THE Case is Altered How Aske Dalio and Millo LONDON Imprinted by T. C. for Iohn Smethicke and are to be sold at his Shop in S. Dunstons Church-yard in Fleet-street 1604. TO MY VERY kinde and approoued friende D. R. F. R. wisheth a comâ—orts that Fortune in her best Cases bestoweth on the kindest Natures and a further ioy in the heart than Fortune hath in her handes SYr your long Experience in the varietie of Cases hath made me send you these fewe merâ—y pittifull Cases In which if your leisure be to reade your iudgement is sufficient to discerne the cause of their gathering together and setting down as you see the best is they are no such vnreasonable Cases but they may be pleaded with pleasure in the priuate conference of conceit and patience Some are longer then other all are free from the thought of malice But lest I speake any thing in their praises knowing nothing woâ—th any thing I will leaue them to your kindnes to consider of and my loue to your farther commaundement And so fearing lest through want of meanes to expresse my affection I should in the suspition of obliuion bury the great heape of your vndeserued fauouâ—s intreating your patient acceptation of this till a better be made readie in a pittifull Case of discontentment that I haue not a better present for your kindnes wishing your worthines the comfort of all happines I rest in the midst of al my Cases and in what Case soeuer to my vttermost power Yours as mine owne F. T. To the Reader GEntle Reader I pray God I do not flatter you for if you should proue either vnwise or vnkinde I should call in my Title So it is that hauing nothing to do I set my selfe on work about a litle better matter to write downe certain Cases neuer pleaded but only discoursed vpon by a couple of idle people the matters handled are of no great moment therfore scarce worth the reading but yet if you peruse them all ouer no doubt but some of them wil please you if any of them do otherwise I am sory I knowe not your humour but if you finde your selfe touched with any euil rather mend the fault in your selfe then finde fault with me In brief I only write vpon Cases neither kniue Cases Pinne Cases nor Candle Cases but onely a fewe merry pittiful Cases In which if I haue lost time I am sory for my labour If I haue lost my labour I am sory for my time but if I haue gained your good will all is not lost and I thanke you but because I know not where to come to you to tell you so I leaue you to reade and like what you list and to thinke of me as you haue cause and so in good will I rest Your friend F. T. The Case is altred How Aske Dalio and Milâ—o DALIO MILLO Good morrow Millo And a thousand to thée honest Dalio but whither plod you so sadly Dal. I was walking towardes your house and finding your wife abroad I hoped y e better to haue you quiet at home Mil. You say well Is it not a pittifull Case that a mans house that should bée his castle and his wise his comfort should through the vnquietnesse of her indiscretion become more terrible to him then a towne of Warre Dal. I must confesse it is too true I haue pittied you often but could neuer doe you good and he that could iudge what I see and you â—eele would confesse it were a pittifull Case indâ—d God helpe you Mill. I thanke you for I thinke that the noyse of a volley of shot is not comparable to the roaring mouth of an â—nquiet woman which since it will not be mended it must be borne so forth But I pray you tel me how doth your eldâ—st sonne followeth he his olde courses will no good couâ—sell bring him home againe Dal Oh no Neighbour I may sigh to â—are men sâ—y that yonder is an honest man yet hath a sonne able to breake the heart of his father Oh it is a pittifull Case that a man should 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 care all the dâ—yes of his life to lay vp wealth to 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 sonnâ— that shall spend it before he were ready to part with 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 he could 〈◊〉 to be a childe be sicke of the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 vpon his death be glad of his sicknesse 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 â— continuing in an euill course scorne 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the Lawe he growes so 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in his 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 he be 〈◊〉 of all good compa◠〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to his fathers hear◠〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of 〈◊〉 the 〈◊〉 of punishment the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 loue of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 him to good 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to 〈◊〉 him so past graâ— that there 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 nature is of such fâ—ce that 〈◊〉 canno◠〈◊〉 his owne childe what shall I say to it Dal. Why as you sayd to me let me say to you a pittifull Case a pittifull Case for t is â—o lesse Ascolding wife and a stubburne childe are two pittifull Cases for patience to plead 〈◊〉 But what is become oâ— my neighbours 〈◊〉 daughter 〈◊〉 Alas the day there is a pittifull Case indéed if you 〈◊〉 of a Case to be 〈◊〉 A â—ong wench a faire wench a 〈◊〉 wench a pretty wench a 〈◊〉 wench a gallant wench a proper wench a wife wench an honest wench a 〈◊〉 wench a 〈◊〉 wench that could speake well and 〈◊〉 well 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 pl◠〈◊〉 〈◊〉 wâ—ll â—nd do 〈◊〉 thing 〈◊〉 to be 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 I say cast 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that loues nothing but 〈◊〉 meate 〈◊〉 can 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 upon gay 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 all for a 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to be 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the should 〈◊〉 I would reele 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a liuing before I would bring her to her death by such a miserie 〈◊〉 You say well so I thinke should I but t is a pittifull Case and so let it be And since we are entred into these matters let me aske you a question I pray you what heare you of your Nephew and his marriage Dal. You do wel to put me in 〈◊〉 of him for in tâ—th I pitty him a yong man a handsome man a wise man an honest maÌ„ a kinde man a carefull man giuen to thriue like to do well comming on well in y e world to bestow the pâ—me of his years the hope of his fortune and the fruite of his trauaile vpon the figure of deformitie the discomfort of continuance the crosse of pleasure the misery of time all for a little canâ—kred coyne which may hap to be short of his reckoning he may leaue ere he be aware would it not fret a man to thinke on it 〈◊〉 a man to see it pitty him that he cannot helpe 〈◊〉 when his youth is drowned in her age his wit in her wilfulnes
nature but let them burne that will needes leape into the fire in one sense I meane in Charitie I could pittie their misery but truly I cannot but laugh at there folly that in so seeking to make gold of leade put them selues cleans cut of siluer But let vs leaue these long Cases and in briefe answere me to such Cases as I will put you Mill. As I can I will Dal Well then first tel me your opinion in this Is it not a pittifull Case to see a proper man without mony Mill. It is Dal. And to see a faire woman without wit Mill. No lesse Dal. And an old man leacherous Mill Alas poore man Dal And a yong man vitious Mill He will be sped Dal. And a rich man couetous Mill. T is pitty that he hath so much Dall And a whore vndoe an honest man Mill Fie vpon her there are too many of them Dal. And a foole in Authoritie Mill. Woe be to that gouernment Dal. And a begger an horsebacke Mill. Let him ride like a Rascall Dal. And a gentleman on soote Mill. I would he had my horse Dal. And a â—onky kisse a woman Mill. I â—auoured vrâ—hin Dal. And a dogge 〈◊〉 a man Mill. â—ang him Curre Dal. And a â—orse 〈◊〉 his Rider Mill. 〈◊〉 fortune Dal. And a â—enne Câ—ow troden Mill. Cut her throaâ—e Dal. And a Fore kill a â—ambe Mill. Set dogges vpon him Dal. And a woman beat her husband Mill. Let his neighbour ride Dal And a poore man arrested Mill. God helpe him Dal. And a villaine rich Mill. Beware a mischiefe Dal. And a Louer deceiued Mill. â—oo common Dal. And a deceiuer beloued Mill. Oh pittifull Dal. And a good tale ill told Mill. â—acke oâ— wit Dal. And a lie 〈◊〉 Mill. Fie on flaâ—tery Dal. And loue abused Mill. Ill nature Dal. And abuse fauoured Mill. Ill iudgement Dal. And warre 〈◊〉 Mill. â—is dang rouâ— Dal. And peace 〈◊〉 Mill. T is impious Dal. And a Souldier begge Mil. It is grieuous Dal. And a Pudding burne Mil. No it skils not T is a thing of nothing Dal. And a Goose goe bare-foote Mil. It is naturall Dal. And a woman wéepe Mil. It is ordinary Dal. And an Asse loaded Mil. Hee serues for it Dal. And an Ape cloathed Mil. T is the Bearwards gaine Dal. And a Grey-hound spurned Mil. A churlish nature Dal. And a Masâ—iffe stroked Mil. The Clownes iewell Dal. And a Tree fruitâ—esse Mil. Cut it downe Dal. And a friend faithlesse Mil. Trust him not Dal. And a worke-man lazie Mil. Pay him not Dal. And a seruant idle Mil â—eepe him not Dal. And a Wife gracelesse Mil. Loue her not Dal. You answere briefly but not directly to my propositions I aske you if al these be not pittifull Cases Mil. No some are and some are not Dal. Which are not Mil. Why a bare foote Goose for she can weare no shoes but she would leaue them in the water and a weeping woman when she cryeth for curst heart and a bearing Asse for hee is good for nothing els â— an Ape in his coate for he makes sport for fooles These and a number more of this nature I thinke neede not greatly to be pittied for others you may iudge my minde by mine answeres Dal. You say well yet let the Goose alone to féed with the Gander but to the woman I thinke when she weepes she cryes not and then a kinde heart will pittie her and to loade an Asse too much may breake his backe and to cloathe an Ape too richly is cost ill bestowed and therefore some way there is none of these things but are to be pittied Mil. I holde with you but let vs leaue this short chepping of Cases a little speake of a Case too pittifull to be spoken of if it could be helped Say that I should marry your daughter being a widow and being possessed of preâ—ty lands of her owne inheritance by her mother who you lately buried and hauing liued with my said wife some fewe yeares in loue and kindesse till she be forced to walke the way of all flesh and then she hauing a daughter heire to hâ—r sayde lands liuing with some of her friends farre fâ—oÌ„ her I knowing this daughter true heire to these lands do against my conscience passe away this land vnto a man of wealth who if it euer come in question can follow the Law with a good Purse the Heire comes to claime her right I am dead he that hath bought it keepes her from it and the Lawe findes meanes to keepe her from it Is not this a pittifull Case Dal. Yes and pitty but it should be better pleaâ—ed that the Heire might haue her right and the oppressor either be punished or put to pay for it Mil. Well sayd then let me tell you this If a Rogue cut a Purse and put it in my pocket I be demaunded the Purse and knowing my selfe cleare from the thought of such a villainie do in furie deny it 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 thâ— Purse is â—ound about me I apprehended for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 except the thief come to cleare me am like to hang for it Is not this a pittifull Case Dal. Oh Lord who would â—ot thinke so And to answere you if a fiâ—thy whore be gâ—tten 〈◊〉 childe by a rascall â—naue be counsailed by her 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the 〈◊〉 vpon me if she will 〈◊〉 atâ— though she sor 〈◊〉 it 〈◊〉 as mine I must be at thâ— charg◠〈◊〉 keeping of it and suffâ—r I 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 what trouble for it to my great discredite and almost vndoing Is not this a pittifull Case Dal. Yes in truth and grieuous but to quite you Say that you are a poore man and simply honest I like a Gallant come riding on the high way vpon a horse that I haue stolne but a little before and am pursued for I seeme to light to vntrusse a poynt and knowing the Countrey deliuer you my horse to leade on a little on the way and giue you a small piece of money for your paines promissing to come presently backe vnto you when I wake away through a Wood to a Ferry and so shift away and leaue you you are taken with the horse if the Countrey be not the better vnto you you must hang for your kindnesse Is not this a pittifull Case Mil. A miserable Case but leaning hanging Cases let me aske your opinion touching some fewe Cases that come suddenly into my minde Dal. With all my heart and I will deliuer you my iudgement what I thinke of them Mil Then say this To giue white-bread to a dogge and browne to a man Is it not a pittifull Case Dal. It is and it is not Mil. How so Dal. It is pittifull in respect of y e bread that was ordained rather for meÌ„ than dogs but of the gift no pitty for it is better to make much of a profitable dog then an vnprofitable man Mil. Well then is it not pittie to sée a wise man
wry mouthed botle-nâ—sed 〈◊〉 legged palâ—ie handed stumpe footed wâ—y bodied 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 sâ—andering tongue foâ— stinking breathed who walked but vpon cruches read but with spectacles and spake with a waâ—ing nodding or a noddy head this ongly 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 rather abiâ—ct of nature the sorrow of â—outhes eâ—e sight the disprofit oâ— time thâ— hate of loue and the lamâ—ntation of hope such a man as is not in the world to be seene by very ill â—ortune vppon a faire day chanced to meete with a Tenants daughter of his whom hauing well viewed as his dumne sight would giuâ— him leaue giuing a nodde to her curtesie sent the next day for her to his house but the wench the day before hauing so much of his sight that she desiâ—ed neuer to see him more with bitter teares fell at her fathers feete and desired him to goe and know his pleasure and make excuse for her that she was not well but the next day she would come to him the poore man seeing his daughter change colour did yeelde to her request put on his best shooes a cleane band being but a litle way to his house through want of a horse went on foote when but a litle wetshod with slipping into a ditch he comes at last to the doore of this rich Clowne who being head Bailiffâ— to the chiefe Lord of the manner kept a house the best thatched of all his neighbours in the parish there being saluted by a couple of sowle curres not much vnlike their old maister being of his old acquaintance shewed him but their teeth then wagging their tailes did him no harme but let him there stay til this Chaps the old mezil â—earing his dogges and knowing their voices came out to heare whom they talked too and there seeing this poore man stand cappe in hand setting hunsclfe downe vpon a bench after a horse cough and a spalling spet or two begins to aske him for his daughter whose excuse being made he falls aboord with him for her to haue her for his seruant which he answering with an excuse that it could not be for she had taken earnest of a gentlewoman to waite on her in her chamber which he belieuing answered that he would do more â—or her then any gentlewoman of them all for he had no children and he would make her both his childe and his wife and therefore she should take no eare for seruice the poore man glad of this message went home merily to his daughter told her what good fortune was towards her for ioy sent for the other pot now thought to take no care for rent when his child should be his Landlady but the poore girle seeming to her father to be as ioyfull as he when her father was gone to his daies worke in the morning tooke an old sacke in which she put vp all her cloathes that she had and away goes she to an Aunt she had ten miles of and there with howling and crying that her father ment to marrie her to the diuel intreated her to put her to seruice â—r she had rather wash â—uckes all daies of her life then be matched with such a monster Oh Aunt euery body saies that he kild his last wife with kindnes and I thinke he would do as much with me Oh t is a venome man as liues and truly Aunt it is such an ilfauoured man and he hath such a breath It is a beastly creature besides the house that he dwells in he hath but his life in but if he had all the world and as much good as would lie in all your house I would not haue him I had rather begge my bread Her Aunt séeing the honest heart of the poore wench and knowing that she could set a seame together and handlâ— her needle prettily for a plaine hemme could tell how to eate a peece of meate howeuer she could dresse it spake to a gentlewoman neere vnto her to take her into her seruice droue a bargaine for her wages brought her to her and placed her with her where she behaued her selfe well and was well thought on and there I leaue her Now home comes her father misseth his daughter runnes to his Landlord thinking to finde her there the micher thinkes he is mockte he falles out with his Tenant warnes him out of his house the poore man goes home weeping his wife with her hands wringing entertaines him with a scolding railing vpon him cursing her Landlord and sweares she will haue her home hang him dogge he shall not be the death of her daughter she will not dwel in his house she will haue her childe out of his house or she will beats downe his doores and is as good as her word the next morning with an open mouth goes to his doores where lowdâ— then both his Mastiffes shée maketh an outâ—ry for her childe The man knowing her to be an vnreasonable woman entreats her to be quiet sweares by the crosse of his Crutch that he knowes not whither she is gone and with much adoe to pacifie her gettes himselfe ridde of her when comming home and not finding her deare daughter she falls into such an agony that a horse would not abide it when the poore man with griefe takes such thought that he can eate no meat and she weary almost out of breath with scolding goes to bed for anger and the old man with sorrow to loose his loue and to see her parents misery after a fit of the stone with a stitch of the Chollick being griped at y e heart fearing to leaue the world sendes for his Tenant forgiues him his rent giues his house to his daughter if she be found againe and so bestowing among the poore of the Parish some litle matter not worth the speaking of hauing made al means he could and by her parents good care and trauaile found out and brought vnto him some houre before his death gaue her in an olde foule Handkercheffe that which payde for more then the washing of two faire Smockes and so causing the great Bell to be towlde after a hollow hemme or two euen for Loue because he could liue no longer dyed And is not this of a long Case a pittifull Case Mil Yes if it were true but surely t is a iest there was â—euer such a man nor such a matter Dal. Well then say it were a iest was it not a pittifull iest Mil. If there were any pittie it was in that hée liued so long But now after your long Case let me come to you with a short Case Is it not pittie to see a faire house without Inhabitants Dal. It is and it is not Mil. How so Dal. It is in respect of good Hospitalitie a pittie but rather then be either a denne of Theeues or a Brothell of Whores it were better stand voyd and so it is no pitty Mil. Well then but is it not a pitity to sée a purse without money Dal. In respect of