SCEN. I.

Drink goes down, Midwife, Run, sport's begun, all undone.

For Prince Phillip, or Prince Nicholas, if you had but said the word, would have marri'd you while one can say what's this?

Oh, but Lady None-so-fair, look ye, d'e see, Glo [...]y will make them come, and bring it to us with a why not:

O lo! O lo! Costard, who dost thou think is come hither—now?—

Psshaw waw; who but Princess None sofair our Land­lord King Andrews youngest Daughter—

Twittle Twattle, what if she be? what have we to do With state business—perhaps she's run away Incognito with her Fathers consent—

Now she's here, the short and the long on't is, we must chuse Her Lady of May.—

Yes by my Fay—And we'l have a Masque, and Crouder shall be Pan, and he must sing in resitantivy;

Hold thy tongue, Wilta? Lord to bless us; what rowly powly, all fellows at Foot-ball? The Symphony; No, Symphony must be a woundy cranck, short, tall, squat vellow with rusty Musick; and he must cry like a Bird: and then we must have An Eccho——

Oh! there's an Eccho down at hollow Banck I'le call it Presently.—

Why look thee: One must be Voice, and another must be Air, and another must be Rock; then voice must talk Soundly to Air, and beat her against Rock; and Rock must Beat her back again; and then Air must cry out, and scold With Voice, and that's Eccho—Let me alone for Plot; If you will but work up the Sense and Passion, as they say; Go, and let every Mothers Child about it, and I'le entertain Princess None-so-fair the while.—Yonder she comes.

—What Crouding's this I hear, prepare.

An entertainment which our head Hinds do for you prepare.

she fibs, they do't once a year, whether your at home or here.

So, so, well done, well done all; Ha, ha, ha, it makes my heart leap in my Belly for joy—homely Countrey sport, Now could I weep for pure hearts ease, to see how towardly they are; and how my good man Costard looks so sprunt I warrant ye. Chorus, Symphonie, Pan; stand to your Fittles, can you be merry sweet Princess? Eccho; where's Eccho, Rock, Ayr, Voice? Oh dull, dull!

It may be sweet Princes. You like not this Solemn Musick, Faddle Fiddle, hey down Diddle,—I value not my self upon the Wit, but the fitness of the words; for Air and Melody.

I have skill though I say't, that shud'nt, as they say for the Iews Trump-Citizen, and Trump-Marine, I'le turn my back to none, though some have been bred up many years to't; I my self chalk'd out the way to the Tune-Maker: I know I have many Foes, that say I make not what I own, but mum for that: This Rare Opera is all mine I'le swear; but for the Dress and Trim, give the Divel his due, I am beholding to the most Serene and clear Monsieur Stephen, the Kings Corn-cutter, and so you are all, for he put me upon't.

See where she is, Oh! Missy y'are a Fine Princess to run away from your Friends so.—

You put your Father, King Andrew into a fine twit­ter twatter.

I wonder what Princely virtues you can see in her i'faggs.

Look Prince Nick, chil wager a Groat there's zome­thing at the end of thick leg,—there's your Anchovies.

Here, here, here's your generous wide Nostrils, you may see my Brains work through e'm when I'm in passion.

Oh Prince Nick, ch'ad lever ha one o'th theze then a Cow, o'Ten groats.—Con ye milk a dreelegg'd [Page 15] Stool? live vive Months upon the droppings of your Nose? and lye with no body but your own Husbands?

Then give me your hands,—good buy to ye with all my heart—

SCENE I.

SOn Bruin mind your hits, I say mind your hits; this young cold Harlottry None-so-fair, must be sous'd, and touz'd do'e mark me; she must be tumbl'd and jumbl'd; she must I say it, or else the Noble Science of Wenching will grow obsolete, and all our Famous Function may starve; for after that, who will pity poor decay'd old Gentlewomen that carry Letters? or suffer Pours, Points, Paint, or Patches, to be brought to their Chambers? And you of the Illustrious Society of Pimping, may hang if you have Courage enough to deserve it; or dye in holes like poyson'd Ratts; You will be shouted through the Street, like strange Dogs with horns at their tails, pump'd and baited like Spirits that steal children; every Cuckold will have a snap at your Car­kasses.

Then one comfort will be that our miseries will be short liv'd, for those Beasts you talk of swarm so thick, that 't will be impossible to pass one Street without being wor­ried to death. Every publick Assembly looks like a Picture of the Creation before man was made, fill'd up with variety of Creatures, that show all Horns and Tails.

'Tis for our honour, know that I will revive the Sect of Adamites, renew the Family of Love, and make the slavery of Marriage so out of fashion, that a Man and Wife shall be show'd about, and wondred at as much as an Herma­phrodite, an entire Egyptian Mummy, or a Cat with two tails.

I know Mother your Interest with the Gentry is great, there is hardly a Noble Family, where one of your Order, does not lye hid under the shape of a Couzen, House­keeper, Wayting Women, Chamber-Maid, or the like.—

That I learn't from my Brother on the other side of the water: whose Emissaries are all disguis'd, his precepts [Page 19] and mine agree in most circumstances. We had rather allow 20 Whores then one wife to those of our order; I will bring up here that old Scotch Custom, that every Lord of the Manour shall have the first nights dalliance with the Bodies of all his Vassals.

That will assure you the hearts of all the great Ones, and keep the others from Marriage, so your business is done.

I dare not; she is King Andrews best beloved daugh­ter.

Were she the skin between her brows, I'denot spare her; do't or forswear thy Office.—

That I could easily do, for 'tis not now worth keep­ing, if there's any new piece worth Money, a Father, Bro­ther, or some Relation, Usurps our office, and reaps the profit.

'Tis too true, and 'tis unconscionable, that Chri­stians should turn Canibals, and feed upon their own flesh and blood, my case is even as bad too; I that have spent my Youth to gain experience, must in my Age be Nos'd, and have my Bread taken from my Teeth, by every Black brow'd Baggage, that leaps into the publick Practice of procuring, e'r they know the mystery of jilting; nay too often learn both together.

In the City they dare not use two Trades at once; but in the Suburbs they may do any thing.—

Your Midwife, who is related to our Craft, as a Phisician is to a Mountebank; for we make work for them to finish, though we Lay six to their one, suffers none to profess their Art till they have been Deputies seven years.—Well, things and things must be mended; but first to the point, King Andrews three Daughters are coming to the wishing Chair: the two elder are mad for Husbands, their business is done to our hands.—

Quite contrary; for if they Marry they'l renounce you.

No! Though ordinary people that pretend not to the modish, Marry to live sullen, that is, chast. Others know [Page 20] better things; your Gentleman stands now as much for the priviledge of keeping a Miss after Marriage, as a Woman with a Portion does for a Joynture: Ay! and inserts it in­to that Covenant.—Make us thankful, we live in a loving Age,—but to the point—None-so-fair, by my means is resolved to wish the White Bear of Norwich to be her Hus­band; thinking, which is indeed true, that there is no such thing, though we have frighted silly people into that belief, to cheat them the better.

Oh! now I find your meaning, that White Bear I will be; and the King being possest with a Reverence to our Juggling wishing Chair; shall himself bring her to my Arms.—

Very good; but least she should be stubborn, let Ieffery be ready to assist you in your pious design.

Why? should not the speech, of a Chair, do as much as Apollo's tripod, a Spirit in a Wall; or the eyes of Images moved with Wires: let all be Grave and Solemn, for that's the chief support of Counterfeit worship: and let your ex­pressions be in Greek, or any unpractis'd canting Gibberish.

This Musick tells their approach, let's dispatch and attend them in.—

The Priests how, and mutter to the Chair; then turn to the People.

They all lay down their Money, Swords, &c. which the Priests gather up.

—Iames Naylor, Pope Ioan, Wat. Tyler, Mall. Cut­purs, Chocorelly.

—Massaniello, Mosely, Iack-straw, Iantredisco, Pim­ponelli.

—Hocus-pocus, Don-Quixot, Iack Adams, Mary Ambry, Frier Bungy.

Carpentero, Paintero, Dancers, Musickera, Song­stero, Punchanelly.

Lippy, I could leap out of my skin for joy Mo­ther Woossut, a brave Beldam! she has keep'd her word.

Nothing vexes me, but that I must be Aunt to her litter of Cubs.—We shall have roaring Nephews.—

But if 'tis bad, then 'tis not good, we know what's what.

King be not cheated not cullied King; I'le be hang'd if there is not a live thing in the wishing Chairl, did n't you see how None-so-fair was tickl'd, did not she spin like a Top, and stand upon her head like a Juggler; 'tis a damn'd Son of a Whore Chair, and he lyes, and I am not satisfi'd.—

The wonders of our wishing Chair, prov'd by Mira­cle, and that shews the truth of the power of the wonder.

The Power is governed by the Order, which com­mands the Power and the Order, Rules the Beauty which governs the Order, which is found ty'd fast to the end of the Creation, in a long round Chain; and things, and things loose fast upon one another, I don't know howish, like bunches of Paper at a Kites tail, and so by a plain orderly method of Power and Order, and Order without Power, and Power without Order; and no Power, and no Order, and no Order, but a kind of Dis-orderly Powerful Order.

If Nature is less then Miracle, when Heaven uses Supernatural Miracle; the Gods declare their Power. less, bycause Miracle is greater then Nature;—But if the Gods make children, when Natures Instrument is out of tune: They use no Nature, because Nature without Nature; is not Nature, but Miracle Unnatural, miraculous Nature.

There's your Anchovies; Priest—'twas woundy well spoak, and zooe if this begranted; I he Gods can, but [Page 27] they wo'not; because they would, but they cannot, and they wo'nt, and they cannot, and they cannot, any they wo'nt, and zo.

What dost think, we be wild Irish; and will run away,

ACT II.
SCENE III. A Wilderness.

—Your sniv'ling melts me, so that I shall be quite dead before I dye.

Why should I speak so; the Chair told me, the bear would be kind to me, I'le shut my eyes, and think, A'tis some Gallant in Masquerade with Fur'd-Coat on, but then he can't cry like a discreet soft Counter, do'e know me now? no He'l roar [...]oh, ho, ho, and [...] oh like a Drunken Soldier at the Sack of a City.

O hoe! here she is—pluck up Heart, O Grace! here take my muckinder, and dry thy ey'n, cham the Blood, O'the Phillips! ne'r a Dog in the Village can zay, blacks mine eye; but in the way of love and honesty, and av'ore the Bear shall eat one bit o've thee.

Scene III.

The Walks are all gravell'd, and the Bower shall be prepar'd for the Bear and Nonsey.

Lets lustily swill, and while one is drinking, another should sill.

There's more need of drinking, drinking, then kis­sing by ods.

Brave Boys all, 'tis as well done as if I had chalk' out the way my self; and it had been doing 16 whole Months, by the excellent approved, great most Famous, Ingenious, Industrious, careful Society of More-fields; Well Geffery, what dost think of my Missy None-so-fair!

Think! Oh she's the delicat'st, but of Mans meat that e'r lips were laid to, or legs laid over; she's an Armfull for one of the Gods, for Iupiter himself in his Altitudes.

Why that's drunk as David's Sow, with Nector and Ambrosia, which is stout Mum, and Brandy; the Gods drink upon Holy-dayes, But Sir, is not None-so-fair a little soft childish, no wiser then she should be?

I thought thou hadst known better; all cunning A­morous Women, put on a modish seeming. Innocent Igno­rance, that they may have pleasure without loss of reputati­on, 'tis a modest way of wooing, and as pleasant to the hearers, as great lyes ingeniously made, and seriously told, [Page 33] for things that come nearest Truth; and are not so, are most taking.

Therefore, young Gallants are so much pleased with being like Gentlemen; and the total of all the praise, they would give a Friend, ends in.—Gad, in short he's much like a Gentleman; the Divel take me, much like a Gentleman?—

Ay! that is, he Swears, Drinks, Games, and Whores, which are no more the true accomplishments of a right Gentleman; then Huffing, and speaking loud Nonsence, are of the Gods, whatever our Friends, the Fopps, and the Poets, which are much like one another, say to the con­trary.—

Pox take that liquorish Rogue, he has been before­hand, he'l have a hand in every sack,—what did he say?

When he kiss'd her, she cry'd Oh laud! why do 'e kiss a body so, I'le tell my Father, so I will.—

Ay, and thrust out her lips as 'twere to push him a­way, when 'twas only to kiss closer?—

And when he talked a little,—I do'nt know howish, you know of that same,—she look'd so wistly, and Inno­cently in his face.

As Ignorant People do on one that speaks a Forreign Language.—

Ay, and repeated ev'ry strange word so harmlessly, and cry'd what's that now?

And was as curiously inquifitive, as if she were learn­ing a new stitch on her Sampler.—

Thou incorrigible Fool—If a Woman looks so, though in the Church; thou maist swear her thoughts are in the very Altitudes of Love—Her heart's drunk with it, and her eyes reel, and are dazl'd her dying Eyes, think thy self into an Amorous extasie, and I'le tell thee how thou lookst.

Now, now, now, there's your Religious, languishing; drunken, dying Eyes.

I'le swear 'tis very pretty, but why won't you ap­pear to her like a Gentleman?—

No, no, when she sees me in this invisible shape, like a Prince, she'l think I'm a God, and will make her a Lady. When love thus storms a Fort, and enters by force, he plunders freely, and imposes what conditions he will; but when he comes sneaking, and creeping like a Boy after a Butterfly, Ten to one but she flies off, and he falls into the next Ditch; for where love is in motion, like Water thrown on the ground: 'twill fall into the first hollow place it finds.

Oh what a bewitching sight is here, a finer place can't be seen in a Summers day.—Oh! my tother goodness, it looks like an Orange stuck with Cloves, or a Pudding full of Plums, as who should say, come eat me, 'tis the very Vir­giny Pepper of Nature, where the Spicy tast, of all Shows is bound up in one fine sight; was this made for a Slaughter-house, no, 'tis more like an Opera, then a Bear-Garden; 'tis as fine as to Day and to Morrow, sure 'tis the Countrey-house of some City God; I was brought hither above ground too, as if I had flown in the Air:—Oh happy Nonsey.—But stay, if the Gods should play the Jacks with me, and show me Roast-meat, to thurst the Spit in my Guts.—No, no, let no­thing [Page 35] trouble thee little Nonsy, th'are better bred; and scorn to be so base.—But if some fine God should come in a great Periwig, and red and green Ribbons, and swear he loved me like a Divel, and all that; there's your Anchovies, as Prince Phillip says.

Ah Laud Sirs, did you ever see the like? what have you done to me? well y'are a naughty Bear, I believe y'are a Witch; do virtuous Princess use to be so—Poor thing I was never so before, and I would do nothing mis-becoming the Rank, Quality of King Andrews-daughter—

Your hand bewitch'd me, but your eyes; Oh those Inchanting eyes! I never saw such eyes, nor felt such eyes; nor heard such eyes, nor understood such eyes, Oh those delicate! dear, long round, twinckling, pincking, glazing, leering, sneering Sheeps eyes of thine.

I am a great Prince, my Estate lyes in the new Utopia. I am chief commander of all the Padders, Jugglers, Priggers, Ditchers, Bulkers, and Pickpockets, to me all those merry Greeks pay Tribute, which shall come into thy Fob, all the beautious Doxies, Dells and Drabs, shall obey the back, and admire thy magnificence.

Thou shalt be both my pretty Romp in Luxury and Pomp, thy eyes shall watch; while thy ears are ravished, and all thy other Senses shall dance Bobbing-Ioan for joy, I'le keep thee in thy Hair, and thy Slippers; thou shalt eat like a Cameleon, and drink like a Flitter-mouse; thy House shall be made of one intire Sugar-Plum, out of which thou shalt every day eat thy passage like a lovely Viper out of his Dams Belly, thy Closet shall be furnished with Sun-beams, thy Cloaths shall be all Marmalade powdered with Caraways for spangles, thy Bed shall be made of a great Blue-Fig, and thy Curtains of Dyet-bread Paper, where thou shalt lye like the Lady in the Lobster 'till I come to dress thee with the Vinegar of love, and the Nutmeg of Luxury, thy Coach shall be of some fine new Trangam—which we'l study for—

Thou shalt have a Dog and a Parrot, and when th'are sick, thou shalt have a Physitian and a Surgean for them.

Then thou shalt mourn o're thy dear Cur, like a grave Person of quality; put thy woman in black, and con­vey it with a Train of Hakneys to the Sepulchre of his stink­ing Ancestor in Pomp and Luxury.—But my dear Bunting I tell thee one thing.

But Love, Honey, won't you let my Sisters visit me? truly they are not adopted Sisters, but of my true Royal Flesh and Blood; and I would fain show my Pride and Lux­ury. For Bravery without being seen, is like Iohn come kiss me without dancing, or a Bell without a Clapper, for it makes no noise.—

ACT III.
SCENE III.

And how, and how, do things and things fit? does she melt like Snow in his arms? and make the Rogue think, there's Fire in his bosom—does the little Vermine twine a­bout him like a tame Snake? and make her tongue seem forked with swift motion.

Why all these questions Friend, and ask'd with such envious curiosity, because you made the first discovery, you thought, the Natives would truck with no other.—Y'are out; you only touch'd upon the Coast, he has fail'd up the River; discovered the In-land,—planted a Colony; and settl'd the Trade of Furs.—

Oh Rogue! 'tis a dainty spot of Ground, Woods, Rivers, Mountains, over which is plac'd a Sky always serene and clear.

I shall ne'r forget, the pretty skittish thing did so snach away my kisses, and throw them back again with such a furious kind Scorn.—Pray let me go now, won't you? and then imbrac'd me so fiercely, as if she had wish'd, the Divel take me if I did.—Ah! she pressed, like fresh Curds newly put into the Cheese-frame.—Oh Ieffry! Ieffry!

Oh Friend! Friend! you have had your time, and must now live upon your Alforges; like a great Monkey chew the Cud, for you must be a clean Beast in spight of your teeth, I over-heard the Puissant Princess make dange­rous resolves against your dear life. Prince Phillip will be at your Anchovies, i'faith, Bruin thinks fit that you repair to our Pallace the new Musick-house, you know where, for your Worships safely,—and to incourage you, heark ye—I am sent for two fresh Frollicks, the two elder Sisters.

Hold, hold, here's a Packing-penny, she comes to wish for a Famine, that Corn may sell dear.

Or a foul disease on those that Robb'd her Hen­roost, Pox upon her brown Bread Phisnomie,—lets go.

Not a foot Sir till this old Jade's curry'd; y' are bound by Oath to refuse none.—

On, on, Sir will you perform, or shall I complain; remember.

Let the good Woman be satisfied; now will I go find her Husband, and send him hither immediatly, dear mischief how I love thee.

Ah blessing on his good heart, he speaks most Serene and clear, he's a very notable Man I'le warrant you;—and whoever says Gammar Redstreak hath no Judgement. Hy hee and for all your whim whams, they prate and prate, but give me something, has some savour; and say, and hold, Gadsli­dikins, I'le not be trampl'd on by the Proudest.—I have known the time when my penny was as White, and round, as the best fiddle faddle of them all; Oh the tumbling, and rumbling there was then, I'le warrant you my Linnen was so touzl'd, and mouzl'd, 't wou'd do ones heart good to see't. But now like and old crack'd Groat, whose stamp's worn out; none will take me, they say I am not current.—But I'le fit 'em, for I'le wish my self a Queen, and this House full of Money in my Pocket.

Ay, your worships: and a new Husband every time I change my Apron.—

See how close they are, an honest Man, and an Headborough Cost: Oh Trumpet, Oh Hilding, I have been her true and natural Husband any time this twenty Year, up zitting and down-lying.

Show your favour Sir, and when I am a Queen you shall be my head Hind.

I shall make rare a Queen, and bring good houswifry into fashion; for I'le make all the Masques, and Chorus's, and Simphonies my self, With a Fiddle Faddle, hey down diddle, faith let's be merry.

How Pestilent Jocund the lown is; well, my heart leaps against my teeth, like a Rat against the Wyers of a Trap.—I'le be with thee in the twinckling of a Cabbage, I'le scoure thy Crab-lanthorn with a witness, look to't, I'le swing thy Croudledum, I will.—

Dispatch then, for the Show will be past else; I would fain get the Rogue some soure sawc to his sweet bit.

Ah! how she sneers like a Mare that has spy'd her stray Coult.—do, do, Ring all in, chill Ring noon about thy Pate presently.

So the dull Larrum's wound up, I would fain stay to hear it clatter; but I must seek Sweetlips and Wondhamore.

Well I am mollifi'd, thou shalt see the Show; the Woman is decent, cleanly, and sound I'le Warrant; hang't, we must not always expect Beautious Women; stay here a little, thou pritty Rogue; I begin to have a mind to her;—ha, old True penny.

Now for me, I'le be a Queen or a Lady at least; and King Andrew's Three Daughters shall be my Maids, and I'le [Page 45] have a high Seat in the Church, and the Chaplain shall pray for his virtuous Patrons.—Then I'le have the head-ach, and be very sick, that I may receive Visits in my Bed, Oh! there's no way like it to draw on Sutors; they know a poor weak Woman that lyes there on purpose, has no power to deny.—One that I know, drest her self in six several dresses to catch her Sweet-heart, but nothing pleas'd her; I'le warrant you 'till she fucust her face, blanch'd her hands, put on a rich suit of Night Linnen, and went to Bed; where she lay like a Queen Apple upon a Tod of Wool, and the Patches look'd for all the World like Birds pecks, which show the Fruit is Rotten-ripe; and what do'e think the Whore-Son snuffed up his Nose, and cry'd he did not love brown crust in Milk; a proud Jack, I'le make a Law, that every man shall be hang'd that refuseth a Woman; ay and 'tis high time, for we have been even so kind to 'm, that they use us as they do Rackets at Tennis, when they have exercised their Bodies; and thump'd their Balls,—dress, and away; but my Lady Redstreak, won't be serv'd so ifaith.—After Dinner the Steward shall set things right with me in my Closet, and the Gentleman of the Horse, or some spruce fellow shall Fiddle me a sleep. Oh Redstreak, didst thou ever think to come to this. But if this should be a lye, now I'm bravely served.—

Oh there's the Chair, I cannot hold 'till the Gentleman comes.—Oh a Queen, a Queen and 80 Husbands, and this House full of Money, O lo, O lo, whither am I going?

Whaur, whaur, whaur.—Ha gwon, shark'd away, Oh mischief, Oh Costard, Oh Cuckold—budding, budding. I feel 'em budding.—Oh Beast, I'le kill thee with my horns; a Cuckold in my old days, I'le draw thy Colts Tooth with a vengeance.

A thousand thanks to your worship, I have not seen so fine a Show this seven years.—

A tough carrion, she draws like a Whirl-pool, and would kill a Man as easily as a Cat sucks the breath of a Child: Go thy ways old Mumpsimus, the mark's in thy mouth still.

Now, Courage, for the Blood of the Costards, Ile mow them off both in the middle, so swiftly that they shall stand still, and never think th'are dead.

Ah umh! she clings like a rotten Egg to a Pillory; yes pray do, and I'le watch the grins like the head of a dead Horse, Scoundrel, snarle-chops, Beezom-Beard, come out, come out, if thou darest.—O Laud!

I'm undone, as a man would undo an Oyster, my natural good man is here, and there's Murder in his looks.

'Pranter aye 'Pranter, no my tongue's my own, and God save the King's no Treason, my Blood's up, and I'le wish: what wilt thou do?—who wouldst fight with?

Zate there cham as cunning's the Devil, and won't tell Wish: Dam ye for a beetle-headed Dog.

Oh good Sir! Wishing-Chair sit down, for I know he'l come again, and if I don't put this out of his head, he won't leave a whole bone in my skin.—

And I wish, and I wish, that my dear Husband Costard.

How! wishing in the Chair for me? odz pretious, if this been't a good Woman, the Devil's a Hog.—

I wish, that my good Husband Costard were married to King Andrews eldest Daughter, though I were dead and rotten, I should rejoyce for't a thousand year hence, if I could remember't.

Poor Redstreak, my own true Spouse,—'twere better I were hang'd, then thee wert dead: what a villanous Beast was I to think ill of her? no, thee art my Princess, and I had rather lose the best Horse in my Team, then lose my Wife.—

No zately, these two of them cost me zeaven and twenty Shillings a piece, but prythee Redstreak let me wish for thee now, and requite thee in thy own Coyn.—a woun­dy fine Chair.—a Wishing-Chair do'e call it, Laud to see the Art of man by your leave

Odzvish, and eeles, what has it no Bottom?—yes it has, why what a muxon did I vall through the Chair, or the Chair through me, let me zee; zoo cham in now, and I wish, and I wish,

What's that vor Redstreak? ha is't no more then a word and a blow,—what a Vengeance!

Wilta lye to come o'this side,—so now I wish, and I wish.—

What a pox ayles the Woman-bones? O'me, wouldst be leather'd ha?

Never touch'd me, why thou Whore-Son Scab? come and stand before, and look me in the face.—So now I wish, and I wish. The Chair picks his Pocket. Bones O me, Wife! there's a live thing in my Pocket,—why Wo­man [Page 48] all my money's vanished.

That can't be man, vor there's no kirsen Soul here but thee and I;—but if it be gwon, sit thee down, and wish for me.

Stand thee behind the Chair then, and zee that no­thing molest me.—And I wish, and I wish,—Oh lo, and I wish that—Oh! I will have my wish in spight of the Devil, and I wish—Oh Bones! O me! Oh gogs nouns thou drab! she has run a rifle into my Posterity, but chill pay thee vor't with a witness.

Out thou Carl, thou Beast to use a Woman so, the Wrong-way, Dunder-nose, Dog-bolt, Limber-twist, I'le teach thee to spoile a Woman.

Oh Murther! Fellony, Salt and Batter, the Devil and the Witch will murther me.

Now Nick for the honour of Knight-hood let's stand to our Pan-puddings, here's the white Bear, and the Wishing-Chair: have at'em by guess.

Oh Nonsy Lady mine! inspire my Arm with Knightly prowess to fight this dreadful Battel. This trenchant Blade I draw, and now have at all.

O mercy! mercy! passion o'me, their naked Tucks upon a Woman.

SCENE I.

Don't you see a great noise somewhere? just like an Eccho coming from a Playn, where are no Woods, Hills, or Valleys to make it.

Ay, ay, 'tis, because the Princes have kill'd the Bear, and every mothers Child is gone out to meet them.

The Princess are fine Blades, i'faith'specially Prince Phillip for Quoyts, or Cudgels, turn him loose.—Well now, Maids may live and marry, when they can get Husbands.

Ay, and we may hope to hear of a Maid in the ten's again, before they were affraid of being given to the Bear, that Maiden-heads were as cheap as stinking Fish.

I have heard much of these Maiden-heads, prythee what are they like?

Like.—why they are so like nothing, that there is no­thing like them.—

If the Bear was kill'd but half an hour ago, as it seems by the story, how could the triumphal Arch be built, and all this Pomp and Luxury be prepared to entertain the Prince.—

The way was chalk'd out by some Poet; or perhaps it was done by Nature, and the Gods.

Nature and the Gods, they had other Fish to fry, they have been together by the ears all this day about Princess None-so-fair; But heark, the Eccho draws near from the Playn: Let's take our places, least we lose the Show.

Scene II.

Prince Phillip, there was never Knight errant fa­mous without being enchanted; nor Opera notorious with­out Gods, and Divels: hast thou observ'd the numerous Caves and Walks, in your dry White Cheese.—

In one of those Cheeses was a Knight of Wales Enchanted Seven years; and through those dangerous wayes he Travel'd, and destroy'd all the Heathen Knights, that like little Vermine devour'd the fat of it.—

Ah! mischief on the Heathen Knights, and the Welch Knight too, they tickled the Cheese so between e'm, that no goodness has been in't ever since.—

Now luck! Husbands, or somthing to eat, we be­seech thee.

If they won't have us, let's ravish them.—Save your Princes, still whining after your Pin-box, are there no more Maids but Maukin?

Is it so? Lippy we are out.—Gad, we must be more brisk; these Fellows are for the down-right way.—

Bless us, what's the matter with the Woman; let me alone.

Since Nonsies devour'd by the Bear, 'tis no incon­stancy to chuse again.—

That whim won't pass Madam! we search'd every cranny of the Beast, and found no sign of her.

If she lives, you have been constant to her too long, for by the new modish Articles of faithful Love, 'tis no sin, nor inconstancy, to quit one Mrs. or Gallant, for another; as often as you will, so you have but one at once. Come, come, a George will gain the Lad, as well as the Lady—here take Money.

Come poor Green-sickness Rascals, they do not know what's good for themselves, let's away with them.

Help, help, a Ravishment.—Y'are a brace of saucy foul Mouth'd, Rampant, Tatterdemalion Princesses, and.—

Princess. No, there's no Princely Virtue in their Blood.

Hang'd 'gad; and so they shall for killing mother Redstreak, for all they made the silly People believe, 'twas the Bear.

Let's give notice to the Officers, and have them seiz'd; when they are in durance, their tough stomacks will soon melt.

Oh happy Mauks! if I could reach the rope of her heart, I would starngle her with't.

A brave fellow! he stands like a Tree, and his legs look like Hercules's Pillars.—

Ladies first y'are very wellcom; and secondly, I hope to give you all content.——

Pisco flisco whisco fibribisco fosco posco, sebosco larasco velasco, trumdle fundle, bundle hundle, tantarra dundle—surgito surgitote.—

He that looks so like a despairing lover, is Peter Whiffle eldest Son of the Countess of Puddle dock, he e­spoused the Puissant Landabridas Queen of Sluts, and hang'd himself because she would not wear fine cloaths, and have a Gallant.

Alas poor Peter, I would not have been so unkind as Queen Lamberdas.

Those two are Polynicky, Nicampoops, two valo­rous Princes of Fairy-land; they div'd through Apivel to Hell, for the love of Piss-kitchin Daughter of King Easie­pate, passed through Fire and Water, without spoiling their Cloaths or Perriwiggs; and are now good sufficient House­keepers in Elizium.—

That's Rablays, the grave French Philosopher, that grew mad with Writing the second part Tom Thum in Heroick meetre.

Well, he did his indeavour, though he missed his Province.

Oh Woudha. Woudha. if this Image were in a warm Bed, I'le be hang'd if I did not fetch life in him, and make him wagg.

When a house is on fire, the Lame, Sickly, and La­zy, frisk as if they had a swarm of Hornets about them.—

Now you shall hear the Images sing in praise of the most Heroick and Magnificient Sciences of Wenching, and Drinking.—A Ditty fit for Sphears, and Quires of Cupid, when Gods are deaf, and Princes grow stupid.

Now Sisters did not I rise with my back upwards met this what do'e call him?—

Ay! what do'e call him indeed? I'le be hang'd if he does not deal with the Divel—Second me Lippy.—

No, no, the Divel he is n't so good a Scholar, 'Tis some pitiful juggling Jack-pudding, some strolling Tumbler.

When he grows a little weary of you, he'l strip you, and leave you; nay, say y'are oblig'd to him, for teaching you a modish Trade, by which you may come to keep your Coach, if you have any Fortune.—

I won't despair, since the Proverb's on my side, Fools have Fortune, and Cracks have luck,—I can pretend to both by vertue of my Education.—

If his Highness were true and trusty, why should he hide his Title?

This was an Intrigue of love and state, poor Ladies, they stole no Trenchers, but I heard Baggages contrive.

Ha, my Princess sniv'ling, who has disbused thee, Pydy tell me, if I have ought can give thee ease; I swear, 'tis thine now by this Cheese, the Oath of Gods.

Enough, and if 'tis Truth, tell me thy name, Oh charming youth!

Is this your love? miserable unhappy Princess, per­jur'd dissembling men! before you had me, you swore any thing.—You use poor Women, as Children do Bubbles; you spare for no water of Sighs, nor black Soap of Oaths, till you have blown us up with the Reed of your love, and then you cast us off to break in the wide World.—Ah! that ever I poor vertuous Lady should live to see this day! Oh! ho, ho.

Well if like a wall-ey'd Hare, you won't see right be­fore you, but run into the noose, take your ill fortune.—

I'le be hang'd first, when did a longing Woman consider.

I will not be wise, nor hear, nor see, nor speak till I know.

That French Prince of the Padders, that was thought to be hang'd, I have liv'd ever since in this disguise, because I would not quite break the kind Ladies hearts, to see me hang'd twice.

I come, I come, did you call Sir? ha where's the Gentle­man that pays the reckning; look to the door Harry.

Eleven and three pence; a Pox I know her she plies at the Pagean.

Right Valiant Knights spare my Honour, and do what you please, but use your Victory with discretion, for Fortunes Wheel is still turning.—

No, no Honour.—If women have any such thing, they hide it so cunningly that none can find it.—Harry, thou knowest we melted down a Silver Tankard to sodder up Cisses crack'd Honour; let's swear she stoll it, and clap a strong House upon her back to keep her warm.

How, the Prince? 'gad she speaks Treason, lock her up and call the Constable—away.—

Oh my dear Prince, why wouldst thou fly hence, and let thy loving Romp be stripp'd from all her Pomp.

SCENE I. A common Prison confused.

As I'm a true Prince, our Exchecquers were rob'd by these miscreant Knights, that brought us to this Fortress.

Strip, strip then, and go like an Eastern Monarch half naked.—

Ay, ay, cast off superfluous Trappings, they'l harbour vermine to destroy the Microcosm.

Come my dainty Damzels, you must pay for En­trance too into our thrice nasty, and right dread Society.

Skink away, sheer, drink, doe hear not a rag of Provaunt, and then we'l have a Song; and after that, erect our mock-Court of Justice, and cast your Destinies: Che [...] up, if you dye like Birds on Trees, you shall be cut dow [...] like Flowers, and your Funerals shan't cost you 2 d. you [...] be intom'd in a Ditch on the publick charge.

Now let's Adjourn to our Sessions house, and bring our new Prisoners to Trial.

A pox o' your zeeking Ventures, cham as dumpish a new shrouded Tree.—What course must we take now?

Course, why I think 'tis better to be freed, and [...]arry the Princesses then be hang'd.—

Why? I think zoo too, but then who must be hang'd for killing Mother Redstreak?—Justice must be satisfi'd.

Justice may be better satisfied with Marriage then hanging—for 'tis now the greater punishment.

'Tority, no but I have reason—is not it better to go to Heaven in a string, then be a Gally Slave, and be chain'd to one seat all ones life?—

Then do thee go to Heaven in a string, and let me be Marri'd.

Thank you for that, 'faith what a well meaning Fool is this?—I tell thee 'twas not Redstreak, but the Bear we kill'd.

The Bear—Odzboars 'twas as errant a Woman as my mother, and all the neighbours know she was right.—

Enchanted! Ah, if this should be a lye, we are bravely serv'd.——

Why may not a Beast be turn'd to a Woman; we see Women every day turn'd to Beasts.

Y'are rightly serv'd, for a couple of Dancer Nos'd Princes as you are; if y' had Marri'd us, you, might both have been King Andrews by this time.—

Why has our poor sneaking Daddy kick'd up his heels? Ah dismall merry Tragedy, I thought somthing would follow when I saw his Ghost, and heard the Circkets sing so dolefully.

Your tricks broak his heart, for when he heard we were sent to Prison for stealing Trenchers; he sign'd, eat a great piece of Bread and Butter; and departed as quietly as any sucking Pig.

Stint, stint, the Cwourtz zet, what must I zay Prince Nick?

Why say she kill'd her self volens nolens, in her own defence.

Bulbarrow, set the Prisoners to the Bar.—Read their Indictment.

No, no, let's over-rule that formality, and proceed to Sentence,

First, for fashions sake, though we have most pru­dently determin'd to hang them, whatever they can say—ask them the usual question.—

—Guilty or not guilty, why don't you an­swer?

Give 'em time, I know my face is terrible; for a Judges leering smile is as certain a sign of death, as walking in Sir Iohn Broads Exchange all Dinner time, is a sign of an empty pocket; Come Gentlemen Rogues, you that look as sour as small Beer after Thunder; You with the Ember face.

You stand as if you were doing pennance, for stealing a Pudding out of your neighbours Wives-Kettle.

Or making Composition for killing your Father, or eating Eggs on a Fasting day, which are equal Crimes a­mong the Learned,—answer, in what shape did thy Friend the Devil appear, when he advis'd thee to act this horrid bloody inhumanity.

Inhumane, untoward, unhandsom, Brother, in­force, the charge tatter'd ho: unhandsome, unwholesome.—I say unwholesom, for I have believ'd 'twill cost thee thy life; Villanous unlucky Tagrag.

Unlucky, pitiful, most pitiful crime of—of What's the Crime Brothers?—

By my Commission I know not, but that's all one, our business is to Judge, and hang the offenders; let the Crimes alone, if we destroy them, our Trade will be at an end.—

Come, confess, confess your Crime, and you shall have the favour to ride to the Gallows in a Coach.

Ha, who's that whisp'ring?—Bullbarrow—Sirrah! how darst thou be of Counsel against the King? thou bloated Jewish villain, that dost lye and batten in the Blood of poor [Page 69] Prisoners, like a Hog in his own mire?—Dar'st thou be of Counsel against the King?

Against the King, a Jaylor would betray the Gods, if Prisoners had Money to bribe him to't, tye him up.—

Ah! I beseech your good Lordships, I only In­structed him to give you your just Titles, because I know several have been hang'd for omitting them.—Pray your Honours.

Sirrah, no more of this,—Hatchet-face, speak you; guilty, or not guilty?—

She kill'd her self, volens nolens in her own defence, ask Prince Nick else?—

—Ay—All King Andrew's Household can bear me Concord, I was bred up in the Vear of my vather and mother shrubsh: guilty or not guilty.—

I zay cham not guilty, Prince Nick draw'd me in like a young Wench to a Nunnery.—Volens, Nolens.

So, so, Prince Nick draw'd thee in, and Squire Catch shall draw thee out: Come Prince Nick, what say you Prince Nick? speak out Prince Nick; quickly Prince Nick, you'r in a fine pickle Prince Nick.

I say I am the man that kill'd the Bear, that stole the Princess; that broke the heart of King Andrew.

Brave! this is the Horse that come of the Mare, that eat the Oats that grew in the Field, that was bought with the Money that Iack stole.—Well Prince Nick.—Bring in the Bears-head there.

Now let my malicious adversaries hang their ears, and eat one another as hungry Dogs devour dirty Puddings. Behold my Lords; if this be not the Bear's head, I'm the Sophy of Persia.

I never met a more Intricate business, if any here was acquainted with our defunct [...]er, whether Bear or Woman, let them discourse the head.—

I and my Sister Lippy know, this is the head of honest Gammar Redstreak, and this we will swear; because those unworthy Princes refused to marry us.

Gentlemen, your Opinions; is it the Bear's, or the Woman's head? All the Womans the Womans.

Prince Nick! you hear the Sentence of the Court Prince Nick!

Why may not the Bears-head be chang'd to a Womans, as well as Mambrino's Helmet to a Barbers bason, or a notorious Fellon to your Lordships, let the head deny it if it dares.

Oh I confess! I confess! pray hang me quickly, least the head should do me some mischeif.

Take 'em away, I knew this would do, 'tis not the first time Ghosts have appear'd to hang their Murtherers.

Brother, it grows late, and I have no sweet-meats to nibble on, which I think as becoming the gravity of a Judge, as a Tooth-pick the Solemn State of a Spanish Gran­dee.—Pray let the Court over-rule all they can say, and proceed to Sentence; for my stomack is maukish.

Be it so; I'le give directions to the Jury in a wise speech according to Custom, and then we'l adjourn the Court.

Gentlemen of the Jury, it was an Ancient saying among the noble Romans, and worthy of everlasting Fame; set the Hares Head against the Goose-Jiblets, and 'tis a right worthy custom among those modern Heroes: that Collar-Beef [Page 71] to put a layer of fat, and a layer of lean, and what is all this for, but to teach us to mix Mercy with Justice?—We are here met together, and for what are we met toge­her? to lye (like Diogenes lazily) in a Tub, 'till the Sun cures the disease of State; No, we must set our hand to the Plough tail, let every one pluck a hair from the thick bushy Beard of Malefactors, and the Chinn of mischief will soon be bald; as Poor Robbin has it in his modern Philosophy: We have discover'd a Wasps Nest of Hornets to you, 'tis your part to set the Brimstone of Justice on fire, and smo­ther them with the smoak of Correction.—Two are found Guilty, of stealing most Feloniously Gammer Redstreaks head from her shoulders, so much to her Detriment, that she will hardly ever be her own Woman again.—This appears as clear to the eye of reason, as if it were written with the Rain-bow on the South wind.

The two eldest Daughters of King Andrew, of notorious memory are in for stealing Trenchers.—You must find them Guilty, because We the mouth of the Law determine it; If any grumblings of Conscience arise within yow. The Court over-rules them; Psyche the 2d. also Miss Nonsy shall be freed, because her Predecessor Psyche the first was, though both (for runing from their Fathers; and practising publickly what their Sisters did but wish well to) deserve more punish­ment then they.—Now dispatch! and as Socrates says what you do, do quickly?—I read your Sentence in your looks; The Princes have already suffer'd, and for your Ladies er­rant. The Sentence of the Court is, that you never be mar­ri'd, but allow'd the Conversation of all men through a Grate without touching any; to Lasses of your Complexi­on, I think this is as bad as drawing Water in a Cieve, or be­ing hang'd in Chains alive; away with them.

Now I am so glad and so sorry, I don't know which Leg to set foremost.—My Sisters were two crabbed vixons to me, yet their Sufferings put out the lighted Tinder of my joy, but then the Steel of my love strikes new Fire into the Tinder-box of my Inclination, and makes my natural affection glow again; I shall injoy my Bear for ever. Oh happy Nonsey!—yet this was a horrible merry Tragedy, O lo! the Princess, Nicklas, and Phillip here again!—

Their Ghosts, Oh! 'tis well you say so your selves, for no-Body would believe it from any other,—what makes you come to me?

We vow'd at our Death's to come, and tell you what place we were at.

Immediately after we were dead, we found our selves in a [...]wer; made all of Wishes pav'd with thoughts, where at a Table of Heigh-hoes sat King Andrew, and Mother Redstreak at Dinner; they had a Phaenix boil'd with a Dish of love Raptures, and drank nothing but Spirit of Extasie, we sat down with them, and Six Gods attended us: after Dinner we slept upon a Couch of Virginity, imbroyder'd all over with Kings smiles; then walking by a Fountain of Fruition, who should we see but King Andrew and his Queen at Hey-gammer-Cook in a Grotto of Innocence.

Oh most ravishing delights! but why is Phillip's Ghost so mopish?

He would have been kind to Gammar Redstreak, and she threw a Glass of extasie in his Chops.—One thing dear Princess we must intreat of you, that you will sing that Ingenious Song of the delights of the Bottle three and thirty times, and make as many Cursy's to the West; for till that is done, our Soul's won't be free of Elyzium.

Upon my Honour, I'le do't, though I were to give my self a thump in the back ev'ry time.—For example.

Enough, enough, dear Princess; farewel, when thus you do, Think of us two.

Dear Princess, Farewel. When thus you do, think of us two,

—Oh how I begin to be weary! If this will make Mother Woossat's heart chearful? sure 'twill refresh me?—Princess thy good health,—Nonsy I'le pledge thee six go-downs,—humming stuff upon my honour. Princess, where is this sold Princess? Asking questions Nonsy!—Time's precious: Ah poor loving Ghosts!—

You had hard Fortune; but there's one above knows all. Oh my head swims! and I grow faint with strength.—My dear Bear farewell.—

Wha, wha, what's the matter? who's there? Not guilty, Not guilty my Lord Tagr [...]g, H [...]igh ho, I wish you were all hang'd for waking me. Gods! have I my pretty thing again?