BLess me, Circumstantio, how goes the day?

Dear Sir, two hours precisely are roul'd off since the Meridian, and Sir by the way I have often thought the Sun a proper emblem of all us, though we be never so glorious for birth or parts, like him alas how soon we set! 'tis pity noble Sir that men of parts—

—Again Fool brushing up your thredbare phrases▪ your nasty ends of Gold and Silver, your tawdry intellectual Wardrobe, you had best tell me what's a Clock without your foolish sentences and morals—Thou everlasting Coxcomb, are not words to express thoughts by, and the plainest expression of our meanings best?

Oh Heaven Sir you amaze me! plain speaking!

Sure words were meant for ornaments of thoughts, and I'd not for the Universe be without those tropes, and flowers that my discourse adorn.

Most excellent Rogue! flowers? no your weeds rise thick, and I will root out them or thee, thou gross nauseous Fool: laughter which first thou tookest as an applause, since it hath been the cause of thy disease, shall be thy cure, and thou shalt be a scorn to all the Family.

The envy, not the scorn, no men of parts can laugh at me

In short Sirrah, tell me plainly what's a clock, or I will cudgel you most excessively.

Sir, the Sun has from its Zenith these two hours de­clined.

Incorrigible wordy Rogue!—Come Sirrah, I'll stop those Rhetorick vapours—Ho there within Pietro, is the Pil­lory I bespoke for this Fool made?

It is Sir.

Let it be brought in.

It shall Sir.

Now Sir you shall find the ill success of translating the florid Coxcomb. Is there but one sort of Fool more nau­seous than other to me, (I mean your Orator) and must you copy him?

Sir be concise and clear, I hope you mean not me.

In short, most eloquent puppy, you must stand in the Pillory, expos'd to jeers and taunts of all the house, until two hours precisely are rowl'd off.—Sirrah, I told you the next trope was Capital, no metaphors but in turn'd suits Fool.

Oh utinam nescirem literas—the Pillory for Rheto­rick and good parts!

There is no remedy, I have often threatned you be­fore.

Oh cruel master whose heart is hard as Rocks of Ada­mant!

Within there, bring in the Pillory, I'll try if punish­ment will reform thee.

I'll dye a martyr Sir to tropes and figures, Oh Nick—Nick Machiavel thou

hast well observed, great merits when they rise too high, meet hate from them who ought to recompence them. Consider Sir the injury you do your own fair Honour, alas I shall not be hurt.

I'll try that, put him in.

Come, come on.

Be not so temerarious, Friends.

Put him in, he's at his tropes still.

Must I abandon eloquence?—Certes thou wast not born of Humane race, but sprung from some wild Numidian Father, and got on some rough Caledonian Mother, from Ganges West, to Gades East, there is not one so savage. Hold, Hold, I say—

Welcome my dear Marcello thou art come in good time to see my Farce.

What Engine's this?

'Tis a Collar for my Orator, you have often known him plague me with his tropes; this Rascal serv'd me all the [Page 3] while I studied at Padua, where (instead of Learning) the Coxcomb got a little false Rhetorick and Pedantry, he affects to talk like a Scholar, and never since would bring a message or tell what's a clock without a trope.

'Tis pity you should affro [...] one of such parts, re­lease him now, I'll be his surety.

He's incorrigible.

Sir, when for this noble intercession I shall cease to offer the oblation of my thanks upon the Altar of my heart, may I become the scum and scorn of vagabonds.

You see his amendment.

Dearest Nuarcha, I am your humble servant, let me kiss thee.

Thank you dear Sir.

What news from my Mistress the Widow Paulina?

This night she ends her year of Widowhood, and now will see and speak with man again, she has removed my old Masters statue out of her Bed-chamber, and old Seignior Paulo has leave this night to speak with her, but sure she is de­signed for one more young, of whom she thinks and talks, sleeping and waking.

Much thanks for thy goods news, faith I must kiss thee again, though much against my conscience and my ap­petite.

How soveraign a Cordial is Mankind!

Sir I beseech you to entreat for a remission of my igno­minious censure.

Pray release your Orator on his submission.

I do upon condition he will abandon tropes and fi­gures, and speak sence to his fellow servants.

My affairs call me home, I had almost forgotten, Mrs. Lucinda, Seignior Paulo's daughter, whom you know her Father has placed with my Lady, has a desire to speak with you in the Garden about the prevention of her Fathers marri­age with my Lady, which would much prejudice her affairs, I will make way for you to see her.

You will most infinitely oblige me, assure her I will not fail to do her all the service of my life, and should think my self happy to venture it for her. One kiss more, dear sweet Mrs. Nuarcha.

A most absolute compleat fine Gentleman, a civil [Page 4] proper young man is a most sweet Creature! Sir your most obedient servant.

Your servant.

You are a most vigorous man to be able to kiss this Succubus.

This salacious old Chamber-maid is better bribed this way than any other.

You have a lusty mind to the Widow I see, that you can travel through so soul a way to her.

O Marcello, 'tis not the Widow which I aime at. Lu­cinda's Mine of beauty far exceeds the Widows wealth, so ex­cellent, so sweet, so rare a Creature, I but pretended passion to the Widow to get access to beautiful Lucinda, and now con­gratulate my happiness, she has contrived an interview her self. But why do I tell thee of this? thou art an Heretick, an Infidel to love.

Oh thou mistak'st me, dear Antonio, I am a Convert, I have the Image of a fair one stampt upon my heart, that ne're can be effaced.

This is news indeed, may I know who this fair one is?

That adds to my confusion, she is unknown; yester­day morning going to my devotions, this Lady being near me dropt her Handkerchief, I stoopt and gave it her, she hastily put up her Vaile, and with so sweet an aire thank'd me for my service, and show'd me such a face, that nature in all her plenteous store can never shew an equal.

The shewing of her face in Florence, is an encourage­ment against despair.

I should have thought so, had not I found when she perceived I watched her she shun'd my search, and spight of all my diligence avoided me in the crowd at Church, so that the shewing o [...] her matchless face appears an accident from her surprise, and no designed favour.

It cannot be, you construe it amiss, fear not she'll give you opportunity again to see her. But as you are my Friend I have a thing of near concernment to relate to you, a thing that grievs me much, I find the Duke's command has not yet power to tame Lorenzo's spirit, he seems yet more enraged than ever.

I know it since the Duke checkt him so severely, and [Page 5] vow'd to punish his disobedience if he contracted not a friend­ship with me; he thinks that I by a complaint caused his dis­grace, and is more bent upon revenge for that.

It is a custome too frequent, and too brutal here, for Parents to entail their Quarrels with their Estates.

It is so, and therefore I'd avoid them. Our Fathers ambitious of preferment could not admit superiour or equal, they liv'd like the two fam'd Theban Brothers alwayes in war, the fierce Lorenzo when but young was sworn to oppose the Growth and Fortune of our house, hatred was left by Will and Testament. I have used all healing wayes, affecting the friend­ship of a person that but for this, would be most worthy of it, but 'tis all in vain.

A Messenger from Padua, who by his haste may well be called a Mercury, well figur'd by his wings on Head and Feet, is much sollicitous to impart his grand affair unto your proper ears.

Again at tropes, thou odious Rogue?

Antonio Fare thee well, I will to Vespers, and see if I can find my unknown Mistress out.

Farewell Marcello, I see this Love will make thee very devout. Where is this Messenger?

In troth 'tis well leapt, Paulo, who can say thou'rt old, let me see any young man leap with more agility—hah well done Paulo, come thy joints are plyant, thy back lusty, and thou fit for an able Bridegroom,—hah well done again ho­nest Paulo. What? grey hairs are no marks of old age, but of many years, of chaste and sober youth, and of no idle ex­pence of life, of no years cut off by a Chirurgeon, nor washt away in a Tavern. Widow I commend thee in thy first choice, and hope thou wilt resemble it in a second—Have at thee Widow, have at thee.—Now well jumpt Paulo. But now I must fatherly infuse Chastity into my Daughter, and teach her rules too hard for me, Declaim against the lewdness of the World, and advise her to chuse the vertue of a Nun­nery, [Page 10] for [...]he being [...] setled, my Widow can assault me with no very strong objection. Lucinda come hither.

I come Sir.

What have you been doing Lucinda?

Sir I have been observing the Pictures in the long Gal­lery.

Which of them Child?

I observed Europa and Iupiter, and the Picture of Calisto surpriz'd by the same amorous God.

And we observed how he put a trick upon Danae, for all the Guards of her severe Father.

Out upon it, meer bawdry, dost thou know my Child the moral of it? it declares a hot Gallant, and a vile Governess debauch't with money to ruine her charge: Out upon you naughty Girle! to indulge your Carnality with provocation; why did you not look upon the good Saint Mary Magdalen, you know she bemoan'd all her love-vanities, you should have view­ed St. Katharine of Alexandria. Did not I bid you speak to your Lady to take down these Pictures, and that of Mars and Venus in a net?

O Devilish dissembling old Fe [...]w!

I will be a kind Father in keeping thee spotless from this world, I am now old, and can best tell you the small im­provement vertue makes in Worldly conversation; come, have you considered well my Child our late Discourse about a Nun­nery? Oh the sweet life! O the blessedness of such retirement! O divine pleasure of a Nunnery!

This old Goat thinks to deceive me. What sure do you propose most unnatural rules to be observ'd by her in the fresh spring of her life, which you cannot submit to in the fro­zen December of your age?

Peace vain naughty carnal Woman. Speak Child, does silence give consent? perhaps thou may'st through piety be Canonized: O what joy! and what honour to us all! to have posterity after thy death pay devotion to St. Lu­cinda.

Pray Sir, may not Wives be Saints? if you please I will turn Nun when I am a Widow.

I well said Madam; Pray have you the heart to put a young Woman of this neat shape, this complexion, these bright eyes, this sweet breath, these clean teeth—

Woman, hold thy tongue.

I will not, what into a Nunnery! what flesh and blood dares be her Confessor? there's ne're a shav'd pate of them all but has more mind to her than a month's fasting.

O Lord! she will make me deaf with talking.

Had she been crooked, had she wanted an eye, one leg shorter, one hand revers'd, or uncurable fits, or by any distem­per improper for copying out her own sweet-fac'd Picture: then she had been fit for a Nunnery, then most fit for your Ma­tins and Vespers.

Well, have you done?

No Sir, I have not done, Is this flesh and blood for a Nunnery? no, she shall be a Matrimonial Saint, her shrine shall be a Down-bed and a Quilt, and her Chapel a well furnisht Chamber, the Pilgrim that shall kneel to her and kiss her, shall be a young handsome man, and you need expect no Miracle, but to see her Nuns work run up and down, and call you Grand Pappa.

I tell thee Woman, I shall chastise thee if thou holdest not thy tongue. Thou hast been false, thou hast corrupted my daughter, thou hast confederated with Carnality: Get thee out of my sight, I will forthwith speak to my Lady Abbess about it, and she shall be admitted to morrow.

Sir, if you please, since a Daughter cannot with a Fa­ther dispute this great affair, which like marriage is for better for worse, let your Friend and mine reason it calmly, whether your only Daughter should turn Nun; If their reasons con­vince me, I obey.

Well, for once I consent, who shall they be?

Sir, any young Gentleman of Florence shall judge for me, and for you my design'd Mother-in-Law Paulina.

Begon you sawcy Baggage: What, concern your self in your Fathers Business? what, you can prate, can you dis­obedience?

No Sir, I am all duty; you told me, you lov'd me, because I did resemble my Mother: I would fain increase your [Page 12] love, and be like my Mother in every thing.

Begon I say, my will is fixt.

Pray Sir, I ever lov'd my Father, and since the world is so perillous, let us both leave it: You often commanded me to follow my Parents Example.

Hence Impudence. And get thee out of my presence, Thou pestilence of the Family:

—pert Sl [...]t—Well now for my Widow—Well jumpt Paulo—hah vigorous Paulo, hah lusty Paulo—Hah brave Paulo.

WEll sirrah, what makes you stay so long, when I bid you return a speedy answer from Lucinda?

Pray Sir, let me excuse my stay, secundum quid, by the History of some extraordinary contingences which interfer'd, though indeed I am of the Stoicks opinion, that nothing is con­tingent, but only seems so quoad nos.

Sirrah to the purpose Rogue, Rascal.

Sir, why do you wrong your self, and debase your na­ture by this vile imploy, which instead of making you red with anger, should make you blush for shame?

You tormenting Villain speak now, or else I am re­solv'd to damn you to the Pillory.

Alas Sir, the Pillory! by this passion you extinguish every thing that is Socratick, or indeed Philosophical; you become my servant, I can make you kick me when I please, alas poor Gentleman! did he but see how passion alters his countenance, and defaces the pleasure of his Mistress!

Within there-bring in the Pillory; now sirrah you shall not escape: bid your fellows come in with the Pillory and Garland.

Sir, pray ponder the thing, and that you may not by de­signing me, expose your self to domestick ignominy, I will en­deavour to give verbal satisfaction.

Look invincible fool, here is the best Scheme for your Rhetorick, this must be your Climax, and this the ornament for your florid head, come put his Collar on, lest in his mad­ness he bites some of you, and so infect you.

Fellow-servants intreat your Master to consult his re­putation, and not pursue a thing so mal a propos.

Insufferable slaye, as impudent, as invincible.

Sir, what [...]rrour, what fault, what transgression? where is the least Circumlocution? though habits are very tough.

In with him. I leave him to you, let him not sleep, for that's bad in Physick, I allow you all battering instruments; sirrah, your faults are many, I hope they will reckon them up in my absence.

Torrens dicendi copia multis, & sua mortifera est facundia.

What at it again? I hope this punishment will prove a cleansing vomit for your tough bits of eloquence.

I will suppress my anger, though it swells my heart, and hear what the dull Rout will say, and thus by taciturnity deceive them. Philosophy I thank thee!

Lord what makes Circumstantio in this strange disabilie as he used to call it! he swells like some Don in his ruff, sure the rogue has got a cold and cannot stir his neck.

No, no, the Landress has put too much starch in his Cravat: that light pate of his peeps like a Cork out of a bottle.

Well learned Domine! I knew you would at last be yoked for your frequent breaking of hedges, most high and mighty, you were alwayes despising your fellow-servants, calling the Cook greasie, Butler frothy, the Coachman stable man.

I am afraid our sport will be prevented by the com­ing of this old Maid, now must we kiss her, and talk of her husband, to keep her in some tolerable humour. Come Gen­tlemen show your breeding.

Blessings on you all, kind hearts, I have not received so much comfort these two months: pray where is Antonio? for I came to speak with him: ah! but what do I see the ac­complished Circumstantio in the Pillory?

Ah how dark and erroneous are the sentiments of the unphilosophick, which proceed from want of definition and distinction, they suppose this Pillory to be malum verum, which we that have been better taught know to be but malum apparens, no wise man can suffer ill; for how insignificant is malum poenae, when the essence of a man is free from malum culpae! Oh what consolation do I find in Metaphysicks! I will assure you Audi­tors, neither candid, nor gentle, that I value not this Pillory nor its Pilloreity.

Well, I never heard him speak so finely before.

Mrs. Nuarcha, my Master is coming.

Then I will compose my self. Sir, Mrs. Lucinda so desirous of your company

has sent me after your servant to hasten your coming, and to tell you that she expects you within an hour at the Garden door, where I shall be ready to receive you, and for this good news let me beg Circumstantio's liberty. Indeed Sir you do not use him according to his deserts.

Indeed Mrs. Nuarcha you are in the right, but for your sake and this excellent news, I will not at this time be ungrate­ful in denying you any thing, well let him come out; Circum­stantio you're bound to pay your respects to this Lady, and by right, if she thinks fitting, to marry her that brings you the re­prieve, but as the Prologue of Matrimony, kiss her.

I kiss her not quà Nuarcha, but quatenu [...] my deliveress.

Your words and lips shall alwayes be acceptable.

I must now return, shall I tell Lucinda that you will not fail, for she expects me with impatiency.

Tell her I will watch each minute, and the hour will seem a year till I wait on her.

Madam, Marcello just meets us.

Sure my Servant is lost, as well as his poor Master. Oh how I rack my mind to know who this fair Creature is! perhaps to my greater torment, for some small hope hovers about me in my ignorance, which will take wing and upon in­formation leave me

Well, who is she? speak—hold—upon your life forbear, your look foretells misfortune.

Pray Sir, shall I tell you, or shall I not tell you?

If your relation be good, stay not a moment, but if fa­tal, let it remain in everlasting silence—yet I must hear, come who is she?

Nay Sir, be not so passionate, for I can neither kill you, nor save you.

Slave be quick, who is she?

Pray Sir be satisfied, heaven and St. Peter knows for me.

Wretch, dost thou not know? why dost thou keep me thus in pain? speak or for ever hold thy tongue, who is she?

Sir, in short I dogg'd her, but she was too nimble for me, she was mingled with so many in the Church, that I could not distinguish her.

Villain thou lyest. I will kill thee, and write fool in thy blood, what, not distinguish her? villain thou lyest, 'tis im­possible, a bright circle alwayes crowns her face, her vail was all illustrated, as clouds gilded by the Suns darted beams, her breath would discover her at distance, as spices in blossom be­tray Arabia to approaching Travellers. Roses grow for ever where she treads, and nature paints her footsteps: not know her, not distinguish her! Impudent sot; recollect, and tell me you know her.

Hey-day: here's brave alteration in my Master: tru­ly Sir, to speak the truth, I have a great cold, and so perhaps could not smell her, and then my eyes are very weak, and can­not look against so much light; as for Roses I saw none. La­dies servants, and their servants servants look not with the same eyes. Perhaps 'tis alwayes Summer, and hot weather when you see her, but it was Winter by that time I drew near to her.

Yes, by your stay it seemed so; march before, and lead me to her; or—

Lord Sir, what do you mean? have a little patience, and she may come by this way again. Vespers were almost done when I came to you: [...]—see your enemy Marcello is just going into his house.

I would it were his grave, but I will shortly send him or my self thither.

Sir pray look that way—I think I spy the same Lady coming, yes 'tis she, now I see the light about her face, yes I smell the roses, and see them blush, and peep under her Pet­ticoat.

'Tis she—I know my murdress is at hand by inward bleeding. My heart beats vehemently, and my blood presses [Page 18] with haste through lifes flood-gates: love which animates all creatures, abates my courage, when I have most need of it. I cannot speak to her, and yet I must.

Come Charge, let us go.

Hold, hold, you have not proved your self a woman yet, and discovered who your Lady is.

But you have declared your self a Serving-man by that question, What are you? your masters forlorn hope? [...]ent out to skirmish with the enemy, and then retreat to the main body.

I never heard the Sutlers wife, or the Laundress call her self part of the Army before.

Saucebox, I believe your empty belly, and foul Linnen put these words into your mouth; come Charge let's go and not expose our selves thus in the street.

Farewell my Visionary Mistress; for I neither know who, no [...] whence thou art; like Ixion, I did fancy a Goddess, but embrac'd a cloud. Sirrah what were they we discours'd with just now?

Two Women, without doubt Sir.

'Tis false, impudence, are your sure you talked with any woman?

I am sure mine was a true Woman, by her way of speaking.

'Tis strange that I should thus forget my self, to lay open my follies before my servant: hurried with new passions of love, and jealousie. Marcello is my Rival and my Foe. My Rival—'tis enough—it is decreed. I will forthwith to his house, and kill him: no place shall save him, not the Court, nor Duke; nor Houshold gods; no bright apparition shall rescue him from death the second time.

Sir, Lorenzo whom I never saw here before, with angry looks and hasty words, bids me tell you that he must speak with you.

Oh my Brother!

'Tis fortunate Sister to have him here, I hope he comes prepared to hear me speak: retire Sister, whilest I in­troduce him.

I will withdraw, but overhear you both.

You might accept them now, for I will shew you none to morrow. I dare not tell my Sister what has pass'd be­twixt us.

Here she comes, I will prevent her questions by telling her my story first; Camilla I am glad that all things will be soon com­pos'd between Lorenzo, and my self; for he came very kindly to propose a conference to morrow, where we shall upon the debate grow more calm, I hope for ever; and that my propos'd affair may not hinder me, I must take my leave, and be gone. Dear Sister Farewell, and wish me good success.

May all that is good preserve my dear Brother. He's gone, and now my eyes shall freely speak the rest. He thinks he has deceiv'd me, and that I did not over- [...]ear their f [...]tal assig­nation, I will retire to my Chamber, and consider how to save them both.

Lucinda, your father is so brisk and vigorous of late, that he seems to have dropt Twenty years of his life.

Yes Madam, he has been fortifying himself these three months to my knowledge, that he might appear brisk upon this day of admission.

Prithee pay more respect to the old Gentleman before your Mother-in-law, he alwayes appear'd cheerful though not to this degree.

Well Madam, if you have a mind to be my Mother-in-Law, 'tis you will have the worst of it, not I.

Why so merry Cousin?

Because after a very little time my Father must return to rheum and spitting-sheet, and then how will you away with it? I love an old man well enough for a Father, but not for a husband.

Pray Cousin let us reason it, such an old man as your Father, or my late husband, would make you an excellent match, come think of it Lucinda, it might prove most proper, his gravity to allay your levity, his cold your heat, as we cor­rect Wine with Water.

Out upon it! I would not have an old man, though he made me a joynture of the Indies, though he built me a house of Silver, and turn'd a rich stream of golden Tagus to wash my garden walls, though he could afford me Cleopatra's draughts every morning, I should find out another Antony.

O brave Girle, had you rather venture a young mans frolicks?

Yes, rather than to lye by an old man, 'tis lying with a Coffin, and I am sure you had rather lye by a certain young man than my f [...]ther.

Why do you think so Cousin? an old man is a very wise bosome friend, whom long use of life has polish'd, from whom you may learn the wisest rules to methodize your self.

Very good, you advise me to marry an old man, that is to say an history incarnate, true Annals writ upon a Skeleton; and what then, go to bed with this rotten Chronicle? no he shall lye cover'd with Cobwebs first. I don't intend to em­balm matrimonial mummy, to spoile the Apothecary's trade, and fill my Closet with gally-pots.

Madam, Seignior Paulo desires to speak with you.

Well, I will go wait upon my Cousin, 'tis to give my approbation to the design of his musick he presents us with to night at Supper. Cousin farewell, and think more chari­tably of an Old husband.

Antonio is just come to the back door, and I have got my Mistress luckily away.

Pray bring him into this walk pray make haste, and I will give you the best gown I have.

I go, I go to serve you both.

I know there is no danger of the Widows marrying my Father, though she carries it so demurely; she has a grea­ter longing after my dear Antonio, and my love is not without some hope; for though he seems to court the Widow, yet his looks and words may be as well interpreted to me, I wish my supposition proves true.

Madam, this happiness you confer upon me is more than any past or future service can repay: pray Madam let me know the honour of your commands, that I may express some thanks by readiness to obey them.

Sir you shall know them presently, they concern both you and my self: good Nuarcha, oblige me in observing my Cousin and Father's motion, that I may not be surprized talking with Antonio.

Well, dear heart, I will, I go most willingly, for a hundred to one but they will talk about my Mistresses affection to Anton [...]o, which amorous discourse will so heat my desires, that they will exceed moderation: well goodly Couple [...]are­well, I dare trust you both.

Ah Lucinda, give me leave to speak, and whilest there is time to undeceive you, by all that is good you should be­lieve: you are the design of my true love, and the Widow but the Shadow of the Picture to cheat the eyes of the beholder.

Antonio, you mistake, I am not she you mean, I am Lucinda and not the Widow, 'tis she has ever had the appear­ance of your love by words and actions, which bid her judge it real. But I wi [...]h with all my heart he means what he sp [...]aks.

Let this propitious hour be for ever blest, in affording me time to express my heart.

Well, well, you are a merry man to whet your dis­course on me, against my Cousins coming.

Madam, do you think I want eyes and ears to distin­guish the beauty, and wit of Lucinda?

But to be serious, the only way to procure your Wi­dow, is by keeping off my Father; who to speak dutifully of him seems in the Autumn of his life to pretend a second Spring: I will assure you your Rival is very brisk with her; therefore pray Court your Widow to the purpose, and give her greater assurance of you, that my Father may be diverted from clapping me into a Nunnery; and that is the end of my giving you this trouble. Would to God I could tell him plainly that I love him.

Oh Lucinda, be not so cruel as to condemn me to new pains: for this falshood of pretended love is as great a torment to me, as a mistake in you; rather command me to own my love before your Father, and the Widow.

No, pray Court on, upon discovery Lucinda must forthwith march into a Nunnery, I believe you will hardly free her from it without her Portion.

Dearest Lucinda do not think so basely of your Lover, that the spirit of his love so much delights in dross and earth. I love not Lucinda as the Heiress of her Father; but for the in­estimable dowry of her Virtue and Beauty: I have enough left me by my Ancestors, and fortune would be prodigal, to grant me Lucinda to command me and it.

These words will make be believe former passages, that he is real, I must confess.

—Well, you are a pleasant man, yet I think it would prove better for me to think of a Nunnery, and its happy quiet, than of launching into a troublesome world, and Domestick Em­ployment, if it were not for one thing—

What is that Lucinda?

Why it must out—if it were not for—my Antonio.

Oh pronounce those blessed words again, lest it passes for a dream of happiness.

Nay, I am glad 'tis out, but if it had not been for fear of Nunnery and Hair-cloth, I had held out longer: yet you [Page 26] must Court the Widow, as you used to do, the next time you see her.

For heaven sake do not relapse, I am weary of the cheat: I must acknowledge the truth, this unkindness sug­gests as if you did not love me; for Lovers like the Deity hate to have their dues offered to an Idol.

But as you love me, continue it for a while, I warrant you for some handsome Plot to discover all in a little time.

Madam, your Father and my Lady are coming, pray set your self in order.

How now! what do I see? is not that a young man, and that my daughter?

Yes Sir, and a handsome young man too, he happen­ed to come by when the Garden door was open, and being de­lighted with the beauty of the place, I invited him in, as one not unknown to my Lady.

Good Sir be disturb'd at nothing, he is a Gentleman of my acquaintance, I am glad that any thing here has obliged his stay: and that my Cousin was here so luckily to enter­tain him.

Madam, I need not fear to come off in the old Gen­tlemans opinion, having so good an Advocate.

Umph, Advocate, and old Gentleman! no more old Gentleman than your self, for years do not bring age, but de­bauchery of youths and such Jacks as you are. Come Sauce-box, can you jump as I can? come, the old Gentleman, as you call him, shall try your activity.

How zealously this old Gentleman, like some sort of lovers, acts one thing and is another, declaiming against youth, yet mi [...]king its gaye [...]y!

Young fellow there—leave off your prating, and try if your back can bear jumping as mine does: prethee sweet Widow don't mind his prating, but observe this tryal of skill.

Pray Madam, speak to my Father to have a care of straining.

How is that, you Saucy baggage? abuse your Fathers back to his face, that was one cause of bringing you into the world? get you gone you undutiful slut, to abuse the spring of your being.

Madam, what must your influence and virtue be, which can thus change nature, and metamorphise old age in­to brisk youth?

But the victory is greater which conquers the stron­ger, and set [...]les wandring youth within the sober bounds of constancy.

Come troublesome Companion, if you will have all prating and no jumping, pray leave this Lady and prattle with that young Flirt there. I'll warrant her I shall punish her within few dayes for impiously throwing dirt upon my back.

Madam, since at this time this old Gentleman will be your only Guardian, pardon me if I am forc't to play the hy­pocrite.

Well Rag-manners forbear your flouting, or you shall take what follows. And be satisfied that this Lady is otherwise disposed of.

Lucinda, it certainly foretells good luck that I have so easily obtained your Fathers consent to Court you.

But what would become of us if either of them imagined the plot betwixt us?

Faith, I will directly discover it.

Yes, yes, throw me into a Nunnery▪ and then see how you can get me out: pray at this time break up company, lest it seems too much familiarity at first sight, I will contrive to see you again before midnight.

Well, I will obey you in all things—Madam I must beg you [...] pardon for my rude intrusion, and yours Antient Sir, if I have given you any occasion of trouble.

Well Sir, we thank you as much for your room as your company—Antient say you?—Widow pray give him his farewell.

Antonio, I am sorry my circumstances will not per­mit me to discover how much I value you: but be assured that you shall be alwayes welcome to any place, which calls me Mistress.

Madam, your most obedient Servant, I wish I might in this place plainly express the truth of my affection. With your Fathers good leave Lucinda let me be esteemed your most faithful Servant.

Paulo, what think you of him, is he not a most ac­complished Gentleman?

No, no,—very indiffe [...]ent,—a meer flash, come put him out of your head. Let's go in, the air grows cold.

MY Master has I must confess above my merits ho­noured me with a Commission to wait upon you and kiss your noble hands, the which Province I embrace with an eminent Exaltation of joy, since you are a person of such il­lustrious honour that Florence scarce contains your equal, I am sure not your Superiour, which is no small symptom of my Ma­sters piercing wit and more distinguishing Judgement, that have made so Excellent a choice.

You'll never leave your Rhetorick.

The subject needs it not, your vast merits afford so am­ple a Field of Discourse, that with Excessive pleasure I could wander in those delightful paths, but at the present I am too strictly bound by my Masters too hasty expectation of my too quick Return.

Prithee to the point if you be in haste, for I am so.

I shall be brief, for brevity, though I must confess it does too often obstruct the ravishing torrents of an eloquent▪ and charming tongue, yet in quick dispatch of business I hold it ne­ [...]essary, and therefore I shall proceed.

I must be gon else, what would Antonio have?

You being a person strictly allied to him by firm neces­situde, and boun [...] to him by the indissoluble knot of an inviola­ble Friendship, and being a person to whom he is mu [...]is nomini­ [...]us obstrictus.

What would he have with me?

He being also a person embarrass'd with an amorous Intrigue, well may I say embarrassed for res est [...] plena [...]i­moris amor, as the Poet sings sweetly, But Antonio being a per­son—

—That would speak with me, when and where?

I shall inform you, he being a person who not only having great proclivity to that amorous passion, but being driven by the violence of her beauty whose Image he wears upon his heart, she being a person—

—Ounds is she a person too, nay then Farewel.

Hold good Sir, and hear the end.

S'death you will never come to an end.

She being a person—

—I will not stay if she be a person.

I am astonished Sir at your impatience, would you have me speak vulgarly and abruptly, and in haste like a Nurse­keeper that is sent for Aqua-vitae?

I am going out of Town, I shall return and wait upon your Master to morrow.

Hear me first, I shall be concise, for I am a person—

—You a person? nay then farewel▪ a pox on your person.

I am much mistaken Sir, if your unknown Mistress be not coming this way—and if it be she, I saw her come out of Lorenzo's house: She's here.

—What have I to do with your Naturals, what would your Master have with mine?

I am confounded, that I should draw my breath in so unlearn'd an Age!

Where is your Master?

I cannot say affirmatively what place does circumscribe him, I suppose you hold with Aristotle, that locus est superficies.

Pox on Aristotle, where's your Master?

Paulina's Mansion did contain him locally, for Corpus must alwayes be in loco, that's certain, but at this present point of time I can only say indefinitely he is not at home.

Farewell, a pox of this stuff. Sir, I cannot understand one Sentence that he sayes.

Thou art as impertinent and as inquisitive with me as thy hot-headed Master is with my Mistress.

Perhaps you may be as handsome, and I may have as much reason. Oh let thy splendid face break out upon me sweet, and I will be as full of raptures as my Master.

You'l soon be satisfied, as for example.

Benedicite, I am satisfied thou hast punisht me enough. By heaven a Succubus: Thou Scare-crow to preserve that good­ly fruit.

Sawcy fellow, I hope my face deserves better than yours.

If e're I trouble thee with love again, maist thou con­found me, and consent.

Are you Lorenzo?

I am.

Marcello sends you this, I lye, but 'tis no matter, I am well paid for lying, and I believe 'tis for pimping too.

My mind is changed, and I will meet this night at eight by the Great Oak in the neighbouring wood, 'tis Moon-light. If I hear not from you, I will conclude that you consent to it.

What's this? To night in the neighbo [...]ring wood by the great Oak. Heaven, how shall I find this out.—Hold, I shall be observed.

Think Mada [...] if Paulina discovers my deceit, how we shall be defeated, what e're my tongue may utter, my eyes will tell her plainly whom I love.

We women are vain enough to interpret all to our ad­vantage, as perhaps I do when I believe you.

To put you out of doubt, this night I will contrive your escape, and to morrow a Priest and you may make me happy, I have sent to my Friend Marcello to be in readiness, in hope that I might perswade you to this reasonable proposal.

Is it reasonable then to run away with a Gentleman at the second Interview?

Rather than to be [...]lapt into a Nunnery before the third Interview.

'Tis fit we should try mens tempers first, and what they can bear, be coy, and use them scurvily beforehand, for they are sure to use us so afterwards.

Our Italian Marriages are made for interest, but mine with you would be for love, and to assure you of it, I could wish you were a Beggar.

I am like to be little better, if I marry without my Fa­thers consent, and he'll not give it because his paying a good portion to me may be an objection of the Widow against his Marriage.

Ah Madam, I would have you come all love and no money into my Arms. Our Italian Ladies in love matters use to be so wise to consider that opportunities are but few, think of a perpetual prison, Hair-smocks, Midnight Prayers, lying on Matts alone, Green Sickness, and continual Chalk-eating.

These are terrible things, and you being less terrible, I cast my self upon you.

My dear incomparable Lucinda!

None of your raptures, those are alwayes short-lived affections, that shew themselves that way.

My love is as immortal as my soul.

Oh here's my Man, what news?

As soon as I had received the honour of your Com­mand, I did forthwith repair with all the haste that was de­cent for a Florentine of that Gravity and Education that I pre­tend to, to the house of Don Marcello, which I soon found at that time did not circumscr [...]be its Master: the noble Pater Fa­milias being lately sallied forth upon some important affair, which at that particle of time urged his absence from his own Mansion—

Thou eternal Rogue, the presence of my Mistress saves thy life.

But to proceed, departing from this Mansion almost in despair

Rogue—

Of any opportunity that might present itself of my en­countring with the noble Gentleman to whom my Embassy was then addressed—

Villain—

I applied my self to a more gentle and deliberate mo­tion, uncertain where I should guide my wandring steps to the attaining of my wish'd for end.

Most eloquent impertinence!

And though I must confess with anxiety enough duly weighing the emergency of your occasions, yet I could not retain my self from reflecting with pity on the erring and illi­terate vulgar: who wanting the unspeakable benefit of educa­tion and literature were little better than so many two-legg'd beasts wandring up and down within the several walks of this fair Urbane Forest.

Dog, Rogue; incorrigible Rascal, there's a reward for your Damn'd Rhetorick.

Alas Sir, these unseemly blows do you more harm than me, in as much as they betray your want of Philosophy.

Again Villain.

Are these the Guerdons due to eloquence, which might most justly claim its wreaths of Laurel?

Of Laurel! wreaths of Indian Cane, which thus Sir I confer upon you.

Hold Sir, he is distracted, this is not the way to cure him, let him be bled and dieted.

Is she barbarous too?

Madam, I ask your pardon for the rudeness his imper­tinence provokes me to; but sirrah tell me what Marcello said to you or by Heaven I'll kill you.

I had indeed at last post varios casus, post tor dis [...]rimin [...] reru [...], a vision of Marcello, but he whether possest with more important thoughts, or rather diverted by an encounter with a Nymph, who is a person—

Well Dog, I shall not know, be gone and see my face no more.

Sir, I beg pardon for intruding thus upon you, but my Master not being able to find out your mans meaning has sent me to know what service you would command him.

Desire him if possible to put off his Journey into the Countrey to night: for I have a business of the greatest con­sequence in the world to me, which will require his assistance.

I will tell him instantly.

What a vulgar and illiterate Fellow's this!

Now Madam, with the assistance of Marcello we safely shall escape, but do you hear Rogue, see me no more as Master.

You are alwayes cruel to my Circumstantio, who is a man of such excellent parts you are not worthy of him: I'll not be kind to you if you use him thus: in the mean time my Lady desires your company to attone for that of Signior Paulo's.

I have such a design which I will tell you of, as I'll se­cure you shall break the marriage, I'll go first, do you follow.

I will Madam.

I will take every occasion by the forelock, whereby I may express my grateful resentments and my services within the narrow Sphere of my Activity.

I must confess I love men of activity, but at the pre­sent I will conduct you where we may in a Corner hear. Paulo's Musick, and confer about our mutual affections.

You are indeed the gayest young Gentleman of your age that I have met with.

Age, pox of age, your young washy fellows are all Jades, I am tough and will hold out the matrimonial [...]ourney: young Rogues like tender plants wither presently, but I like a Bay tree am green and flourish all the Winter. Here's a [...]o­dy of Iron.

And a face of brass.

Faith Widow I shall be brisk with thee, I wish thou mayest be able to sustain my vigour. Hem, hem, here are lungs for thee, Hah Widow, I am in the flower of my age, come faith let's be merry—fa, la, la, la.

I [...]ade this my self, faith I did.

Very good, is there no more?

[Page 41]Hum, [...]h, what say you?

O, excellent.

Hah! What a Devil does this young Rogue here?

I am bold again to come and kiss your hands, Lovers like Ghosts, will alwayes haunt the place where their Treasure is.

In the time I would not speak to any man, you did seek occasions to express a generous Passion. I was not then, nor am I now insensible of your Flame.

Hah, Flame! Who's that has a flame for my Wid­dow? I'll burn him in his own Flame, and make a Martyr of him. Da—God, Young Fellow, I'll make thee smoke.

Though, he being here, 'tis no time for Discourse, Yet, I assure you, you shall not find me ungrateful.

Do you know I pretend to this Lady? and that 'tis dangerous to be a Rival to Paulo del Campo.

No indeed neither. Alas, old Gentleman, by those white Hairs I see you have one foot in the Grave, and should not think of a young Lady.

Sir, I would have you know I was white at two and twenty; What can you do? What are you good for? Hem, hem; there's Lungs boy; I'll spit with you for Twen­ty pound: what can you do? can you vault or dance, Fa, la, la, la? I can.

Fy, Sir, 'tis unbecoming your Gravity to dance, you are Old, and being Wise should be reserved, lest you should be found to be otherwise.

Old! Thou art a decrepit young Fellow; Widow, have a care of young Sparks; all the Youth of this last Ge­neration are but half-Gotten, born with the Rickets, knock't in the Cradle, starv'd at Nurse, basely Educated, neither with Sense, Learning, or Manners, and grow up at last to be fee­ble, foolish, positive, confident, idle, debauched Fellows, full of Mercury, and empty of Brains, and of no Use in the Dukedom.

Have a care of an old man, with whom you will have the Name of a Wife, but the Office of a Nurse.

Wilt thou not change a young, hot-headed, crazy Wencher, for a sound, solid, sober Husband?

One that will keep home, and Sup at home, and af­ter Bed well-warm'd, and wrought-Cap air'd, his Posset-drink turn'd off, enters his Bed, coughs thrice, and goes to sleep.

Well Jade to a Nunnery to morrow. Had not a man better be sober and civil, and go on a Carri­ers pace, than make a Post-horse of a Wife?

What can those Embers, those Ashes of Love be good for?

A prudent, stay'd man in years, makes a good Husband.

Witness my old Friend Ferdinand, your late Husband.

He was of middle Age; but is it fit for this young Lady to nurse up Children with long Beards, and Infants of three Feet, to have a Deaths-head by her instead of a Hus­band every night?

Dost thou hear, canst thou fight, Sa, sa, sa?

Hold, that I forbid.

Heaven deliver me from an old man to my Husband, 'twould grieve me to hear him groan all night for the Gravel, or for the Gout, wrapt in Flannel for his Rheums and Aches, and in the morning to see my Maid sweep away six ounces of my Husbands Lungs with a Besom.

I shall provide you Iron barrs instead of a Wedding Ring, Huswife.

Nay, not that my Father is such a one, but an old Husband is good for nothing but for a Wife to foretel change of Weather by.

Will you wrestle a Fall with me, Boy, Scoundrel?

A Humane weather-glass, a Flesh Barometer, what, take a Husband for an Almanack, the common mark for all Influences; now Taurus hurts his neck, and Pisces makes his feet catch cold.

Young Fellow, Hast thou paid thy Surgeon? I warrant thou art so full of Quick-silver, that all the Gold in the Room is discoloured with the Atomes that fly from thee. Mind him not, Widow, he's a young, silly, flashy Fellow: be wise, Widow.

I warrant you, I'l do what's best for my self.

Tis very fine, now let's to Supper.

Prithee send away that Puppy with a Flea in his Ear.

By no Means, he is a civil Person, Antonio, your Company too.

Civil person? a Puppy, a Flash, a Vapour, a Butterfly. Well I'l rout him.

THERE's Nectar and Ambrosia on thy Lips, enough for Men and Gods to surfeit on.

Good lack a day! but since our Hearts are now made one, what rests but that a Priest to morrow may make us one flesh too.

That would be Joy beyond my Oratory to express, but my Affairs being yet tempestuous, let me take Harbour in old Paulo's Service, and then we will consummate. An­tonio with whom I liv'd to advise and cultivate him with some politer Arts, being too obdurate to receive Impressions, I have discarded utterly, I did even now insinuate this to Sig­nior Paulo.

Let me alone, I'le do your Business with old Paulo.

The Churches Seal shall then confirm our mutual Loves, but I will perish e're I will throw all my good Parts away on her.

While Paulo is in Discourse with his Daughter, we have some time that's free from Interruption.

My Affections I have at large expressed already, and since the Beauteous Creature understands me fully, I hope she will not cast away a faithful Lover.

I for my part shall never Delight in Cruelty.

Prethee my dear Widdow, send this impert [...]nent young Fellow away, I wonder how thou can'st suffer him.

Give me leave to retire a Moment, and I will give him such an Answer, as shall make him press me further in this matter.

Do so my Dear, and let him go home and hang himself.

Sir this Gentleman who is a great Scholard, and has the most eloquent Tongue, a Tongue tipt with Silver, has a mind to serve you.

I understand as much from himself, and in Troth I take him to be a very pretty Fellow.

I suckt my Education and my Literature much from Imitation, and much from Pad [...]a, bred with the ignorant Antonio, who never knew enough to value me; I did—

Introth a very pretty Fellow, hast thou a Certificate from thy Master?

Behold here it is in prom [...]in.

These are to certifie you, that Circumstantio

served me several years, but I was forc'd to part with him, for a certain immoderate Guilt he has of imperti­nent Eloquence.

Oh foolish young Fellow! what does he hate Eloquence? I honour it, and do receive thee as a Jewel, but canst thou write as well as thou canst speak?

My Stile in writing is much more neat, terse, and po­lite, than indeliberate speaking can be, which you soon will find, if you please to fix on this occasional Reflection which Meltetique Paper contains some small Diversion of my Thoughts.

Good Faith he speaks gallantly.

Beyond mortal men!

Upon a Magpy sucking of an Hen's Egg, rare I faith, I love these pretty things of Witt.

After the too enticing Charms of a soft and downy Re­pose, walking abroad one Morning with the beauteous and excellent Clarinda, most noble Theophilus, just as blushing Aurora had left the Bosome of the Deep, and the Sun had with infant Beams begun to smile upon, and dally with the various Beauties of the Spring, and had gu [...]lded and adorned the verdant Meads it chanced that our wandring and indeter­minate Steps conducted us into one soe [...]eld and bespangled with Flowers, so beauteous and so fragrant, that we were in Doubt, whether our Sight or [...]melling was [...] with Excess of Pleasure: and all the while the little innocent [Page 46] Choristers of the Spring, chanted forth their pretty and melo­dious Caro [...]ls to welcome in Clarinda and the Morning, when loe! on a sudden divinely thus the Nimph broke Silence. Behold most noble Cunophilus, a Beauty in these Meads, which Flora her self would blush at and be proud of, behold how Natures pretty Wildness does exceed all the feeble Endea­vours of emulous Art, when her Speech was on the sudden interrupted by the clamorous Importunity of a pretty chat­tering Animal, which by it's Colour did seem to be of the Dominican Order among the Fowl, and was in Brief a Magpy. At first we considered whether Joy or Anger or what Passion it might be, had surpriz'd the chequer'd Fowl, and caus'd its sudden Extasie, when lo! hard by we spy'd that garru­lous and domestick Bird, vulgarly call'd a Hen, which soon became more lowd and sonorous than the other. The Cause of which we soon perceiv'd to be a sudden Joy it had concei­ved for it's safe and happy Delivery of an oviparous Produ­ction, which no sooner had the unopining Bird deserted; but its false and chattering Neighbour leaped hastily on the forsaken Birth. And after making a little Fracture on the too brittle Defence, (I mean the Shell) the gready immoral and voracious Fowl did in a Moment absorb all the precious Liquor it contain'd.

Come my dear sweet Widdow, have you given that foolish Fellow his Answer?

He knows what he must trust to.

Now go about your Business, the size of the Statue fits you exactly.

As it were made for me, I can conceal my self with­in its Hollowness.

You will turn them to Statues e're you have done.

Madam I humbly kiss your Hands, Old Gentleman your Servant.

Farewel young Coxcomb.

'Tis time now to retire, 'tis my Cozens Bed-time.

Let me but see my old-Friend's Statue first.

I'll draw the Curtain, are you ready A [...]tonio,

] I am.

Bless me what is the Matter? The Candles burn blew, Oh Heaven I am afraid of Spirits!

They do burn blew, what's the matter?

The Tapers shine with a sulphurious Flame, and shed a sickly and unusual Light.

Heaven what will become of us!

I will turn the Statue, Circumstantio stand by me, art a Scholar, the Statue stirs.

I am possessed with panick Fear.

Paulo, Paulo, Paulo.

Ah my dear Circumstantio.

Heaven defend us, what Prodigie is this.

O Lord forgive me my Sins, good Widdow pray for me, have you some Holy water to cool the Spirits Cou­rage?

Rather ask hot water to increase your own.

Alas! we are helpless Women, you are a Man, a good old man, if you were a young man laden with Sins, you might with Reason fear: Pray speak to it.

Paulo, Paulo, Paulo.

Speak reverend Spirit, speak whence com'st thou, whence art thou, and what disturbs thy Quiet?

Oh! I am wounded to the Heart with fear. Oh! I dissolve, I dye. Has it done speaking?

Yes sure Sir.

I thought my old Friend and School-fellow Ferdi­nand would not have served me so: What, disswade me from taking a short Lease of his own House? but what must be, must be.

Nay, many times it made mouths, and grinn'd at me, as my old Master used to do in his Fits of the Cholick, yet I never ventured to speak of it till now.

Well, Paulina, there is a man baulk't, I had a zea­lous Passion for you, and, with the Statues leave, no old man could deserve more than my self; but since a Plenipo­tentiary comes to forbid the Banes, I must submit. In troth it breaks my heart, it is a hard tryal to my Flesh and Blood, I cannot forbear weeping; the fire within makes my Heart boyl over. Widow, in troth, I design'd you for my comfort, my Bosome Friend, in troth I love you, but what Heaven pleases: In troth I did love you, and hang'd you on my Heart-strings, but no more of that: farewell, sweet Marriage, it mu [...]e henceforth one in a Bed, be the Weather never so cold.

Alas, I pity this poor old Gentleman.

Well, Widow, my Heart glows still, I have not yet conquered my self, in troth I lov'd you, but must love no more.

O yes, you must not deny your Charity, your Friendship and good Wishes upon occasion, as hereto­fore.

Oh, Widow, remember Paulo, this has been a sad surprize to my poor loving Soul, I shall never forget it, but farewel, I am not well, Widow, I must now take my leave, perchance I may see you no more, this kiss shews that in troth I lov'd you.

Good night to you, Sir, I hope a good sleep and the sure knowledge of the Care Heaven has for you, may settle this disturbance, but I shall not suddenly recover it.

Madam, It were better to let him compose himself a little in my Chamber before he goes, Pray Sir do.

I think nothing better; or if he pleases to stay all night. (I am almost dead with fear) Lucinda, thou shalt lye with me, and thy Father shall lye in thy Chamber.

With all my heart, sw [...]et Widdow, and Circumstan­tio, thou shalt lye with me. Widdow, in troth I lov'd you, in troth I did, sweet Widdow.

Let's to our Chambers from this frightful place.

No. Thou hast done enough to one who was before so deeply wounded. Heaven preserve Lorenzo.

This is the place Albricio, where my Friend Anto [...]io appointed us to be.

I wonder Sir he is not yet come.

The time seems fit for our Adventure, the Moon is civil, and is just gone down. Who is there?

Your Friend Antonio.

Well my dear Friend, let's on, and good Luck to our Enterprize.

I am ashamed of engaging my best Friend in any thing of this Hazard, but I had none whom so intirely I could trust as you.

You honour me with your Confidence, but inju­re me, if you think I can value Danger, where my Friend is concerned: he that will not embrace the Perils Friendship draws upon it, ought never to enjoy the Pleasures it brings with it.

I know you are a generous Friend, and

the World knows you are a brave Enemy. Hark the Clock strikes, 'tis twelve, 'tis my time, good Luck dear Friend.

Fear not, 'tis a noble Cause.

Servants stand under the House, while

you secure the Door, and I go in—hark by Heavens an Angels Voice! 'Tis Lucinda's, this is a Quality I never knew: now for my Sign.

I hear the Sign, lie by my Lute.

I have set my Cabinet of Jewels here in the Hall, I'll take that and away.

Thieves, Thieves Lucinda, where's Lucinda?

Oh ill Fortune! the house is alarum'd, they are co­ming towards us, the Attempt without doing the thing would undoe me.

Let's away, we are strong enough to defend the At­tempt and Action too.

No, they will raise the Town, when they miss me, my Father is in the House too, stand you here let your Friend secure the Door. Mind what I do, and be ready for your Cue. They come.

Thieves, Thieves, search every Hole.

Oh Madam have a Care whither you go; I was sing­ing and playing upon my Lute, I broke a String and came down for my string-Box which I had left in a lower Room, and there I met the Ghost of your former Husband, Seigni­or Ferdinand, I cryed out, swounded with the Fright, and your Coming has revived me: For Heavens sake to your Chamber, Madam give me the Candle, Oh it burns blew again.

Paulo, Paulo, Paulo,

Ah Heaven bless us.

What may these Disorders portend!

Where are these Theives, Rogues, I'll cut them off in the middle.

Paulo, Paulo, Paulo.

Ah, Ah, Benedicite.

Paulo, Paulo, Paulo.

Lights there, Lights.

Oh, Oh, ever honour'd Ghost, I have done with my Love, I do not care for thy Widdow now, I can't abide her, a Pox on her for me, I hate her mortally, I prethee let me rest, the Devil take her for me.

Now Antonio slip away.

A thousand blessings on thy Wit and Beauty.

Go on boldly, I'll make good the Rear carry her to my house, my Sister shall wait on her

Now Widdow 'tis clear, what is become of my most undutiful Baggage, and yours too, if Heaven and the Statue had so pleased. It seems your Skip-Jack Antonio was about the House, for he was seen by your Coachman as he thinks, to go out of the Door in her Company.

'Tis very strange, and it vexes me no less than it does you, what should be the meaning of it? But if Antonio is concern'd in it, without Doubt Circumstantio and the Offi­cers may discover them.

The Meaning of it is plain now upon second Thoughts, but if your civil Antonio be concern'd in it, can­not [Page 62] you guess that no young Wench runs out at Midnight with a young Fellow, but she has a mind to eat Flesh with the Fryers Leave? I pray God it proves no worse. I ever told you Widdow, that these young Fellows were never without their Rogues Tricks.

He has rais'd a strong Jealousie in my Head, which I never thought of before.

Well Mistress Nuarcha what News of my Daughter? have the Officers and Circumstantio discovered where she may be?

Sir, Circumstantio is just return'd to give us an Ac­count, Having been all night about it.

Well good Circumstantio let me beg of thee to be as brief as thou can'st, what is become of my confounded Daughter?

Ah Sir exerce Patientiam, for my Relation do [...] require it above Mode and Figure.

I know it will, but prithee at this time be very plain.

What Sir, shall it be said that Circumstantio speaks without Embroidery.

Ah! Good Circumstantio oblige me so far, as to tell me if you have found her, and in whose company.

Well, Madam, If I must do violence to my self and Rhetorick, and take a sorrowful farewel for some time of my familiar Tropes, it shall be the less injurious to my Re­putation, since 'tis in obedience to the Commands of so hy­perbolick a Lady, to whom my depositions bear a particular respect.

I charge you to tell forthwith what you can say of my Daughter, where she is, and what is become of the Off-Officers, upon the penalty of a Quarters Wages; dost hear Fellow? though I love Eloquence very well, yet now 'tis very unnecessary in these Circumstances.

Ah, gentle Sir! May Heaven forgive the rashness of your Expression: what, can Eloquence be unnecessary? but to imitate some well-designing Poet, I shall begin in the mid­dle of my Story, and declare the former part in some succeed­ing Narrative.

Pox on you, you will distract me, what is become of my Daughter?

Gentle Madam and ungentle Sir, to come to the so much desir'd Proposition. Your Daughter I declare catego­rically is no more Lucinda, she is chang'd, she is alter'd, she is metamorphosied.

How! What do'st thou mean thou man of Ambig­uity? How changed?

Yes reverend Sir, she is chang'd, there is a Transmu­tation, or rather a Transcorporation.

Into what, good Circumstantio?

Yes, yes, do you think this Ghost came for no­thing?

But prithee, young Fellow, explain thy self.

What Mortal, endued with natural prescience could have had prospect of this most affecting alteration in the be­ginning, or à parte ante as the School-men sweetly phrase it. O most occult Antonio, I must confess I never did rightly conceive thy Antoneity.

He names Antonio and makes me almost mad with Fear.

Prethee Fellow do not distract me, at your Peril.

Good honey Circumstantio, discover your meaning for Love's sake.

Forbear your Arms of Concupiscence, Pace vestra di­xisse liceat, there is a Change, Lucinda is changed, Antonio is changed. Proh Deum atque hominum fidem!

Dost thou hear Fellow, God I will not suffer thee longer.

Ah prethee dear Bird save thy Nuarcha's Longing.

Why then Quaeso animos Advertite, they are neither He nor Shee, but both from henceforth, by the Application of a Fryer, Antonio and Lucinda are fastned together about the Middle, and here they are.

Sir in all Duty I desire your Blessing.

And I beg your Blessing on us both.

O most false of Mankind!

What do you mean you impudent Runagate, what Change is this?

Sir it is for better for worse. This Gentleman is my Husband, I am glad with all my Heart that he has re­scued me from a Nunnery, which terrified me as much as the Ghost did you.

Out upon thee, thou incontinent profane Baggage, what think of Marriage in that very Moment, when the dead declaim'd against it?

Yes Sir they dissuaded you, but I thank them I found good Friends in Purgatory, and took the first Oppor­tunity to obey their Counsel.

How dar'st thou look me in the Face, thou base perfidious man?

Madam, I blush, I must confess after my Falshood to behold your Face, but my violent Love to Lucinda (since by no other Means I could approach her) forc'd me to it.

Was I a fit Property? must I be thus abus'd?

You might have perceiv'd the Love I seemed to make to you was all the while address'd to her: pardon the Extravagance of my Love, for next to my Lucinda, there's not one on Earth I have more Honour for, and if all the Ser­vice of my Life can but attone my Crime with you, I then shall dye contented.

Think not false Wretch I'll honour thee so much as to be angry, I cast thee from my Heart and Memory, and spoil thy Triumph, O thou base Companion of my Solitude, and Partner of my Secrets false Lucinda.

Widdow I thank thee for being so angry in my Concern, it shews thou lovest me, Pox on the Ghost I say, what gone on a sudden—come hither you young Fellow, that will be my Son whither I will or no? How durst you marry my Daughter—ha—well sauce Box since you have her, and I can't take her from you, here take her,—but do you [Page 65] mark me, As her Mother gave her me—naked—without a penny of Portion, since your Stomach is so good, you shall eat your Meat for me without any Sauce, in troth—

Sir, I am contented.

I hope Sir, you will give me a Wedding Dinner.

Yes, perhaps I may give you a Wedding Dinner, since you have rid me of so much trouble in finding another Keeper. Ah! what a happy man had I been if the Ghost of old impertinent Ferdinand had not been giving Advice to night, freed of my skittish Daughter, and in an hopeful way for my Widdow, but the Will of Heaven be done.

A right Godly old Gentleman!

Well, I will pluck up my old courage, and give con­solation to the disturbed Widdow.

Madam, Heaven bless this happy change to you; indeed you have surprized us very much.

I thank you, good Nuarcha. I hope your change will come suddenly.

When the accomplisht Circumstantio pleases.

Sir, Injuriarum remedium est oblivio. May Hymen and Venus look propitiously upon you, and conferr upon you Infinity—

Thanks, good Circumstantio, no more Speeches to night, I beseech you. Come, dear Lady and Mistress, your hand.

Here, dear Lord and Master, with my Heart to boot.

Camilla, How I love thee for this Action!

My dear and constant Circumstantio, I am glad I have met you.

Why? what Novel, or Business of importance do you bring?

The greatest of my Life; I have been seeking of you all over the House, being stirr'd up by the good and happy Example of Lucinda, and your late Master Antonio, to confirm my happiness, and I shall endeavour to make it yours by the mouth of a Priest, this sweet inviting Morn­ing.

'Tis a very ill juncture for so weighty an Affair. Abi—& suspende te.

Well, Delight of my Eyes, I admire you, though I understand you not; but dearest Dear, what do you mean by this?

Mrs. Nuarc [...]a, you are a Person upon whom I design to bestow—

A thousand Blessings on my most lovely Love—

Forbear, I say, and cool this amorous Flame. To be short, and to affect Laconick brevi [...]y, Mrs. Nuarcha, as I was saying, you a Person that I am forbidden to marry.

Oh! where shall a poor Maid find Fidelity, if Cir­cumstantio prove unfaithful?

Hear me, I say, and with pri [...]ked up Ear attend to my Ratiocination.

I will hear nothing but Marriage. O unfortunate Maid, to place confidence in man!

Cease your objurgatory Language. For, Heac comme­moratio, quasi exprobratio est; I have a great Respect for you; but for several reasons am much deterred from Marriage. Ask the performance of any Command rather than this Entreaty of necessitous Conjunction Copula­tive.

Well, Widdow, I am glad to hear your Noble Re­solution, not to concern your self with Mankind, and I rest pretty well satisfied, that since I could not have you, that no Body else shall. Widdow, I believe it is for my sake— Ha,—Widdow! yet we might comfort one another by the by, the Ghost did not forbid that.

It's a very hard thing to find your Constancy with­out your Years, I believe Sir; and therefore I bid Marriage farewel.

Yes, yes, and so will I take my leave of Marri­age, 'tis time for me, in [...]roth W [...]ddow: but I shall always take delight to visit you now and then, Widdow, and take [Page 71] a caper or two in your Parlour—Ha, Widdow,— that, I presume, my old Friend Ferdinand will admit of.

You take a prudent course, Sir, I shall follow your Example, be Mistress of my self; free from the Treachery of any Governour.

Widdow, in troth I rejoyce at this bravery of Spi­rit, and in token of it I jump for joy.

Antonio, Your Widdow bears her loss of you with great indifference.

You see, Lucinda, how small your prize is.

I value it the more because I shall possess you abso­lutely without fear of a Rival.

Well, This new Son of mine, Antonio, puts me in mind of my self, when I was at his Years, I had my tricks then as well as the best of them. I was once in the mind to have stollen that Baggages Mother just so from her Father's House, when he made a dispute with me about Articles. Since the Widdows Resolution has thus pleased me, my good nature returns; I will forgive him. Come hither, Antonio.—

Sir, Your pleasure.

Sirrah, you are a Wag, a very Wag, I believe, but I forgive you. Come hither, Hussy,—you are a Wag too, so there's Wag for Wag—Get you together in Gods Name; and remember, Antonio, when thou mak'st me a Grand-father, I will settle a good Estate upon the little Raseal.

S [...], I will deserve your Favours by my Indu­stry.

Well, you are a Wag introth.

Oh, Madam, I bring you the strangest News, be [...]yond belief. Your Co [...]en Marcello, and Lorenzo, with two other young Gentlemen, are coming up.

How [...]

'Tis impossible!

I hope Cousin Paulina, that you will easily excuse me for this early Trouble, when I have told you it's Occasi­on, and the solid Happiness that is befallen me and my Fa­mily; These two in mens Cloaths, are the perpetual Orna­ments of your Sex, this is Iulia my ador'd Mistress, Sister to my beloved Friend Lorenzo; this is my Sister Camilla most happy in her Lorenzo's Love.

This Surprize is as welcome as 'tis wonderful, and does no less astonish us than the strong Accidents that have happened to us on our side last night; but in Civility I should refer my asking Questions to our better Leisure, and at pre­sent wish nothing but continual Joy to my Cousins.

Oh! Cousin I am this Morning the happiest Woman in the World, who was last Night the most unfortunate.

And give me Leave to be your Sister even in both Extremities of good and bad Fortune.

May Heaven continue every day like this.

Marcello you amaze your glad Friend with the Strangeness of your Story, who most rejoyces that Heaven rewarded you so soon with Love, for assisting him in his.

I succeeded the better in being any way serviceable to you and your Lucinda, pray know the worthy Lo­renzo.

Lorenzo shall always command my Life, since he calls Marcello Brother.

After the name of Lorenzo's Brother, I cannot find any more pleasing than that of Friend to Antonio.

The Learned observe that the mind of man in great Passions of Joy and Grief cannot curiously attend the El [...] ­quence of Speaking. Ergo, I will defer my complemental Entertainment, till I have woven my Thoughts into an Epi­thalamium.

In Troth this Sight is almost as strange as our Appa­rition to night, and silences me almost as much. The Devil take the Ghost for me, that all should speed in the Flesh but [Page 73] I and the Widdow. Well, what must be, must be. Yet I am heartily pleased for two Reasons, first, to see these old Quarrels between two good Families so handsomly ended. And then that my Son in Law carries himself so prettily amongst 'em. In Troth I find he is a pretty Fellow, and in Troth you are all pretty Fellows, and may you all live to be as lusty as I am, at my years—Hem—There's your Lungs in Troth.

Antonio you have a merry Father in Law, but Cou­sin Paulina, let me beg you to assist our Mistresses in chang­ing of their Habits as soon as you can, and let me beg the same Favour of Lucinda.

Marcello has laid such an Obligation upon me, that I can never deny him any thing.

I would most willingly see dear Camilla in a Wo­mans Dress, for in this she still seems to upbraid my last Nights Inhumanity.

Well Gentleman you shall be forthwith oblig'd whilst my Cousin's in Recompence shall relate us their Sto­ries.

Thanks good Paulina, and in the mean time Anto­nio and we will explain to one another what has happened.