the Christian world, take in Turks, Infidels, Jews and all.