SCENE I.

DEAR Bowman well met, Aimwell thy servant.

O Mr. Laton, I was told you were in a gay hu­mour last night, good company, and very witty.

An easie thing for any man to be witty, or a Wit at my rate: for we that make the greatest bustle, the loudest noise, and are rudest to the women, are called Wits.

Than you conclude rudeness and ill manners to be the ingredients of wit: I see thou understand'st some wit.

Yes, the wit of this age I do; for to be witty now, is to be more troublesom in a Playhouse, than a Butcher at a Beargarden: that's wit to tear womens cloaths and linnen off in the house: that's wit to see Pl [...] for nothing, one Act in the Pit, another in a Box, a third in the Gallery, that's wit. And lastly, to cheat your Hackney Coachman, Link Boy, and your Whore, and give 'em nothing: O that's mighty wit!

Hang 'em, those are Sherks, not Wits.

They go for Wits I assure you, Sir. When a poor Coachman has driven me all day, and I not knowing how to pay him, I have b [...] him drive to such a place, and there I tell him he must wait till I have supp'd; under that pretence I slip out at a back door, and there your Coachman's paid.

This is a very ungentleman like wit, I assure you.

Take heed what you say, for I always do it when I am drunk.

Ay, and when you are sober too I doubt.

Faith when I want money, but now they all know me so well, that when I call a Coach, they drive away from me as the Devil were i'th' wheels.

All the discourse o'th' Town is, of the two great Heiresses of the City▪ three hundred thousand pound betwi [...]t two [...]isters.

'Tis almost incredible, that a Merchant in his life time should raise so vast an estate.

Has their Father left them Orphans to the City?

No, but he has [...]etch'd his elder Brother out of prison, and made him their Guardian.

If he be poor, they will as certainly be bought and sold, as Soap and Hops are at Sturbridge Fair.

May be not, for he's of great education: and though he be a man of parts and wisdom, yet his pride wou'd never suffer his high spirit to stoop to his low fortune, but still spent on till he was clapt in prison.

'Tis so; but to encourage him to be just, he has left him a thousand pounds a year for his life.

For all that they that bid most shall have 'em.

He has two Daughters of his own indeed, what his love to them may tempt him to I know not; but this men say of him, he is the Devil in his anger, and in his temper the most airy, jocose, and civil Gentleman in the world.

To most men he is a pleasant Creature; his ambition is to be a Wit, but he wants materials, [...] all the tools he has towards it is Lying, and that he does so well, that 'tis hard to know when he lyes, and when he does not.

I have business with him, let us all go.

With all my Soul, for I value him above all Mankind.

He deserves it, Sir; for he has all points of honour in him to perfe­ction.

I am not the least of his Admirers, and so let's go wait upon him.

Fortune, Mariana, has bail'd me out of the jaws of prison, and made me Guardian to my Brothers Daughters: three hundred thousand pounds they have, which shall lodge you both in the Arm [...] of Honour. But you must follow my instruction, [...]nd subtilly act your parts in my design.

So your design be just, Sir.

Just! dare you question the actions of your Father? does your Conscience scruple to be great, Madam Precision?

No, Sir, if that greatness be fairly purchased; but where have we Fortunes to expect such blessings?

Bless me! that's your Brothers Money, left for his own dear Chil­dren; I hope then you'll not betray your trust, and strip your self of that honest fame you have ever liv'd in.

Who would not be a Knave, a damn'd one, rather than a Beggar? who can withstand this great temptation? The Fools, the Wise, the Learn­ed, nor the Religions, have power to resist such a blessed occasion, why then should I be styled That Honest Fool? No.

Sister, c [...]n you forget that our wants made our Landlady attempt our virtues, saying she would help us to a kind Gentleman that would pay our Rent for us, if we would be kind to him again?

A Baud by my life, O damm her! But Landladies are Licens'd Bauds, for paying s [...]ot and lot they have Vestry Commission to corrupt the Daughters of each Parish.

But say, Mariana, resolve you to obey?

Sir, on my knees I beg I may retire from the mischiefs, I foresee: your honour and my Cousins rum are at stake, and must be lost; I'll beg some heaven [...]y Guide to direct me where Virtue dwells.

That's where no Mankind inh [...]bits; Virtue is a meagre sta [...]v'd old Woman, that lives in a Cellar on the Alms of a Parish; and that's the Pest preferment Virtue ever purchased.

And will you be one of those virtuous old Women, Sister?

Yes, and from my heart I wish yo [...] were so too.

Thank you, Sister; but I hope 'tis time enough to think of virtue when ones [...]eeth are out: to be a virtuous young Woman, and a virtuous old Woman too, is too much; I think 'tis fair, Father, for a young Woman to resolve to be virtuous when she's old.

Wou'd you not be virtuous whilest you're young, Sister?

Yes, dear Sister; but one wou'd not make it their business: if it come, 'tis welcom; if not, by my troth I'll ne'er break my heart about it.

Thou art my own Child by Heaven; for thee, Mariana, though [Page 4] thou art the treasure of my heart, I'll tear thee from it, for it must be torn, thou art so firmly rooted: but henceforth I'll hate thee for thy disobedi­ence, therefore be gone.

'Tis the onely thing my Soul desires; for I had rather be the Of­spring of a Monster, than the Child of him who means such horrid wrongs to those that trust them.

's Death her saucy zele has made her impudent.

You Fanatick Devil, dare you talk to me thus, and not shake and tremble? Has Virtue bereft thee of modesty and manners? A curse upon the Errors of the Age, when Children grow precisely obstinate; the damn'd Ignorant call that Virtue.

Prethee consider, Sister, Virtue cannot maintain thee; and when once 'tis known a handsom Woman is in want, then as the Poet worthily says, the powerful Guinney cannot be withstood. Pray you, Sir, let me but have her one hour, I'll make her sensible what destruction Virtue brings to Woman-kind: but pray you tell her how great she shall be; I fancy an Honourable Title may prevail with a Tender Conscience.

She shall be sure of the highest, or if Subjects can arrive at greater Dignities, we will still fly higher.

But heark you, Father, what shall I be all this while? This tempt­ing Honour has kindled such a fire in me, that I'm ready to break out into Dignities, and cannot be quench'd till I am refin'd and purifi'd fit for Em­pire. There's noble pride for you, Father.

My own Spirit dictates to thine, and makes our Hearts strike time and thought together.

Sister look here, farwell Conscience, for Greatness sake I'd make no scruple to poyson my very Father.

How! how!

If you stood betwixt me and Honour, Father.

O my Genius, my own dear Genius!

Was ever thing so very young so very wicked! Thou shou'ds a ta'en thy leave of Heaven fairly, and not suffer'd the Society of Devils to have enter'd thee so soon.

Alack Father, she'll preach anon. I dare swear a great Pew in a Fa­natick Church is her Non ultra: she has no honourable pride in her, she is not of our Family.

From my Soul I wish I were not.

That shall be granted never doubt; the thing I doat on more than Heaven proves my greatest Hell; thy virtue makes thee thy own Angel and my Devil.

Well I'll go where nothing of Religion is profess'd, and there per­haps may be no wickedness; for Heathens sure have no sins of your mon­strous growth.

I had rather be a rich and honourable Monster, than a virtuous Beg­gar, Sister.

Is Greatness then a monstrous sin? that's like those malicious Bruits, [Page 5] who call Coaches Hell-Carts because they go afoot; so you think wealth monstrous because you are a Begger. That ever we should bring our Chil­dren up to be religious! it onely teaches them to rebell against their Prince and Parents. Then Dame Nature, that cunning Gilt, commands and orders us to doat on them, when they retu [...]n nothing but ingratitude. Wou'd Nature had let that subtil knack alone, for 'tis the chiefest curse that Man­kind has, loving and providing for our Brats: come, Minion, I'll provide for you, for by the Life that's lent me, if within this hour you comply not, I'll ease your troubled mind with this —

Let me, Father, but have her to my Chamber, if I do not charm her to obedience, and like a Twig bend and supple her fit for all your projects, then disown me too.

Thy words come from thee with an Angels voice.

A Devils or a Peacocks rather.

You bray like an Ass, Lady, and may come into the consort: what harmonious musick wou'd a Peacock, a Devil, and an Ass make! the Peacock shou'd chant the Treble, the Ass shou'd bray the Tenor, and the De­vil shou'd roar the Base. And to these add but a Sowgelder, and say they are come out of France, and they wou'd pass for the best Musick in Chri­stendom. Come foolish Sister, come angry Father, I'll confute your She Lay-Elder never fear me.

My worthy Nephew Sir Hercules Buffoon, I rejoyce heartily to see you at London; and pray you, Sir, what news does the Country afford?

Why all the news in the Country is, that there's no news at London.

What and the Gazette bauling in the streets twice a week.

Burn the Gazette, we know what h [...]ws there's in't before it come; out; there's my Ladies little Dog, with Liver-colour'd Spots; then a Horse stolen or stray'd fourteen hands high, they that can bring tidings of him shall be well rewarded: then there's the old stop-gap Ditto: and these are for ever and ever the news of the Gazette. I'll be better inform'd in the Country at a Thatch'd Alehouse, where the Gentry meet twice a week to communicate news.

But prethee Nephew, tell me what news i'th' Country?

They say for certain, that London and Westminster are grown so Godly, that in a whole week there's scarce a Cuckold made.

You found not that in the Gazette I hope.

A Pox on the Gazette, they have got a trick now to expound it, and they make as many false Interpretations, as thou makest Uncle when thou expound'st a Chapter to thy Family.

You are always jerking at the Scriptures, and prophaning the silent Ministers; those are your Common-places. They say now you take de­light to be thought an Atheist, and a Wit forsooth.

I confess I'd rather be thought an Atheist, than not a Wit

They go together indeed▪ imp [...]ssiole to pa [...] those two sins.

They are as inseparable I confess as Matrimony; an Atheist and a Wit are incorporated, and like man and wife become one flesh.

The truth is, they are link'd together like Sausages.

I, and they will fry together like Sausages one day.

In Hell thou meanest; they never value that Man, for they that be­lieve nothing fear nothing.

Then you are counted the most notorious Lyer of all Norfolk, which is a shame and dishonour to the Family of the Buffoons.

Thou Fool, 'ti [...] the onely useful virtue belonging to a great Family, and I am prouder of it Uncle, than thou art of thy great Bible with huge Silver Clasps.

A worthy virtue indeed, when a Lyer's counted worse than a Thief.

Y'are a Rascal Uncle, Lying is one of the Liberal Sciences, and is the eminent'st profession in the world but Poetry.

A Poet indeed is an excellent yoke-fellow for a Lyer; The D [...]vil cou'd not a match'd them better.

A City Presbyter and a silenc'd Minister are better match'd by half.

Thou'rt a wicked Fellow, sure there is some secret delight in being a Wit, or else men wou'd never ventu [...]e to be damn'd for't as they do.

A man wou'd venture any thing to be a Wit Uncle, to have [...]en honour and admi [...]e them, and cry There goes a Wit, that Gentlem [...]n's a Wit▪ O there's more glory in that than in being a Monarch.

Ha, ha; what a thing has this F [...]ol found out for Wit? why what the Devil has Wit to do with Religion?

Nay Sir, I have got a hundred thousand pounds by my wit, that's the substantial part. Your little [...] Wits, their Pockets are always▪ as empty as their Heads. Money is wit, Purchasing is wit, Planting is wit; when they come to that [...] be [...]o [...]e I assure you. But where's your Son? I m [...]an to make a Prent [...]ce of him.

I mean to make a Wit of him.

First make a Prentice of him▪ and then he is qualified for wit, or any Honourable Title in the world. I wou'd bind him Prentice because I wou'd have him saved

Saved! I was a Prentice my self, and I do not find I am like to be save, for I learnt all my Lying there; th [...] sure thing my Mast [...]r taught me was, never to speak truth to a Custom [...], and is that the w [...]y to be saved?

That is not Lying, Nephew, 'tis but the myst [...]ry of our professions, and for advantage of trade we all hold fraud to be a little lawful.

O here comes your Heir, and mine, this is your Uncle Sirrah.

Sirrah! Sir, if you were twenty Fathers, I write my self Esquire.

Well said Boy, I comm [...]nd the [...].

Are you my reverend rich Uncle Al [...]erman Buffoon?

Yes, Sir.

I hope you'll excuse my Fathers rudeness for calling me Sirrah; really I am ashamed of him, a poor Country Knight, void of manners. I under­stand Uncle you will make me your Heir.

If you behave your self like a Buffoon I'll make you my Heir.

Then pray you Uncle pray to God to bless me; you are obliged in­deed, Sir, for I have not ask'd my Father Blessing these seven years.

And if good times come I [...]ll make you a Lord.

Then I shall be the first Buffoon that ever was a Lord.

Not by a hundred; there has been, there is, and will for ever be Lord Buffoons: we are an ancienter Family than the [...]a-Fools, we came in with William of Normandy, and the French Buffoons came out of the Irish Buffoons by a match with King Pippin; and there the Buffoons are fixt, and will be to the end of the world.

I honour thee Nephew for thy Learning, in deriving our Pedigree in a diameter from the best Bloud of Europe.

Players! thou foolish profane Boy, Players!

If you be not read in the History of Players, both men and women; 'twill call your Breeding in question [...] besides, all the Princes in the world allow of Players, and if the Buffoons should not then where's your Pedigree from the House of Pippin?

Nay rather than call that in question, I'll allow of Players freely.

We admire Poets too in the Country most mightily, Uncle:

That's more than we do in London, I assure you Sir.

I pity all those that do not, Uncle: but Father which do you ho [...]d to be the most honourable, your Comick or Heroick Poet?

O your Heroick without doubt, because he comes nearer the Ro­mantick strain than the other.

Romantick, what signifies the word Romantick?

Why it comes from the word Romance, and Romance is the Ara­bick word for a Swinger, and Swinger is the Hebrew word for a Lyer.

By this you prove the Heroick Poets to be Lyers.

No, no, by no means; Romantickly inclined onely.

Nephew, I admire thy parts: I'll home, and make thy Entertaim­ment [Page 8] to the Dignity of the Buffoons; for I am more than proud that I spring from the Loyns of King Pippin.

Uncle, we will most dutifully be with you forthwith. I must see the Players Father, for I have tokens to deliver to one of them from two Country Ladies.

Prethee Ned, which of the Players is't?

'Tis he that acts Drawcansir; the Ladies are damnably in love with him for killing whole Armies Horse and Foot; one of 'em said she wou'd give a hundred pound to be with child by him of a young Drawcansir.

Th [...]n he must get the other Lady with child of a young Army, for the young Drawcansir to conquer. But prethee Ned, who are the Ladies? I'll warrant 'em both Whipsters.

Like enough, for one is my Sister, and the other my Mother I saith.

You damn'd Rogue, to betray your Mother and Sister.

Betray! if that be all, they have been betray'd long since. Come away Father.

A plaguy witty Dog this.

SCENE I.

NOw my Fidelia, how hast thou prosper'd? I know thou hast vigo­rously prest her to obey, for thou art all Duty.

Not I indeed, this is your dutiful Daughter, Sir.

Is it possible? what charms, what fire didst thou use to thaw that frozen Virtue in her, that common enemy to all Honour and Preferment?

I have made her more in love with Greatness than e'er she was with Virtue. Come L [...]dy Convert, down o' your knees, and crave pardon for your stiffnecked rebellion; or out you turn to your old tatter'd Gransum Goody Virtue.

Sir, I beg your pardon for all my disobedience, and tender my duty to whatever you command, and think it virtue in me to obey you.

I am over charged, and want room to entertain the joy thy dear com­pliance brings. But now to our business, you two shall pass for my two Nieces, and in short enjoy their Fortunes.

They must be dispatch'd, let me see we'll have 'em—

Murder'd; come out with it, Father.

That's too harsh a word for thy tender ear, is it not, my Jewel?

Indeed it startles me, pray ye give it a milder name: the word Mur­der is enough to daunt a young beginner.

Fy, thou hast no mettle in thee; think of Honour, that will fright all Bugbears that awe the simple Conscience.

I'd give the world to have thee steel'd, and wrought to her hard temper.

I wou'd not have 'em murder'd, but they may be desir'd to take a journey into the other world.

There can be no offence in that; a tender Zelot may allow of Murder clad in such mild words.

A pretty equivocation the Devil has helpt us to, to embolden us to Murder.

Throw by your fears, or I'll throw by your lives: bloudy words suit best with bloudy deeds, therefore I'll have no other phrase but Murder, startle that dares.

Murder be it then; now I consider, Sister, 'tis very foolish to scruple at the word, when we so freely consent to the deed.

Father, I must laugh a little; to tell you true, this cunning Baggage has but dissembled virtue all this while, on purpose to discover your inclina­tions.

Mine is to murder 'em without the least fright or start of Consci­ence; but it that were feign'd Virtue thou managed'st with such Saint-like zele, by Heaven I shall honour thee as the Metropolitan Hypocrite of all thy Sex.

And Sir, to shew you how little I value Virtue, their deaths already are contrived, and my faithful Servant has undertaken it.

How, how, my dear Child, how?

Thus, Sir; my good honest Maid has a Lover, to whom she is con­tracted, and being a Seaman has already hired a Ship, to spirit them away into the North of Norway, where they shall never more be seen or heard of.

The wisest of men cou'd not ha' thought of so secure a course: but when, O when shall this be done?

Instantly, we have already prepar'd our Cousins for a journey too; we told them you wou'd send them into France for better education, be­fore any Suitors shou'd be admitted.

And all this ready done; let mankind after this never deal in mis­chief, when there is a work the Devil cannot manage, a zelous woman shall have the honour of it. I have prepared for thee, my Jewel, the brave Lord Arminger, a man that has no stain to blast his better parts, but has a chrystal fame that all the world may see through.

Then I find I must provide my own Fool.

Thou art merry still; I have already rich Presents sent me by this Duke, that Marquess, the other Earl: this Dutchess for her Kinsman writes, [Page 10] that Countess for her Brother, will all send Gifts; I do not receive 'em, nor they carry 'em away, for in that Gentile manner great Ministers of State take Bribes.

I Sir, you have raised my spirits; the thought of Honour makes Murder seem a little crime.

I, there fix thy soul, think on the blessings that attend on Greatness, then who wou'd not wade to the chin in bloud?

To the knees, Father, is deep enough in conscience.

You are not known to the world, so that you may pass for them se­curely; onely the youngest that came from the North, the world has got some hint of her country speech, which if thou canst imitate, we shall cozen the world, live in pleasure, and die in the Bed of Honour.

No, Father, they that deal justly die in the Bed of Honour; we that cheat and cozen can die but in Honours Truckle bed.

Well said, good Madam Hudibras; come let us cheerfully dispatch this Murder, and that settles all our Fortunes.

Our hands and hearts go all together.

This is the greatest satisfaction that ever yet my Soul received.

SCENE II.

My Lord Arminger, your most humble Servant.

I hope, Gentlemen, you likewise think I am yours.

We come to invite your Lordship to the sight of an extraordinary new sort of Fool.

Not a finer than my Mr. Overwise I hope.

Your Lordships is a more affected Fool, he is for impossible projects, new words, and fine phrases.

O he hates a common phrase as he does a common woman.

Then he is very impertinent, if he sees you kneeling he will advise you how to pray, at dinner how to eat, in bed how to behave your self.

Those things make him a Fool, he wou'd not be one else: he has one worse fault than all those, he will whisper you eternally, always buzzing in your ear like a Lincolnshire Gnat.

But our Fool makes Lying one part of his talent; 'tis Sir Hercules Buffoon.

O I have heard of him, they say he has a Magazine of confidence.

Nay saith 'tis impudence, and the greatest that e'er came out of Nor­folk.

Sir, there are Buffoons in other Countries beside Norfolk.

I grant you more than that, Sir; there are as worthy Gentry in Norfolk as are in the world, and yet they may have a ridiculous Buffoon amongst them.

Aimwell methinks y'are very fine; this dress is meant for Love or War, a Mistress or Campaigne. O here comes my whispering Fool Over­wise, 'y faith.

My Royal Earl; no, Earl is too common, I will call thee my Royal Count; in thy Haven I ride safe at anchor from the surprizing Cogboats, such as carry small burthens of sense, I mean those whom men vulgarly call Fops.

Prethee Mr. Overwise, what is a Fop?

A Fop! 'tis strange thou shou'dst not know what a Fop is, that art so great a one thy self: I will tell thee, a Fop is the fruit of a Foplin, as a Wit is the kernel of a Witlin.

I have heard of a Foplin, but never of a Witlin before.

He has every day some ridiculous thing wou'd please the most mo­rose creature in the world.

Aimwell thou art as gay as a Tulip, as glorious as a Milk-pail on a May-day, that is all new my Count.

Thou art thy self every day new.

I am upon a project, my Royal Count, of obtaining a Charter for the sober Society of the Professors of Coffee; and I would honour the Peers and Gentry so far, as to make 'em free of the Company.

It must needs be a great honour to be free of Coffee-House Hall.

More honour than to be free of the Virtuoso's: but why, my Gal­lantissimo's, do you not address to the rich Heiresses?

I declare the Guardian has courted me, but none must visit 'em till some time be expired; the reason I know not.

My Count, why may not I address? the Ladies perhaps may love a wise man before a handsom m [...]n.

Where shall we find him? then let me put in, perhaps they may love a peevish Fellow that will beat 'em, before a civil man that will court 'em. I have a small Miss that I use barbarously, and I dare swear that she loves me the better for it.

My French Garniture, a pox on 'em, is not yet arrived from Paris.

The Ladies will despise you if you have not all things French, for I suppose they are of the same air and humour that quality is subject to, that is, to admire a French Fan before an English Gown.

And a French Dog before an English Man.

The Men do worse, for they admire a French Feather above an Eng­lish Lordship; and a French Taylor above an English Father and Mother.

I must say this for the Ladies, where there is one Female Fool to ad­mire 'em, there are forty Male.

Really we are so fondly affected with the French, that we shall in time send for French Men to get our English Children for us.

But they say, my Lord, the youngest Heiress that was bred in the North, is the prettiest kind of creature, every thing she does or says be­comes her.

Yes, and they say her Northern Speech is a great addition to her [Page 12] Beauty, which is very strange; but being a Child it may the better be­come her.

She has a French Woman to wait on her, and she hates her mortally, and desires all people to help her to curse her home again.

Really they say she puts up a Paper every Sunday to the Parson in the Pulpit, to desire the Curses of the Congregation against all French Tay­lors and Tire-women.

Then they say she plays at several Sports, as Ramp-scuttle, Cl [...]pper-depouch, and Come mother, saw you my cock to day? These Sports declare her a sweet innocent creature.

But you have forgot Sir Hercules Buffoon, Gentlemen: pray ye let us go in search of him.

My Lord, we shall all wait upon your Lordship.

I will go in search of that strange sport called, Come mother, saw you my cock to day? so I take leave.

Ha, ha, ha, ha.

SCENE III.

I understand, Sir, that you have undertaken the disposing of my two Nieces.

I'll set them ashore where no Mankind inhabits, where they must be starv'd to death, or torn to pieces by wild Bears.

I honour thee because thou makest no scruple.

That's for Children to boggle and be fearful: I'll give you an honest and a just account of their Murder, Sir; and in so doing I hope I shall dis­charge my duty with a good conscience.

What a sweet Minister of darkness has the Devil sent me!

He is my Lover, Sir, my honest Lover: I have his heart as sure as my young Ladies have mine. We two wou'd commit more than Murder to make them great.

Your worthy faith shall be rewarded.

'Tis enough; come call our foolish Seamates, we must not lose our [...]ide. O here they come.

Alack my sweet and lovely Nieces, why do ye weep? such tears are too precious for so slight occasion; all Ladies rejoyce at going into France.

I had rather gea to York shire than to France; now good my Hony Nuncle, let us not gea to France, but send me back to my Naunt at York again.

Alas my sweet Niece, 'tis for your Breeding I send you; why weep you my lovely Niece?

Something troubles me I know not what, and prompts me to beseech you on my knees you'll give us leave to stay.

Alack my dear Jewels, it is by advice I send you into France: your Fortunes are great, and 'tis my duty to see your Education answerable; I shou'd be condemned by all the world else.

But good Uncle, why do you turn away our old Servants, that have been with us from our cradles? they would be a comfort to us.

Because you shall have none but French about you, you'll never learn the Language else.

Marra the Devilst learn French for me; by my Saul can York-shire word Nuncle's worth ten thousand French cans.

Dear Uncle, let us stay; we have both had horrid dreams last night, which waked us into such dreadful tremblings, no Ague ever shook the bo­dy, as those have done our fearful souls.

You are more a Child than your Sister, and what was your dream?

Why Sir, I dreamt I was set ashore by a Seaman in a cold Country, all Frost and Snow, and I call'd out methought to the wicked Wretch that left me there, but he like a cruel man ran from me, and there I perished without one Bird or Beast of the Creation by to pity me.

I like not this.

Dam 'em get 'em aboard, and then no matter what they dream. I hate peevish people that will not be murdered quietly, when 'tis their turn: come dispatch 'em, Sir.

And what was your dream, you little fearful Fool?

Marry God help me Nuncle, I dreamed just sike ana grizely man as that set me down in Frost and Snow, and ran away when he had done, and by and by there came three hujus Bears, Nuncle; then I cried and scream'd out, and God wait not can kerson Saul came to help me, then I said good sweet Hony Bears do not kill me, and yet the hard hearted Devils worried me all to bits, and left not can morsel of me alive.

Is it possible Instinct should give Nature such hints of truths to come! 's death what weep you for?

To practise hypocrisie, I may have occasion for't: beside, it is a kind of complement to weep with them at parting.

Come, Sir, away with 'em, I fear they will work upon your good na­ture too, and then all our hopes are cut off.

Thou wert always my comforter, but now my counsellour: I'll see 'em aboard presently; come my dear Nieces, throw your idle dreams be­hind you; I send you to the splendid Court of France, where all good manners and civil breeding grow.

We have better manners [...]ith half at York that have we, and one York-shire Jig's worth a thousand French Dances that it is.

Dear Uncle, let our sweet Cousins go with us, that they may have the same Education that is allotted for us.

Not for the world, the Town wou'd report I bred my Children at your charge, and so conclude I mean them part of your Fortune.

They consider nothing; come, Sir, the Tide serves, and go we [...] must▪

Now by my Saul that ill-look'd Beast frights me; ah thou's an ill-favoured grizely like Fellow that is sa.

Not one word more I charge you of all hands, I'll see you safe aship­board, pray for you, and farewell.

Ene Gods Benison and mine be with you Cousins, my heart gives me Iste be dead Cousin, and if I die wa [...]s me, we'st ne'er play at Clapperde-pouch again.

Yes, yes, dear Cousin, fear nothing.

SCENE IV

Sir Hercules Buffoon, no man more glad to see you; here is a most worthy and honourable Peer of the Realm desires to know you.

Not as a Lord, but as a man of parts I salute you.

My Lord has great parts and virtues, besides a man of great wit.

Wit, p [...]ethee my Lord let's hear a little of it.

When you give me occasion for't you shall; i'th' interim assure your self I have wit enough to honour and admire you.

Prethee my Lord let's honour and admire one another till we find a reason for't.

If we stay till then, we shall admire one another long enough.

Here's another worthy person, his name is Bowman, Sir.

Bowman, Bowman, by my life I honour and admire you to the Su­perlative degree; you must needs be a swinging Lyer.

Why so, Sir?

Sir, I have a Hound of your name, as errand a Cur as e'er came in field; when my Dogs are hunting and at a fail, he is the first that opens, but the Devil a Hound i'th' Pack will believe him, for he ne'er spoke truth in's life. So, Sir, if you be a true Bowman.

I'm as errand a Cur as your Dog Bowman.

Despise not my Dog, for ought you know you may be both of a Family.

This is an insufferable Fool indeed.

You'll not be angry I hope, a Hound is a Gentlemans Fellow in any ground in England.

In any hunting ground in England I grant you, but we are men of no Exceptions, nor you I hope.

Therefore good Sir Hercules let's have a swinging Lie now.

You are a very idle Fool, Sir.

What mean you by that? I am no Fool, Sir.

Then there's a Lie for you, and that's what you required.

'Tis a kind of a witty Lie too.

'Tis so, my Lord, I have not spoke a word of truth to day; I said [Page 15] I honoured and admired thee, that's another Lie; for the Devil take me if I either honour or admire thee; indeed I see nothing in thee to admire.

O Sir, Mr. Bowman is a man of most accomplish'd parts.

He's an ill-natur'd Fellow then, for he keeps 'em to himself. I be­lieve his good parts and terra incognita will be found together.

This is great wit Knight, but very severe.

Come Sir Hercules, be good natured, and let's have a —

Lie, I know your meaning, to tell you truth, Sir: this is none of my lying day.

No! hast thou in the whole course of thy life any intervals of truth?

O Sir, I'm an old man, and must think o'th' other world; and there­fore I'm allow'd but three days a week to lie.

Prethee Knight who allows thee?

Our Parson: I was forced to give him a Bull Calf to allow me them, I'd been excommunicated else.

But prethee Knight, what doest thou do the other four days?

He looks like an Ass I believe when he speaks truth.

'y faith so I do; it is very childish, and therefore I hate it: how­ever of those days I'm very godly and go to Church.

How to Church man! dost thou think there's another world for thee?

Yes faith do I, such a one as it is; but those days I go to Church, I would not speak a Lie for the worlds wealth.

That day thou goest to Church, I dare swear thou speakest truth.

You say right, Gentlemen; I have been his Son these eighteen years, and he has ne'er been at Church since I was born.

You impudent Son of a Whore you.

O fie Sir Hercules, who is this you call Son of a Whore?

My own Son of a Whore, whose shou'd he be?

Nay, if he be the Son of a Whore, he ought to be thine.

Gentlemen, I'm not ashamed to own it, I am my Fathers own Son of a Whore upon my credit.

Bowman, the Son is a finer Fool than the Father.

Yet my Mother's virtuous enough, if it were not for—

What, what, prethee out with it.

O Sir, she will lie most shamefully; that is, she wou'd lie as a man wou'd have her.

By my life the Boy's i'th' right, my Wife will lie with any man in England.

Do you own her to be so common, Sir?

No, I mean she will tell a lie with any man in England; why, the De­vil wou'd not lie with her carnally, for she's as ugly as she's old: a man with all his neighing youth about him, wou'd not touch her with a Pair of Tongs.

She has not had a tooth in her head these thirty years, nor capable of man these forty.

The Boy's i' [...]h' right, the Jade's as lean as a Luke Olive, and as dry as a Mummy, a Skelliton fit onely to read Lectures on.

But Squire, if your Mother has not been capable of Man these forty years, how came you to be but eighteen?

I am none of her Son, Man; I'm but a By-blow my Father got of a Cinder woman one night a Serenading; so that you cannot properly call me the Son of a Whore, but the Son of a Serenade.

Heark you Sir are not you a damn'd eternal lying Rascal?

I by my life is he, but I cannot be angry he lies so impudently.

O dear Sir, now you complement: I assure you Gentlemen, my Fa­ther is the Cock Lier of all Norfolk.

My Son 'y faith; besides he is full of invention, and for that cause I mean to bind him Prentice to a Poet▪

Prentice to a Poet, this is more than ridiculous.

Yes, and my reason is, if he shou'd prove dull, as 'tis many a Poets case, yet they cannot deny him to be a Poet, because he has served his time for't: beside [...], as he is a Poet he sees Plays for nothing, and that's consider­able.

And must he needs be a Poet when he has served his time? Faith bind him Prentice to a Lord, by the same rule he'll be a Lord when he's our of his time.

Now you joke: Yes indeed must he, but really do you know ever a Poet that wants a Prentice?

Pray you Gentlemen manage these Fools; 'twill be worth-while.

Sir, I know a rare Poet, but he'll have two hundred pounds with a Prentice.

I stand not upon that; but I'm for one of the primest of 'em, one of those that swinges the Gods about.

No Father, I had rather be Prentice to a Comick Poet, that's witty company; some of your Heroick Poets they say write rarely well, yet are the heaviest, dull, insipid Animals over a Glass of Wine in nature.

I, and some of 'em will fi [...]ch and steal out o'th' old Plays, and cry down the Authors when they've done.

They have no more invention than there is in the head of a souc'd Makeril: now they're turned Coblers, they vamp and mend old Plays.

Or rather turned Tin [...]ers, who stop one hole and make ten; so they mend one fault, and make twenty.

But Gentlemen, am I to se [...]ve a seven years Pr [...]ntiship.

No Sir, but five. 'Tis with a Poet as with a red or sallow Deer; the fifth year he is a Stag or Puck o'th' first head; so he that writes.

A pretty kind of Similitude! And pray you Sir, do the Poets shed their heads yearly as the Deer do?

No Sir, in that they differ, else they come the nearest of all crea­tures; for every year they commence, and have new Titles: as for exam­ple, a Stag the first year he's a Calf, the second a Brocket, the third a Brock, the fourth a Staggard, and the fifth year a Stag o'th' first head.

So he that means to be a Poet the first year he's an Ass, the second a Fop, the third a Witlin, the fourth a Wit, and the fifth year a Poet o'th' first head.

Aha Sirrah, here's Learning in this, 'tis ingenious and admirable.

But Sir, have not your Wits their degrees too?

O yes, there are your first, second, third, fourth, and fifth rate Wits too.

I and your first, second, third, fourth, and fifth rate Fools too.

That we have i'th' Country: but why shou'd a Poet be an Ass the first year?

A Poet is not an Ass, he is five years advanced above it; yet let any man that has writ five years, look back into what he writ the first year, and he will find himself an Ass I warrant you.

I believe I shou'd make a good Fop, but I am positive I shall never make an Ass as long as I live.

Never despair, I'll help you to an hundred Gentlemen shall make an Ass of you presently.

I shall be extremely beholding to you, for the Devil take me if I know which way to go about it my self.

Sir, your Father must requite this courtesie.

Command him any thing but his new Play, he is mighty choice of that.

I confess I am a little fond of my Play.

That's more than any man else can be I doubt.

Why is't not play'd? 'twas made in Norfolk I doubt.

So all you Fops cry indeed, but your Cock Wits and your Cock Poets cry it up to the Skies, it is so lashing a Satyr against the whole Nation, I shou'd a been hang'd had it been plaid.

'Tis a thousand pities 'twas not plaid then. But I am told 'tis a damn'd Play, worse than ever Mr. Bayes writ in all his whole Cart Load.

Sir, I had as live you would stab me to the heart, as speak [...]ll of my Play.

But Knight, I hope you remember your promise to me.

Upon my life thou shalt have one of the rich Heiresses: the Guar­dian and I are the intimatest Friends i'th' world. And so Gentlemen, let's go bind my Son Prentice to this famous Poet.

Agreed, agreed, and there shall he be sufficiently abused.

SCENE V.

We are happy, Mariana: I saw my Nieces under sail below the Hope, with a fair wind to blow 'em to destruction. We are happy in thy Sister too, for never was so ingenious a Mimick; she imitates her Northern [Page 18] Cousin, no Player ever acted like her. And the necessity of it is great, for there is such notice taken of her Yorkshire speech, that shou'd her tongue be missing, we were all in question.

She does it so well, that she puts me but too much in mind of my poor little Cousin.

Death do you repent! Value thy self upon thy Fortune, be proud, Mankind shall pay thee homage, as if it were thy due and their duty. My heart is set upon the highest pinacle of pride, not for my self, I am proud for thee my Jewel; and had I power, I wou'd make the whole body of the earth bow to thee, though it dropt out o'th' frame, and dasht it self into eternal atoms: yet am I pleas'd to match thee to the great, the virtuous, and the valiant Lord Arminger.

The noble character that you so oft have given him, has made an im­pression here so deep, that before I see I love; report has conquer'd e'er the siege is laid.

Those blessed words create me a new man, young and vigorous: the course of Nature, joyn'd with envious Age, cannot prevent the sprightly youth I now feel growing in me

Sir, Alderman Buffoon is come to see you.

Alderman Buffoon dost thou call him? prethee good Foolane tell Al­derman Buffoon that he may come in. 'Tis Alderman Buffoon I know him, a vast rich Citizen; go you in Mariana, no more my Daughter but my Niece.

I understand you, Sir.

Sir Marmaduke [...] I come to congratulate your good fortune.

Good fortune, in what Sir?

In being sole Guardian to your Brothers Daughters.

Where lies the good fortune of that?

O Sir, it gains you esteem in the world; besides, good advantage may be made on't.

Advantage, what do you take me for a Knave?

F [...]eno, and yet I think you are no Fool.

All the Town knows their Fortune, what advantage then can I make, unless I wickedly betray my trust?

Said like a worthy Gentleman, I know your Principles are honour­able, your Spirit high, but your Fortune is low, consider that.

Pray you come to your meaning, Sir.

An honest advantage may be made, and I come to offer it.

I wou'd have you know, were there no other but the common thing called Honesty, that wou'd guard me from corruption. But here's a stron­ger tie, a Tender Conscience; alas Doomsday is ever in my thoughts, and I dare not hear you.

I wonder your High Spirit and a Tender Conscience shou'd agree so well: 'tis strange too, that having been so lavish as to spend your great Estate, you shou'd now be so good a Husband as to lay up for Doomsday, a thing so far off.

Death Sir, do you come to affront me?

No, I say again an honest advantage may be made, if there were twenty Doomsdays. Will ten thousand pounds damn you, ask any man [...] opinion: put case it wou'd, I know twenty Citizens with tender conscien­ces, that make long prayers too, and yet wou'd run the risque of Doomsday for ten thousand pound.

O most fearful, I hope you've better thoughts of me: alas, I have a Grave to think on, and in my Chamber stands my Coffin with my Father: skull upon't, and when I awake they are the first objects that my eyes en­counter; and can you ever hope to corrupt me then?

I never knew a tender conscience af [...]aid of an honest motion be­fore: since you're turn'd a simple Precisian farwell, Sir.

Nay pray stay, an honest motion may be heard at last.

Well said, than thus it is: I have a Nephew that I'll make my Heir, and if you'll match your Northern Niece to him, I'll settle five thousand pounds a year on him, and at my death the rest: and I'll give you ten thou­sand pounds for your consent; you know I can make this good.

Where's your Nephew? fetch him presently; but I will take no money.

Well, well, who is your Goldsmith?

I have no Goldsmith, nor will I take money, 'tis vitious Bribery: yet now you talk of a Goldsmith, Mr. Cash is as just a man as can be dealt with.

'Tis enough, I understand you.

You must not understand me so indeed, Sir.

Away, away, you're too modest, too honest to live among men: I'll do it, and bring my Nephew presently.

Ha, ha, I laugh to think how this Fellow will report my tender con­science to the Citizens: well, if this Fool will fall into a Trap that never was laid for him, then 'tis not I but Fate destroys him.

SCENE I.

GEntlemen, pray ye salute my Friend Overwise: he has undertaken to be the Poet to whom the Squire is bound Prentice.

Your humble Servant, Mr. Overwise.

Gentle Worthies, I am your contracted and betroth'd Friend.

Can there be a finer phras'd Fool than this?

No certainly, he is our contracted and betroth'd Fool.

My Lord: no, the word Lord is too common, it tastes of Vulgera­lity.

Gods so, there's a fine word Vulgerality is your own coyning, Sir.

Sta [...]p'd in my own Mint, Sir. I hope so to refine the English Tongue, that the Dukes and Peers of France will come over hither to learn the Language.

That's a great project, do you hope to see it in your own life time?

No question, Sir: do you hope to see Pauls built?

Yes without doubt.

At the same time I expect the Peers of France to learn the English Tongue.

But Mr. Overwise, prethee what are those Squirts and Bottles for?

They are proper instruments to initiate an Ass withall: you must second me, as I have order'd the ceremony; he will really be very much abused.

Abused! hang him, to murder him requires no more compassion than drowning of a Kitlin.

Save you my Lord, save ye Gentlemen; you honour me to come to this ceremony, which is my Sons Master, Si [...]s?

This is the worthy person your Son is bound Prentice to.

Are you a Poet, worthy Sir?

Yes Sir, he is one of those that swinges the Gods about.

I am by my profession a poor Poet, Sir.

That's no wonder, for I never heard of a rich one in my life.

O Sir, Poets like Philosophers despise wealth: the fame of worthy Wit is all we aim at.

You may aim, but ne'er hit the mark I doubt: however 'tis an ho­nourable ambition. Well, what is he to be the first year?

The first year he takes his degree of Ass?

O'tis true, you told me of a ceremony to enter or initiate him into the Order of Asshood.

I have heard of Manhood but never of Asshood before.

Sir, the ceremony is great: the rule was among the ancient Poets, when a man took his degree, to hath in the Liquor of the Gods; but we modern Wits steep our Brains altogether in Burgundy and Pontack, and we find it does the business every whit as well.

But how do you know that?

By comparing the ancient and modern Wits together. Come Sir, you must strip to your Shirt, get the Bottles and Glasses.

The ceremony to a stranger will seem to be a gross abuse, however I assure you it is no more than what all men undergo that are bound Prentice to Poets.

That we all upon our Honours do assure you.

Nay then I will undergo it whatsoever it be.

We can suffer as much abuse as any Family in England upon the score of Poetry.

Come kneel down, Sir: now fill every Gentleman a Bumper of Claret. You must know for six moneths together he must swallow daily two Verses, and by old custom he must begin with Chancer, and so go through all the English Poets, till he come to modern Mr. Bayes. The ce­remony is an ancient Copy of Verses, taken out of the Records of Par­nassus.

Is it possible! Pray, Sir, oblige me with a Copy of Verses out of the Records of Parnassus: what work shall we make i'th' Countrey with 'em, Boy?

I, Father.

Are you all ready? kneel down, Sir.

He will hurt his knees, pray ye let him have a Cushion.

By no means, 'tis absolutely against the Record of Parnassus.

Then hang Knees, Father.

's heart! what a deal adoo is here about making one an Ass!

Silence: stand all ready charged.

Hold, 's heart hold! I think you mean to make an Ass of my Son indeed.

Who the Devil doubts it?

Why Sir, you know he is to be made Poetically an Ass.

'Tis true, but yet 'twou'd stir a mans bloud to see ones Child used at this Roguish rate.

Sir, by the Rules of Parnassus he ought to take his degrees upon the Rack.

's heart I'll have no Child of mine put upon the Rack, my Lord.

'Tis not intended, that Act was abolished by reason of the torment.

Nay I'll endure any torment, rather than not be a complete Ass.

I cou'd find in my heart the Devil take me to step to Parnassus, and see whether it be so or no.

You will not lose your labour; for really I have been there and read the Record.

Pox of your Records, my Knees ake damnably: do they use to have Agues in Parnassus? my teeth chatter in my head, I am so wet and so cold.

Come we will make an end; Silence.

Silence: come let's make an end.

Do you call throwing of Beer Glasses in a mans face a Ceremony?

In Parnassus we do: now, Sir, I'll justifie to the world you're an Ass.

A pretty thing to brag of! Two such Fools Nature ne'er produc'd.

I declare I like the Pill wonderfully; I must have one of 'em.

For all this I cannot fancy my self to be an Ass yet.

O yes, the very first minute you parted with your money, you were an Ass I assure you.

How, you mean I was an Ass for parting with my money, my Lord.

I mean fairly by the Rules of Poetry.

Then you're an Ass upon Record, Sirrah: now you're a Prentice your Hat must not be on before your Master.

That's your mistake, an Ass puts off his Hat to no man, but is void of all manners: his talent is to be bold, rude, and saucy, without regard to Quality, or any distinction of persons.

If those Qualifications will do, I'll warrant him a sufficient Ass.

And now you are so, Squire, you must always have a Cane, but not in your hand, 'tis to be worn ever under your arm, that when you turn about, you may take the next man a slap over the Face.

Adad that's pretty; look to your chops, Father. But, Sir, are them Asses that wear their Canes so?

They are shrewdly to be suspected.

I am an apt Scholar, I do but what you teach me, ha!

I am thinking, my Lord, what contemptible Titles a man must pass over, before he attains to the honourable name of Poet, as Ass, Fop, and Witlin.

Poet is an honourable title, it admits of no addition.

O Father, the fame of Poetry is above all mortal honour: Wealth and Greatness perish, the man of Dignity dies; but Poets are eminently and prodigiously immortal.

By my life the Boy speaks rarely well already: if he talk thus wit­tily being an Ass, how will he talk when he's a Poet?

Little better I assure thee.

Poets are esteem'd above Princes; I have a reverend Author for it called Taylor the Water-Poet;

Iohnson wou'd a given a hundred pounds (if he had had it, that is) to a been Author of those two lines.

Did ever Boy speak so rarely, Gentlemen! The Devil take me, I cou'd find in my heart to commence Ass my self.

Commence Changling, for thou wert born an Ass.

Heark you Sir, now I'm entered I may censure Plays may I not?

Yes, yes, to censure Plays and Women is natural to an Ass.

Well my Earl, I value my self much upon this Frolick.

So thou mayest.

Sir Hercules, 'tis time to remember your promise, and to present me to the Guardian: if thy Interest get me one of the Heiresses, here's my hand I'll not murder thee.

'Tis enough, I'm so intimate with the Guardian, I'm certain he'll deny me nothing.

My Lord, here's a Letter from Sir Marmaduke Seldin.

'ods so, the Guardian to the Heiresses! Gentlemen, I must take leave, and for a while grow serious.

My Lord I thank you for this Honour: Bowman, prethee go with me.

SCENE II.

O Sir, Sir, Sir.

What is the matter that you stare so?

Sir, my Country North Lady will no learn French of me: me must learn Yorkshire of her, or she will beat my Brain.

That is just her humorous little Cousin, 'tis happy that she mimicks her so well, that preserves us from suspicion.

O Sir, what sall me do! me have brought my Yorkshire Madam two new Gown home, and begar she have cut off all her long Train to de very Calf of her Leg.

Here she comes: Fie, fie, Niece, I must chide you, Niece; they say you've cut the Train of your Gowns, and quite spoil'd 'em, Niece.

Nay Hony Nuncle they, [...]e ne'er the war for me; why lack a day they come down to the varra heels of me yet, my Barn.

Nay Sister, you must be ruled, and wear your Clothes fashionably as I do.

Now oot upon thee Sister, yee wad have me wear a lang tale behind me, as my Naunts brown Cow does at hame.

They are not Tails but Trains, Sister; great persons wear them as Ornaments of State, as an honourable distinction from those of lower qua­lity.

By my trooth but I's teld that naughty Sluts wear 'em as well as your great Countesses.

I but Niece, Persons of Quality have Pages, Boys a purpose to hold up their Trains.

Have they Boys to hold up their Tails behind? do not the unlucky Lads peep in 'em some time?

Fie Niece, what have you said? those are paw words indeed.

Why Nuncle, did I say bawdiness now?

No not down right, but very near it I assure you.

Nay by my Saul Sister, gin my Naunt at York shou'd but knaw that I said bawdiness marrá see'd shatter my brains oot, faith wad she.

Come sweet Niece be ruled, and let the French People dress you, and make a fine Lady of you.

Wad my French Taylor were hang'd, he stinks of wine as sowre as a Swine-trough; beside he is varra sawcy with ma Nuncle.

Sawcy, how sawcy was he?

O my Saul Nuncle, gin I'd let him alane, he had taken measure o'th' inside of me as well as o'th' out.

You damn'd Villain, ha! I never heard of such

a Rogue.

Nuncle, I'd have my Naunts Taylor, Billy Barton of York, make my Gowns for me.

Prethee who is Billy Barton of York?

Marra he's the delicatest Taylor in all England, he makes my Lord Maior of York's Gowns, and Lady Mairises tee.

Come Sir, I mean to marry you to the Northern Heiress. Sir, I have brought my Nephew and my Heir.

He is welcom, pray you Sir salute my Nieces. I shou'd scorn to have this Buffoon come into the presence of my Children, but for the conve­niency of destroying him.

Here's a Bill upon Alderman Marrow for ten thousand pound.

I'll not take it indeed Sir.

Come, come, you must and shall have it.

I'll not touch it truly, give it my eldest Niece if you please to buy her Pins. A proud man may let his Daughter stoop to ten thousand pound.

Fair Lady, here's a Paper of Pins will last you and your Heirs for ever. Sir, I have brought the Deeds of my Estate to peruse and to keep, till our Counsel settle things of all hands.

'Tis enough, let us in and view the Writings.

Sir, I swear by Parnassus, you have got the most Suparlative Para­gon of the North; I am struck with an Amour as suddenly as he that fell in love while he pull'd on his Boots.

Sir, you have taken Sir Marmaduke over the Face with your Cane.

The mode must crave your pardon, not [...]: the whole Congregation of Gallants use it as a Novel lately come from France.

A most Superlative Fool! this is one of Nature's bold strokes, Niece; [Page 25] you see a Monster there almost in the shape of a Man: use him accor­dingly.

I understand you, Sir; let me alone to abuse him, Sir. Is thou to be my Husband, sweet Honey Bearn?

Honey! what a loving Fool it is, she calls me Honey at first sight?

Now I prethee Honey help me to curse my French Woman.

I with all my heart Honey, A pox upon her, and confound her, where is she?

Honey thou mun let me bang thee some time, then thou't be my good Lad.

I with all my heart, bang all the Honey out of the Hive of Parnassus.

Stand fair then Honey, there's for thee now.

The Devil you strike too hard, Honey.

Hang thee thou mun not frown, thou mun smile sweetly on me when I box thee, now thou's my Defty: and wilt thou play finely with me, and not hurt me?

Play finely with me and not hurt me! 's heart, I have got a little Whore I think.

Now my Barn thou mun lake at, Come mother, saw you my cock to day?

Come mother, saw you my cock to day? 's heart, 'tis a Whore of a cer­tain.

Thou mun play at Rampscuttle and Clapperdepouch with me, my Ho­ney.

Clapperdepouch! Devil what a strange kind of a Wife shall I have? Come then shew me your Rampscuttle.

Thou mun first put on a Petticoat: my French Woman shall make a Lad Lass of thee.

Any thing to please you, Madam.

Then thou's my pretty French Woman, and I'll give thee a Honey Sugar Kiss.

I'll do her the honour to give her a Honey Sugar Kiss too.

A great honour indeed, what an absolute Fool is this!

Come Honey learn Rampscuttle, begin thus.

With all my heart; 's life what a mad couple shall we make!

That's my Fool, wilt thou be my Fool, Honey?

I'll be thy Fool, nay I'll be thy Cuckold, Honey.

Wilt thou? 'y faith and we have mad Lads, we make swinging Cuckolds in York shire.

That's nothing to be a Cuckold, Madam; my Father and Mother are Cuckolds, we can prove our Geonoligy to be Cuckolds from the very Loyns of King Pippin.

Whaw, whaw, marra the Devil take thee and thy King Pippin to boot. Now play at Clapperdepouch, my Honey Bearn; Clapperd pouch, Clapperdepouch, Clapperde, Clapperde, Clapperdepouch

This is the finest Wife for my turn that ever Mortal light on! O Devil you have beat out my teeth, Honey.

The fashion mun crave thy pardon Honey, not

I; besides all the teeth of thy Geonoligy have been beaten out up to King Pippin; what thy name Ho­ney?

I am proud of my name, I was Christen'd Squire Buffoon.

By my Saul Buffoon is worse name than King Pippin.

Honey we are the ancientest Family of the Nation; our Mansion House is called Buffoon, and our Coat is Three Buffoons.

Methinks you shou'd give three Pippins too, and that wou'd shew your Descent plainly from King Pippin.

If the Herolds are to be bribed, I'll have 'em. Come Honey, shall we go behind the door, and play finely together, and get one another with child of two young Pippins?

Marra out upon the Grisely Beast, wie wad ta make a Slot of me, and have me play at Bawdiness with thee; Help, help, help.

How now, what's the matter?

Marra he's e'en a foul Beast, that is a Nuncle; he wad have me go in­to the dark, and do naughtiness with him.

She ask'd me to play finely with her, and not hurt her; then what cou'd I say less?

This Rogue was compos'd of a courser stuff than the common Crea­tion, of unrefined Clay, such as Bearwards and Tinkers were made up of. You are content, Sir, to settle all intirely upon my Niece and her Heirs.

Most freely, upon this Match I'll make my Nephew a Lord.

There are so many Buffoons stolen into Titles, that men wou'd judge they came not lawfully by them. Come Sir, let us go settle this Estate.

Why Honey, shall we not have one tryal of skill for a young Pip­pin?

SCENE III.

Sir, be sure you make my peace, or all the World shall not save your throat. I will be at the door and hear all you say, Sir.

If thou get'st off o' this Knight, I'll prefer thee to the first Form of Wits, and that's very honourable I'll assure you.

I had rather be an honourable first rate Wit, than a first rate Al­derman.

Thou art bravely disguiz'd, have a good heart, here's the Judge.

Save ye Gentlemen, are you Sir Thomas Lovill, Sir?

I am Knight and Baronet, if you please my Lord.

Then Sir, if you please your business.

Second me Sirs: I come to inform your Lordship of the most noto­rious [Page 27] Villain that ever wore the figure of a Man, one Sir Hercules Buffoon. The Law no doubt will give your Lordship damage enough, for the scanda­lous things he has said of you.

Of me, Sir? Scandalous things of me, pray you the words.

What the Devil does your Father mean tro, to be hanged?

For a good Lie he'll venture that at any time.

He said your Lordship loved a Bribe above your Allegeance, and that you have unjustly given away an Estate for a Bribe of fifteen hundred Guineys.

That's Action enough, down with those Guineys; what a Villain 'tis!

I, you'd say so if you knew the Rogue as well as we do, my Lord.

You Dog, I do not allow you to abuse me thus.

But Gentlemen, have you witness of this?

Enough my Lord, my self and two Gentlemen more: not these, they can witness another thing. One Laton hearing how Buffoon had abu­sed your Lordship, comes to him, and had down right killed him, but for these two Gentlemen.

'Tis very true my Lord, I got a broken head with parting 'em, and this Gentleman was run through the arm.

A pox on him I must own it now, he tells you true, my Lord.

Pray you what Laton is it that has fought for me thus?

One Robin Laton my Lord: Buffoon's a valian Fellow, and yet this Laton has cudgell'd and beaten him to Stock-fish, my Lord.

That Robin Laton is my Kinsman; I turn'd him out of doors, 'tis much then he shou'd fight for me.

Your Kinsman my Lord, he might be your Son by his desperate fighting for you.

Say you so? if this be true, Gentlemen, I'll make him happy.

We can all witness it, my Lord: to say truth, Sir Hercules is a most pernicious mischievous Rascal.

A notorious Villain, my Lord: there has not been a Rogue hanged these seven years, that has deserved it so much as he has done.

You Dog, remember this I'll maul you for't.

Well, I'll trounce the Rogue I warrant you: has he an Estate to make good the damages the Law will give me?

Enough, enough, my Lord; hang him a damn'd rich Hell-hound!

Zounds was ever man thus abus'd, Bowman? Nay, he said your Lordship was a most Gigantick Whoremaster, and that you have nine Bawds lie leiger in the Country to send up fresh Virgins to you.

Pox on him wou'd he cou'd make his words good: I'll firk the Knave, how shall we do to take him?

If your Lordship will grant me your Warrant, I'll bring him before your Honour to morrow morning.

Clerk, write a Warrant presently, I'll not leave him worth a Groat, he shall rot in Jayl.

To see that Rogue a Beggar, wou'd make me pray for your Lord­ship all the days of my Life: the Knave called me Cuckold my Lord too.

Faith Sir, no Child can say absolutely who was his Father; Wives will have their fancies, and why not yours?

You abominable Rogue! My Lord, have not you an Office in your gift?

Yes I have Sir.

I'll tell you my Lord, this Buffoon, after Mr. Laton ▪ had beaten him, promised to get this Office of your Lordship for Mr. Laton, pretending that he had you at such a hank you durst not deny him.

I never saw the Villain in my life.

Nay my Lord, the next day he told your Nephew he had got the Office for him, and made him go presently to give your Lordship thanks for it.

And the base Fellow, they say, was never with your Lordship.

No indeed Sir, and that made me angry with my Nephew to give me thanks for that I never gave him; the man meant mischief.

Was ever such a shameless Fellow, my Lord? By my troth give your Kinsman the Office, and I'll give your Lordship two Brace of fat Deer every season, as long as you live my Lord.

Give it me under Hand and Seal, that I may demand them as my due, and I'll do it.

With all my heart, my Lord.

Out of what Park, for the place must he exprest in the Writing.

Zounds I've ne'er a Park, what shall I do? Out Whetstones Park in the County of Middlesex, my Lord.

Whetstone, there is a place call'd Whetstone by Barn [...]t, but I never heard of a Park there.

That's not the place; Whetstones Park is as well known as London, I wou'd it were an hundred miles off on't; I am so plagued with Citizens, that I cannot have a Deer that's mans meat, but they steal it out of my Park, my Lord.

Here is the Warrant against Sir Hercules Buffoon.

I'll sign it. Clerk, draw an Indenture for two Brace of Deer yearly out of Whetstones Park in the County of Middlesex, upon forfeiture of five hundred pounds, from Sir Thomas Lovill.

Here I shall burst out a laughing, I cannot hold.

My Lord, here's one to summon all the Judges to Court.

'ods so I must away then: Sir, I forgive you for defending my Re­putation so well, I give you the Office, and all my Estate after my death. Nephew, see Sir Thomas Lovill sign the Obligation for two Brace of Deer yearly out of Whetstones Park in Middlesex: and, Sir, I hope you will appre­hend that Rascal Buffoon for me.

I'll have him as sure as the day comes, my Lord.

Dear Knight, thou art come off with honour, thou art my Golden Calf, and I'll worship thee.

Never had man so much ado to forbear laughing, as I have had at this Whetstones Park.

I was fain to turn about and laugh.

I had certainly laugh'd in the Judges Face, but for consideration of you, Sir.

Clerk, take heed you be very just.

As your own heart 'y faith.

How thou wilt get clear of the Judge, when he comes to have his Deer out of Whetstones Park I know not.

I have a harder task by half, I am to help Aimwell to one of the rich Heiresses; I have told him a damn'd Lie.

Like enough, prethee what is it?

I told him the Guardian and I were intimate Friends, old Acquain­tants and Schoolfellows; and the Devil take me if I ever saw him in my life, yet I am resolv'd to face him down that we are dear Friends and old Acquain­tants, and that's as hard a task as ever impudence undertook.

Faith so 'tis, considering the great Spirit of the Guardian.

I'll do it for all that.

Give me thy hand, Father, I commend thy impudence old —

Bravely resolv'd, come I will first treat thee, then go with thee, and back thee manfully.

SCENE I.

WAit in the next Room.

I am prouder to have the great Lord Arminger under this mean Roof, than haughty Princes are of Empire: and I bow with such re­verence to your person, as holy men do to the holy Altar, and with the same humility offer my Oblation up; receive her as from Heaven, for she is fraught with virtue equal with the Angels.

Sir, I admire you with more than common wonder: Guardians usu­ally make price of the innocent Orphans in their charge, but you are more than just, you are kind, and to that degree which Parents have for Chil­dren.

I shall betray my self with violent fondness, such torrents of love flow in me, that I think the World too little for her Dower.

Indeed, my Lord, his tender care seems to have more of Father than Guardian in't, in which we hold our selves most highly blessed.

My good Lord, I leave you to make your Court, where doubtless you'll find your love most worthily and readily received.

Madam, your Uncle spoke largly of your Virtues to me, but nothing of your Person; and now I see the cause, for 'tis impossible the capacity of Man shou'd reach the character of so much Beauty as I now behold, and all the rest must needs submit to crown you Goddess of your admired Sex.

My Lord, you answer not your character, you were rendered to me the onely Man of Honour, Truth, and Justice; and I hear nothing but a [...]ery Complement, fine Poetical Flattery, fit onely to catch Girls.

Madam, by my Honour, and that's my dearest treasure, I flatter not, but speak truth just as my heart conceives it: therefore I again declare, you are the onely Beauty that ever yet my eye encountered, and I find a dotage stealing on me more than common love.

Hold, my Lord, I command you, for sure she may command that is so much admired; therefore by that precious Gemm your Honour, are those sweet words you've spoken truth?

Madam, by all the bliss I hope for I have no falshood in me.

Then stop and go no further in your love I charge you, for I must never be your Wife.

How Madam! I came prepar'd by your Uncle this day to marry you.

O my Lord, that day is further off, than the unknown uncertain hour of Doom.

Madam, if there be cause for this your cruelty reveal it; and by the Original of all Honour here I swear, this Bosom is your Grave to bury all your Secrets.

I believe you, my Lord, with the same Faith I do Religion.

Madam, you have repriev'd my Life, by thinking me worthy of your thoughts, though unworthy of your love.

O my honoured Lord, it is my unworthiness, not yours, that must for ever keep this cruel distance.

What e'er the reason is, that cannot be it: say you're contracted unknown to your Uncle, say any cruel thing but that.

Then I declare, the noble character my Uncle gave me of your Lord­ship, sprung in me a true and perfect love, which made my desires so violent to see you, that since, my life till now was more uneasie than a sick mans rest­less night, and yet must never marry.

Never was man pleased and startled so at once! Infinitely pleased to hear you say you love, but strangly startled that you ne'er must marry: the thought frights me; the Ghosts of murder'd men shake not guilty Slaves, as that resolve shakes me: I find Man is not fortified to bear the frights of love. I beseech you, Madam, if you have cause for this your resolution, give me some ease by imparting it.

It is so dreadful for a good man to hear; but if your Lordship will [Page 31] ask my Uncles leave to carry me and my Sister abro [...]d, you then shall know why you and I must never marry.

Your resolution has dispersed my spirits so, they are never more to be collected: all within me lies confused; a mad man's bloud's in better temper, and I am all on fire till I am satisfied

My Lord, I am destroyed if you reveal me.

You are more cruel in distrusting that, than in refusing me.

Your pardon, and henceforth my trust shall ever rest in you.

SCENE II.

You have put me off from time to time, and I am resolved to be no longer fooled; therefore try your Interest you boast of with the Guar­dian, or—

Well Fool, doubt not me in the least: this is the greatest strait I ever yet was put to, Bowman; for me to salute, and impudently embrace a man of his high spirit, and face him down that we are dearland intimate Friends, and yet never saw him, the Devil take me 'tis a damn'd audacious task.

However go forward, here's my hand thou shalt not suffer.

Then dear Impudence stand my friend this one push, and I'll own thee for my Patron all my life.

Here comes the Guardian, bear up Knight!

Your most humble Servant, Sir.

Gentlemen, I am to crave your pardon, my Niec [...]s are not this day to be seen; however the freedom of my house I tender you with all the re­spect imaginable.

Sure Sir Marmaduke you will let your intimate Friend see your Nieces: dear Rogue, how dost thou do? Own me for your Friend and Schoolfellow, 'twill be thousands in your way. This worthy Gentleman, dear Friend, thou must know.

It will concern me more to know you, Sir; for in my life I never met such confidence.

Why how now Marmaduke, has your Guardianship made you proud? have you forgot your self?

What the Devil means this Fellow? Gentlemen, who knows this Creature? or who brought him hither?

We all know him, and he brought us hither, pretending more In­terest in you than all Mankind besides.

Upon my Honour, Gentlemen, I never saw the man before.

Thou shameless Fellow, canst thou with so bold a face say, thou know'st me not?

You are found out 'y saith Knight.

Hang him, he knows me better than he knows his House-keeper.

I am at a stand, and know not how in this case to behave my self.

I commend thee, Marmaduke, for driving a Jest so far: the Devil take me, Gentlemen, if I thought it had been in him. I loved thee dearly before, but this jocose humour of thine makes me admire thee; dear Rogue, let me hug and kiss thee, sweet Boy.

Stand off, or as I am a Gentleman I'll strike you; which nothing cou'd make me do in my own house, but such an impudent provocation.

Did you ever in your lives see a Jest so well managed, Gentlemen? he does it so rarely well, that I dare swear you all think him in earnest.

Yes in good faith do we.

By my life so shou'd I, but that I have known him these fifty years.

Pray ye, Gentlemen, open the Scene, and discover what Buffoon this is.

Buffoon, mark ye that, as if he did not know me, and yet name me: he'll carry it thus till I am angry with him.

Overwise is whispering of him, he'll trouble him worse than Buffoon. Sir, I am one that honour you, my name is Overwise; by that you may judge I am no Fool, Sir.

[...]s death, this is a worse Fop than the other.

But Knight, if Sir Marmaduke jokes, he does it rarely well.

He is the Devil at joking: but that I wou'd not say it to disgrace him, he has been an old Player at Black Friers.

You eternal Dog, I'll cut your throat: Gentlemen, come ye to af­front me?

Hold good Sir, we come upon no such unworthy design I assure you, Sir.

Sir, read Seneca, and he will teach you patience.

Dam thee Fop, is patience to be exercised in thy company?

But you Friend Marmaduke, now 'tis time to leave fooling, and to own me for your old Friend, as you have done these fifty years, or hang me if I do not declare you a proud foolish Fellow.

Gentlemen, I love wit and joking, no man more; therefore if this be a Court Fool, or a publick Buffoon, declare it, and he's welcom.

Incomparable we [...], incomparable! does he not carry it rarely well, Gentlemen!

I know not what to think, are they acquainted or no for a wager?

No more than thou art with a reverend Divine, or the Emperour of Iapan.

Then is this Rogue Buffoon the Original of Impudence, and the rest of Mankind mere Copies.

's death your whispering torments me more than his impudence: Gentlemen, pray ye let me know the name and quality of this confident person.

Away, away Fools! 's heart he knows name and quality better than [Page 33] he knows his Children. I'll shew you by an infallible token that I know him, for he has a Mole of his right Buttock as broad as both my hands.

By my life a Villain, and he lies, Gentlemen.

Why shew the contrary, and that's demonstration. Sure he will not let down his Breeches to disprove me.

I know not whether to laugh or to be angry. Pray ye, Gentlemen, let [...]e know his name.

Sir, his name is Hercules Buffoon.

O I have heard of him: S [...]r Hercules, I must be b [...]tter known to you.

A good jest, as if you [...]nd I need to be better known.

Nay Sir, I'll own any thing you say to keep up your humour.

But one ear more with you, Sir; I'm one that love curiosities, have you really such a Mole o' your [...]uttock?

I can be angry no longer: where the Devil wert thou bred, that thou delightst so in Lying?

Now Sirs, I'll tell you how we two Arch Rogues robb'd my Mo­thers Orchard of all her Wall Fruit, her Peaches, Heart Cherries, and her great Dutch Strawberries.

Pray ye Sir, are Strawberries a Wall [...]ruit?

You must know those were Greenland Strawberries, and there they grow up to be [...]ast great Trees, and are nailed against the walls as Vines are.

By reason of the great heat of the Climate, I suppose: beca [...]se Green­land you know lies under the Line.

It does so; thou hast travell'd or read Maps I find. But, Sir, [...]o clear our selves of robbing the Orchard; we drew forty huge over grown Carps out of a Pond, each six foot long at le [...]st.

How, Carps six foot long! th [...]t's tw [...] yards, Man.

But then you must consider they were overgrown Carps.

Right, a monstrous overgrown Carp may be nine foot long. But, Sir, we put 'em in the Peach tree [...], then fetch'd my Mother to see 'em; and when we c [...]me back, the C [...]p▪ were skipping from tre [...], eating the f [...]uit as the Devil drove 'em: so my Mother wonder'd at it, and we were clea [...]ed of the Robbery, old B [...]y.

Now the Devil thy Tutor take thee; for every motion of thy tongue thou deservest a whipping.

This Fellow is an infatuated Iew, believes nothing, not so much as a Greenland Strawberry tree.

Did you never tell a Lie with Sir Iohn Mandevil for a wager?

Yes, and made an Ass of him too. I'll tell you a thing that I am sure this Fellow will give no credit to.

Now thou speakst truth I am sure of it.

Sir, I have been in a strange Country, where all Creatures are pro­digiously bigger than in other parts of the world, though of the same spe­cies: for example, I have seen a Bee as big as an Eagle.

Pray you how big were the Hives then?

Full as big as Westminster-hall, onely they're round.

A good Simile; for we have a sort of English Vermin, that bring all the Honey of the Nation to that Hive indeed.

I have seen a Cabage tree higher than the Monument upon Fish-street-hill.

Thou Boy, thou Boy!

You do not believe me then: the Devil take me if these homebred Fellows can be saved! they neither know nor believe half the Creation.

The Country thou speakst of is thy own creation.

Marmaduke, upon my credit all their Main Masts for their Capital Ships are made of Cabage stauks, and the Planks of the Ships are all Ca­bage leaves; and better Timber by half than your English Oke.

If the Planks of their Ships be Cabage leaves, prethee what are the Sails made of?

Upon my life all their Sails are made of Spiders webs.

Ha, ha, ha.

You ignorant Fops what do you laugh at? a Spiders web there is ten times stronger than all the Canvas Sails in the world: and the Spiders are bigger than the Kings fine Cranes in the Park, but twenty times longer leg'd. The first time I saw them, they look'd like Lincolnshire men walking i [...]th' Fens upon Stilts.

Ha, ha, ha.

If every man here shou'd cut an inch of his tongue out, he wou'd have enough lef [...] I warrant ye to tell a Lie.

Really if one inch were off, 'tis possible he might speak truth; and if one inch will not do, my opinion is to cut it clear out.

Prethee Knight, what's the name of the Country where these won­ders grow?

'Tis call'd, 'tis call'd Terra Incognita; all the Seamen i'th' world know it; ne'er a Skuller o'th' Thames but knows Terra Incognita Fool!

'Tis as well known as the North East Passage to the Indies; the Sea­men know it as well as they know the Garden of Eden.

Why there's no question i'th' world of it, Man.

If thou shou'dst be condemned to speak truth all thy life, what a case wert thou in!

I'll hold thee five Guineys the next thing I speak of shall be truth, and deposit in Sir Marmaduke's hand.

Done for five Guineys, there Sir.

And there Sir. You know I told ye Gentlemen, that the Guardian and I were old Acquaintants and intimate Friends, and may I perish if ever I saw him in my life b [...]fore this hour; speak truth now, Guardian.

The man speaks truth now upon my honour, Gentlemen.

Then I have won. Now I'll hold thee five Guineys more that I ne'er speak truth again as long as I live.

Ha, ha, ha, ha.

My Lord Arminger is come, and desires to see you.

Gentlemen, I must crave your pardon, great business calls me from [Page 35] ye, but I desire ye to take the freedom of my house.

Uncle, what makes you here?

I have match'd our Squire to the Northern Heiress, and settled all my Estate upon the Lady.

Sir, your Nephew cannot marry till he is out of his time, for he is Prentice to a Poet.

How, Prentice to a Poet!

Yes, and a greater honour than to be a Lord: Uncle, you wou'd say so if you knew the Records of Parnassus; I have taken the degree of Ass already.

Ass! Poets are the wittiest men of our Nation, then what relation can an Ass have to a Poet, Blockhead?

O Uncle, you wou'd a blest your self to a seen me pass the grand Ce­remony of an Ass: First, I kneel'd in my Shirt, then all these Gentlemen (according to the Rules of Parnassus) threw a hundred Bumpers of Claret in my face.

Bumper! prethee what's a Bumper?

For shame Uncle, not know what a Bumper is! Bumper is the Par­nassus word for a Beer Glass top full.

O the Learning of Parnassus exceeds all the Greek, Hebrew, Scotch, Welsh, and Irish in the world.

I find they made an Ass of thee indeed.

But you must know 'twas done by the Laws of Parnassus, where the Records of Poetry are most sacredly kept.

[...]ecords of Parnassus, prethee what place is Parnassus?

'Tis a place of rest for the Souls of the Poets; for you must know they never go to Heaven, but when they die their Souls are con [...]emned to Parnassus, there to sing Madrigals, every one in praise of his own Poetry to all eternity.

And that doubtless pleases them better than going to Heaven.

But will abusing a man inspire him with wit?

The Ceremony without question will, [...]or never was Boy so impro­ved.

But will his wit get him an Estate, as mine has done?

Nay by my faith I cannot say that.

Then a Wit is a pitiful poor Creature, and I'll warrant you one that will borrow money of his very Father: I have more wit than a hundred of 'em.

I Uncle, you got your wit out of Eternal Hopkins.

Come let me see your Master.

I am the person that honours your Nephew so far as to make him my Prentice.

Honour him! he honours thee thou vainglorious Poet: but I do not blame thee, for 'tis natural to you all. But [...], I'll try whe­ther you're a Poet or no; break a [...] without [...].

Hold Sir, a Jest is not so quickly at a Poets command.

Then you're a dull insipid Poet, and will never go to Parnassus. To tell you true I like not your Profession, therefore I'll buy the Boys time out; I'll give you a hundred pound, that you may take some lawful Cal­ling: for Poets and Players are never useful but of a Lord Maiors day, when they're mounted on a Padgeant.

What think you of the Authority of the Nation, that allows them?

For all that we Citizens are always of our own opinion; and I say again, Poets and Players are never useful but when a King is crown'd, or a Lord Maior is chosen; and 'tis the opinion of the Court of Aldermen, and I'll stand in it.

SCENE III.

I am here by promise to give your Lordship Reasons why you and I must never marry; and prepare your self, for I've a story bloud and horrour are the least things in't.

Bless me, it startles all my Spirits to hear sweet Innocence talk of bloud; you must be virtuous, such Sweetness cannot deceive.

My Lord I am false, a lewd Impostor, and not the Heiress whom you came to marry.

How! you have not lest me sense enough to wonder! my bloud wants motion, and life is stealing from me, and not sensible: speak again, for 'tis impossible you shou'd e'er be wicked.

I am not the Heiress, but Sir Marmaduke Seldins own Daughter: and the true Heiresses, my dear and lovely Kinswomen, are—

Are what, where, speak.

Murder'd: what opinion have you of my Virtue now, my Lord?

I rather fear your Senses than your Virtue yet: some wild extrava­gancy hath seiz'd your parts, and made your Tongue strike false: such a heavenly Fabrick cannot be tenanted with Devils, therefore deliver truth in short, and let me be at ease.

Our cruel Father forc'd our consents to that more cruel murder, and had we refused, we had infallibly met our own deaths.

Hold, my heart has met so violent a storm, 'twill everset: I bear a weight of grief heavier than Atlas burthen. Pray you speak of something else, my ears are filled with so much wickedness, they have no room for more; pray you speak the rest as softly as you can.

Then thus, my Lord; having met my Father in all his bloudy pur­poses.

Bless me, how unconcern'd she talks of Bloud! her tongue persuades one way, and her heavenly form another.

But the contrivance of the [...]s deathr so infinitely surpriz'd and plea­sed [Page 37] my Father, that he trusted our Engines with the bloudy deed.

Bless me! how my opinion comes and goes! you seem to rejoyce, Madam.

Then hear me, Sir: My own Servant having a Seaman to her Lo­ver, hired a Ship to carry them to the North of Norway, and there to set the Innocent ashore, where none but the merciless inhabit: and being shipt, my jealous Father saw them under sail below the Hope, and rhen re­turn'd well satisfied. But our Servants by our order the next tide brought 'em back, and here I thank Heaven they are safe, and have escaped the wicked purpose of my Father.

I thank Heaven too, both for your virtuous act, and their preserva­tion: how glorious do you now appear! you shine so bright, your dazling Virtues hurt my tender sight: I dare not gaze too much.

My Lord, preserve your sine manag'd Tongue for the lovely Beau­ty that deserves it; you came to court the true Heiress, and Fate has pur­posely preserv'd her for you.

O my sweet dear Lady, your Cousins will receive you with such joy, I fear an Extacy will follow: I'll call them presently.

Now you shall behold a Beauty worthy of the Lord Arminger, whose Parts and Fortune parallel yours: but had she no wealth, and were as low as poor Mariana, the power of her Beauty wou'd humble the proud­est of Monarchs, and make him stoop to court her.

Had she all this Beauty, and the Worlds Treasure in her own Ex­chequer, she cou'd no more tempt me to love her, than she cou'd tempt the dead. A Ma [...]ble Statue her Beauty may give life and motion to, sorce it to weep, and tell its amorous passion, make it die for love, and so turn Statue again. All this I think is in the power of Love, and yet it cannot work a change in me, my heart is link'd so firmly to your Virtues. Magick cannot break the chain.

O my dear and lovely Belmaria! my pretty Innocentia!

We have embrac'd and kiss'd already, Sister; wept for joy, and gi­ven thanks: not so much as my ungodly Seaman old Captain Hammock but has rendered thanks, to see us together again.

O you dear Preservers! how shall we reward your Virtues! how shall we proclaim the honour due to your merits! 'Tis fit the World should know that Heaven reigns in Wemen.

I, but the wicked World will hardly believe it.

O let me kiss and clip, and hug thee! O thou's my goodly Cousin, thou wad not let us be murdered, Honey; no more wad thou, thou pratty Creature thou.

Sister, whilest we rejoyce to see each other, we lose our selves in neg­lecting of my Lord.

My Lord, most earnestly I crave your pardon.

This precious love you shew each other requires my praise and won­der, not my pardon: Your Servant Madam, yours lovely Innocentia.

What pratty words he said to me, Cousin!

We ought to rejoyce at the sight of these Miracles, these Cheru­bins; for such Virtue, my Lord, deserves such heavenly Attributes.

Madam, you cannot say enough; they are Angels onely wrapt up in Mortality, disguized in lovely Flesh and Bloud, to shew the world what blessed Creatures the whole Sex of Womankind were meant.

Now waise me Cousin, that my Tongue could but tattle as prattily as this deft Lords does.

My Lord, we intend equally to divide our Fortunes with them, to be less grateful wou'd render us unworthy of our lives, which they so vir­tuously have preserved.

Marra Sister, my Cousin shall have half of every thing I have; thou'st have half my Portion, nay by my Conscience thou'st have half my Husband when I have him.

But Cousin, suppose this brave Lord were your Husband, wou'd you let me have half of him?

Now by my Saul I think I shou'd not: A wattanerin he's too pratty a man to part with, Cousin.

Lovely sweet Innocence! I thank your kind opinion, Madam.

Good Belmaria, did you say half your Portions? my Lord, have they not brave and generous Souls, does it not add to their Beauties, and make them look more lovely, speak my Lord?

With great astonishment I admire their offer! the worst of men must needs adore such Gratitude!

And the best of men despise us, shou'd we accept the offer.

It was my fear you wou'd, when you so highly extoll'd their Gene­rosity.

My Lord, if we have done good, the deed rewards it self: Virtue's a free gift from above, and to be bought and sold no more than Heaven.

Virtue was never mercenary yet; and if it shou'd, my Lord, we have not such a stock as to sell it out by retail.

This is obstinacy, not honour, to refuse a Friendship just [...]y due to you: you'd make us ungrateful to raise your selves a Fame.

Let this deft Honey Lord be Judge now, they sav'd us fra being de­vour'd by wild Bears, Honey Lord; then shou'd not we give them half we have, thou pratty man thou?

Dispute this no more, but come to the point: I present your Lord­ship with the real Heiress, my Sister was but a false Nine-pin put upon you.

'Tis true my Lord, this is your true prize, and worthy of your Great­ness.

Hold Cousin, shall I be offer'd up to one▪ that may re [...]use me? that [...].

Marra wad to the Lord of Heaven they wad all say so; then I hope at last he wad come to be my sweet Honey Husband.

We are now to think of safety, for home we must not go; there­fore we beg your Lordship to take us into your protection.

We all desire that favour, my Lord.

Favour, marra it's e'en a Blessing, and good Honey Sister let's ne'er go fra this pratty Lord whilest we live.

I receive you, Ladies, with such care as tender Mothers take of In­fants; and if my Honour, Life, and Fortune can preserve you from your Fathers cruelty, you are safe.

Your safety lies in securing your Father, Madam; bring him to publick justice, and then you're safe.

O say that no more; my Lord and Belmaria, you have milder tem­pers, we have preserved your lives, and to publish my Fathers shame were to murder us.

The ill he meant you see is mercifully prevented; how ungrateful then wou'd you all appear to us! but thy Nature like thy horrid Aspect is all rough and surr'd; thy love to her is surr'd all over like a sick mans tongue, so that love in thee is a perfect Fever; and when thou'rt well, it is no longer love, but turns again to brutish Seaman.

What way can you propose to secure your selves, and conceal your Fathers shame, Ladies?

If we cou'd find a way to bring him to repentance.

I, dear Cousin, that were a blessed work indeed, we cou'd all wish that, but how?

Why thus: your Lordship we desire to get my Father hither, and tell him we are fallen desperately ill, indeed distracted; say something has app [...]ared to us, and frighted us, and desire him to come with all speed, lest we die before he has a sight of us.

Very good; my two Cousins, Lidia, and her Seaman, shall appear at that window like Ghosts, call him Bloudy Murderer, bid him repent, and so vanish.

That must shake his Spirits being guilty, and I hope may work upon his hardned heart.

We all hope that; I much approve of this contrivance, and if you please I'll instantly about it.

My Lord, we shall for ever own the obligation.

Good Honey Lord, take heed my naughty Nun [...]le do not kill you now.

Sweet lovely Innocentia, I thank you; your faithful Seavant, La­dies.

Faithful to us all! marra Ise sure Iste have the least share of you then.

Come dear Mariana, this tryal I hope will bring your poor Father to an humble penitence.

It is the onely blessing upon earth my Soul prays for.

I hope for something else upon earth before I die, Sister.

We shall all rejoyce to see you both enjoy your wishes.

SCENE I.

O Sir Hercules, there's rods in piss for you 'y saith, my Uncle is so incens'd against thee, for putting that damn'd Joke of Whetstones Park upon him, that he resolves to have the whole Nation search'd, but he will have thee.

I thought a Deer out of Whetstones Park had been welcomer to him than all the Venizon i'th' world; how came he to know it?

Why it seems he inquir'd of some of his Brother Lawyers where about in Middlesex a place call'd Whetstones Park stood; and withall told 'em he had bargain'd for two Brace of Deer yearly out on't during his life.

Upon that they all fell a laughing at him ready to split, and told him it was a Park of Bawdy-houses; which made him fall into so great a rage, that he has sent his Clerk, Constables, and Devil and all to search for thee.

Why you know 'twas Sir Thomas Lovill with the wooden Leg, that put Whetstones Park upon him: I'll go to him as I am Sir Hercules, and bid him produce his lame Knave Sir Thomas Lovill: hast thou the Deed of thy Fathers Estate, Man?

I have it Old Boy: he was so pleas'd that I fought with thee in the defence of his Reputation, that he gave me the Deed presently; and the Lawyer [...] assure me, that it is a [...] firm a Deed as ever yet was ma [...]e.

Then never [...]ear me, I'll get off well enough I'll warrant you.

I'll own the whole to him; come we'll contrive it as we go.

SCENE II.

Sir Marmaduke, I have something to impart to you; but you being subject to violent passions, I am not willing to communicate such unwelcom news to you.

My Lord, to shew the dear respect I bear you, passion shall be my slave for once; I'll stop his violent source, and yoke him to humility: therefore let me know the worst of ill my cruel Fate has destin'd.

In short your Nieces are fallen desperately ill.

Is that all, my Lord? if they be sick we will have a Doctor.

Not sick, but worse; a ghastly fear and trembling has possest them, something appears to 'em and frights 'em; for they ran to me and cryed, Save us, Save us; and ask'd me if I saw nothing, and pointed with their Fin­gers, crying aloud, There they are, There they are: have they ever had such Fits before?

Often my Lord, often; ever when they dream of Hopgoblins, the next day they run to me for shelter: dam 'em their base womanish fear will destroy their glorious preferment.

Their desperate Fits wou'd make me think 'em guilty of Murder, but for my full persuasion of their sweet and blessed innocence: and what unspeakable comfort it is to be innocent! what say you Sir?

Yes, it is a fine childish comfort, for to be innocent is to be ignorant, to be ignorant is to know nothing, and they that know nothing are unwor­thy to be reckon'd of the race of Man. And that is my opinion of Innocence, my Lord.

I am troubled to hear this, it is no religious Answer.

It was no religious Question. I wou'd see my Nieces, are they here, my Lord?

Yes, they are here, bloudy Villain: I'll fetch those blessed Innocents, which by thy virtuous Daughters were preserv'd.

Ha, ha! what thou art a foolish Scarcrow call'd a Ghost, art thou not?

Who is't you speak to? what is't you s [...]e?

Nothing, I speak to nothing, I see nothing, do you my Lord?

No, Sir; but such distracted starts as those your Nieces had.

Then good my Lord withdraw; in short the Devil and I have con­ference once a week, and now's the time.

I'll fetch your Nieces, their Virtues may fright your Devil [...]way.

Now thou venemous Serpent clad in ghostly white, come down, that I may kill thee over again, and so have thee doubly damn'd

Thou canst not Fool hurt me, I am an aiery Spirit.

Come down, and I'll knead and mould thy aiery Spirit into substance, that I may tear it into air again: what art thou?

A damn'd Soul of thy preferring, dispatch and die; the Devils are stark made in Hell, that thou art so long on Earth; therefore make haste, they want thee.

If the Devil wants me, let him if he dares come fetch me; I dare him and his whole Host of Furies, bring Proserpine his Wife; and in spite of all his Guards I'll keep her here on earth, and make Prince Pluto my Cuckold; and what a shame 'twou'd be to Hell to have it said, Miss Proserpine is kept.

Cease thy madness, Fool; I am that Seaman who undertook the bloudy Murder of thy Nieces, but was prevented by being all drowned at Sea.

Drowned, art thou sure of it?

Too sure.

Then take notice I am their Heir at Law; come down sweet Ghost, and let me kiss thee; for never did Spirit bring such blessed news.

O wicked Uncle repent.

Repent, for thou's my naughty Nuncle.

What a Yorkshire Ghost! what Northern Devil is thy Guardian now?

Since thou canst not wretched man repent, behold us all in flesh and bloud, and clad in pure innocence.

Alive, all alive! O happy hour, O blessed minute! Come, come down, dear Nieces, and behold your poor Uncle rejoycing in his tears, to find you all thus secretly preserved: what Saint was't that saved you?

Your virtuous Children, so we come, good Uncle.

Take heed thou dissemble not, good Nuncle.

My own Daughters betray me! I that thought my subtilty above the reach of Devils, by Children to be deluded! O dam 'em! how like innocent truth their words fell from 'em, and I an infatuated Fool believed!

Sir Marmaduke, I take you in my arms, and am o'erjoy'd to see such penitential tears flow from you.

O my Lord, I find my Children have made known my wicked pur­pose, and my shame confounds me so, I dare not look upon your virtuous Figure: O let me see my heavenly Babes.

Here dear Father, let us for ever kneel, and for evermore thank Heaven for this your blest conversion.

O dear Sir, what comfort 'tis to see you satisfied that these are safe.

A blessed comfort indeed, they are Saints, my Lord, too good to dwell on Earth, and therefore shall to Heaven, thus

ye Devils!

Hold thou cursed Wretch! take his Sword from's side, whilest I disarm him of his Dagger.

Run, run for Surgeons; let all the Houshold run.

Houshold! imploy the whole World for Surgeons, and let all the business of the Earth stan [...] still, till Mariana be recovered.

Have mer [...]y on my distressed Father, my Lord.

A curse on thee for a Religious Jilt.

What can he now expect but publick justice! for all the Records of Hell cannot produce such wickedness as is in thee: but for Mariana's sake yet repent, and all shall be forgot

Repent! Seaman, that Lord's turn'd Fool: did Quality ever trou­ble it self with repentance before? it lies not in the road of Greatness: Fetch me the Devil, and I'll thank you; I have revengful work for him and his whole Tribe: give me my Sword.

You are in no con [...]ition to be trusted with a Sword, Sir.

Lord, of all Mankind trust not that treacherous Slave; he once seem­ed to me the bravest, and the bloudiest Villain that ever Man or Devil im­ployed; and the false Dog turn'd tail, prov'd honest, and betray'd me. My Children too prov'd false; who wou'd stay in this wicked world! I and my damn'd Issue will out on't: to see them [...]ry in torments, wou'd please me bet­ter than to be a Monarch.

Thou Wretch, think of thy Soul, and then repent.

I cannot, revenge allows no time to think of Souls: the Heralds know every thing takes place of Penitence, that comes sneaking behind, and is allow'd no place of Honour; but Vengeance rides i'th' front o'th' battel, and I his right hand man: therefore this Tongue shall never utter any wor [...]s, but Vengeance, Furies, and Torments; Torments, Furies, and Vengeance: revenge, Devils, revenge.

What an Example of Desperation's here! Pray you, Si [...], be careful of hi [...] till I sen [...] Ministers to comfort him. I wonder so wicked a man shou'd have such virtuous children!

SCENE III.

Clerk, take heed, be sure you be true to us.

I'll stick as close to you as your Shirt, Sir.

Save you, my Lord; I understand one Lovill, a Rogue with one [Page 44] eye and a wooden leg, has inform'd you that I have with most reproachful and ignominious words bespatter'd your Judgship.

Oho! then it seems you are Sir Hercules Buffoon, that have as you call it bespatter'd me: write a Warrant, Clerk, I'll clap you up, and clap an Action of ten thousand pounds upon you for scandal, Sir.

That will be a damn'd Clap indeed, Clap him up, and Clap an Acti­on; this Judge talks of nothing but Claps, I believe he knows Whetstones Pa [...]k better than I do.

Clap me up! I scorn your words, my Lord: bring that Villain Lo­vill to my [...]ace, to justifie his words if he dare.

I am afraid, Clerk, he dares not come, because of the roguish bar­gain he put upon me, of two Brace of Deer out of Whetstones Park; it seems a Park of Ba [...]dy-houses: Rogue! Rogue!

My Lord, I'll take that bargain off your hands; I'll give you two Brace of Fallow Deer for your two Brace of Whetstone.

Yours is such another Park as Whetstone, I suppose: but for Lovill I'll clap him up in a Jayl, where he shall never come out.

Another Clap! this old Fellow has been a Swinger in's days.

He's a sherking Knave and no Knight, my Lord.

How came he to be call'd so then?

In the time of the Civil Wars he found friends it seems to get a bla [...]k Warrant for a Baronet, and not finding a good Customer for it, he sawcily bestow'd the Honour upon himself.

He is the first Subject that ever made himself a Knight.

Not by some few, my Lord: but I am told you threaten to undo me, for which I'll clap an Action of the Cas [...] upon you, my Lord.

Then there will be Clap for your Clap, and the stone in your foot still, my Lord.

If I find this Lovill, I'll purge your ill manners for you.

The Rogues Oath will not be taken, he has been Knight of the [...]ost these twenty years; there came in his Knighthood, 'tis his trade, he has nothing else to live on.

Did you ever hear two men rail at one another thus, Sir?

I think the like was never known, my Lord.

Well, till Lovill be found I'll secure you, Sir.

I defie both Law and Lawyers, for I have a Protection.

A Protection! I believe the Devil voids Protections faster than Children void Worms; let me see it, Sir.

I have it not yet▪ but if you'll call for a Pen and Ink I'll write my self one presently.

This Fellow seems to be some Jester rather than a Knight.

He may be a Jester, and yet a Knight too.

But hold Clerk, was not this Gentleman here with Sir Thomas Lo­vill?

My Lord, I was not here; I have a Twin Brother indeed very like me, I suppose it might be him.

That may be, but I am certain this young Squire was here, and said he was Lovill's Son.

My Lord, I was not here; I have a Twin Brother indeed very like me, I suppose it might be him.

This Fellow's a Fool, and not a Squire sure.

My Lord, a Fool and a Squire are Twin▪ too, you'll scarce know one from the other.

Clerk, sure this is Sir Thomas Lovill's Son.

I had rather be thought the Son of a Whore: Lovill's a Rogue that deals with Pick-pockets, and can help people to stolen goods again.

This is you all this while, Knight.

You all deny the truth: Sir Buffoon, you'll deny too that my Ne­phew cudgell'd you.

I scorn to be cudgell'd; I confess he caned me indeed, and he kick'd me so, that my Haaches look as black as a Westpha [...]ia Ham, or the Traytors Quarters upon the City gates.

Upon my word, my Lord, I never caned nor kick'd him; nor did I ever in my life see the man before this day.

Did you not beat him then for abusing me so grosly?

No, my Lord.

Then give me my Deed again, Sirrah.

No, my Lord.

Why did you own, you base Fellow, that you were caned and kick'd?

Because, my Lord, I take delight in Lying; 'tis my darling virtue, I love it better than you love Whetstone Venison, my Lord.

You Rascal, I'll have you [...]udgell'd because you scorn it.

O my Lord, exercise your patience, and take some other course.

Then I suppose that you, Sirrah, hired that Rogue Lovill to tell me stories of your Valour, to wheedle me out of my Estate.

I did so, my Lord.

You impudent Fellow, hast thou the Face to justifie it?

Yes, my Lord.

And this ridiculous Squire is Lovill that Rascal's Son.

Yes, my Lord, and I am this Knights Son too, my Lord.

You abominable Fool, how can that be?

Because, my Lord, Sir Hercules disguiz'd himself with a black pa [...]h and a wooden leg, a purpose to put this trick upon you.

Clerk, bear witness, here are two Knights found in one, person, both confessing each other to be notorious Rogues; here's a Pilory in the case, beside [...] Whipping in abundance.

You have done well, ou [...]s what have you brought me to!

The misfortune is, that these two Knights have but one back to bear all the whipping due to 'em both.

I defie your whipping; pull off my Coat, look you here, Sir; I am [Page 46] the Court Fool, and here's my Fools Coat to protect me.

Death! had ever Lawyer so many tricks put upon him, cheated of my Office, my Estate; and not content with that, but thus grosly to abuse me too?

Your Conscience knows you cozen'd my Father grosly, and I have got it again by a trick, so there's trick for your trick, and the stone in your foot still.

I think there's a flaw in the Deed, if there be Villain, I'll make thee the wretch [...]d'st Begger in the Nation.

We have been with Council, and they say it is the firmest Deed that ever yet was drawn; so that you have the credit of being the best Convey­ancer of all the Town.

Then am I the first man that ever was undone by being too good a Lawyer; but I'll find some other way to destroy thee, thou accursed Vil­lain.

As angry as you are, I expect my bargain of Whetstones Park, my Lord.

Now Boys let's to the Tavern, eat, drink, and rejoyce; for Dagon the Law is beaten down, and shall be no longer worshipped.

SCENE IV.

How do you, my dear Innocentia? my Soul mourns to hear you say you're sick, Child.

Prethee [...]ousin do not call me Child; by my Saul I have Womans thoughts in me, my head akes so it plays Riveskin with me; waes me my Heart greips me too.

You mistake, Jewel; 'tis the Belly that gripes, not the Heart.

Nay God waite it's e'en my Heart that is it; I can do nought but think of that pra [...]ty Lord, Cousin, then my Heart g [...]i [...]es me so, that Ise e'en ready to be dead; what means that, hast thou any skill to tell me, Cou­sin?

Alas my dear Cousin, I doubt you are in love.

Now waes me▪ Ise quite undone then; thou knows▪ Cousin, that sweet Honey Lord kiss'd my hand e'en now, and he kiss [...]d it so prattily, that I have kiss'd it a thousand time, since, because that pratty Lord kiss'd it; and is that love thinkest thou Cou [...]in?

I, and desperate love too; shall I tell him how you love him, Cou­sin?

I, and e'en Gods B [...]nnison and mine light on thee for it: but I doubt, Cousin, thou'll speak can word for me, and tw [...] for thy self.

O sie Cousin, do not think I am so treacherous.

By my Saul Ise sure I shou'd serve thee sea.

Poor sweet Jewel, I pity thee exceedingly.

O Fidelia rejoyce, your Sisters wound proves but a scratch; all dan­ger's past, she's drest and coming forth.

I heartily rejoyce: but, my Lord, this sweet Creature is so in love with your Lordship, that if you be not civil to her, I really think 'twill kill her.

Heaven forbid, pretty Lady! be assured I pay you my respects with all the love my Honour can give way to.

Let me but once a day look at thy pratty Face, and then kiss my hand for me thou deft pratty Man, and that's all the blessing I desire in the warld.

Assure your self of those and thousands more: but behold your sweet Sister, O my dear Mariana, Providence I hope has lent you life, to make mine easie to me.

Stop there, my Lord; made not you a Contract with my Father, to marry Belmaria the eldest Heiress?

I grant I did so, Madam.

And was not I without a Fortune falsly put upon you? did you not court me as Belmaria, and truly love me as Belmaria?

Your Fathers Dagger is in every word you've spoke, and has not scratch'd but wounded.

Now waes me, my pratty Lord's in love with thy Sister, Cousin.

Mariana, you accuse me as if I had broke my Faith: by Heaven I never yet was false.

You will be, if you persist in a love sprung from a false foundation; you made love to an Impostor, a false woman; and now you know the Cheat, are you so weak to think your Honour is engaged to make that Courtship good to that Impostor?

An Impostor is the welcom'st blessing upon earth to me, if it appear in your lovely Figure.

Now by my Saul he's more in love with her, than Ise with him, waes me.

I believe, my Lord, you truly love me, and that's my onely Curse.

Ten thousand like Curses fall on me, they wou'd be my best Blessings, Cousin.

When I consider how falsly, how by a trick you came to love me, I must in honour pronounce my own doom, an [...] say I'll never marry.

God in Heaven keep her ever in that mind.

The wrong else to Belmaria wou'd look, as if we saved her from one murder, to execute a worse upon her.

Mariana, you nor your Lord have injured; but had your Father prov'd faithful, perhaps I had been your Bride, my Lord.

Waes me, what shall I do, my Sister's in love with him too! wad I had been devour'd with wild B [...]ars.

Had my Father been faithful, Belmaria says you had been hers: mark that, my Lord; can you after this ever make court to me? my Lord, this heart, and every drop of bloud within it, has more love for you than Dido quitted life for; yet all this can I conque [...] to be just, therefore must not in point of Honour marry. What strong Arguments I use to destroy my self!

I thank Fate I am not in Love's Lime twigs, for here's the Devil and all to do: In point of [...]onour fo [...]sooth one will not marry, and the other will not marry; so that I find the Punctilio's of Honour will destroy Gene [...]ation, and is't not pit [...] such a Lord shou'd die, without leaving some of his Brood behind him▪ Cousin?

I God he knows is it.

I know she loves me, I'll try her with a small design: Mariana, I find your resoluti [...]n fixt, and no persuasion can make you mine; therefore I will take your advice, and apply my self to fair Belmaria: so your Servant, Ma­dam; sweet Belmaria, now I address to you.

Hold, hold, I [...]ie I die.

Say you'll be my Wi [...]e, and th [...]n I'll quit Belmaria.

Any thing rather than see that cruel sight again.

Marry her presently, my Lord, lest Honour get the upper hand again

Help, help, my heart is broken quite in two.

Alas my sweet Cousin! Do you take her up, my Lord, and she'll do well again

How do you do, dear Innocentia?

Is it the pratty Lord that comes to help me? then I is varra well again.

Then we are happy, my Lord, and I am wholly yours: but how does my Father all this while?

He desires to go into the Country with two Ministers, who gave me great assurance of his conversion. We will marry then with all convenient speed.

I hope, my Lord, you'll be our Guardian, and let us live together, and we are satisfied.

And good Honey Lord, let us never part whilest we have one hour to live.

By my life we wou'd not quit you for all the world's wealth; and I'll make it my whole business to match you to Honourable Fortunes.

With your leave, my Lord Arminger; we hear Sir Marmaduke Sel­din is distracted and dying, and that your Lordship is made Guardian to the two Heiresses.

The Ladies are pleased to think me worthy of that Trust, and I have undertaken it.

The Northern Lady is to marry my Nephew, my Lord: to that end, Sir Marmaduke caus'd me to settle my Estate intirely upon her; the Match is gone so far, my Lord.

Nay 'tis gone further with us young Folks, for we have play'd at Clapperdeponch together; therefore 'tis too late to break off the Match.

By my Saul I never play'd at Clapperdepouch with thee: did my Nuncle mean to wad me to sike ana Fool as thee!

Why this is not my Clapperdepouch Uncle.

Why no, I is thy Clapperdepouch Honey.

What the Devil is there two Clapperdepouches! I am sure one must be false.

Ise sure Ise the right Northern Heiress.

Then thou art the false one, Honey: I have heard of False Dice, and False Nine-pins; but to have a False Clapperdepouch put upon a man, is more than ever I heard of.

My Lord, I will not stand to this bargain, for my Estate is settled upon the Northern Heiress.

No, Sir, I have read the Deed, and it is settled upon Fidelia Seldin.

Then I am cozen'd, my Lord, and abused.

Not so, Sir, 'twas your own voluntary Act: besides, I have married her Sister, and I hope you'll think it no disparagement for me to call you Uncle, and you me Nephew; and to have your Kinsman call me Bro­ther.

My Lord, I shall take it for the greatest honour in the world.

A much greater honour than our Alliance with King Pippin; and so I receive Fidelia Seldin for my Wife.

And I receive you, my Lord, as my Nephew, and your Lady as my Niece.

And I receive you as my Son and Daughter: by this Match you honour us, as you are a Noble Lord; and we honour you, by making you a Kinsman to King Pippin.

My Earl of Honour, I have one Project, the which if your Lordship will counte [...]ance—

You know I was always your Friend, and ever will be.

Then my Earl you must know, my Ancestor was the first Inventor of Short Hand, and you see of what use it is to the world; but at first it was extremely laugh'd at, as no doubt my Project will be.

There is no question of it in the least.

Pray you let me hear your Project as briefly as you can.

Briefly! I find I am troublesom, I humbly refuse then, my Lord.

I wou'd not give a Doit to hear it.

My Lord, I humbly grieve that I have rudely refused: my Project is this.

I will not hear it now, Sir.

Then I pity you, my Lord— Young Man, thou shalt hear it.

By my faith but I will not.

Now, Sir, it is my opinion, that you sprung not from the Loyns of King Pippin.

Sir, do you affront the Family of the Buffoons?

I'll affront your Coxcomb with Mahomets own Semitor, that cut off Orene's head.

My Lord, upon my Honor that very Semitor hangs up now in Gresham College.

Now, Sir, I'll hear your Project, for your Semitors sake at Gresham College.

My Lord, you know all the World now writes Short Hand, and my Project is that, which I am I confess really fond of.

That's more than any man else will be, I doubt: well, what is it?

Sir, I communicate onely to my Lord: Ladies, you may hear if you please: my Project is, Ladies; well, I value my self extremely up­on it.

Marra the Devil hama, gin this be not a worse Fool than thy Clap­perdepouch Cousin.

Well in short, as all the World writes Short Hand, so I wou'd teach all the World to speak Short Hand, and by an Act of Parliament have it call'd the Short Hand Tongue.

Speak Short Hand, and have it call'd the Short Hand Tongue! Iack Adams for that; ha, ha, ha.

Ha, ha, ha, ha.

Did not I before hand tell your Lordship I shou'd be laugh'd at?

You did so indeed most Prophetically.

Nevertheless, my Lord, I shall proceed; for I have really compu­ted, that a long-winded Minister shall p [...]each a Sermon in the Short Hand Tongue, in as little time as a Horse shall run a Four miles course, and that is exactly seven minutes, Madam.

Ha, ha, ha, ha.

Why do you laugh, Gentlemen? I think 'twou'd be great Service to the Nation, to have a Sermon preach'd in seven minutes.

Then Sermons wou'd not be tedeous, nor people wou'd not sleep at Church.

Nor wou'd they have time to make love there, as I have done often.

Nor wou'd Sunday Pies be burnt in the Oven, nor Meat over roasted, nor would Farmers have time to make Bargains at Church.

Right, Sir: I will undertake to make the Merchants of the Change▪ and Lawyers at the Bar, plead all their business in the Short Hand Tongue; nay, and the Judges shall give Sentence in the Short Hand Tongue.

And men shall be hang'd in Short Hand Ropes, and then they will feel [...]o pain.

Right; an [...] what ease wou'd it be to the World, to have all the whole business of a day done in seven minutes!

Then shou'd we have all the rest of the day to be drunk in.

I believe thou speakst Short Hand already, Squire; for always when thou'rt d [...]unk, thou putst twelve words into one.

That is not Short Hand, 'tis call'd Clipping the Kings English. I hope Sir, you'll teach Women to scold in Short Hand Tongue, and that wou'd be great Service to the Nation.

Good my Lord, let us laugh this insufferable Short Hand Fool quite out of the Land.

The Short Hand Tongue! ha, ha, ha, away Fool away.

I'll make you all Fools with one Philosophical Question, Tell me whether at the great or the small end of a Spiders Egg does Nature make Production?

Thou art the Product of an Ass I'm sure.

Pray you Sir, let me ask you one question, Is your name Overwise or Otherwise?

It is not proper for me to say, I'll quarrel with you; but, Sir, I'll make a Cess [...]tion of Friendship with you, and so draw upon you.

Hold, hold; put up, put up; away Short Hand Ass.

Well I pity all Fools, from the Gentleman to the Lord and Lady Fools, and so I take my leave.

I hope you'll take your leave in the Short Hand Tongue.

My Lord, we hope you will befriend us so far, as to admit us Suit­ors to these Heiresses.

Gentlemen, were I not concern'd, I wou'd serve you frankly; but being their Guardian, were you my Brothers I wou'd not betray my Trust; but will match them to men of such Honour and Wealth, as shall deserve their Fortunes: and this Resolution you cannot take unkindly.

No my good Lord, your answer has fully satisfied us.

What a Noble Lord is this, Cousin?

Come pretty Cousin, I'll give you half I have now; nay, I'll give you half my Husband.

Thank you Honey Cousin, but Iste be a little Whore then, shall I not?

No sweet Cousin, I'll have a care of that.

My Lord, we must see honest Captain Hammock here and his Miss well rewarded, and all's done.

And it shall be done to their Satisfaction.