_The._ Ye are too noble; A wonder here my Lord, that dare be honest, When all men hold it vitious: I shall deliver it, And with it your most noble love. Your servant. [_Ex._ Bur. Were there but two more such at Court, 'twere Sainted, This will buy Brawn this Christmas yet, and Muscadine. [_Ex._ SCENE V. _Enter Ancient, crying Brooms, and after him severally, four Souldiers, crying other things._ Boroskie _and Gent, over the Stage observing them_. I. SONG. Anc. _Broom, Broom, the bonnie Broom, Come buy my Birchen Broom, I'th' Wars we have no more room, Buy all my bonnie Broom, For a kiss take two; If those will not do, For a little, little pleasure, Take all my whole treasure: If all these will not do't, Take the Broom-man to boot. Broom, Broom, the bonnie Broom._ II. SONG. 1 Soul. _The Wars are done and gone, And Souldiers now neglected, Pedlers are, Come Maidens, come alone, For I can show you handsome, handsome ware; Powders for, for the head, And drinks for your bed, To make ye blith and bonney. As well in the night we Souldiers can fight, And please a young wench as any._ 2 Soul. _I have fine Potato's, Ripe Potato's._ III. SONG. 3 Soul. _Will ye buy any Honesty, come away, I sell it openly by day, I bring no forced light, nor no Candle To cozen ye; come buy and handle: This will shew the great man good, The Tradesman where he swears and lyes, Each Lady of a noble bloud, The City dame to rule her eyes: Ye are rich men now: come buy, and then I'le make ye richer, honest men._ IV. SONG. 4 Sol. _Have ye any crackt maiden-heads, to new leach or mend? Have ye any old maiden-heads to sell or to change? Bring 'em to me with a little pretty gin, I'le clout 'em, I'le mend 'em, I'le knock in a pin, Shall make 'em as good maids agen, As ever they have been._ _Bor._ What means all this, why do y'sell Brooms _Ancient_? Is it in wantonness, or want? _An._ The only reason is, To sweep your Lordships conscience: here's one for the nonce. Gape Sir, you have swallowed many a goodlier matter-- The only casting for a crazie conscience. _3 Sol._ Will your Lordship buy any honestie? 'twill be worth your mony. _B[o]r._ How is this? _3 Sol._ Honestie my Lord, 'tis here in a quill. _An._ Take heed you open it not, for 'tis so subtle, The least puffe of wind will blow it out o'th' Kingdom. _2 Sol._ Will your Lordship please to taste a fine Potato? 'Twill advance your wither'd state. _Anc._ Fill your honour full of most noble itches, And make Jack dance in your Lordships breeches.