[Page] PSYCHE Debauch'd, A COMEDY, As it was Acted at the Theatre-ROYAL

By T. D.

LONDON, Printed for Iohn Smith in Great Queen-street, 1678.

The Actors Names.

King Andrew, Mrs: Corbett.
Nicholas,Princes in love with None-so-fair,Mrs. Knep.
Phillip, Mr. Charleton
Bruine, the White Bear of Norwich,Mr. Harris.
Apollo,A Wishing-Chair,Mr. Lyddall.
Jeffrey, Bruines Man, Mr. Coysh.
Costard,A Country-man, Mr. Poell.
Justice Crabb,(For the God Mars,)Mr. Wiltshire.
Tag-rag,Common Prisoners. 
Wou'dhamore,K. Andrew's 3 Daughters,Mrs. Rutter.
Sweetlips, Mrs.—
None-so fair, Mr. Haynes.
Redstreak,Costard's Wife, Mr. Cory.
Twattle,Ladies attending on None-so-fair. 
Woossat,[representing Venus,]Mr. Clarke.
Priests, Masquers, &c.  


NOw Fancy's up; lest waiting palls the jest;
Psyche the second's coming half undrest:
But in that Garb you like fine Women best.
Let our Rich Neighbours mock our Farce; we know
(Already, th'utmost) of their Puppet-show.
Since they'gainst Nature go, they Heav'n offend,
If Natures purpose then cross Natures end;
Unnat'ral Nature is not Natures Friend.
[—There's Nature for you.
As Aesop's Cat dressed in a Nymph's disguise,
Their gaudy Trifle may at first surprize;
None but the (Dirty-rout) will like it twice:
A well drest Frollick once may please the eye;
But Plays (like Women,) can't so satisfie.
Ye masked Nymphs can tell, there's somthing in ye,
Besides a painted face that gets the penny:
Yet all the Fame you give'em, we'l allow
To their best Plays, and their best Actors too.
That is, the Painter, Carpenter, and show
Beaumont, and Fletcher, Poet, and Devow.
But Sirs, free harmless Mirth you here condemn,
And Clap at down-right Baudery in them.
In Epsom-Wells, for example—
Are they not still for pushing Nature on,
Till Natures feat thus in your sight is done.
Oh Lord!—
Take off their Psyches borrow'd plumes awhile,
Hopkins and Sternhold rise, and claim your style;
Dread Kings of Brentford! leave Lardellas Herse,
Psyches despairing Lovers steal your verse:
And let Apollo's Priest restore again
What from the nobler Mamamouchy's ta'n.
[Page] Let'em restore your Treble prices too,
To see how strangely still they bubble you,
It makes me blush; and that I seldom do.
Now Psyche's strip'd from all her gay attire,
TE DE POLYKAGATHOY, Behold the Fire!
But Oh! a long Farewell to all this sort,
Which Musick Scenes, nor Preface can support.
Yet you admire it, make'em thankful for't:
Alass their Charge was great, and you must pay't.
If they should purchase at a cursed Rate,
The New-come Elephant, and shew't in State;
Get him a Room with Pomp and Lux'ry drest,
Would you pay Crowns a piece to see the Beast?
Show some of your good Natures here kind Sirs;
If our Conceit less proud or gay appears,
She's less expensive, and more brisk then theirs.



Enter None-so-fair, Twattle and Glozy.
OGlozy! What a crumptious place is here?
Where none can see one play with ones none Dear.
Under each buffi kind Sun doth warm;
Here one may kiss, and laugh, and think no harm:
For Countrey Love has neither joyes nor fears,
And Bushes break no Trust, though Walls have dars:
No Milly None-so-fair, they are not of Oal ali an mind.
Man hunts not here for man-kind,
Wyer on Hare not man prevails,
Nor are men caught with Pipe like Quails,
No salt is here thrown on their Tails.
No Gossip Glozy,
You may here sing Hey down with every Olown,
And none will diclose ye,
As at London lewd Iown.
Poor Rusticks cannot cheat, nor lye, nor swear;
Incroach on Neighbours spot of ground,
Or put dumb Creature into Pound;
No Covent-Garden Tricks are practisd here.
Ah! Gammer, Twattle, Ah! my poor Lady,
I wish I were no Princes Born.
But so me poor Shepheardess Forlorn,
To sleep all day on Mowes of Hay or Corn.
[Page 2] [...][Page 3] [...]
[Page 2] How green's the Grass? how Fine's the Tree?
How luscious is the Black-berry?
But Oh! How sweet's the Company?
The Company.—
That—That; Oh goody Glozy, Oh Gammer Twat [...]
I'le ne're go home again that's Flat.
Maids are not here confin'd to Rules
As at your Whoresom Boarding Schools.
How silly is the Show and Pomp,
That's practis'd there by every Romp;
First Mock-Wedding's to be seen,
And then with great Din, comes Mock-lying In.
Mistress of School, must be Midwife, Old Fool;
Mammy, and Dad, and Nurse must be had;
And Cradle and Ladle, and Fiddle-come-faddle,
You'd think 'em all Mad.
When Gossips are come, and fill up the Room;
Glass goes about, till Girles crye out, A ha, a, ah ha.

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

Hold her back, or 'twill crack by my fack.
Alack, alack,—Caraways, run Iack Ah, a, a, ha.
Then she must whine for the Burnt Wine;
Stools, Tools and Fools flye about;
And at last comes out great Baby of Clout:
Then Christning comes, and Sugar Plums,
And Mistress Tipling like old Crony:
Gives dainty words as sweet as hony,
And all to gets poor Childrens Mony.
Each strives to be in Mistress Books,
Though Purse of Parents bleed, Gadzooks.
And when e're they do play Truant,
If she'l say she never knew on't,
They do not care one souse, 'gad knows,
How silly Beldams led by th' Nose.
And then Forsooth we must have Shooes:
Gods, Divels, and Goddesses,
Swayns, Satyrs, and Shepherdesses,
Soust in dull Rime, and serv'd in several Messes,
[Page 3] Gloz.
Yet glittering Scenes, and Golden Dresses,
Won't make amends for doggrel Verses.
No, not even there where Dance and Song,
Supported by the Mighty, and the Young,
Though practised ne'r so often, ne'r so long,
Though ne'r so much imposed upon the Town,
Their own flat stuffs wrought up to pull them down,
As a great Owl, which on bare stump bawls,
Swell'd with the whooping Musick of his Throat,
Down to the wrath of Larks and Linnets falls.
So boasting Scribblers on their Labours doat;
But all their swelling Hopes and Huffs,
Critick out, like Candle puffs:
And then they smoak, and stinck like Snuffs;
So School-Girls that have in the morn
Been Cock a Hoop, and rul'd the Roast,
E're Noon ev'n like an over-soak'd Toast,
Sinck to the bottom of the Pot of scorn:
These woaful Chances I have lately seen,
And ne'r will go to School agen,
No not to be a Queen.
Oh None-so-fair; sweet Miss!
You need not have run from your good Father, I wis;

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?

How say by that?—
—Well rim'd goody Twat.
Not a Prince in the street, but was so loving
He'd a kissed your Elbow to bake in your Oven;
So says ev'ry one that knows thee.
Well said goody Glozy:
Though the Coif of your heart were dry enough, God wot,
You would not let it be smooth'd, while loves Iron was hot;
When loves strong Charms your smoothing-board invirons,
You laugh to see poor Princes shake their Irons.
Not Sugar-cakes, nor Ginger-bread,
Me from this Countrey life shall lead:
The live long day about the Fields we saunter,
Sloes, Black-berries, and Hawes we ne'r shall want here.
[Page 4] At night we [...] Gooding,
For Bacon, and Kale, and nappy Ale,
Stout Bees, and figged Pudding.
Ah! but sweet Lady, we want the Ready,—
And we can't fill our Guts, if we buy not,

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:

What ayle Gammor Glozy, I mar'l what a dickens
Don't all the Fields grow full of Hens and Chickens?
Don't Birds grow upon Trees like Pears, what would she desire?
Don't Pyes grow in a little Brick-house, close, by the Fire?
And somtimes Missey we'l [...]rudge a nutting.
Faith, Gammor Twattle that was we'll put in:
She Sings.
Then the Nymphs and the Swains
Shall trip it o're the Plains,
And crown me with Garlands of Roses,
And marry me with a Rush ring:
Then how we will firck it, caper, and jerk it
Under the green Wood Tree.
sing and dance.
Very right—Oh sweet None-so-fair!
Princes have no such joys as these
When they sit down to Pork and Pease.
What Crowding's this my ears do pull?
Musick is heard.
With which the empty Air is full.
Oh! Gads-lidikins now I know,
This is May-day in the morning, ho,
Oh! is it so, then let's go straight away,
For I'le be Lady of May.
exeunt all.
Enter Costard and Redstreak.

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

—Who, who, vor the mercies sake.
—Guess Costard, guess.
—Gammar Bunch the Carret-Woman.
Noà, noa, noa.
Cicely Pountrinekets the Tripe-Wife.

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

[Page 5] Cost.
Then have mercy on us, we shall see bad times;
For I believe she's run away from School.

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;

Great Psyche go dress up the silly. Rogues,
And then Piper shall be Chorus, and he shall sing:
Now Pan with his fooling has made a fair hand.
Then there must be Symphonie.
shan't I be Symphonie, Redstreak?

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.—

No no, we'l make an Eccho of our own.
How? prythee Redstreak how;

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.

exit Costard.
Enter None-so-fair, Twattle and Glozy.
Gammar Redstreak. I make bold.
So I am told.
Sweet Princess None-so-fair. Bring in Wickar-chair,
Twattle and Glozy; Cheeks shall be rosy.
[Page 6] For I have good Fuddle,
—Mum Ducks in the puddle, (our heads-ake,
—Gad-speed, Gammar Redstreak. We'l drink, till
—And we'l have some Chat,
—Marry why not?

—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.

O Dear! 'tis for the nonce by Cocks bones.
Well, well, be quiet, I say be quiet twice and once.
Enter a Countrey Crouder, followed by a Milk-maid with her Payl dressed up as on May-day:—After them a company of Morris-dancers, a Sylvan, and a Dryad—
A Masque so please your Worship Madam;
Their Garments should be better, if we had e'm.
Pan come sing, God Pan, Chorus! Oh Symphony! where's
Your rusty Musick; so, so, 'tis well; what are You?
I am a Sylvan—Dry. And I am a Dryad Dame.
Come Cheer up.—
Pan sings.
Great Nonesofair King Andrews Daughter dear,
Whom we do worship, but our Dame doth fear;
For why? you come to eat up our good Chear.
Here's Cake, Bread, and Pruin,
And eke more are stewing.
Then pray now be doing.
And Cisly, and Dolly shall trip it around,
And None-so-fair shall have a dainty green Gown.
Sing Damzels, Sing, and jolly Lads Sing loud,
When Swains be blith, the Nimphs should not be proud,
But foot it seatly after every Croud.
And when you are weary,
Lye down and be merry,
Till cheek's red as Cherry.
Croudero, and Piper shall sing and shall play,
And Nonesofair shall be the Lady of May.
A Dance of Morris-Dancers, Milk-maid. &c.

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!

Fret not thy self sweet Redstreak.
Oh Lord your Worship,—a pax take ye;
Come, or I'le fetch you in with a Hedge-stake,
For Courtesie you have no Peer.
Methinks 'tis most serene and clear.
Serene and clear, that I'le remember I warrant ye:
Then if that you do please to sit,
Old Nick take you, for a Company of lazy patches.
We have more sport to show you yet?
Voice, Ayr, Rock, do'e hear
Hold up your heads, and do't most serene and clear.
Voice sings and beats Ayr against Rock—Rock beats her back again, and makes her cry out like an Eccho.
How do Maids cry, when they lose what they value so dear
—What they value so dear,
—O dear!
—And then the poor Fellow does sigh like a Lass,
—O does sigh like a Lass,
—a Lass.
—Beauties like meadows are mow'd, and they pass,
—does are mow'd, and they pass,
—They pass.
[Page 8] Voice.
—Then what have they left for to offer at here?
—for to offer at here?
—at here.
Chorus of All.
Dayzy Roots do mar the growth;
And Marjorum is good for Broath.
But Beef 'tis makes us lusty,
I love thee Sue, I'le take my Oath,
Then why art thou so crusty?
Thou shalt have Eggs and Clary,
Faddle Fiddle,
Hey down Diddle.
Faith let's be merny.
Exeunt all the Dancers singing,

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.

Faddle Fiddle hey, down Diddle,
Faith let's be merry;

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.

Now if, that you'l wall in to close-up all,
We'l have a most Serene and clear Rank Ball.
Exit Redstreak.
Oh happy silly life, what sports are here?
Noise without noise, grief without care;
Joys without joyes, and frights without fear.
[Page 9] E'r all the World, me from this life [...]all hall;
I'l cry, lie down in ground, and kick and sprawl.
Enter Ambition, an Aldermans Wife; Power, Schoolmis­tress, Plenty an Ale Wife, and Peace a Zealot.

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 come to fetch you from this life of Beast,
To grand Solemnity of City Feast;
Leave smoaky Cot, and Cake-bread tough,
There's Custards hot, and Fools enough:
Leave Tib and Tom, for good House-holder,
There's Capon fat, and Mutton shoulder.
Leave Eldern whistle, Gut of Cats,
For City Horn-pipe and Waits;
By me ev'n Mrs. Steward you shall sit,
Whose Lilly hand carves every bit.
And tells the price to show housewifely Wit,
Lump shall be carri'd home too in Kerchief Wallet;
Or else it shall go hard infaith la, shall se't,
By me to noble thoughts you shall be brought,
And all the Arts of City Madam taught.
Locket on Arm, Ring on Finger,
Of Bobs too, in each ear a Clinger;
With fingers end, or Diamond Ring to play,
And cry, Oh! Lord when you have nought to say:
Finely to stretch, or show the pouting lip,
I'le teach you when to cry foro'th, or sip;
I'le teach you how to filtch and spend,
Dull Husbands muck on courtly Friend;
Yet with grave mouth to rail at th' other end.
Of this wild Town.—
Leave boars with limbs, more stiff and hard then Oak,
And think of ruling sparks in Camlet Cloak;
Fresh Sweet-hearts every day new love shall swear:
And in all junckers, who [...] None-so-fair.
[Page 10] Come, come, wed rich retailing Prince; be Great,
Sit finely drest in Shop, serve God, and cheat.
I from your silly life do you invite,
I, whose dread Scepter every child does fright;
Presents, and Fasting dayes are my delight.
If None-so-fair will back to School with me,
None of my Girls shall eat so much as she;
And so that I may get the Pence,
With any 'Prentice, Lord, or Footman Prince,
I'le give her leave to run away from thence.
Is this a place for None-so-fair.
As stately Painted Ale-house is fitter farr,
Come, go with me, and keep my splendid Barr.
Princess, thou shalt Govern there,
Luxurious Ale, and double Beer.
Thy heart in precious Brandy thou shalt soak,
In clouds of strong Mundungus smoak;
Hid like a Goddess thou shalt lye,
Till thou art comely, Plump, and fair as I;
With ease, Fat Bub, and Virtuous Luxury.
And I, that thy delights may never cease,
Will steel thy soul with an audacious peace.
And lift up every sence,
With zealous Impudence:
When envious People rail, thou shalt reply,
The Saints have suffered still, and so must I.
Let vicious Innocence be all thy care,
Such peace becomes chast wanton None-so-fair.
Blest are the Rich, and Happy, eke are those
That never saw Lord-Mayors Puppet Shows;
Nor like clean Beasts stood chewing cribs,
Till Coat was burnt from Rump with Squibs,
Ambition ne'r shall stick to my ribs.
in vain you huff and brag;
Since I have given School the bag,
Catch me there again, and cut off my leg.
Plenty has told a tempting tale,
But in the mind I am I'le drink no Ale.
[Page 11] Peace notably has spoak, but pains must loose;
Girls know more now e'r they can tye their shooes.
You have your answers,
And may be gone Sirs.
—How say by that?
—She knows not what for her self is good:
Therefore let's force her up between Dorsers,
And carry her home in spight of her blood a.
Come Mrs. Minx.
—I won't goodly stincks,
I Faith, but you shall a.
—I defie you all, a Grandjurie of Furies.
Oh Mrs. Ambition, pity my Condition.
Oh Power, let me stay but one hour.
Gammar Plenty I'le Saint ye sweet face goody Peace,
Pity my case, Furies, Divels, Plagues; Bastard, help Redstreak.
Help Costard; Oh here's Prince Nicky I Faith He'll lick ye.
Enter Prince Niclas and Amb. Pow. Plent. and Peace run off.
Since Queans are gone that came eftsoons to humble ye,
Oh let me now anon hear my last Doom most humbly.
The first request I did command,
Was, that you should not hunt me out:
The next request you understand,
Will make you hang your ears, and pout.
My peace you here come for to break,
After my back, why should you sneak?
—Cows that do fill our Guts can't long be hid,
Though Mice run into holes, none see,
When they have eat our Bread and Cheese,
And stinck most basely when they'r dead.
Sweet Cow you hide your Teats in vain,
Though your full Udder fills anothers pan,
Give me some stroakings to ease my pain.
Prince Nick buckle of girdle turn,
For Milk of mine you ne'r shall churn
Without's my skin, but mind's within;
Though you my hand may find, you cannot reach my mind.
[Page 12] Nick.
Will You on you take just such blame,
As Ciss did lay upon her Dame;
Make faults to punnish them. Oh fie for shame!
If Dame should give her Fish to fry,
She must give Butter by and by.
Let ciss without Butter do what she can,
If she no Butter has, she burns the Pan:
Butter to save, she does Dame offend,
Who gave her Butter then to no end.
Cisses unbutter'd things may get her kicks,
For all her Maggots and her drop-nos'd tricks.
Butter can't err, Ciss out o'th'way may turn:
Though Ciss may fret, yet Butter cannot burn.
Butter good Dames have still allow'd enough,
But Maids turn Butter into Kitchin-stuff:
So when they saw their Butter thrown away,
They put their Butter under lock and key.
—If Dames Engine by Ciss must govern'd be,
And Butter spent—For what a Devil serves she?
Must Maids dry Chops be butter'd, they'l ne'r keep touch,
Though they are ayl'd with Butter ne'r so much.
Oh None-so-fair! sweet Dame I am your man,
My heart's unbutter'd burning in your Pan,
Without some Butter, it can never move:
Oh Butter it with Butter of your love.
Against your self sweet Prince y'have said too much,
I'le keep my Butter since you can't keep touch.
Go somewhere else, and make your greazy puns,
I love no butter'd Fish, nor butter'd buns.
—Butter, Oh sweet Butter; ease my hissing smart,
And Butter None-so-fairs unbutter'd heart.
Enter Prince Phillip.
Prince Phillip, here that mighty lout,
Gad then 'tis time to look about.
Oh you sneaking Prince, what would you have had?
Oh thou little Devil! I love thee like mad:
And chill take thee at a venture hab nab.
[Page 13] Nick.
Fierce love full soon must die I think,
And vanish like abortive slinck.
My love's zoo bomination strong,
That 'twill hold buckle and thong;
And if dozn't get thee vurder aveel,
shat zee' can strick vyre with my steel.
—Gods—and Devils!
Thee talk'st of Courage, if th'hast any,
Here be the Cudgels, let's have a veny.
I don't care much if I have one touch.
They play Cudgels.
—Princess, hold for all your Squablin,
Cannot purchase my Tantablin.
Adzboard Prince Nick, cham yours.
If None-zo-vair zay do't, chill buss thy root.
—Prince Phillip for fair Trollop,
Whose voice might bear of whelp beguile a,
Or Bread and Butter beg from Child a.
I'm thine—
—The next command of mine, in brief
Is after me no more to sniff.
Princess farewell, without or and if.
—So sad are the commands that you do give,
That without meat or drink I cannot live.
Your mind that upon our veirce wrath prevails,
Can when you please, make hot or cool your nails.
exit None-so-fair.
Enter Woudhamore and Sweet-lips.
But Zee, Zee, laud to bless us, if here been't hur
Zusturs now.—Come Prince Nick, let's budge.
Great Princess, whither d'ye sneak from this place?
To None-so-fair, their Calf with a white face.
[Page 14] Sweet.

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

Can she make Butter, and Cheese, and Egs?
She's a Bastard, some Village Hind got her under a
Hedge, when our Royal Mother was overtaken at a Wake.
Love us Princess, here's your true beauty.
There's your Anchovies. [roll.
Here's a Cherubimical Face, mark how my Eyes
Here's a Languishing look, Ah!—
Odzboars my Stomach begins to wamble at her.
Here's a foot like a Fairy, and a leg like a Lapwing.

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

Here's your white Hounds Tooth.
Here's your Illustrious Persian Hawk-Nose.

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

Con yo Whistle and Dance Barnaby?
Ay, ay.—
Con yo zing a new Ditty?
Ay, ay, ay.—
God Cupid, Oh fie, O fie, Oh fie,
God Cupid Oh fie, Oh fie,
I am vexed full sore,
Oh! thou Son of a Whore.
Take pity on me or I dye, I dye,
Take pity on me or I dye.
My face is Pale and wan,
My blood is turn'd to a jelly;
In my heart I have a grēat pain,
Oh! Oh! how I long for a man,
With a Sol, my, fa, la, lang tre down derry.

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?

Ay, ay, any thing for Husbands.

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

Exit. Phillip.
Oh! Villanous Clown, I think we are abus'd.
Were ever Ladies bright so us'd?
Surely there's more of honour in Prince Nicklas:
He looks like a Gentleman, sure he'l tickle us.
Sweet lips, and wou'd hamor you each, and both,
May keep your Princely wind to cool hot broth.
You know your Cheer, and may go chew your Cuds,
For I'le have None-so-fair, or lye ith'd Suds,
This is my dire resolve, witness ye Gods.
Exit Nicklas.
Rot her beauty, while the case is thus,
No Crouder e'r will Fiddle us.
Each day she can command a several King,
As if the Gods, to do more had nothing.
But to make Kings for her,
Oh laud, Oh lack, Oh dear.
With strayning I am almost burst, hey ho;
What shall we do for all our Cake is doe,
Well I will straight complain to Mother Wosset.
And she shall Snuff a Candle in her Posset;
Brick Wall her Temple does Inviron,
Back-door too is fenc'd with spikes of Iron.
Oh! Mother Wossat, you that can
By Circles dark, and deep, trappan,
The heart of any Jill or Jan.
Oh! help us to debauch this Jade,
Or her eoy tricks will marr thy Trade.
No Citizen will pawn his Cloak;
No Country Squire will love one stroak,
And how can then thy Chimny smoak?
Nay, if things go on so odly,
All the Gallants will turn godly.
And then for Bub thou maist go choak.
[Page 16] Sweet.
Rowse mightily Woossat, Mantle done,
Thy hagship Venge, or Credits gone,
Make hast, and let's know off, or on.
Horrid Musick heard in the Air.
Ha! what powerful Melody appears?
And snacthes thus our ears?
Woossat appears in a Charriot drawn by two Brooms.
The Charriot of the Goddess comes,
Drawn by a Brace of well grown Brooms.
Woossat sings.
Fair Damzels I have heard you prate,
You shall have Husbands soon or late.
I am as mad as any Dog to find,
Y'have had so little good of humane kind,
But there's the more behind.
I will so order Nonsey's Princely louts,
You shall be satisfi'd and leave your pouts:
With Nonsey now is Daddy dear
And hand in hand th'are gone to wishing Chair,
Good fortune for to hear.
That Rogue will very civil prove to me,
For Witch and Iuggler never disagree:
To you and me so kind he'l prove,
That when you feel his love,
You'l give half piece to buy him fring'd glove.
Woossat ascends.
Great Beldam, me thy hagship thank,
And now methinks I in wondrous Cranck.
While young we'l to loves Altar bow;
And when w'are old be ev'n as thou.
[Page 17] Enter King Andrew, None-so-fair, Twattle, Glozy, and Attendants.
And Daughters, by the love that you do bear me,
And the duty which I owe you, hear me:
Cease your brawling, and your Twittle Twattle.
At the Rose let's call in, and drink a loving bottle.
Then we'l to the wishing chair,
If that don't ease your cares,
I'le give you both my Royal ears,
I think that's very fair.
None-so-fair's agreed sweet Lady,
Will you deny poor harmless Daddy?
What er'you wish for you will have,
Else say King Andrew is a knave.
Cheer up Sisters, why should you look so gloomy?
What er'the wishing chair shall say:
The King, and That I will obey,
Else may this liquor ne'r go through me.
K. And.
Come let's not on each other stare,
But hye us to the wishing chair:
That will set all right in a minuit,
Or else I think the Devil's in it.
So swimmingly we'l carry matters,
All pristine Poets that come after's.
To sing Heroick love and slaughters,
shall write of King and his three Daughters.
The End of the first Act.



Enter Wossat and Bruine.

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.

But first let None-so-fair's business be 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.

If we can but wheedle them into an awful faith.

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.

Enough, I'le warrant the bus'ness.

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

Soft Musick.
The Scene drawn, discovers the wishing Chair.
Enter a Boy in a Surplice dancing, follow'd by two women bearing a Chaffing dish between them, and smoaking Tobacco; after them comes the Chief Priest in a Fools-coat, his Train supported by two in like habit, two Priests in Surplices follow them; then come two Judges playing on Jewes-trumps followed by a Cardinal, playing on a Childs Fiddle; two in grave habits follow him playing on Childrens Pipes; then comes a Major beating a little Drum; after him the King lea­ding None-so-fair. Prince Nick and Sweet-lips, Phillip and [Page 21] Woudha. attended—with Guards &c. They pass round the Stage, and place themselves on each side, and the Chief Priests before the Chair, and the two in Surplices on each side.
Let Maudlin lovers that are in despair,
And musty Virgins at their latest Pray'r.
To be freed from their troubles, come hither.
And Widows, whose fires
Of unnatr'all desires.
Have parch'd up their faces like leather.
We'l dry up their tears, and ease all their Care,
With a delicate thing called a new wishing chair.
Of crackling tell-tale Wicker 'tis not made,
Which loves dear Secrets has too oft'betray'd.
To this Chair so much Vertue is given.
That when you are in
At the turning a pin.,
You will think you are going to Heaven.
We'l &c.
With offerings laden, to the chair make hast,
Before the precious time of wishing's past.
For when once the kind Engine is falling,
You must bear your pain,
Till the time come again
Though you rend the moist Clouds with your bawling.
We'l dry up your tears. &c.

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

Son of Latrona thou great rogue,
Here's None-so-fair her grief to disimbogue.
The Iade is skittish, full of treachery
But wilful rude, and loath to try.
Loe here's the Fool King Andrew too,
Let's cheat them firmly er'they go.
Let's cheat, &c.—
Chief Priest.
—The Sacred Chair vouchsafes that all
Upon all four should to him fall.
All fall on their hands.
Hoh, hoh, hoh, hoe, hoe, hoe:
Ch. P.
—Your offerings are accepted, stand by my Cronies,
Till we have finished all the Ceremonies.
Chair roars.
Ha! the mystick Chair begins to frown,
All that have wealth, must lay it down.
Keep nought of Pride, or Riches near you,
Least Chair in wrath to pieces tear you.

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

Song by the two Priests.
1. Pr.
Thou pickst the Butchers knife out of his mouth,
Thou robst a poor old woman of her tooth.
2. Pr.
—Thou didst the monstrous Flesh-flies to destroy,
Who bred the Maggots which did Beef o're run.
[Page 23]Chorus.
Thou sly, and bauling Theif go on with joy,
Their Money, Swords, and Hats are all our own.
A Dance by the two Priests.
1. Pr.
By Germain Princess that notorious cheat.
2. Pr.
By Cressets memory we thee intreat,
Thou wouldst with noise, and show blind all their eyes.
1. Pr.
Least they our silly Opera despise,
Chorus of both.
—Least they our silly Opera despice.
Now Croudy mutton is come out of France,
Tom thimble has made show compleat,
Iewes-Trumps, and Cymbals sound, and let us dance,
Since Wool' is small, let ery be great.
A Dance.
The Invocation.
2. Pr.

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

—Help our Opera, because 'tis very silly.
2. Pr.

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

—Help our Opera, because 'tis very silly:
2. Pr.

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

William Lilly.—
Help our Opera, because 'tis very silly.
2. Pr.

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

Help our Opera, because 'tis very silly.
[Page 24] Chorus first Sung, and then Sung, and Danc'd to.
Some shall hollow, some Dance and Sing,
Hey ding, ding, ding, hey ding, ding,
Omn'a bene—Omn'a bene.
Ding, ding, ding, with hey ding, ding ding,
With hey, &c.—
The Chief Priest seats None-so-fair in the Chair, it Thunders and Lightens; the Chair sinks, and in its place a dreadful shape arises, and sayes.—
The Princess to the Chair is pleasing,
And all her troubles now are easing.
The Chief Priest turns over his head, and the other two Priests take the little Boy in the Surplice, and whip him while they Sing this.
He took him by the Lilly Frock,
And scourged him full sore;
A long half hour by the Clock,
Alack a day therefore,
While Youth doth last, the changes Ring,
With a ding dong, ding dong ding,
When Youth is flown, and Age is come,
The Clappers down, the Bell doth groan:
And call you to a sad long home,
With a heavy, heavy, heavy boam, boam.
The Chief Priest rises and waves his Wand thrice.
Ch. Pr.
Comorah whee, Comorah whee, Comorah whee.
All answer bowing.
Shoolimocroh, Shoolimocroh, Shoolimo­croh.
Ch. Pr.
—Kiss Betty.
All answ. bowing.
[Page 25] It Thunders and Lightens, the Priest waves his Wand, all squat down—the dreadfull shape sincks, and the Chair rises kis­sing None-so-fair,—and she immediately comes out of it.
Ch. Pr.
Behold the Chair.—
[All rise up hastily and bow.
Ch. Pr.
Now None-so-fair, has had her wish,
And first you shall hear what it is;
And after we will sacrifice a—Fish.
K. And.
Oh Sir! we humbly do beseech
To know who shall her Husband be,
For that our very Ears do itch;
And if you please we fain would see.
It Thunders and Lightens extreamly, and then the Chair delivers this Oracle.—
Lead None-so-fair to yonder Wood,
Where Lover showle like Beasts for Food,
There she must sigh, and weep a good.
And so you there must leave her,
For the White Bear of Norwich must have her.
To her he will be very Civil,
Be gone, 'tis vain to huff or snivil.
K. And.
O fie, O fie, O laud, O me forlorn,
Would I had dy'd e'r I was born;
I have spent my Youth fair,
To get a wife for a Bear.

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.—

K. And.
Troop, troop, if I keep in this dreadful mind,
I will come back, but I'le leave my life behind.
Hold, hold, King Andrew stay, be wise I say,
And don't the Gods obey;
If 'twere good that None-so-fair were given to the Bear,
You should hear'd on't before y' had known't.
[Page 26] Phil.

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

We must not shed the guiltless blood,
Yet None-so-fair, poor Sheep must go to pot.
Gods, you wou'd be veaz'd, wo'r you z'ard in your kind,
Vor y'are never half an hour in a mind.

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.—

Oh Sir, take heed for Crimes like this,
The Sacred Chair has Rods in piss.
K. And.
When wishing Chair his Silence broak,
I do believe Tom-tumbler spoak.

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.

The fixed World is drawn, confin'd at large;
As men in Ropes ty'd loose, tugg Western Barge.
Ch. Pr.
You and your Nature are meer Ignorance,
But we appear to wise foreseeing chance.

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.

They'l ne'r be mad, because they'r not long in a mind,
Az a deaf Hostess can't zee, because she's blind.
Ch. Pr.
Avaunt you scoffing Blades, avaunt,
The Thundring Gods begin to Rant.
It Thunders, and Lightens, the Chair sinks, and the Priests, and all their Attendants run off the Stage.

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

Because the Clouds be troubl'd with the wind cholick,
Odzbboars dost think chill, lose my Coin, and my Parcel?
The Gods and wishing Chair, we must obey,
And I will go, because I cannot stay.
K. And.
—Come my sweet Pigs-nie let's make hast,
If Bear eats thee for his breakfast:
As I'am a sinner. He shall have me for a dinner.
Thus great——was betray'd,
And Psyche taken from her Dad,
Though Princess huff'd, and swore like mad.
Exeunt all but Phillip.
—All gwon, zure 'tis a Bawdy-house,
Vor there cham twoald they use you thus,
Be vengeance cranck, till you are snoring drunk,
And then away shirks Money, Cloaths, and Punck.
The Gods may well rain Golden showr's,
Into the Laps of Paramours:
Credit is theirs, but cost is ours;
Ch'ave not one penny left my drouth to quench,
If this be Religion; give me a Wench. Ther's your Anchovles.
Exit Phillipl

SCENE III. A Wilderness.

Enter King Andrew, Sweet-lips, Woudha. and None-so­fair.
O Royal Dad, see, how he blubbers,
Kings should not whine so like great lubbers.
K. A.
O slip! O Daughter mine! where art thou gadding?
I ne'r shall hear thee more sing with a fadding.
Oh! that could grave thee hadst thou put in,
Before by me thou wer't begotten:
Why should the Gods be so barbraous?
Oh! that t'hadst dy'd in Natures Ware-house,
Then Death that cunning old Shop-lifter,
From stall of eyes had never snift her.

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

K. And.
Oh ye Gods!
I've many a day paid Scot, and lot,
And well I'm serv'd, now am I not.
—Oh! Sir begone, begone, I say,
For if you tarry here,
My life it will soon sneak away:
And cheat the Gods, and eke the bear,
Sisters two I leave you here,
To keep you clean and sweet.
Be good unto my Daddy dear,
For so 'tis very meet.
Each week let him have shirt full clean,
Let head be comb'd, and wash'd his face.
Let holes be mended in hosen,
Himself can't do't, you see alass.
Sir, On my knees I you beseech,
To leave me now alone.
For why my Elbows both do itch,
Till you are fled, and gone.
[Page 29] O! Budge away from this place flat all,
For if the Bear should come, have at all.
Bw'y Daddy for ever and a day.
K. And.
—Mine own dear Hussey do not so say,
Bespeak a place for me below there:
For I'le come down some time of other,
And do'e hear, remember me to your Mother.
Exeunt all but None-so-fair.
For all so well I hid my fears,
Deaths Calumny my facebesmears,
Laud what a quiddie am I in i'fack; i'fack,
You may wring the shift upon my back:
If 'twere but Flesh and Blood I would not fear,
But to be touz'd by nought, but clawes and hair,
Hair, stiffer then, an old mans Beard,
Would make the stoutest Vizard here afeard

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.

Enter Phillip and Nicklas.

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.

Princess Chill beat my Oaken Plant to th'stumps,
Don't windle zoo, but leave thy doleful dumps.
—Let Guts and Garbage feed white Bears,
Poor strolling Cracks and Wastcoteers:
Not Gods, but cheating Crew of juggling Chair,
Are mad to make a Meal on Royal Gueer.
I will not hear the Sacred Chair abused.
[Page 30] Nick.
—Poor harmless Rogue! how sadly he's misused?
Great Princess, since grim [...]uc [...]us coming,
No longer here, let's stay Caps thrumming.
Come jog along with us good Fellows,
We will regale you at next Ale-house.
And of one kiss of Bona Robas.
Bears, Gods, nor Divels, shall not bob us.
No more great Sirs was't Court-ship here,
You take the wrong sow by the ear,
For by Lord Harry I'el ne'r marry,
And when I do, it shan't be you,
Thereforego too.
A Roaring within as of a Boar.
Odz-boars Prince Nick.
Vast, here's the Anchovies.
Bear up, Phillip, bear up.
Ay, ay, but don't hunch me zoo, chill warn't vor one.
A Roaring again, the Bear enters, seizes the Princess, and sincks with her, while Jeffry with a switch beats of the Princes.
END of the II. ACT.


Scene III.

Enter Payers with Beaters on thyir shoulders, and their Master with his measuring Rod.
YOu tough brawny Lads, that can live upon stone;
And skin the hard Flint for good Liquor:
Let love to the Idle, and wealthy begone,
And let preaching alone to the Vicar;
Let all be made plain, with your Strikers and Thumpers,
And when your works done, we'l about with the Bumpers.
The little blind God, of which lovers do prate,
Makes all that adore him grow lazy,
For counterfeit blessings he long makes you wait,
And with sighs and diseases he pays ye.
But he you serve now, with your Strikers and Thumpers,
When the works done, will about with the Bumpers.
1. Pav.

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

2. Pa.
But e'r wego in, let the Drinking begin,
And then we will Thump it agen.
With full double Pots,
Let us liquor our throats.
And then we'l to work with a hoh, ho, ho,
But let's drink e'r we go, let's drink e'r we go.
Then toss up your liquor, and to labour make hast,
The time is too precious to wast.
[Page 32]Chorus—With full double, &c.
1. Pav.
Here Harry.—
2. Pav.
Here Will.
3. Pav.
Old True-penny still.
While one is drinking, another should fill,
Here's to thee Peter,—
Thanks honest Phil.

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

Chorus—With full double, &c.
Dispatch, or the Bear, or the Princess will chide,
For Love can no hindrance abide.

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

We'l bouse it in spight of the Gods.
Chorus—With full double, &c.
A Dance, and all run off.
Inter Bruin and Jeffry.

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.

In his Altitudes—what's that?

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.—

Apollo, the wishing Chair told me.—

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.—

And look'd with such Religious Languishing Eyes.
Religious Languishing Eyes?
Ay, as if she were at Prayers.

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.

Gad, and so I will.

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

Oh, oh, aha.—
There's your Anchovies, as Prince Phillip says.

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.

My love comes, Ieffry to your Post, away,
Take care that none disturb our Play;
'Twill be your own another day.
Exeunt Bruin and Jeffry several ways.
The Scene chang'd to an Arbour dress'd up with gaudy Play-games for Children.
[...]nter None-so-fair alone.

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.

Bruin within sings.
Sweet open the Door, and let me come in a,
For to go a wooing, I now begin a.
Non. I'le open, and open, and open again,
Then I prythee sweet heart come in.
O Melody most ravishing!
I could for ever hear it sing.
Oh if thou hast the Bowels of a Man a!
Tune up thy Pipes, and sing again a.
Bruin within.
Oh fair Maid! be not affraid: For I am come a wooing,
Thou art mine, and I am thine own sweet heart, and Bruin.
Once more, Oh box my ears once more!
If er'I heard the like, I'm the Son of a Whore.
Hey ding a ding, muck and Trash,
Little Misse None-so-fair has a white Elbow,
Oh take all my dross! but give me the Lass,
For I want a new sheath to my Bilbow.
With a hey tralil, and ho tralil, my Elbow does itch,
Which makes me cry still:
Oh give me thy Dross! and thou shalt have the Lass,
And a Dainty fine sheath for thy Bilboe.
My heart's provok'd by some Divine Bauble,
And all my Blood is turn'd to a Caudle.
All Play-games that e're be brought,
For love or Money, I'le give my Honey,
She shall have all the World in thought.
—O Dear! O dainty!
—O sweet and twenty!
—When shall I my Charmer know,
—Too morrow to mo.
—I'm affraid,
—Fie fair Maid.
—Hey I'm sad, and I'm glad,
—Why all's paid I'gad.
—By this great guift, thou are some Goddy,
—Thou shalt perceive, I am no Noddy.
—Come in then my Dear hoddy doddy.
A Dance of Bears, among which is the white Bear of Norwich, and at the end of the Dance his shape flyes off, and he appears dressed like a Cupid.
Oh what a glorious thing was here, in shape of ugly Bear.
Oh what hands! what legs are there?
But Oh the face! and oh the hair!
And Oh that he were mine own dear!
The Bear I am,
Pray Gad be Jon.
For all you are so cranck and prety,
The Chair has sent me here to eat ye.
Oh eat me quickly! and Oh eat me long!
For and Oh! Iam not sickly, but Ah! I am not young.
Ah! I'm very tender by my troth,
Oh! I long to leap into thy mouth.
In thy dear kidnies I'le inhabit,
And make a Burrough like a Rabbit.
Oh! no other love shall thence me ferret,
Ah! I will not hurt thee, do not fear it.
But like gentle Viper some-
Times to pretty mouth I'le come,
Hounds-teeth to pick; on eyes to gaze,
And view thy comely maple face:
Then turning round in wainscot jawes,
And sliding down rough corral Throat.
There in loves sweets I'le stewing lye,
Till all dissolv'd in love, I dye.
[Page 37] My mind boils over with the thought,
My fair
my Love
my Dear
my Dove.
My Honey
my Bunny
my Croney
Let me approach ye
Let me make much o'ye—
Oh let me kiss that pretty pretty dimple!
My love is willing, but she's wondrous simple.
Ah how I long! Oh how I am stung!
Ah I feel your headed steel!
Oh how it smarts! Ah how it tickles!
Ah the softness! and Oh the prickles!
Ah how it cleaves my heart in pieces!
Now, now, Oh now it increases.
Now my Blood begins to be at peace,
I'le warrant you, 'twas all up in my face.
Oh the sweets of the pain! Ah the pain of the pleasure!
Ah the griefs! Oh the joys without measure!
Is this cold Numph without heart like Iron?
Her face doth tempt, but tricks do tyre one,
My stomacks full, but she's more eager,
Then Soldier coming from long leaguer.
Oh the Trance in which I've been!
Ah that 'twould 'till Death remain!
But Oh 'twill never, never come again!
Allonz my Dear I am thy Bear,
Cheer up I say, I have it for ye,
With nought, but love I will not marry.

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—

Oh well dissembled Ignorance!

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.

[Page 38] O look away, they pierce me so,
I know not wher'I feel or no.
Why do'e gape so amorous, zee,
Would you have any thing of me.
Oh yes, I am soust too in loves pickle,
Salt tears down cheeks like Mil-stones trickle;
My heart in Stomach their would rest,
As brooding Rook does on soft nest;
And while for food it there sits calling,
With bit of pity, thou must stop his yawling:
Oh give me thy pretty thing.
And when that pretty thing thou givest to me,
I'le burn its Tail, that it may fly from me;
Oh take it then! Oh catch it quickly,
Staying with me 'tis grown so sickly,
It melts too fast, unless your help withstands,
'Twill dye away, and lye upon my hands;
Oh it flutters, Ah it pants, yet, yet I hav't,
Oh Sir dispatch, dispatch, if you would sav't,
Sir, Sir, Sir, now, now, Oh now it tingles at my fingers ends,
'Tis gone, 'tis gone, run, fetch it back again:
Or I shall dye unless thou giv'st me thine.
Exeunt running.
Scene chang'd.
Enter the Princes, Nicklas and Phillip.
Prince Nick, cham zick ove this zokring work;
Che wonder where the Vengeance scab do lurk,
Why wuss mon she's but one o' my Naunts:
There vore lets squot, and leave theez murrin Jaunts;
All ground's to hot for me to tarry on,
Till I have got my Princely Carrion;
Though Fortune is froppish still we hope well,
be not moapish, but ask all Pe-o-ple.
May be she's zunning on zome odrous mixion,
Choud teaz her ifz cou'd vind the Vixon;
Had she none but we to put her tricks on.
[Page 39] Phil.
A vowdry tit come Nick lets zlip hence,
When luch zares pride wull pay her odd vip'ence;
Yet white Bears a Beast, if he hurt imp Royal,
Though Bear have Feast, let wishing Chair pay all:
Let's hye us to'n straight, and bumbast the bony Witch,
Che doubt thick Chair had vurst lick ove her hony Critch,
Mums the word least he by flight prevent us,
Let's gallop straight on pair of nimble Tentoes.
The Scene chang'd to the Arbour.
Enter None-so-fair.
Laud what have I done, I reek like a new shot gun,
Heigh hoe, a kind of shameless shame I feel;
But I feel something else that joyes me still,
And does that other feeling quite out-feel:
I can't repent now for my blood,
Sure things so sweet must need be good,
Besides to love is to obey a God,
The things so Sacred, and so kind to boot:
That I will roar it out—again I'le do't.
Here comes the little loving Rogue,
Now do I blush like a blew Dog;
What shall I do, I am rapt, Oh! I shall have my fit again, for
something catches me fast by the inclination.—
Oh, you Divel, you Ah!
Sing this.
The more I look, the more I like, beauty breeds my hearts delight.
Poor virtuous loving Princess,
At first she seem'd to loath loves pleasant bub,
And now she's all for empting of the Tub.
Though I'm so fond of one ne'r seen before,
I hope you do not think I am a Whore;
Yet least that I should prove with Child,
And you should run away therefore,
I pray Sir, be so meek and mild,
To tell me like a trusty Trojan,
Both what's your Name, and where's your Lodging.

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—

Oh I am rapt again!

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

Oh! I am rap't again—but what if they should dye?

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.

Ask not my mighty name, for that once known;
Like fairy pence thy Trump'ry will be gone:
If Newgate keeper once should smoak us,
Thy Bear must vanish with a hocus.

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.—

My Ieffery shall for them hye,
And fetch them hither by and by.
Enter Jeffery.
G. Pri.
Hoe, Iefferey, Hoe, make hast, and go
Hunt for great Sisters high and low.
Thou'lt find the stately Trape's tyr'd with Travel,
Out of surbated trotters picking gravel,
Or at some Farmers door a resting haunches,
And singing smutty Ballads for Bread and Cheese.
The Quean looks shy on't, will she bob? will she come?
The Nymph is plyant, done is job, word is mum.
Blouzes I fly to call as fast as hoofs can fall,
I'le bring them hither with their Fardels,
Or leave them there, it will go hard else.
Exit Ieffery.
I hope your Sisters are no setters,
And come to tempt you with Love-letters:
If you let any other—at my Charges,
My fresh tap'd love will turn as sowr as Verjuice.
But let that pass—
Now prick up ears, let eyes stare hard,
Let all thy Senses stand on Guard.
That I may catch them unprepar'd.
Till Ieffry do thy lineage bring,
We'l go, and hunt the pretty thing.


Enter Wishing-Chair and Jeffry.

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.

Well the Dog has his day.
—Ay and He'l not lose a minuit of it.

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.

Art thou so?—enough—I am for the Straights.
[Page 43] Enter Gammer Readstreak.

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.—

Pri'thee Ieffry be favourable, dispence.

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

Wee'l dry up your tears, and ease all your Care,
With delicate thing call'd a new wishing Chair.

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

Exit Ieffry.

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.

And the Devil in thy Chattering Chops.

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

And a new Disease ev'ry time thou tun'st thy Clack.
[Page 44] Enter Jeffry and Costard observing them.

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.

Ah how she bumbast him, out thou Carrion!—

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

Some kind mischief deliver me, from this she Dra­gon.

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.

Exit Costard.

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

Exit Jeffry.

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.

Exit Wish.

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.—

The wishing Chair is discover'd.

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?

The Chair sinks with her,—and Costard enters ridiculously Arm'd.

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.

[Page 46] Exit Gostard, and Enter wishing Chair, and Redstreak.

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.

Enter Castard.

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.

No, no more at this time, I thank your Queen-ship.

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.

What art thou? what dost stare at? wilt fight, ha?

'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.

Costard runs out.
Oh Sir! Sir! Sir!

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.—

[Page 47] The Chair claps down, Redstreak sits in it; and Costard returns.

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.—

Ay that thou hadst all I dare swear.

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

When he tryes to sit, the Chair moves, and he falls down.

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,

The Chair strikes him a blow on the ear.

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

Laud Husband I did n't touch you.—

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

The Chair strikes him on tother side.

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

Truly Husband I never touch'd you.

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.

She pushes him into the Chair, who holds him fast, while both beat him.

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.

Enter Princess, Nicklas and Phillip.

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.

The Chair and Costard sink the Princess, cut off Redstreaks head, clap it on a Sword, and go off singing.
Good Christians Rejoyce,
With glad heart, and with Voice:
The white Bear is dead,
And here is his head.



Enter two men—Neighbours.
1. Neighbour.

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.

[Page 50] Enter the Princess Riding in Triumph on Hobby-horses, the Womans-head carried on a Spear, attended with many on Horse-back; and a Foot with Banners, and Trails, Drums, and Trumpets, &c.—After they have passed round the Stage, and taken their places; One sings a Ballad, and all throng about him.
Prick up your ears, for, and that you may hear,
A Battel so dreadful, 'tween Princess and Bear,
Oh Christian Pee-pel!
This Beast was so hungry, and also right fell,
he eat youth, and baggage,
like Salt, Beef, and Cabbage,
'twas dolefull to look on, and ruefull to tell.
But now the Bear's dead,
And here is his head,
By which you may see, all is sooth that I said,
Therefore rejoyce, sing, and dance all, and some
With a lum, trum, tum, trum, tum, &c.
Dark was the Air, as if Welkin were sick,
When bloody minded Rose, Phillip, and Nick,
Quoth Nicolas, I think
The Fight will be doubtful, then first let us drink.
Prince Phillip by and by,
Did fill out the Brandy.
And Courage did swell up, as Bottle did shrink.
But now the Bear's dead. &c.
[Page 51] Brandishing Blades with Bottle and Bag,
These Princes went boldly to find out the Drag­gon-Bear I do mean.
And catch'd him devouring of two pretty men,
They stole both behind him,
And e'r he could mind them,
They cut him, and slash'd him agen and agen.
A Dance performed by two men, and a Bear showing the manner of the Princes killing the Bear.
You Champions great, that kill'd the Beast,
shall drink, and eat still of the best,
For him you slew with Swords sharp dint,
Car'd not one Fig for Iack o'lent.
But star'd, as if he would cry forth,
When Boy with Clapper cry'd shooh shoh.
Among Knights errant, you shall not
Give place to any, but Quixot.
While we their Praises are hum drumming,
See where Mother Wossat's coming.
Mother Woossat flies over the Stage, and calls Iustice Crab, who comes out in his Charriot.
Woossat knocks.
Is Justice Crab within?
What wouldst thou mortal?
Iustice! Oh gentle Iustice Crab!
Why makes my Croan this doleful moan?
Who dares affront my beauteous drab?
[Page 52] Wooss.
My sister Redstreaks dead,
Is sister Redstreak dead?
—Ay! ay!
What mortal did the direful deed?
Proud Springal Princess made her bleed.
And said
They cut off Bruines head,
Oh! If thou yet canst prise?
The Amber dropping from my eyes.
If all the Pensions I have paid?
And jobs that thou hast Gratis had,
Have any dent in Noddle made:
Let None-so-fair thy Fingers feel,
And all that did my Redstreak kill.
—From thy dear Chops,
Such Kindness drops.
Still so much influence from thee rains,
Thou shalt command my heart and brains,
I'le pay those saucy Princes for their pains,
I'le give them a Posset,
Dare make their tricks thus at,
My poor Mother Woossat.
Little Constable,
Come with Painted bauble,
And send off the Rabble.
Sumptuous their Throne is, but I'le make a Carr on't,
Crabs word alone is more powerful then Warrant.
Let the stripplings and losses be lustily curried,
Ay, and let their good Graces,
To limbo, to limbo, to limbo, be hurri'd.
Woossat and Crab fly out, a little Spirit rises, and beats off the Princes and Attendants.
Exeunt all.

Scene II.

Enter Nicklas and Phillip.
What bloody Rogues were these?
And we not run each Mothers Son
Had gone to Little ease.
A curse on thick Whoreson with the Painted Rod,
Sure 'twas some Divel, or some God.

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.—

Ay your tickle crack 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.—

Yet 'spight of Hell wee'l search from Ventures,
Till Nymph distressed, is freed from Tenters.
Enter Woudhamore and Sweetlips.

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?

We might e'r this have got fire out of flints,
Some brinded Wolf, Phils Father was, I wot,
On some she Rock, relentess thee he got.
My Nickies dam was some rough Bear,
And Tigre fierce was sure his sire,
Oh pity thy despairing Trull.
O let me buss my Phils fair Gull.
Cloud not those Lanthorns clipped eyes,
If Nickie frowns poor Woudha. dyes;
[Page 54] Pity my heart in loves fire roasting;
such pretty Bees sure should have no sting.
Thou little Princox be more mild,
Oh how it joyed me when it smil'd.
Indeed sweet Ladies, you but loose your labour.
You may as soon catch a Hare with a Tabar.

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

Courage then, la, la, la, come thou little pouting
Villain, I will order thee for thy dissembl'd cruelty.—

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

Dam your pettish frowns. come here's a Guinny.—

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.

Y'are an insolent audacious hectoring Pugg, and
I'le have you kick'd if you do not leave us presently.—

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.—

And so we take our leave,
Ay, and so we take our leave.
Exeunt Princes.
Never were Poor Princesses so distressed for Husbands.

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

Dam'em a Prince would no more refuse a handsom
Woman, then a Lyon would hurt a Prince.
[Page 55] Sweet.
Frozen Joy, Slaves let them be hang'd.

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.

We'l do't,—but stay, here's fresh game, he's right
I'le warrant I know by Enter Ieffery his leering eye.—
Then he's mine, for I saw him first.
Another word like that condemns thee.
If y'are so Tyrannical, I'le stroll alone.
Stay, the stripling has something to deliver.
Queen None-so-fair, (Ladies most splendiferous)
Intreats you both would come, and dine at her house.
And after that great hearts to solace,
She'l show you ev'ry Nook o'th' Pallace.
My Master loveth her most fervent,
I'm Ieffry his man, and your Servant.
Oh Fortune! luck our hopes are melted,
Were ever Princesses so jilted:
None-so-fair, a Queen.—
Let's send to Jaylor, er'bad news spread further,
That surly Princess may be seiz'd for murther.
None-so-fair a Queen.—
—True I'le assure ye.
Come Let's behold her Pomp, and eke Luxury,
And let Heroick love be turn'd to Fury.
To Jaylor we'l send Porter as we go by,
A Queen! saith we'l tickle her Toby.
The Scene chang'd to None-so-fairs house.
Enter None-so-fair, Sweetlips, and Woudhamore,
Say no more, the Treat was splendid.
But where's your kind good man I wonder?
Of all your Pomp let's see the Founder.
Stay you here a little tinie,
And I'le go call my loving Ninny:
Love, Honey, Chuck, Duch, so hoe, il o ho, ho, ho.
Our Sister Queen has an excellent voice to call
Harvest-men to Dinner.—
Oh Cross, untoward Fate! Ay that thou art!
Must she all pleasure have, and we all smart?
Like Image on house-top th'hast put her,
And we must crawl like Ducks in gutter.
And see her Finery, Oh Rot her!
Such earthen Dishes, such scull Bason,
Table so scrubb'd, you may see face on,
Such shining Platters, Shelves with lace on.
Such Pots so scour'd with Sand and Whiting,
Monarch had n'r such Kitchin to delight in.
Her Man, her Maid, her Dog, her Cat too,
At Dinner dresser thump'd like Tattoo:
Strong-bub in Closet, and all that too.
We thought she'ad given Crow a pudding,
And Luxury is just a budding;
And we to see't must come a gooding.
I cannot live to see this thing long,
A Curse on Mother Woossat's flim flam,
Are these the Fruits of flattering sing song.
Well, luck may turn, what's more ficle then chance?
Come let's Club our Sculs, and plot Vengeance,
Her strolling jilting tricks, we'ltell'o
And make her trusty Roger yellow.
Enter Bruin, and None-so-fair.
He comes i'faith a witty fellow.

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.—

I'le sell my Cloaths from my back,
To buy love-Pouder for his sake.
I'le poyson my dear Sister Crack,
E'r I this Gallant thing will lack,
I must speak to him Servant Jack.
[Page 57] Woud.
Hold when I have supp'd with Margret Trantum,
With goodly thing you may play Rantum;
Till then ifacks y'are like to wantum.

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

For Sisters sake my beautious Gipsie,
On whom Prince Bruin casteth Sheeps eye,
You shall bouze gratis till y'are tipsie;
On stately shank rest tyr'd ham trulls,
And you shall see my tricks and gambols.

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

The Scene drawn, and many Statues disocver'd in several postures.
Olippy what stone works here?

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.—

Green Sickness Girle can lift huge trunck,
But Blade with Loves flame scorch'd and shrunk;
Will do much more for charming Punk.
These stones compell'd by Amorous Bruin,
Shall Sing and Caper to some Tuin.
Mark how dull Statue kicks and Winces.
And all for love of Nonesy Princess.
Bruin Sings like a Walloon, and Playes on a Cimball and all the Images move.—

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.

My dear Nonesy set them in the way.—
Let Taffy go seek for his bliss in a Leek,
And Teag in hot Isquebagh flobber.
Jocky be doing with Oatcakes and Sowing,
And sup up their brave Bonny clabber.
But let Misses and Gallants, make use of their Talents,
To be Wise, is to love and be drunk;
For drink, and that same will get you a name,
When your healths and Estates are all sunck.
Let sullen old Men keep their beesom Beards clean,
Let Slaves strive for Honour and Riches,
Let Widgeons debate our Religion and State,
And Matrons be sober as Witches.
But let Misses, &c.
[Page 59] Let's drink and be clapp'd till our Shin-bone sore scrap'd,
And gems deck our faces all over,
Till Palsies and Cramps, make our eyes shine like Lamps,
For such is the true drunken lover.
Yet let Misses, &c.
A Warlike Dance, and then Exeunt all but None-so-fair, Sweetlips and Woudhamore.

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?

Oh say no more, I tremble all over!
Enter Ieffry
Madam great Sisters must be packing,
My Master finds some Trenchers lacking.
How, Royal Sisters grown light finger'd?
Of Princesses was e'r so foul a thing heard;
Richer Goods in house could not be chosen,
Odznigs they cost two groats a dozen.
How steal your Trenchers? Traps, marry come up here,
I find we should pay sauce, if we should sup here.
'Tis not gentilely done Faith Sister Nonsy:
And if we had you out, i'gad we'd trounce ye.
Minxes cease your idle prittle prattle,
And render back my Goods, and Chattle.
Minxes—a ha—let's give her battle.
We'l thump bewitching eyes black and blue,
Put tricks on Daughters of King Andrew.
They fight,—Fnter Bruin.
Great Master comes with arms a kimboe,
Take filching Madams hence to Limbo
Hence, or thy self shalt strait for them go.
Must we that have sent Princess thither, go our selves,
Hear me Justice, if there's any;
Let's not be long without company.
Away with them,
As by's own Bull was kill'd Phalaris,
W'are sent to Prison by Will. Harris.
Exeunt Jeffry, Sweetlips, and Woudha.

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

To undermine Prerogative,
And to seduce if they were able,
My Importance comfortable,
Before I'm weary of Bauble.
To Prison sent for filching Trencher-Plate,
When we had none in house,
Oh too too late;
I do begin to smell a Rat.
Ah wo is me! poor little mouse.
Why frowns? my beautious dear,
Thy Forheads muffl'd in black pouts,
Like warlike Steed in Fun'ral clouts.
That did eftsoons both prance and neigh,
And briskly fell to Oats and hay,
As if he promised a fair day.
But strait in black dog'd masters Course,
My dear looks sad as morning Horse.
Poh you prate, and prate, but you don't love me.
Love thee ungrateful Imp! Ah curse on thy jealous
[Page 63] Noddle, another word I'le squeeze thee like a Custard,
Devour thee without Salt or Mustard.

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!

Heavens! Powers! Oh hold!
Nay, nay, you have sworn.
I must have all the Secrets that are thine.
Must I my Secretest Secret then resign?
Why should you keep your Secret? and yet take mine?
Prythee Nonsy ask any thing else?
No, nothing.
The Devil take me if—

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.—

Ay let me have it?
Shall I speak?
Ay, ay, I say?
Then I shall you say?
Odslifelykins, ay I say?

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

What, what, Oh quickly.
I am.
Heart, blood and bones, what are you?
Yet be wise,

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

[Page] Bru.
I am Deval.
Bless us all—

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.

But now must fly for thy folly least I am caught,
And pawn my pretty Nonesy for the shot.
Exit Bruin, claps on the Bears skin, and flies over the Stage—The Scene chang'd to a Tavern.—
Enter two Drawers.

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

What's the matter.—
A Crack, a Crack; to pay here in the Flower Pot?

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

O gen'rous Youth speak not untruth,
I am a Princess of King Andrews stock in sooth.—

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

Knights Honour and Fortune, 'gad she's mad.
Didst find any Honour about her?

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.

But first let's strip her; come strip, strip.—
Ay, ay, this is she stoll our Silver Tankard; come strip:
Oh the lovely Prince?

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

Exeunt Drawers.

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

Sure in my mind 'twas much unkind,
To shark away and leave your love behind:
What ever now is thy design,
I'm sure when Nonsie's dead, he'l whine,
Crost love and grief to make an end 'o,
I'le break my neck out at a Window.
King Andrews Ghost rises Crown'd, and Redstreak with her head in her hand—attended with two Spirits.
Oh stay thy foul and bad intent,
Dame chance doth smile and frown,
When heels more high then head are sent,
That's upward that was down,
And None-so-fair shall have her Bear,
K. And.
—Shall have her Bear,
—Shall have her Bear.
And None-so-fair shall have her Bear,
And none shall have the sweet Beast but her.
Woossat will come for, and to chide,
From mischief fly a main,
For all must obey that are ty'd,
Till they are freed again,
And None-so-fair, &c.
The Song ended, they Vanish.
Why should I fly dear Dad, and eke
Ghost of Redstreak.
I've nothing stoll upon my Soul,
Else wou'd I n'r might speak.
[Page] [...][Page] [...]
[Page 64] Woossat flies down in her Chariot.
Dares None-so-fair with eyes of Cat?
Look on Queen hag the dread Woossat,
So Impudent not make a Cursy,
Bend stubborn hams, or'gad I'le force ye.
What have I done? dread Witch should seeking Ruin.
Debauch'd my Son, my first begotten Bruin,
Taught envious men to burn my Thatch,
Nail Horse-shoe under hatch.
Nay strove by your enchanting eye,
To be a greater Witch then I.
If Beauty be fault in me, 'tis Heavn's decree,
I do not paint truly, as you may see;
He took my pretty thing for his Rantidla,
I did not ask him first indeed la.
Dare's Minx to prate to me so proudly?
Thinking to choak my hate with loudy:
No, thou shalt never get whole hence,
But to Prison; Volens, Nolens,
To dye for Treason and Insolence.
Woossat flies away.
Enter Drawers, and Whistles.
1. Draw.
Princess, so hoe Princess!
If you have ought to say dear Crack, be short,
Black Guard won't stay.
Oh well a day! I must away to Pluto's Court,
Oh State of Greatness variable!
Oh luck of Princess miserable!
END of the IV. ACT.


SCENE I. A common Prison confused.

A great noise heard—Singing, Shreeking, Groaning, Roa­ring, and Ratling of Chains.
Enter many common Prisoners, among which, Tagrag, Brazen­nose, Tatterd-hoe, Shrubs-hall, Bull-barrow, bringing in the Prin­cess and Princesses.—
All cry out.—Garnish, garnish, garnish,
Come, disburse, disburse.

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.

Come, a Song, a Song.—Princess Nonsy, put in [...]
Treble at Rome; be a Roman.—
Be jovial, be jovial, each Lad,
Great Dukes of the Dungeon, and Knights of the Pad;
Now the Iaylor from hence is,
We are all great Princes.
Let's sing, let's laugh, let's drink, and be mad.
Along, and along, mirth have it's swing,
For older or younger, there's none can live longer
Then Fortune is pleased, and the King;
Then let's merrily sing, and dance in a string,
Then let's merrily sing, and dance in a string.
This Pallace, and all is our own,
Our lodging's provided, the Rent is paid down.
Every Shop's our Exchecquer,
Each p [...]rse is our debtor,
We alwayes gain who ever's undone.
Along, &c.
The Treasures the Husband does lend,
Treats on his doxy, we briskly do spend.
Ay, and when we are chain'd here,
She steals the remainder.
And kindly comes to visit her Friend.
A long, &c.
A Dance perform'd by Prisoners under Gallos's.

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

Exeunt all but Princes and Princesses.

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.

Have you any 'Tority vor what you zay?
[Page 67] Nick.

'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.—

Then she was Enchanted?

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.

The Scene drawn, discovers the Court of Rogues with atten­dants.

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


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

Bolens nolens,—a pox on your bolens nolens.—

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

[Page 68] Braz.

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.

—Sir! You must say my Lord.

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?—

Ask Prince Nick.—

—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.

The Womans head set on the Table.

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.—

[Page 70] Woud.

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!

The Court's bewitch'd, and the head's enchanted.
Sirrah! you grow saucy, tye up 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.

The hands lift up the head, and it speakes, and then flies up in the Air. Lament and be sad, Redstreak is dead; And here is her head. Prince Nick, and Phil, Did me kill.

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.

Set those she-Monsters to the Bar.
Exeunt Princess Nick and Phil.

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.

Exeunt all but None-so-fair. The Seene changes
Must I for using what's my own,
In Hellish hole be left alone;
With pinches, and pricks of pin,
Be rack'd all day, all night with din?
[Page 72] With Hempen cord, have great Toe cramp'd,
By Dog of Newgate thump'd and stamp'd;
By Rogues and Vermine kept from sleep,
While some do roar, and some do weep.
Oh Woossat, harsh, Prince Bruin cruel,
To sneak away from precious Jewel:
Yet in these horrours I could sing,
Had I again my pretty thing.
Let Beauty triumph o're despair,
For none are cruel to the Fair;
The Crooked, the Old, and deformed shall be,
From cares and affronts never free;
But the Youthful, the pretty and kind,
In a Prison some pity will find,
For all are to Love, and to beauty inclin'd.
One gives her a Bottle of Brandy, and Sings—this.
Come hither, and take this Bottle of Nantz,
'Twill make mother Woossat soon leave off her rants,
For I know she is one of my Naunts.
Though she's hot as a Codling,
'Twill make her straight Maudlin.
She'l sip, she'l sigh, she'l swear, she'l sing, and she'l melt,
She'l kiss thee, and groan for the pains thou hast felt.
Alass my poor Nonsy I grieve for thy smart,
For though an old Woman be never so tart;
A dram of the Bottle will soften her heart.
Thy Sisters must howl, for the Trenchers they stole,
And the Princes are in the Pit-hole.
There they shall stay,
For ever and a day.
But Nonsey shall straight go to play,
—Make hast poor Nonsey,
—Make hast poor Nonsey,
—Make hast poor Nonsey to Bruin,
—For Nonsey shall injoy her pretty thing.
—For Nonsey &c.—
—For Nonsey &c.—
Chorus of all.
make hast poor Nonsey.
make &c.—
For Nonsey.

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!—

Enter Princess, Phil. and Nick.
No, we are but their Ghosts.

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.

Poor loving Ghosts, tell me quickly then?—
[Page 74] Nick.

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.

The delights of the Bottle, and the Charms of a drab,
When they pour out their pleasures will make a man mad.
All the night in deep Healths, and loud Curses is spent,
Which the dull silly Fop the next day does repent.
And Love's sweet debauch in a moment is gone,
But leaves a damn'd Pox to last all the life long.
Love and Wine rule the Swords that shed so much Blood
All the World, but for them, would grow vertuous and good.
Were it not for the Witchcrafts of Wenching and Wine,
Madam,—would be poor, and my Lord would be fine.
But she now keep, her Coach, and can live without thinking,
And damns her Debauch with his Wenching and Drinking.
[Page 75] Nick.

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


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

For I'm a Ghost, though I stood so like a Post.
Farewel, two such loving Ghosts were never found
[—On English Ground.]
The delights of the Bottle &c.

—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!—

The delights of the Bottle &c.

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.—

The delights of the Bottle.—
[She falls asleep.]
Enter Bruin.
Where is my love? where is my dear?
O lemine I think she's here!
Where are thy eyes? thy pretty eyes,
Look how thy love poor Bruin cries.
She's dead, she's dead, she's dead,
Oh! whither art thou fled?
Oh Mother Woossat! Oh cruel Death!
Oh! who has stop'd thy spicey breath?
Oh pretty Nonsy! Oh hapless Bruin!
Oh fie! Oh dear! Oh me! Oh thee! Oh hear!
Thy sobbing houling Bear.
Oh Woossat Mother! since tha'st kill'd my joy,
I will thy Imps and sucking Toads destroy.
[Page 76] Thy Charmes and Pictures all shall perish too;
And what so e'r thou dost, I will undo.
Woossat flies down in her Charriot.
So Insolent, why, what a Murrain?
You'l find the stink the worse for stirring.
I will revenge my dear Nonesee,
On Justice Crab, and eke on thee.
What Hellish Teen? what Devilish Ire,
Made thee leave Nonsey in the mire?
For her you did neglect my Trade,
And when to Wishing-Chair I call'd for aid,
You wheedl'd him to be your Bawd.
Oh save my love! my Nonsy save,
And I'le for ever be thy Slave.
I'le trot to Carriers ev'ry week,
Fresh Countrey Ware for thee to seek.
And when thou hast'm,
I'le bring thee ev'ry Gallants Custom.
Pry'thee stint thy silly talk,
Thou mayest as well turn Cheese to Chalk.
Oh my Nonsey! Oh my heart Blood and Guts!
Oh save my dear! Oh save my Queen of Sluts!
Thou stony-hearted Witch, is this so much?
Think, what fine Nymphs I did for thee debauch?
Thou prat'st in vain, the cruel Dye is cast,
Oh cruel Mother! whither in such hast?
I'le show thy tricks, and all thy conjuring Art;
And make thee ride in Triumph in a Care.
No Gallant e'r shall rap at dore,
And without Man, in vain is Whore.
Th'art insolent I'le hear no more.
Woossat Enters into her Charriot.
Inhumane Woossat do not run,
And let thy Son be quite undone.
[Page 77] I thee conjure, don't leave her thus,
By thy beloved Incubus.
Thy publick Drabs, and private dores,
Thy little Bottles, and great scores:
Thy much Impudence, and no shame,
By all thy sports and by that same:
Oh stay the Cart! stay the Cart! stay the Cart.
He lays hold, and is drawn up; till he pulls down the Charriot. Iustice Crab is driven in, in a Wheel-barrow.
O ho, here's Justice Crab! now by this light,
He'l do me right.
Dear Soul, I beg you'l check the Hag,
And read her a Lecture for abusing her Hector.
Matron of love, be kind to bauling Imp,
And let him have his am'rous shrimp.
If Hector be disgruntl'd, Trade is broken,
He'l make thy mischiefs known by tale and token.
Redstreak and the King, you made dye,
And caused the Princess sad Tragedy.
Both Sisters ruin'd by your Plot,
If Nonsy too should go to Pot.
He'd blaze all this about the Town,
And make thy very house pull'd down.
Shall he have mortal only to his use?
When Pomp and State ne'r so much bigger?
Can't keep frail Missy to one trigger:
No, 'tis to credit Trade, and House abuse;
Besides she'l eat Bread out of mouth;
I will not suffer't, 'faith, and troth.
Nonsey's business shall be done,
She's mortal, therefore may be wone;
No, Missy was ever true to one.
Then Nonsy rise, rise my sweet punck;
She seemed dead, yet was but drunk.
Rise from thy Chair as soft as Couch,
And turn to Arms of loving Slouch.
[Page 78] None-so-fair Wakes.

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?

Thou hast, Oh let me hug and buss it!
Thanks to great Crab, and Mother Woossat.
I have.—Oh let me, hug and buss it!
Thanks to great Crab, and Mother Woossat.
Come jolly lovers, let's be trudging;
Ile see you both safe in your lodging.
There kiss and take your fill of dodging:
First to my Hall, for there are coming.
A Crew of jovial youth's a mumming.
So well you shall be treated there,
That ev'ry Youth, and Damzel here;
Shall envy joys of Youth and Bear.
[Exeunt all.]
The Scene open'd, discovers a Crew of Bachanals dressed with Ivy, and Vine-leaves, drinking, and laughing: beyond them a company of Lovers adorn'd with Garlands of Roses, &c. in a pleasant Grove.
Song by the Bacchanals.
Time's an old Rascal, he never will stay,
Yet in spite of his Scythe, and his Glass;
He that flies from his liquor [...] an Ass.
Boy, drink away, Boy drink away.
While this is a sing­ing, Bacchus rises, riding on a Hogs­head dressed with Vine-branches and Ivy.
Song by the Lovers.
Ah! Charming, Fair, Divine, Ice, Flames & Darts,
Nymph, Goddess, beauties, shrine, O eyes and hearts!
Stars, Suns, and Diomands, Roses, and Lillies,
Damon Alexis! Oh Cloris! Ah Phillis!
Powr's, Gods, and Fates, Oh pity joy, and pain,
Languish alass, Fears, Hopes, Smiles, and Disdain.
Oh cruel Nymph! Ah unrelenting Swayn!
While this is singing, Cu­pid flies down on the Stage.
Bacchus sings.
Come my Sons of the Grape, while your faces outshine
The Sun in the Sky, with the juice of the Vine.
Let the pale whining lover discover
How sad are the Chains, and how pleasant are mine.
While this is singing, all the Bac­chanals come on the Stage.
Cupid sings.
Come happy Lovers, come, and tell,
The joys that in your Bosom's dwell.
The pleasures of the hands and eyes,
How ev'ry look and touch surprize,
Let your perswasive Language prove,
There is no Paradice but Love.
While this is singing the lovers come on the Stage.
Chorus of all.
We come to dye or win the Field,
For hearts with Love and Bacchus fill'd.
Can fight, and fall; but never yield.
A Dance of Bacchanals, and Lovers.
A Song by a Lover.
When Caelia my heart did surprize,
In an Ocean of grief my fair Goddess did rise,
And like Christal dissolv'd, the tears flow'd from her eyes.
From her beautiful Cheeks, all the Roses withdrew,
And she look'd like a Lilly o'rladen with dew.
[Page 80] How sweet did her sorrow appear?
How I trembl'd, and sigh'd, and for every tear,
Made a vew to the Gods, and a Prayer to her,
Oh how soft are the wounds we receive from the fair!
But the joys and the pleasures there's none can declare.
What panting, and fainting, I feel,
When imbracing her feet before Caelia I kneel:
Oh how dear are her smiles! and how sweetly they kill?
Ev'ry minute I dye with the thoughts of her Bliss,
And she breaths a new life in each languishing kiss.
O Love let us still wear the Chain,
Let no Passion, but love in our fancies e'r reign,
Let us often be cur'd, and ne'r freed from our pain.
All the pleasures of Wine to the Sense are confin'd,
But 'tis Love is the Noblest delight of the mind.
SONG. by a Bacchanal.
Lovers grow pale, and Beauties grow stale;
And their pleasures end all like an old Winters tale.
But the Beauties of Wine do still sparkle and shine,
And make all that love it, and drink it Divine.
Love makes you old, e'r thirty is told,
But the aged, and cold, become active and bold,
Look as plump, and as brisk as the Grape that's unprest,
When their heads with the Spirit of Wine are possest.
The Clouds open, and from the inner part of the Heaven, descends Iupiter in his Charriot drawn by Eagles.
Jupiter sings.
Let Love and Wine no more contend,
To whose high Pow'rs all Mortals bend.
Before this Assembly, where are
The Amorous, the Youthful, and Fair,
Make an end of your long doubtful War.
Why should you quarrel? and fiercely complain?
All the World is your own, & your Rites would maintain:
But without one another, you neither can Reign.
A Chorus of Cupid and Bacchus.
Let Hermes the Herald of Heaven, and Fame;
The Union of Cupid, and Bacchus proclaim.
Trumpets are heard a far off, the Heavens divide; and from the furthest end Mercury flies down attended by Fame, and the whole Heaven appears adorn'd with Angels, &c. and Musick.—
Mercury sings.
To all, and to Singular in this great meeting,
The weighty Gods, Cupid and Bacchus, send greeting.
Whereas by some Poets a wicked design
Of difference, was raised between Love and good Wine.
They now do declare
An end of the War,
And the hearts of all Mortals will equally share.
When Beauties are cruel to banish your care,
From Love to the Charms of Bacchus repair,
And when Bacchus inflames you with too hot a Fire,
To the pleasures of Love for assistance retire.
[Page 82] A Catch sung in three parts, and danc'd. By Bacchanals and Lovers.
Let's love, and drink, and drink, and love, and drink on,
What have we else in this dull World to think on?
But still to love, to drink, and love, and drink on?
Let's love, and drink, and drink, and love for ever,
And let each Nymph be made a kind believer.
For he that loves, and drinks, will ne'r deceive her.
Enter two Elizian Princes, and dance through Hoops. The Dance ended, Mercury speaks to the Audience.
Although the War 'twixt Love and Wine is done,
We dare not triumph, 'till your pleasure's known;
For here the very Gods your Powers own.
If all that Love and Drink loud plaudits ring,
The joyful Gods, and Nymphs again shall sing,
—And Nonsy shall injoy her pretty thing.


LIke Cunning Wives to cheat you to your Bliss,
We took the Garb and Humours of your Miss.
As gay,—as vain, and ayery we are grown;
And you, as brisk; as young Gallants came on:
And look as dull as they, now th' Act is done.
Since Non-sense, Noise, and Show still bear the Bell,
As wise Physicians do with Mad-men deal,
We humour you, to make you sooner well.
If this won't take—
T'insure our future charge, and Credit too.
As undertakers for great Volumes do.
We'l paint your Coats of Arms o'r ev'ry Scene,
And dedicate 'm t'ye to draw you in.
Poor Nonsy dreading the approaching storm,
Sits trembling like a Hare within her Form:
While Criticks swarm from ev'ry part o'th'Town,
Prepar'd with Damning noise to run her down:
She fears no Gen'rous Hunters, for they come
Only for sport, and would prevent her Doom.
She fears no snarling Fops, though ev'ry foot,
Like eager Lovers they will put her to't.
Still hunting close, and snatching at her Scut;
No, only sneaking Poachers, she can dread;
That with their long-tail'd Mungrils hunt for Bread,
And lurk in holes to knock her on the head.
Tou Gentlemen that for your pleasure came,
Let not those creeping Vermine kill your game:
Give her fair Law, and while in view she flies,
Your swelling hopes and sweet delights will rise:
But when you paunch her, all your pleasure dies.
Keep up your sport; and to prevent our sorrow,
Save her this night, and run her down to morrow.
[...] [...]
[Page] Non-so.—Now to the Misses, thus poor Nonsy bends,
To leave no stone unturn'd to gain our ends.
You She-Weavers, that without lawless Engines, come;
That like dark Lanthorns lurk in little Room,
And manage twenty Shuttles with one Loom:
While honest Lab'rers that can use but one,
For want of work lye still, and are undone.
Let all your Tools be stirring for your Aid,
Or we will burn your Engines, and destroy your Trade.

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