Now just as the Porter came to his own Door, The Miser awak'd, and loudly did roar; The honest poor Porter was frighten'd, alack! Supposing that he had Old Nick at his back: _But it was the wretched Old Miser, alas!_ _Who was fed with Pig, but he paid for the Sawce_. The Wife she was frighten'd this Wretch to behold, The Miser stark-mad for his Silver and Gold; But all was in vain, tho' he search'd _Smithfield_ round, The Lady of Pleasure was not to be found: _Thus of an Old Miser she made a meer Ass_, _She gave him roast Pig, but he paid for his Sawce_. [Footnote 132: Swaggering.] [Footnote 133: Had been collecting money.] [77.] In the Country where the Queenes Plaiers were accepted into a Gentleman's house, the waggon unloading of the apparell, the Wagoner comes to _Tarlton_ & doth desire him to speake to the Steward for his horses. I will saies he: & comming to the Steward, Sir, saies _Tarlton_, where shall our horses spend the time? The Gentleman looking at _Tarlton_ at that question, suddenly answered, If it please you, or them, let them walke a turne or two, or there is a faire garden, let them play a game or two at bowles in the Alley: and departs thence about his other businesse. _Tarlton_ commending the sudden wit of the Steward, saith little. But my Steward, not quiet, tels to the Gentlewomen above, how he had driven _Tarlton_ to a _non plus_ with a jest, whereat they all did laugh heartily: which a Serving man loving _Tarlton_ well, ranne and told him as much. _Tarlton_, to adde fuell to the fire, and loth to rest thus put off with a jest, goes away and gets two of the horses into the Garden, & turnes them into the bowling Alley, who with their heeles made havocke: being the Gentleman's only pastime. The Ladies above from a window, seeing horses in the Garden Alley call the Knight, who cries out to _Tarlton_, Fellow, what meanest thou? Nothing, Sir, saies he, but two of my horses are at seven up, for a peck of Provender; a foolish match that I made. Now they being in play at bowles, run, run, your Steward may come after and cry rub, rub: at which, though they smiled, yet the Steward had no thankes for his labour, to set the horses to such an exercise, & they could not blame _Tarlton_, who did but as he was bidden. But by this Jest, oates and hay, stable room and all, was plenty. Fast bind, fast find: my Bible was well bound; [81.] A Thiefe came fast, and loose my Bible found: Was't bound and loose at once? how can that be? 'Twas loose for him, although 'twas bound for me. [78.] One sayd a prodigall was like a brush that spent it self to make others goe handsome in their Cloathes.