APox o' Fortune! Thou art always teizing me about Fortune: Thou risest in a Morning with ill luck in thy Mouth; Nay, never eatest a Dinner, but thou sighest two hours after it, with thinking where to get the next. Fortune be damn'd, since the worlds so wide.

As wide as it is; 'tis so thro [...]g'd, and cramm'd with Knaves and Fools, that an honest man can hardly get a living in it.

Do, rail, Courtine, do, it may get thee employment.

At you I ought to rail▪ 'twas your fault we left our Em­ployments abroad to come home, and be Loyal, and now we as Loyally starve for it.

Did not thy Ancestors do it before thee, man? I tell thee, Loyalty and Starving are all one: The old Cavaliers got such a trick of it in the Kings Exile, that their posterity could never thrive since.

'Tis a fine Equipage I am like to be reduc'd to: I shall be e're long as greasy as an Al [...]ati [...] Bully; this a flopping Hat, pin'd up on one side, with a sandy weather-beaten Perruque, dirty Lin­ned, and to compleat the Figure, a long s [...]ndalous Iron Sword jar­ring at my Heels, like a—

Snarling thou meanest like it's Master.

My Companion's the worthy Knight of the most Noble Order of the Post: Your Peripatetrick Philosophers of the Temple walks, Rogues in Rags, and yet not honest: Villains that undervalue Damna­tion, will forswear themselves for a Dinner, and hang their Fathers For half a Crown.

I am asham'd to hear a Souldier talk of starving.

Why, what shall I do? I can't steal!—

Though thou canst not steal, thou hast other vices enough for any Industrious young fellow to live comfortably upon.

What wouldst thou have me turn Rascal, and run cheating up and down the Town for a livelihood? I would no more keep a Blockhead company, and endure his Nauseous non-sense in hopes to get him, then I would be a druge to an old Woman, with Rheuma­tick Eyes, hollow Teeth, and stinking breath for a pensioa: Of all Rogues I would not be a Foolmonger.

How well this niceness becomes thee! I'd fain see thee ee'n turn Parson in a pet, o'purpose to rail at all those vices which I know thou naturally art fond of: Why surely an Old Ladies pension need not be so despicable i [...] the eyes of a disbanded Officer, as times go Friend.

I am glad, Beaugard you think so.

Why thou shalt think so too man; be rul'd by me, and I'll bring thee into good company, Families, Courtine, Families, and such [...]amilies, where formality's a scandel and pleasure is the bus' [...]ess, where the Women are all Wanton, and the Men all Witty, you Rogue.

What, some of your Worships Wapping acq [...]intance that you made last time you came over for recruits, and Spirited away your Landladies Daughter, a Volunteering with you into France.

I'll bring thee, [...], where Cuckoldom [...] in credit, and lewdness laudable, where thou shalt wallow in pleasures and prefer­ments, r [...]v [...]l all day, and every Night lye in the Armes of melting beauty, sweet as Roses, and as Springs refreshing.

[...] thou wouldest tell me where new Levies are to be rais'd; a Pox of Who [...]e [...] when a man has not Money to mak'e [...] Comfortable.

That shall shower upon us in abundance, and for instance, know to thy eve [...]lasting amazement all this dropt ou [...] of the Clouds so day.

Hah! Gold by this light!—

Out of the Clouds!—

Ay [...]old! does it not smell of the sweet hand than [...], smell—smell you dog—

Truly, Sir, of Heavenly sweetness: and [...]

Dear, [...] if thou hast▪ any good Nature [...] thee; if thou wouldst not have me hang my self before my time, tell me where the Devil [...] that helpt thee to this, that I may go make a bargain with him presently: Speak, speak, or I am a lost Man.

Why thou must know this Devil which I have given my [Page 3] Soul too already, and must, I suppose have my Body very speedily lives I know not where, and may for ought I know be a real De­vil; but if it be 'tis the best natur'd Devil under Beelzebubs dominion that I'll swear too.

But how came the gold then?

To deal freely with my Friend, I am lately happen'd into the acqaintance of a very Reverend pimp, as fine a discreet sober gray bearded old Gentleman as one would wish; as good a natur'd publick spirited Person as the Nation holds; one that is never so happy as when he is bringing good people together, and promoting civil understanding betwixt the sexes: Nay, rather then want em­ployment, he will go from one end of the Town to t'other to procure my Lords little Dog to be civil to my Ladies little languishing Bitch.

A very worthy Member of the Common-Wealth!

This noble Person one day—but Fourbin can give you a more particular account of the matter; sweet Sir, if you please tell us the story of the first encounter betwixt you and Sir Iolly Iumble, you must know that's his Title.

Sir, it shall be done—walking one day upon the Piazza a­bout three of the Clock i'th' after Noon, to get me a Stomach to my din [...]er, I chance to encounter a Person of goodly presence, and wor­thy appearance, his Beard and Hair white, grave and comely, his countenance ruddy Plump smooth and cheerful; who perceiving me also equipt as I am with a meen and Air which might well inform him, I was a Person of no inconsiderable quality, came very respectful­ly up to me, and, after the usual ceremonies between Persons of parts and breeding had past, very humbly enquired of me what is it a Clock—I presently understand by the question, that he was a man of parts and business, told him, I did presume it was at most but nicely turn'd of three—

Very Court-like, civil, quaint, and new I think.

The freedom of comerce increasing after some little inconsi­derable questions pour po [...]er [...]le temps and so he was pleased to offer me the courtesle of a glass of Wine: I told him I very seldom drank, but if he so pleas'd, I would do my self the honour to present him with a dish of meat at an eating House hard by, where I had an inte­rest.

Very well: I think this Squire of thine, Beauggard, is as ac­complisht a Person as any of the employment I ever saw.

Let the Rogue go on.

In short we agreed and went together as soon as we entred the Room▪ I am your most humble Servant, Sir, says he—I am the meanest of your Vassals, Sir, said I—I am very happy in lighting into the acqaintance of so worthy a Gentleman as you appear to be, Sir, sayd he again—worthy, Sir Iolly, then came I upon h [...]m again o' [Page 4] tother side (for you must know by that time I had gropt out his Ti­tle) I kiss your hands from the bottom of my heart, which I shall be always ready to lay at your Feet.

Well, Fourbin, and what reply'd the Knight then?

Nothing, he had nothing to say, his sense was transported with admiration of my parts, so we sat down, and after some pause, he desired to know by what title he was to distinguish the person that had so highly honoured him—

That is as much as to say▪ Sir, whose Rascal you were.

Sir, you may make as hold with your poor Slave as you please—I told him those that knew me well were pleased to call me the Chevalier Fourbin, that I was a Cadel of the Ancient Family of the Fourbinois and that I had had the honour of serving the great Mo­narch of France in his Wars in Flanders, where I contracted great Familiarity, and Intimacy with a gallant Officer of the English, Troops in that service one Captain Beaugard.

Oh, Sir, you did me too much honour, what a true bred Rogue's this!—

Well but the Money, Fourbin, the Money.

Beaugard, [...] Beaugard, says he [...]—ay it must be so,—a black man, is he not?— [...], says I, blackish—a dark brown—full Fac't—yes,—a sly subtle observing eye?—the same—a strong built well made man?—right—a devellish fellow for a Wench, a devilish fellow for a Wench, I warrant him; a thundring Rogue upon occasi­on, Beaugard! a Thundering fellow for a Wench, I must be acquain­ed with him.

But to the money, the money man, that's the thing I would be acquainted withall.

This civil Gentleman of the Chevaliers acquaintance comes yesterday morning to my Lodging, and seeing my Picture in Minature upon the Toylet, told me with the greatest extasie in the World, that was the thing he came to me about: He told me there was a Lady of his acquaintance had some favourable thoughts of me and I gad, says he, she's a hummer, such a bona Roba ah-h-h. So without more ado begs me to lend it him till dinner (for we conclu­ded to eat together) so away he scuttled with as great joy as if he had found the Philosophers stone.

Very well.

At Lockets we met again: where after a thousand grimaces to shew how much he was pleas'd, instead of my Picture, presents me with the contents aforesaid; and told me the Lady desir'd me to ac­cept of 'em for the Picture which she was much transported withall, as well as with the Original.

Hah!—

Now, whereabouts this taking quality lies in me, the De­vil [Page 5] take me Ned if I know: But the Fates Ned, the Fates!

A Curse on the Fates! Of all Strumpets Fortunes the basest, 'twas Fortune made me a Souldier, a Rogue in Red, the gri [...]vance of the Nation, Fortune made the peace just when we were upon the brink of a War; then Fortune disbanded us, and lost us two Months pay: Fortune gave us Debentures instead of ready Money, and by very good Fortune I sold mine, and lost heartily by it, in hopes the grinding ill natur'd dog that bought it will never get a sh [...]lling for't—

Leave off thy railing for shame, it looks like a Cur that barks for want of bones; come times may mend, and an honest Souldier be in fashion again—

These greasie fat unwieldy wheeting Rogues that live at home and brood over their bags, when a fit of fear's upon 'em then if one of us pass but by, all the Family is ready at the door to cry, Heaven's bless you, Sir, the Laird go along with you.

Ah good men, what pity 'tis such proper Gentlemen should ever be out of Employment.

But when the bus'ness is over, then every Parish Bawd that goes but to a Conventicle twice a Week, and pays but scot and lot to the Parish, shall roar out fogh, ye Lowsy Red-coat rake hells▪ hout ye Ca­terpillars, ye Locusts of the Nation, you are the Dogs that would enslave us all, plunder our Shops, and ravish our Daughters, ye Scoundrels.

I must confess ravishing ought to be regulated, it would destroy commerce, and many a good Sober Matron about this Town might loose the selling of her Daughters Maiden-Head, which were a great grieyance to the people, and a particular Branch of proper­ty lost, Fourbin.

Your Worships pleasure.

Run like a Rogue as you are, and try to find Sir Iolly, and desire him to meet me at the blew Posts in the Hay-market about 12, we'll Dine together; I must inquire farther into yesterdays adven­ture, in the mean time, Ned, here's half the prize to be doing withall, old friends must preserve Correspondence, we have shar'd good Fortune together and had shall never part us.

Well, thou wilt certainly die in a Ditch for this, hast thou no more grace then, to be a true Friend, nay, to part with thy money to thy Friend; I grant you a Gentleman may swear and lye for his Friend, pimp for his Friend, hang for his Friend, and so forth: but to part with ready money is the devil.

Stand aside either I am mistaken, or yonder's Sir Iolly com­ing; now Courtine, will I shew thee the Flower of Knighthood▪ Ah, Sir Iolly.

My Hero! my darling! my Ganimede! how dost thou? Strong! wanton! lusty! rampant! hah, ah, ah! She's thine Boy▪ odd she's thine, plump, soft, smooth, wanton! hah, ah, ah! Ah Rogue, ah Rogue! here's shouldiers, here's shape! there's a Foot and Leg, here's a Leg, here's a Leg—Quaa-a-a-a.

What an old Goat's this.

Child, Child, Child, who's that? A friend of thine! a friend o'thine? A pretty fellow, odd a very prety fellow, and a strong dog I'll warrant him, how dost do dear heart? prithee let me kiss thee, I'll swear and vow I will kiss thee, ha, ha, he, he, he, he, a Toad, A Toad, ah Toa-a-a-ad—

Sir, I am your humble Servant.

But the Lady, Sir Iolly, the Lady, how does the Lady, what says the Lady, Sir Iolly?

What says the Lady! why she says—she says—odd she has a delicate Lip, such a Lip, so red, so hard, so plump, so blub▪ I fancy I am eating Cherries every time I think on't—and for her Neck and Breasts and her—odds life; I'll say no more, not a word more, but I know, I know—

I am sorry for that with all my Heart; do you know, say you, Sir, and would you put off your mubled orts, your offall upon me—

Hush, hush, hush! have a care, as I live and breathe, not I; alack and well a day I am a poor old fellow decay'd and done: Alls gone with me Gentlemen, but my good Nature, odd I love to know how matters go, though now and then to see a pretty Wench, and a young Fellow Towze and Rowze and Frouze and Mowze; odd I love a young fellow dearly, faith dearly—

This is the most extraordinary rogue, I ever met withall.

But Sir Iolly, in the first place, you must know, I have sworn never to marry.

I would not have thee man, I am a Bachelour my self, and been a whore Master all my life, besides she's married already man, her Husband's an old greasie, untoward, ill natur'd, slovenly, Tobac­co taking Cuckold, but plaguy [...]ealous.

Already a Cuckold, Sir Iolly.

No that shall be my Boy, thou shalt make him one, and I'll pimp for thee dear heart, and shan't I hold the door, shan't I peep hah, shan't I you devil, you little dog shan't I?—

What is it, I'd not grant to oblige my Patron.

And then dost hear, I have a lodging for thee in my own house; dost hear old Soul, in my own house: She lives the very next [Page 7] door man, there's but a Wall to part her Chamber and thine, and then for a peep hole, odds fish I have a peep hole for thee; sbud I'll shew thee, I'll shew thee—

But when, Sir Iolly, I am in haste, impatient.

Why this very night man; poor Rogue's in haste, poor Rogue; but hear you—

The matter?

Shan't we dine together?

With all my heart.

The Maw begins to empty, get you before and bespeak Dinner at the blew posts; while I stay behind and gather up a dish of Whores for a desert.

Be sure that they be lew'd drunken stripping Whores, Sir Iolly, that won't be affectedly squeamish and troublesome.

I warrant you.

I love a well disciplin'd Whore, that shews all the tricks of her profession with a wink; like an old Souldier that understands all his exercise by beat of Drum.

A Thief, sayest thou so! I must be better acquainted with that fellow; he has a notable Nose; a hard brawny Carle—true and trusty, and mettle I'll warrant him.

Well, Sir Iolly, you'l not fail us?—

Fail ye! am I a Knight? hark ye Boys. I'l muster this e­vening, such a Regiment of Rampant. Roaring, Roysterous Whores, that shall make more noise than if all the Cats in the Hay market were in Conjunction: Whores ye Rogues, that shall swear with you, drink with you, talk Bawdy with you, fight with you, scratch with you, lye with you, and go to the Devil with you, shan't we be very merry, hah!—

As merry as Wine, Women and Wickedness can make us.

Odd that's well said again, very well said, as merry as Wine, Women and wickedness can make us: I love a fellow that is very wicked dearly; methinks there's a spirit in him, there's a sort of a tantara, rara, tantara, ra ra, ah ah h h well, and won't ye, when the Women come, won't ye, and shall I not see a little sport amongst you; well get ye gone; ah Rogues, ah Rogues, da da, I'll be with you, da da—

In the name of Satan what Whores are those in their Cop­per [...], yonder?

Well I'll swear, Madam, 'tis the finest Evening: I love thee, Mall, mightily.

Let's huzza the Bulkers.

Really, and so do I, because there's alwaies good com­pany, aud one meets with such Civilitys from every body.

Damn'd Whores, hout ye filthies.

Ay, and then I love extreamly to shew my self here, when I am very fine, to vex those poor Devils that call themselves Vertues, and are very scandalous and Crapish, I'll swear; O Crimine, who's yonder! Sir Iolly Iumble, I vow.

Fogh! Let's leave the nasty Sowes to Fools, and Diseases.

Oh Papa, Papa! where have you been these two days, Papa?

You are a precious Father indeed, to take no more care of your Children: We might be dead for all you, you naughty Dady, you.

Dead, my poor Fubses! odd I had rather all the Relati­ons I have were dead, a dad I had: Get you gone you little Devils Bubbies; oh Law there's Bubbies! odd I'll bite 'em, odd I will.

Nay, fye, Papa; I swear you'l make me angry, except you carry us, and treat us to Night, you have promis'd me a treat this Week, wont you Papa.

Ay, wont you Dad.

Odds so, odds so, well remember'd! get you go [...], don't stay talking; get you gone, yonders, a great Lord, the Lord Beau­gard, and his Couzin the Baron, the Count, the Marquis, the Lord knows what, Monsieur Courtine newly come to Town, odds so.

Oh Law, where Dady where? Oh dear, a Lord.

Well, you are the Purest Papa; but when be dey mun, Papa—

I won't tell you, you Jipsies, So I wont—except you tickle me—'sbud they are brave fellows all Tall, and not a bit small, odd one of 'em has a devillish deal of Monie.

Oh dear, but which is he, Papa.

Shan't I be in Love with him, Dady.

What no body tickle me! no body tickle me?—not yet, tickle me a little Mally—tickle me a little Ienny—do He he he he he he—

No more, oh dear, oh dear! poor Rogues, so so, no more, nay, if you do, if you do, odd I'l I'l I'l—

What, what will you do trow?—

Come along with me, come along with me, sneak after me at a distance, that no bodie take notice, Swinging fellows Mally— Swinging fellows Ienny, a Devillish deal of Monie, get you afore me then, you little d [...]ppappers, ye Wasps, ye wagtails, get youg on, I say, swinging fellows—

Dye a Maid, Sylvia! sie for shame! what a scandalous resolution's that; five thousand Pounds to your Portion and leave it all to Hospitals, for the innocent recreation hereafter of lead­ing Apes in Hell, fie for shame!

Indeed such another charming Animal as your Con­sort, Sir David, might do much with me; 'tis an unspeaka­ble blessing to lye all night by a Horse-load of diseases; a beastly, unsayory, old, groaning, grunting, wheazing Wretch, that smells of the Grave he's going to already, from such a curse and Hair-Cloath next my skin good Heaven deliver me!

Thou mistakest the use of a Husband, Silvia. They are not meant for Bedfellows, heretofore indeed 'twas a fulsome fashi­on, to ly o'nights with a Husband; but the worlds improv'd and Customs altered.

Pray instruct then what the use of a Husband is.

Instead of a Gentleman-Usher for Ceremonies sake to be in waiting on set days, and particular occasions; but the Friend Cozen is the Jewel unvaluable.

But, Sir David, Madam will be difficult to be so Go­vern'd; I am mistaken, if his Nature is not too Jealous to be blinded.

So much the better, of all, the jealous Fool is easi­est to be deceiv'd: For observe, where there's jealousie there's always fondness; which if a Woman, as she ought to do, will make the right use of the Husband's fears shall not so awake him on one side as his dotage shall blind him on the o­ther.

Is your Piece of mortality such a do [...]eing Doodle, is he so very fond of you.

No, but he has the vanity to think that I am very fond of him, and if he be jealous, 'tis not so much for fear I do abuse, as that in time I may, and therefore imposes this con­sinement on me though he has other divertisments that take him off from my injoyment; which make him so loathsome no Woman but must hate him.

His private divertisements I am a stranger to.

Then for his Person 'tis incomparably odious, he has such-a breath, one kiss of him were enough to cure the fits of the Mo­ther, 'tis worse then Asa foetida.

Oh hideous!

Every thing that's nasty he affects, clean Linnen he says is unwholesome, and to make him more charming he's continually eating of Garlike and chewing Tob [...]cco.

Fogh! this is love! this is the blessing of Matri­mony.

Rail not so unreasonably against love, Silvia; As I have dealt freely and acknowledged to thee the passion I have for Beaugard; so methinks, Silvia need not conceal her good thoughts of her Friend; do not I know Cour [...]ne sticks in your stomach?

If he does, I'll assure you he shall never get to my heart, but can you have the Conscience to love another man now you are married? what do you think will become of you.?

I [...]ell thee, Sylvia, I never was married to that En­gine we have been talking of, my parents indeed made me say something to him after a Priest once, but my heart went not a­long with my tongue, I minded not what it was for my thoughts, Sylvia, for these seve [...] years have been much better imploy'd— Beaugard! Ah curse on the day that first sent him into France!

Why so I beseech you?

Had he stay'd here, I had not been sacrific'd to the Arms of this monument of Man, for the bed of death could not be more cold, then his has been, he would have delivered me from the Monster, for even then I loved him, and was apt to think my kindness not neglected.

I find indeed your Ladyship had good thoughts of him.

Surely 'tis impossible to think too well of him, for he has wit [...]nough to call his good nature in question, and yet good nature enough to make his wit be suspected.

But how do you hope ever to get sight of him, Sir Da­vid's watchfulness is invincible. I dare swear he wou'd smell out a Rival if he were in the house only by natural instinct, as some that always sweat when a Cat's in the Room, then again, Beau­gard's a Souldiers and that's a thing the old Gentleman you know loves dearly.

There lies the greatest comfort of my uneasie life he is one of those Fools forsooth, that are led by the Nose by Knaves to rail against the King and the Government, and is mightly fond of being thought of a party, I have had hopes this twelve month to have heard of his being in the Gate-House for Treason.

But I find only your self the Prisoner all this while.

At present indeed I am so, but Fortune I hope [Page 11] will smile, wouldst thou but be my Friend, Sylvia.

In any mischievous design withall my heart.

The conclusion, Madam, may turn to your satis­faction, but you have no thoughts of Courtine.

Not I, I'll assure you Cozen.

You don't think him well shap'd, streight and pro­portionable.

Considering he eats but once a Week, the man is well enough.

And then wears his Cloaths you know [...]ilthily and like a horrid Sloven.

Filthily enough of all Conscience, with a thred bare Red-Coat, which his Taylor [...]ns him for to this day, over which a great broad greasie bu [...] Belt, enough to turn any ones Stomach but a disbanded Souldier; a Perruquety'd up in a knot to excuse its want of combing, and then because he has been a Man a Armes, he must wear two Tussles of a Beard forsooth, to lodge a dunghill of snuff upon, to keep his Nose in good humour.

Nay, now I am suro that thou lovest him.

So far from it, that I protest eternally against the whole sex.

That time will best demonstrate, in the mean while to our business.

As how, Madam.

To night must I see Beaugard, they are this mi­nute at Dinner in the hay-market; now to make my evil genious, that haunts me every where, my thing called a Hus­band, himself to assist his poor Wife, at a dead lift, I think would not be unpleasant.

But 'twill be impossible

I am apt to be perswaded rather very easie, you know our good and friendly Neighbour, Sir Iolly.

Out on him beast, he's always talking silthily to a body, If he sits but at the table with one, he'll be making nasty figures in the Napkins.

He and my sweet yoke fellow are the most intimate friends in the world, so that partly out of neighbourly kindness, as well as the great delight he takes to be medling in matters of this nature, with a great deal of pains and industry procur­ed me Beaugards picture, and given him to understand how well a Friend of his in Petticoats, call'd my self, wishes him.

But what's all this to the making the Husband instru­mental, for I must confess of all creatures a Husbands the thing that's odious to me.

That must be done this night: I'll in [...]stantly to my chamber take my bed in a pet and send for Sir David.

But which way then must the Lover come?

Nay, I'll betray Beaugard to him, shew him the pict­ure he sent me, and beg of him as he tenders his own honour, and my quiet, to take some course to secure me from the scan­dalous solicitations of that innocent Fellow.

And so make him the property, the go-between, to bring the affair to an issue the more decently.

Right, Sylvia, 'tis the best office a Husband can do a Wife; I mean an old husband; bless us to be yok'd in Wed­lock with a paralitick, coughing, decrepid Dotrell, to be a dry Nurse all ones life time to an old Child of sixty five, to lye by the I­mage of Death a whole night, a dull immoveable, that has no sense of life, but through it's pains, the Pidgeons as happy that's laid to a sick mans feet, when the world has given him over; for my part this shall henceforth be my prayer,

SIR Iolly is the glory of the Age.

Nay now, Sir, you honour me too far.

He's the delight of the young, and wonder of the old.

I swear Gentlemen you make me blush.

He deserves a Statue in Gold, at the charge of the Kingdom.

Out upon't, fye for shame: I protest I'll leave your com­company if you talk so; but faith they were pure Whores, daintily dutiful Strumpets, ha! udds-bud, they'd—have stript for t'other Bottle.

Truly, Sir Iolly, you are a man of very extraordinary disci­pline, I never saw Whores under better command in my life.

Pish, that's nothing man, nothing, I can send for forty better when I please, Doxies that will skip, strip, leap, trip, and do any thing in the world, any thing old Soul.

Dear, dear Sir Iolly, where and when?

Odd as simply as I stand here her Father was a Knight.

Indeed Sir Iolly, a Knight say you?

Ay, but a little decay'd, I'll assure you she's a very good Gentlewoman born.

Ay, and a very good Gentlewoman bred too.

Ay, and so she is.

But Sir Iolly, how goes my business forward, when shall I have a view of the quarry I am to fly at?

Alas a day, not so hasty, soft and fair I beseech you, ah my little Son of thunder, if thou hadst her in thy arms now between a pair of sheets, and I under the Bed to see fair play Boy, gemini! what wou'd become of me? What wou'd become of me? there would be doings, oh Lawd, I under the bed!

Or behind the hangings, Sir Iolly, would not that do as well.

Ah no, under the bed against the world, and then it would be very dark, hah!

Dark to chuse.

No, but a little light would do well, a small glimmering Lamp, just enough for me to steel a peep by; oh lamentable! oh lamentable, I won't speak a word more, there would be a trick! oh rare you friend, oh rare! odds so not a word more, odds so yon­der comes the Monster that must be the Cuckold Elect, step step a­side and observe him, if I shou'd be seen in your company, 'twoud spoil all.

For my part I'll stand the meeting of him, one way to promote a good understanding with a Wife, is first to get acquaint­ed with her Husband.

Well of all blessings, a discreet Wife is the greatest that [Page 14] can light upon a man of years: had I been married to any thing but an [...] Angel now, what a Beast had I been by this time, well I am the happiest old Fool! 'tis an horrid Age that we live in, so that an honest man can keep nothing to himself; if you have a good estate, every cove [...]ous Rogue'ls longing for [...] (truly I love a good estate dearly my self;) if you have a handsome Wife, every smooth [...]ac'd Coxcomb will be combing and cocking at her, flesh- [...]lies are not so troublesome to the shambles, as those sort of Insects are to the Boxes in the Play-house: But vertue is a great blessing, an unvaluable trea­sure, to tell me her self that a Villain had tempted her, and give me the very Picture, the inchantment that he sent to bewitch her, it strikes me dumb with admiration; here's the Villain in effigie. [Pulls out the Picture] Odd a very handsome fellow, a dangerous Rogue I'll warrant him, such fellows as these now should be fetter'd like unruly Colts, that they might not leap into other mens pastures; here's a Nose now, I cou'd find in my heart to cut it off, damn'd Dog, to dare to presume to make a Cuckold of a Knight! bless us what will this world come to! well poor Sir David down, down, on thy knees and thank thy stars for this deliverance.

'Sdeath what's that I see? Sure 'tis the very Picture which I sent by Sir Iolly, if so, by this light, I am damnably Jilted.

But now if.—

Surely he does not see us yet.

See you, Sir, why he has but one eye, and we are on his blind side; I'll dumb found him.

Who the Divels this? Sir, Sir, Sir, who are you Sir?

Ay, ay, 'tis the same, now a pox of all amorous adventures, 'sdeath I'll go beat the impertinent pimp that drew me into this fooling.

Sir, methinks you are very curious.

Sir, perhaps I have an extraordinary reason to be so.

And perhaps, Sir, I care not for you, nor your Reasons neither.

Sir, if you are at leisure, I would beg the Honour to speak with you.

With me, Sir? What's your business with me?

I wou'd not willingly be troublesome; though it may be I am so at this time.

It may be so too, Sir.

But to be known to so worthy a Person as you are, would be so great an honour, so extraordinary a happiness, that I could not avoid taking this opportunity of tend'ring you my Ser­vice.

Smooth Rogue, who the Divel is this fellow?

But Sir, you were pleased to nominate business Sir, I desire with what [Page 15] speed you can to know your business, Sir, that I may go about my busi­ness.

Sir, if I might with good manners, I should be glad to in­form my self, whose picture that is which you have in your hand, methinks it is very fine painting.

Picture, Friend, picture! Sir, 'tis the resemblance of a very impudent fellow, they call him Captain Beaugard forsooth, but he is in short a rakehell, a poor louzy beggarly disbanded devil, do you know him friend?—

I think I have heard of such a vagabond, the truth on't is he is a very impudent fellow.

Ay, a dam'd Rogue.

Oh a notorious scoundrel!

I expect to hear he's hang'd by next Sessions.

The truth on't is, he has deserv'd it long ago; but did you ever see him, Sir David.

Sir—does he know me?

Because I fancy that Mignature is very like him, pray Sir, whence had it you?—

Had it, Friend? had it! whence had it I—bless us▪ what have I done now this the very Traytour himself, if he should be desperate now, and put his sword in my guts!—s [...]itting my nose will be as bad as that, I have but one eye left neither, and may be—oh but this is the Kings Court, odd tha's well remember'd he dares not but be [...]ivil here; I'll try to out-huff him, whence had it you?

Ay, Sir, whence had it you? that's English in my Countrie, Sir.

Go, Sir, you are a Rascal.

How!

Sir, I say, you are a Rascal, a very impudent Rascal, nay, I'll prove you to be a Rascal, if you go to that—

Sir, I am a Gentleman and a Souldier.

So much the worse, Souldiers have been Cuckold makers from the beginning; Sir, I care not what you are; for ought I know you may be a—come Sir, did I never see you? answer me to that did I never see you? for ought I know you may be a Jesuit; there were more in the last armie beside you.

Of your acquaintance, and be hang'd!

Yes to my knowledge, there were several at Hounslow Heath disguised in dirtie Petticoats, and cry'd Brandy, I knew a Serjeant of foot that was familier with one of them all night in a Ditch, and fancy'd him a woman, but the Devil is powerful.

In short, you worthy Villain of Worship, that picture is mine, and I must have it, or I shall take an opp [...]rtunity to kick your Wor­ship most inhumanly.

Kick Sir,

Ay, Sir, kick, 'tis a recreation I can shew you.

Sir, I am a free born Subject of England, and there are Laws, look you, there are Laws; so I say you are a Rascal again, and now how will you help your self? poor Fool!

Heark you Friend, have not you a Wife?

I have a Lady, Sir—oh and she's mightily taken with this Picture of yours, she was so mightily proud of it, she could not forbear shewing it me, and telling too who 'twas sent it her.

And has she bin long a Gilt? has she practised the Trade for any time?

Trade! humph, what Trade! what Trade? Friend?

Why the Trade of Whore and no Wh [...]re, Catterwauling in jest, putting out Christian Colours, when she's a Turk under Deck: A curse upon all honest women in the flesh, that are Whores in the Spirit.

Poor Divil, how he rails, ha, ha, ha, look you sweet Soul, as I told you before, there are laws, there are laws, but those are things not worthy your consideration: Beautie's your business; but dear vagabond trouble thy self no further about my Spouse, let my Doxie rest in peace, she's meat for thy Master, old boy; I have my belly full of her every Night.

Sir, I wish all your noble Family hang'd from the bottom of my heart.

Moreover Captain Swash I must tell you my Wife is an honest Woman, of a vertuous disposition, one that I have loved from her [...]nfancy, and she deserves it by her faithful dealing in this affair, for that she has discover'd loyally to me the treacherous designs laid against her Chastity, and my Honour.

By this light the Beast weeps.

Truly I cannot but weep for Joy; to think how happy I am in a sincere faithful and loving Yoke-fellow, she charg'd me too to tell you into the bargain, that she is sufficiently satisfied of the most se­cret wishes of your heart.

I am glad on't.

And that 'tis her desire, that you wou'd trouble your self no more about the matter.

With all my heart.

But henceforward behave your self with such dis­cretion as becomes a Gentleman.

Oh to be sure most exactly!

And let her alone to make the best use of those innocent Freedoms I allow her without putting her reputation in hazzard.

As how I beseech you—

By your impertinent and unseasonable address.

And this news you bring me by a particular commission from your sweet Lady.

Yea Friend I do, and she hopes you'l be sensible, Dear heart, of her good meaning by it: these were her very words, I nei­ther add nor diminish, for plain d [...]aling is my Mistresses Friend.

Then all the Curses I shall think on this twelve-month light on her, and as many more on the next Fool that gives credit to the Sex.

Well, certainly I am the happiest Toad; how melan­choly the Munkey stands now? Poor Pug hast thou lost her?

To be so sordid a Jilt, to betray me to such a Beast as that, can she have any good thoughts of such a Swine? Dam her, had she abus'd me handsomly it had never [...]ext me.

Now Sir with your permission I'l take my leave.

Sir, If you were gon to the Devil, I shou'd think you very well dispos'd of.

If you have any Letter, or other commendation to the Lady that was so charm'd with your Resemblance there, it shall be very faithfully conveyed by—

Fool.

Your humble Servant Sir, I'm gon, I shall disturb you no further, your most humble Servant Sir.

Now Poverty, Plague, Pox and Prison fall thick upon the head of thee Fourbin.

Sir!—

Thou hast been an extraordinary Rogue in thy time.

I hope I haue lost nothing in your Honours service Sir.

Find cut some way to revenge me on this old Rascal, and if I do not make thee a Gentleman.—

That you have been pleas'd to do long ago, I thank you; for I am sure you have not left me one shilling in my pocket these two Months.

Here, here's for thee to Revel withall.

Will your Honour please to have his Throat cut?

With all my heart.

Or would you have him decently hang'd at his own door, and then give out to the World he did it himself?

That wou'd do very well.

Or I think [to proceed with more safety] a good stale Jakes were a very pretty expedient.

Excellent, excellent Fourbin.

Leave matters to my discretion, and if I do not—

I know thou wilt, go, go about it, prosper and be famous: now e're I dare venture to meet Courtin again. will I go by my self, rail for an hour or two, and then be good company.

Take my word Sir, you had better give this business over, I tell you there's nothing in the World turns my Stomack so much as the man, that man that makes Love to me. I never saw one of your Sex in my life make love, but he lookt so like an Ass all the while, that I blusht for him.

I am afraid your Ladyship then is one of those dangerous Creatures they call She-wits, who are always so mightily taken with admiring themselves: that nothing else is worth their notice.

Oh! who can be so dull not to be ravisht with that royste­rous mein of yours? that russling Ayr in your gate, that seems to cry where e're you go, make room, here comes the Captain: that Face the which bids defiance to the Weather; bless us! if I were a poor Farmers wife in the Country now, and you wanted Quarters, how would it fright me? But as I am young, not very ugly, and one you never saw before, how lovingly it looks upon me.

Who can forbear to sigh, look pale and languish, where Beauty and wit unite both their forces to enslave a heart so tracta­ble as mine is. First, for that modish swim of your Body, the victo­rious motion of your Arms and Head, the toss of your Fan, the glancing of the Eyes, bless us! If I were a dainty fine drest Cox­comb with a great Estate and a little or no wit, vanity in abundance, and good for nothing, how would they m [...]lt and soften me? but as I am a scandalous honest Rascal, not Fool enough to be your sport, nor rich enough to be your prey, how glotingly they look upon me!—

Alas, alas! What pity 'tis your honesty should ever do you hurt, or your wit spoil your preferment.

Just as much fair Lady, as that your Beauty should make you be envi [...]d at, or your Vertue provoke scandal.

Well the more I look, the more I'm in love with you.

The more I look, the more I am out of Love with you.

How my heart swels when I see you!

How my Stomach rises when I'm near you!

Nay, then let's bargain.

With all my heart, what?

Not to fall in love with each other, I assure you Monsiour Captain.

But to hate one another constantly and cordially.

Always when you are drunk, I desire you to talk scanda­lously of me.

Ay, and when I am sober too, in return whereof when e're you see a coquet of your acquaintance, and I chance to be named, be sure you spit at the [...]ilthy remembrance, and rail at me as if you lov'd me.

In the next place, when e're we meet in the Mall, I desire you to humph, put out your Tongue, make ugly mouths, laugh aloud, and look back at me.

Which if I chance to do, be sure at next turning to pick up some tawdry sluttering Fop or another.

That I made acquaintance with all at the Musique-meeting.

Right, Just such another Spark to saunter by your side with his Hat under his Arm.

Hearkning to all the bitter things I can say to be revenged:

Whilst the dull Rogue dare not so much as grin to oblige you, for fear of being beaten for it, when he is out of his waiting.

Counterfeit your Letters from me.

And you to be even with me for the scandal, publish to all the World I offered to marry you.

Oh hideous marriage'

Horrid, horrid marriage!

Name, name no more of it.

At that sad word let's part.

Let's wish all men decrepid, dull and sill [...]y

And every woman old and ugly.

Adieu!—

Farewell!—

Ah me, Mr. Frisk.!

sincerely as I hope to be sav'd, the Devil take me, Dam me Madam, who's that?

Ha, ha, ha, hea.

True to thy failings always Woman, how naturally is the Sex fond of a Rogue! What a Monster was that for a Woman to de­light in, now must I love her still, tho I know I am a Blockhead for't, and she'l use me like a block-head too, if I don't prevent her: what's to be done? I'l have three Whores a day, to keep Love out of my head.

Beaugard will met again, how go matters? Handsomly!

Oh very handsomly! had you but seen how hadsomly I was us'd just now, you would swear so, I have heard thee rail in my time, wou'd thou wouldst exercise thy talent a little at present.

At what?

Why canst thou over want a subject! rail at thy self, rail at me, I deserve to be raild at, see there, what thinkest thou of that Engine, that moving lump of filthiness miscall'd a Man.

Curse on him for a Rogue, I know him.

So▪

The Rascal was a Retailer of Ale but yesterday, and now he is an Officer and be hang'd; 'tis a dainty sight in a morning to see him with his Toes turn'd in, drawing his Leggs after him, at the head of a hundred lusty Fellows, some honest Gentleman or other stays [...]ow, because that Dog had money to bribe some corrupt Collo­nel withal.

There, there's another of my acquaintance, he was my Fa­thers Footman not long since, and has pimpt for me oftner than he pray'd for himself; that good quality recommended him to a noble mans service, which together with [...]lattering, fawning, lying, spy­ing and informing, has rais'd him to an imployment of trust and re­putation, though the Rogue can't write his [...]ame, nor read his neck Verse, if he had occasion.

'Tis as unreasonable to expect a man of Sense should be prefer'd, as 'tis to think a Hector can be stout, a Priest religious, a fair Woman chast, or a pardon'd Rebel loyal.

That's seasonably thought on, look there, observe but that Fellow on the right hand, the Rogue with the busiest Face of the two, I'l tell thee his History.

I hope hanging will be the end of his History, so well I like him at the first sight.

He was born a Vagabond, and no Parish own'd him, his Father was as obscure as his Mother publick, every body knew her, and no body could guess at him.

He comes of a very good Family, heaven be prais'd.

The first thing he chose to rise by, was Rebellion, so a Rebel he grew, and [...]ourisht a Rebel, fought against his King, and helpt to bring him to the Block:

And was he not Religious too?

Most devoutly! He could pray till he cry'd, and preach till he foam'd, which excellent Tallent made him popular, and at last prefer'd him to be a worthy Member of that never to be for­gotten Rump Parliament.

Tray Sir be uncovered at that, and remember it with Re­verence.

In short, he was Committee man, Sequestrator and perse­cutor General of a whole County, by which he got enough at the Kings Return to secure himself in the general Pardon.

Naufeous Vermin: That such a Swine with the mark of Rebellion in his Forehead, should wallow in his Luxury whilst ho­nest men are [...]orgotten!

Thus forgiven, thus rais'd, and made thus happy, the un­grateful Slave disowns the hand that healed him, cherishes Factions to affront his Master, and once more would Rebel against the Head, which so lately saved his from a Pole.

What a dreadful Beard and swinging Sword he wears▪

'Tis to keep his Cowardize in countenance, the Rascal will endure kicking most temperately for all that, I know five or six more of the same stamp; that never came abroad without terrible long Spits by their sides, with which they will let you bore their own Noses if you please, but let the Villain be forgotten.

His Co-Rogue I have some knowledge of, he's a tatt [...]r'd worm-eaten Case-putter, some call him Lawyer, one that takes it very ill he is not made a Judg.

Yes, and is always repineing that men of parts are not re­garded.

He has been a great noise-maker in factious Clubs these seven years, and now I suppose is courting that Worshipful Rascal to make him Recorder of some factious Town.

To teach Tallow-chandlers and Chees-mongers how far they may rebel against their King by vertue of Magna Chart [...]

But friend Beaugard methinks thou art very spleenatick of a sudden, how goes the affair of Love foreward, prosperously hah!

Oh I assure you most Triumphantly, Just now you must know I am parted with the sweet civil inchanted Ladies Husband.

Well and what says the Cuckold is he very kind and good natur'd as Cuckolds use to be?

Why he says, Courtine in short, that I am a very silly fel­low, (and truly I am very apt to believe him) and that I have been Jilted in this affair most unconscionably, a Plague on all P [...]mps, say, a mans business never thrives so well, as when he is his own Sollicitor.

Hist▪ hist. Capt. Capt. Capt. Boy.

Sir.

Run and get two Chairs presently, besure you get two Chairs, Sirrah, do you here? here's luck, here's luck, now or never Capt. never if not now Captain! here's luck.

Sir Iolly, no more adventures sweet Sir Iolly, I am like to have a very sine time o [...]'t truly.

The best in the World dear Dog, the very best in the [Page 22] World,'s bud she's here hard by man, stays on purpose for thee finely disguis'd, the Cuckold has lost her too; and no body knows any thing of the matter but I, no body but I, and I you must know, I am I, hah! and I you little Toad, hah!

You are a very fine Gentleman.

The best natur'd Fellow in the World I believe of my years! now does my heart so thump for fear this business should miscarry; why I'l warrant thee, the Lady is here man, she's all thy own, 'tis thy own fault if thou art not in terra incognita within this half hour: come along prithee come along, fie for shame, what make a Lady loose her longing, come along I say, you—out upon't.

Sir your humble, I shan't stir.

What? not go!

No Sir, no Lady for me.

Not go! I should laugh at that Faith.

No, I will assure you, not go Sir.

Away you Wag, you jest, you jest you wag; not go quotha?

No Sir, not go I tell you, what the Devil would you have more.

Nothing, nothing Sir, but I am a Gentleman.

With all my heart.

And do you think then that I'l be us'd thus.

Sir!

Take away my Reputation and take away my Life; I shall be disgrac't for ever.

I have not wrong'd you Sir Iolly.

Not wrong'd me! But you shall find you have wrong'd me, and wrong'd a sweet Lady, and a fine Lady:—I shall ne­ver be trusted again! never have employment more! I shall dye of the Spleen—prithee now be good natur'd, prithee be perswaded, od I'l give thee this Ring, I'l give thee this Watch, 'tis Gold, I'l give thee any thing in the World, go.

Not one Foot Sir.

Now that I durst but murder him—well, shall I fetch her to thee? What shall I do for thee?

'Ods fish here she comes her self, now you ill natur'd Chunl, now you Devil, look upon her, do but look upon her, what shall I say to her?

E'en what you please Sir Iolly.

'tis a very strange Monster this—Madam this is the Gentleman, that's he, though (as one may say) he's something bashful, but I'l tell him who you are

[Page 23] If thou art not more cruel then Leopards, Lyone, Tygers, Wolves, or Tarters don't break my Heart, don't kill me, this unkindness of thine goes to the Soul of me.

Madam, he says, he's so amazed at your Triumphant Beauty, that he dares not approach the excellence that shines from you.

What can be the meaning of all this?

Art thou then resolv'd to be remorseless? canst thou be insensible, hast thou Eyes? hast thou a Heart? hast thou any thing thou should'st have? cdd I'l tickle thee, get you to her you Fool, get you to her, to her; to her, to her, ha, ha, ha.

Have you forgot me Beaugard?

So now to her agen I say, to her, to her and be hang'd, Ah Rogue! Ah Rogue! now, now, have at her, now have at her, there it goes, their it goes, Hey—Boys!—

Methinks this Face should not so much be alter'd, as to be nothing like what once I thought it, the object of your Pleasure and subject of your Praises.

Cunning Toad! Wheadling Jade! you shall see now how by degrees she'l draw him into the Whirl pool of Love, now he leers upon her, now he deers upon her, Oh law! there's Eyes! there's your Eyes! I must pinch him by the Calf of the Legg.

Madam, I must confess I do remember, that I had once ac­quaintance with a Face, whose Air and Beauty much resembled yours, and if I may trust my Heart, you are call'd Clarianda.

Clarinda. I was call'd till my ill Fortune Wedded me, now you may have heard of me by another Title, your friend there I suppose, has made nothing a secret to you.

And are you then that kind inchanted fair one who was so passionately in Love with my Picture, that you could not forbear be­traying me to the Beast your Husband, and wrong the Passion of a Gentleman that languisht for you, only to make your Monster merry, hark you Madam, had your fool bin worth it, I had beaten him, and have a Months mind to be exercising my parts that way up­on your go between, your Male-Bawd there.

Ah Lord! Ah Lord! All's spoyl'd agen, all's ruin'd. I shall be undone for ever, why what a Devil is the matter now? what have I done? what sins have I committed.

And are you that passionate Adorer of our Sex? who cannot Live a Week in London without Loving, are you the Spark that send y [...]u Picture up and down to longing Ladies, longing for a pattern of your Person.

Yes Madam when I receive so good H [...]stages as these are

that it shall be well us'd, cou'd you find out no body but me to play the Fool withal.

A lack a day!

Could you pitch upon no Body but that wretched Wo­man, that has loved you too well to abuse you thus?

Thatever I was Born!

Here, here Madam, I'l return you your dirt, I scorn your Wages, as I do your Service.

Fye for shame what refund? That is not like a Souldier to refund, keep, keep it to pay your Sempstress withal.

His Sempstress, who the Devil is his Sempstress? Odd what wou'd I give to know that now!

There was a Ring too, which I sent you this Afternoon, if that fit not your Finger, you may dispose of it some other way, where it may give no occasion of Scandal, and you'l do well.

A Ring Madam!

A small triffl [...], I suppose Sir David deliver'd it to you when he return'd you your Mignature.

I beseech you Madam!

Farewel you Traytor.

As I hope to be sav'd, and upon the word of a Gentleman.

Go you are a falfe ungrateful Brute, and trouble me no more.

Sir Iolly, Sir Iolly, Sir Iolly.

Ah thou Rebel!

Some advice, some advice, dear Friend e're I'm ruin'd.

Ev'n two pennyworth of Hemp for your Honours sup­per that's all the remedy that I know.

But pri [...]hee hear a little reason.

No Sir I ha' done, no more to be said, I ha' done, I am asham'd of you, I'l have no more to say to you, I'l never see your Face again, good b'w'y.

Death and the Devil, what have my Stars been doing to day! a Ring!—deliver'd by Sir David!—what can that mean? —Pox on her for a Jilt, she lies, and has a mind to amuse and laugh at me a day or two longer, hist▪ here comes her Beast once more; I'I use him Civilly, and try what Discovery I can make.

Ha, ha, ha! here's the Captains Jewel, very well: In troth I had like to have forgotten it, Ha, ha, ha,—how damnable Mad he'l be now, when I shall deliver him his Ring again, ha ha!— Poor Dog he'l hang himself at least, ha, ha, ha,—Faith, 'tis a very pretty Stone, and finely set: Humph! if I should keep it now!— I'll say I have lost it, no I'l give it him again, o' purpose to vex him, ha, ha, ha.

Sir David, I am heartily sorrie.

Oh Sir, 'tis you I was seeking for, ha, ha, ha, what shall I say to him now to terrifie him?

Me, Sir!—

Ay, you Sir, if your name be Captain Beaugard: how like a Fool he looks already?—

What you please, Sir.

Sir, I should speak a word with you, if you think fit, what shall I do now to keep my countenance.

Can I be so happy, Sir, as to be able to serve you in any thing.

No Sir, ha, ha, ha, I have commands of service to you Sir, oh Lord! ha, ha, ha.

Me, Sir.

Ay Sir, you Sir, but put on your hat, Friend, put on your hat, be cover'd.

Sir, will you please to sit down on this bank?

No, no, there's no need, no need, for all I have a young Wife I can stand upon my legs, Sweet-heart.

Sir, I beseech you!

By no means, I think friend, we had some hard words just now, 'twas about a paultry baggage, but she's a pretty baggage and a witty baggage, and a baggage that—

Sir, I am heartily asham'd of all misdemeanour on my side.

You do well, though are not you a damn'd Whore-master, a devilish Cuckold-making fellow? here, here, do you see this? here's the Ring you sent a Roguing; Sir, do you think my Wife wants any thing that you can help her too?—Why I'll warrant this Ring cost fifty pound: What a prodigal Fellow are you to throw a way so much monie; or didst thou steal it old Boy? I believe thou maist be poor I'll lend thee money upon't, if thou thinkst fit at thirty in the hundred, because I love thee, ha, ha, ha.

Sir, your humble Servant, I am sorry 'twas not worth your Ladies acceptance, now what a dog am I!

I should have given it thee before, but faith I forgot it, though it was not my Wives fault in the least, for she says as thou likest this usage, she hopes to have thy custom again Child; ha, ha, ha.

Then Sir, I beseech you tell her, that you have made a Con­vert on me, and that I am so sensible of my insolent behaviour to­wards her—

Very well, I shall do it.

That 'tis impossible I shall ever be at peace with my self till I find some way how I may make her reparation.

Very good, ha, ha, ha.

And that if ever she find me guilty of the like offence again.

No Sir, you had not best, proceed, ha, ha, ha.

Let her banish all good opinion of me for ever.

No more to be said, your Servant, good b'w'y.

One word more, I beseech you, Sir Davy.

What's that?

I beg you tell her that the generous reproof she has given me has so wrought upon me—

Well, I will:

That I esteem this Jewel, not only as a wreck redeem'd from my folly, but that for her sake I will preserve it to the utmost moment of my life.

With all my heart, I vow and swear.

And that I long to convince her I am not the Brute she might mistake me for.

Right; well, this will make the purest sport,

let me see, first you acknowledge your self to be a very impudent Fel­low.

I do so, Sir.

And that you shall never be at rest, till you have satisfi'd my Lady.

Right, Sir.

Satisfi'd her, very good, ha, ha, ha, and that you will ne­ver play the fool any more, be sure you keep your word, Friend.

Never, Sir.

And that you will keep that Ring for her sake, as long as you live, hah!—

To the day of my death, I'll assure you.

I protest that will be very kindly done—and that you long mightily, long, to let her understand that you are another guess Fellow than she may take you for.

Exactly Sir, that is the sum and end of my desires.

Well, I'll take care of your business, I'll do your business, I'll warrant you, this will make the purest sport when I come home, no,

Well your Servant, remember, be sure you remember, your Servant.

So, now I find a Husband is a delicate instrument rightly made use of;—To make her old jealous Coxcomb pimp for me himself, I think 'tis as worthy an emploiment as such a noble Consort can be put to.

TO fall in love, and to fall in love with a Souldier! nay, a disbandded Souldier too, a fellow with the mark of Cain upon him, which every body knows him by, and is ready to throw stones at him for.

Dam her, I shall never enjoy her without ravishing; if she, were but very rich and very ugly, I wou'd marry her: Ay, 'tis she, I know her mischievous look too well to be mistaken in it,—Ma­dam!—

Sir.

'Tis a very hard Case, that you have resolv'd not to let me be quiet.

'Tis very unreasonably done of you, Sir, to haunt me up and down every where at this scandalous rate, the world will think we are acquainted shortly.

But, Madam, I shall fairly take more care of my Reputati­on, on, and from this time forward shun and avoid you most watchfully.

Have you not haunted this place these two hours.

'Twas because I knew it to be your Ladyships home then, and therefore might reasonably be the place you least of all frequen­ted, one would imagine you were gone a Coxcomb-hunting by this time, to some place of publick appearance or other, 'tis pretty near the hour, twill be twilight presently, and then the Owles come all a­broad.

What need I take the trouble to go so far a fowling when there's game enough at our own doors.

What game for your Net, fair Ladie.

Yes, or any womans Net else, that will spread it.

To shew you how despicablie I think of the business, I will here leave you presently, though I lose the pleasure of railing at you.

Do so I wou'd advise you; your raillery betrays your wit, as bad as your clumsey civility does your breeding.

Adieu!—

Farewel!—

Why do not you go about your business?

B [...]cause I wou'd be sure to be rid of you first, that you might not dog me.

Were it but possible that you cou'd answer me one question truly, and then I should be satisfi'd.

Any thing for composition to be rid of you handsomly.

Are you really very honest? Look in my Face and tell me that.

Look in your Face and tell you, for what? To spoil my Stomach to my Supper.

No, but to get thee a Stomach to thy Bed, Sweet-heart, I would if possible be better acquainted with thee because thou art ve­ry ill-natur'd.

Your only way to bring that business about effectually, is to be more troublesome, and if you think it worth your while to be abus'd substantially; you may make your personal appearance this Night.

How? where? and when? and what hour I beseech thee?

Under the Window, between the hours of eleven and twelve exactly.

Where shall these lovely Eyes, and Ears hear my Plaints and see my Tears.

At that kind hour thy griefs shall end if thou canst know thy Foe from thy Friend.

Here's another trick of the Devil now, under that Window between the hours of eleven and twelve exactly, I am a damn'd Fool, and must go, let me see, suppose I meet with a lusty beating! pish, that's nothing for a man that's in love, or suppose she contrive some way to make a publick Coxcomb of me, and expose me to the scorn of the World, for an example to all amorous Block-heads hereafter? why, if she do, I'l swear I have lain with her, beat her Relations, if they pretend to Vindicate her, and so there's one love intrigue pretty well o­ver.

Go get you in to your Ladie now, and tell her, I am come­ing.

Her Ladiship, Right-worshipful is pleas'd not to be at home.

How's that? my Ladie not at home! run, run in and ask when she went forth, whether she is gone, and who is with her, run and ask, Vermin.

She went out in her Chair presently after you this After-noon.

Then I may be a Cuckold still for ought I know, what will be comeof me? I have surely lost, and ne'r shall find her more, she pro­mis'd me strictlie to stay at home, till I came back again; for ought I know she may be up three pair of stairs in the Temple now.

Is her Ladyship in Law then, Sir.

Or it may be taking the Air as far as Knights-bridge with some smooth fac'd Rogue or another: 'tis a damn'd house, that Swan, that Swan at Knights-bridge is a confounded house, Vermin.

Do you think she is there then?—

No, I do not think she is there neither; but such a thing may be, you know; would that Barn-Elms was under water too, there's a 1000 Cuckolds a Year made at Barn-Elms, by Rosamonds ponds, the devil if she shou'd be there this evening, my heart's broke.

That must be Sir Davy; Ay, that's he, that's he, ha, ha, ha, was ever the like heard of? was ever any thing so pleasant?

I'll lock her up three daies, and three nights, without meat, drink or light, I'll humble her in the Devils name.

Well, cou'd I but meet my Friend, Sir Davy, it wou'd be the joyfullest news for him—

Who's there that has any thing to say to me.

Ah my Friends, of Friends, such news, such tidings.

I have lost my Wife Man.

Lost her! She's not dead I hope.

Yes, Alas, she's dead, irrecoverably lost.

Why I parted with her within this half hour.

Did you so, are you sure it was she? where was it? I'll have my Lord-Chief-Justices Warrant and a Constable presentlie.

And she made the purest sport now, with a Young Fel­low, Man, that she met withall accidentally.

Oh Lord! that's worse and worse, a Young fellow!—my Wife making sport with a young fellow! oh Lord! here are do­ings! here are vagaries! I'll run mad, I'll climb Bow Steeple pre­sently, bestride the Dragon, and preach Cuckoldom to the whole City.

The best of all was too, that it happen'd to be an Idle Coxcomb that pretended to be in lover with her Neighbour.

Indeed! in love with her! who was it? what's his Name▪ I warrant you won't tell a Body,—I'll indite him in the Crown Office; no I'll [...]ssue Warrants to apprehend him for Treason upon the Statue of Edw. 19th. won't you tell me what young Fellow it was, was it a very handsome young Fellow, hah—

Handsome? yes hang him the fellow's handsome enough; he is not very handsom neither, but he has a devillish leering black-eye.

Oh Lord?

His face to is a good rideing Face,'tis no foft effeminate complexion indee [...], but his count [...]nance is ruddy, sanguine and chear­ful, [Page 30] a devillish fellow in a Corner, I'll warrant him.

Bless us! what will become of me, why the devil did I marry a young Wife? Is he very well shap'd too, tall, straight, and proportionable, hah!—

Tall? No, he's not very tall neither, yet he is tall enough too, he's none of your overgrown lubberly Flanders Jades, but more of the true English breed, well knit, able, and fit for service old Boy; the Fellow is well shap'd truely, very well proportion'd, strong, and active; I have seen the Rogue leap like a Buck.

Who can this be? Well, and what think you, Friend, has he been there? Come, come, I'm sensible she's a young Wo­man, and I am an old Fellow, troth a very old Fellow, I signifie lit­tle or nothing now, but do you think he has prevailed? am I Cuck­old, Neighbour.

Cuckold! what! a Cuckold in Covent-garden? No I'll assure you, I believe her to be the most vertuous Woman in the World; but if you had but seen!—

Ay, wou'd I had, what was it?

How like a Rogue she us'd him: First of all comes me up the Spark to her, Madam, says he—and then he bows down, thus—how now, says she, what would the impertient Fellow have.

Humph! ha! well, and what then?

Madam, says he again (bowing as he did before) my heart is so entirely yours, that except you take pitie of my sufferings I must here dy at your Feet.

So, and what said she again, Neighbour? ha!

Go, you are a Fop.

Ha, ha, ha, did she indeed? Did she say so indeed? I am glad on 't, troth I am very glad on't; well, and what next? And how, and well, and what? ha!—

Madam, says he, this won't do; I am your humble Ser­vant, for all this, you may pretend to be as ill-natur'd as you please, but I shall make bold.

Was there ever such an impudent Fellow?

With that, Sirrah, says she, you are a sawsi [...] Jackanapes and I'll have you kickt.

Ha, ha, ha! Well I wou'd not be unmarri'd agam to be an Angel.

But the best Jeast of all was, who this should be at last.

Ay, who indeed! I'll warrant you some silly Fellow or o­ther; poor Fool!

E'en a scandalous Rake hell, that li [...]gers up and down the Town by the Name of Captain Beaugard▪ but he has been a bloody [Page 31] Cuckold-making Scoundrel in his time.

Hang him Sot, is it he? I don't value him thus, not a wet finger Man, to my knowledge she hates him, she scorns him Neighbour, I know it, I am very well satisfi'd in the point, besides I have seen him since that, and out-hector'd him: I am to tell her from his own mouth, that he promises never to affront her more.

Indeed.

Ay, Ay—

God bless you, Madam, thank your Honour.

Hush, hush, there's my Lady, I'll be gone, I'll not be seen, your humble Servant, God b'w'y.

No faith, Sir Iolly, e'en go into my house now, and stay Supper with me, we han't supt together a great while.

Hah! say you so, I don't care if I do, faith withall my heart; this may give me an opportunity to set all things right a­gain.

My Dear!

Sir!

You have been abroad, my Dear, Isee!

Only for a little Air, truly I was almost stiffled with­in doors, I hope you will not be angry, Sir David, will you?

Angry Child! no Child, not I; what should I be an­gry for!

I wonder Sir David, you will serve me at this rate. Did you not promise me to go in my behalf to Beaugard and correct him according to my instructions for his inso­lence.

So I did, Child; I have been with him, Sweet-heart, I have told him all to a tittle, I gave him back again the Picture too, but as the Devil would have it, I forgot the Ring, faith I did.

Did you purpose, Sir Sodom, to render me ridiculous to the man I abominate, what scandalous interpretation think you must he make of my retaining any trifle of his sent me on so dishonourable terms.

Really, my Lamb, thou art in the right, yet I went back afterwards, Dear-heart, and did the business to some purpose.

I am glad that you did with all my heart.

I gave him his lesson, I'll warrant him.

Lesson! what lesson had you to give him?

Why I told him as he lik'd that usage he might come again ha, ha, ha.

Ay, and so let him.

With all my heart, I'll give him free leave or hang me: though thou wou'd'st not imagine how the poor Devil's alter'd. La you there now, but as certainly as I stand here, that man is troubled that he swears he shall not rest day nor night till he has satisfied thee; prithee be satisfi'd with him if 'tis possible, my Dear, prithee do, I promis'd him before I left him to tell thee as much, for the poor wretch looks so simply, I cou'd not chuse but pity him I vow and swear, ha, ha, ha,.

Now, now, you little Witch, now you Chitsface, odd I cou'd find in my heart to put my little Finger in your Bubbies.

Sir Da. I must tell you, that I cannot but resent your so soon reconcilement with a man that I hate worse then death, and that if you lov'd me with half that tenderness which you profess, you wou'd not forget an affront so palpably, and so basely offer'd me.

Why Chicken where's the remedy? what's to be done? how wouldst thou have me deal with him?

Cut his throat.

Bless us for ever? cut his throat? what do murder?

Murder, yes, any thing to such an incorrigible Enemy of your honour, one that has resolv'd to persist in abusing of you, see here this letter this I received since I last parted with you just now it was thrown into my Chair by an impudent Lacquey of his, kept o' purpose for such imployments.

Let me see: A Letter indeed!—for the Lady Dunce— damn'd Rogue, treacherous dog, what can he say in the inside now, here's a Villian.

Yes, you had best break it open, you had so, 'tis like the rest of your discretion.

Lady, if I have an enemy it is best for me to know what mischief he intends me, therefore, with your leave I will break it o­pen.

Do, do, to have him believe that I was pleas'd enough with it to do it my self, if you have the Spirit of a Gentleman in you, ca­ry it back, and dash it as it is in the face of that audacious Fellow.

What can be the meaning of this now?

A Gentleman, yes, Madam, I am a Gentleman, and the world shall find that I am a Gentleman—I have certainly the best Woman in the World.

What do you think must be the end of all this? I have no refuge in the world, but your kindness, had I a Jealous Hus­band now, how miserable must my life be!

Ah Rogues. Nose ah Devil! ah Toad! cunning Thief, wheed ling Slut, I'll bite lier by and by.

Poor Fool! no Dear, I am not Jealous, nor never will [Page 33] [...] of thee: Do what thou wilt thou shalt not make me Jea­lo [...] [...] love thee too well to suspect thee.

Ah but how long will you do so?

How long! as long as I live I warrant thee, I—don't talk to a bod [...] so: I cannot hold out if thou dost, my eyes will run over, poor [...], poor Birdsnies! poor Lambki [...].

But will you be so kind to me to answer my desires, will you once more endeavour to make that Traytor sensible that I have too just an esteem of you, not to vallue his addresses as they de­serve.

Ay, Ay, I will.

But don't stay away too long Dear, make what haste you can I shall be in pain till I see you again.

My hear, my Love, my Babby, I'll be with thee in a mo­ment, how happy am I above the rest of men: Neighbour, dear Neighbour, walk in with my Wife, and keep her company, till I re­turn again, Child don't be troubled, prithee don't be troubled, was there ever such a Wife, well da, da, da, don't be troubled, prithee, don't be troubled, prithee don't be troubled, Da, da,

Sir Iolly, Sir Iolly, Sir Iolly.

Don't be troubled, prithee don't be trouled, da, da.

But Sir Iolly, can you guess whereabout my wand'ring Officer may be probably found now?

Found Ladie? he is to be found, Madam, he is to be at my house presently Ladie, he's certainly one of the [...] Fellows in the World.

You speak like a Friend, Sir Iolly.

His Friend, Lady; no Madam his Foe, his utter Enemy, I shall be his ruin, I shall undo him.

You may, if you please, then come both and play at Dards this evening with me for an hour or two, for I have contriv'd it so that Sir David is to be abroad at Supper to night, he cannot possibly avoid it; I long to win some of the Captains Money strangely.

Do you so, my Gamester? Well, I'll besure to bring him, and for what he carries about him I'll warrant you—odd he's a pretty Fellow, a very pretty Fellow, he has only one fault.

And what is that I beseech you Sir?

Only too Loving, too good Natur'd, that's all; 'tis certainly the best natur'd Fool breathing, that's all his fault.

Hist, hist, I think I see company coming, if you please, Sir Iolly we'll go in.

Mum, mum, mum, 'tis he himself the very same; odds so [Page 34] Sir Davy after him too, hush, hush, hush, let us be gone, let us re [...]ire, do but look upon him now, mind him a little, there's a [...] ▪ there's an Air, there's a motion! Ah Rogue, ah Devil, get you in, get you in, I say there's a shape for you.

What the Divel shall I do to recover this days loss again, my honourable Pimp too, my Pander Knight has forsaken me, me­thinks I am quandari'd like one going with a party to disco­ver the Enemies Camp; but had lost his guide upon the mountains: Curse on him, old Angus is here agen, there can be no good Fortune towards me when he's at my he [...]ls

Sir, Sir, Sir, one word with you Sir! Captain, Captain, noble Captain, oneword, I beseech you.

With me Friend?

Yes with you, my no Friend.

Sir David my intimate my Bosom Physitian—

Ah Rogue! damn'd Rogue!

My Confessor, my dearest Friend, I ever had—

Dainty Wheadle, here's a Fellow for ye.

One that has taught me to be in love with Vertue and shown me the ugly inside of my Follies.

Sir, your humble Servant.

Is that all? if you are as cold in your Love as you are in your Friendship, Sir Davy, your Lady has the worst time o'nt of any one in Christendom.

So she has, Sir, when she cannot be free from the inso­lent solicitations of such Fellows as you are, Sir.

As me, Sir? why who am I, good Sir Domine Doddle-pate?

So take notice he threatens me, I'll have him bound to the peace instantly, will you never have remorse of Conscience Friend? have you banisht all shame from your Soul? Do you consider my name is Sir Davy Dunce? that I have the most vertuous Wife living: Do you consider that? Now, how like a Rogue he looks again; what a hang-dog leer was that?

Your vertuous Wife, Sir, you are always harping upon that string Sir Davy.

No 'tis you wou'd be harping upon that string, Sir, see you this? cast your eyes upon this, this Letter Sir, did not you promise this very day, to abandon all manner of proceedings of this Nature tending to the dishonour of me and my Family?

Letter, Sir? what the divel does he mean now? Let me see, For the Lady Dunce, this is no scrawl of mine, I'll be Sworn by Iove her own hand! What a Dog was I! forty to one but I had play'd the Fool, and spoil'd all again; was there ever so Charming a Creature breathing—did your Lady deliver this to your hands Sir.

Ev'n her own self in person, Sir, and bad me tell you Sir, [Page 35] that she has too just an esteem of me Sir, not to vallue such a Fellow as you are as you deserve.

Very good:

I doubt not but this Letter will surprize you—(in troth, and so it does extreamly) but reflect upon the manner of conveighing it to your hand as kindly as you can.

Ay a damn'd Thief to have it thrown into the Chair by a Footman.

Would Sir Davy were but half so kind to you as I am.

Say you so you insinuating Knave.

But he I am satisfi'd is so severely Jealous, that except you contrive some way to let me see you this evening: I fear all will be hopeless

Impudent Traytor I might have been a Monster yet before I had got my Supper in my Belly.

In order to which either appear your self, or some body for you, half an hour hence in the Piazza, where more may be consider­ed of, adieu.

Thanks to you noble Sir, with all my heart, you are come I see accordingly, but as a Friend I am bound in Conscience to tell the business won't do, the trick won't pass Friend, you may put up your Pipes, and march off! Oh Lord! he lye with my Wife, Pug [...] he make Sir Davy Dunce a Cuckold, poor wretch, ha, ha, ha.

Hist, hist, hist.

That's he, there he is! succeed and be rewarded.

Other people may think what they please; but in my own opinion, I am a very pretty Fellow now, if my design but succeed up­on this old Baboon, I'll be canoniz'd Sir, Sir, Sir.

Friend! with me? Wou'd you speak with me, Friend.

Sir, my commands were to attend your Worship.

Beaugard, Beaugard, hist, hist, here here, quickly hist.

Where do you live, Sweet-heart, and who do you belong too?

Sir I am a small Instrument of the City, I serve the Lord Mayor in his Office there.

How the Lord Mayor!

Yes, Sir, who desires you by all means to do him the Hon­our of your company at supper this evening.

It will be the greatest honour I ever received in my Life, what my Lord Mayor Invite me to supper? I am his Lordships most hum­ble servant.

Yes, Sir, if your name be Sir Davy Dunce, as I have the honour to be inform'd it is, he desires you moreover to make what haste you can, for that he has some matters of importance to communicate to your honour which may take up some time.

I hope it will succeed.

Communicate with me, he does me too noble a favour, [...] upon the wings of Ambition to say my self at his Footstool; My Lord-Mayor sends himself to invite me to Supper, to confer with me too: I shall certainly be a great Man.

What Answer will your Worship charge me back withal?

Let his Lordship know that I am amazed, and con­founded, at his generosity, and that I am so transported with the honour he does me, that I will not fail to wait on him in the roasting of an Egg.

I am your Worships lowly Slave.

Vermin, go get the Coach ready, get me the Gold Medal too and Chain which I took from the Roman Catholik Officer for a Popish Relick; I'l be fine, I'l shine and drink Wine that's Divine, My Lord-Mayor invite me to Supper!

My Dearest, I'm glad to see thee return'd in safety from the bottom of my heart, hast thou seen the Traitor?

Seen him? hang him, I have seen him, Pox on him, seen him.

Well, and what is become of him! Where is he?

Why dost thou ask me where he is? what a Pox care I what becomes of him, prithee don't trouble me with thy imperti­nence, I am busie.

You are not Angry, my Dear, are you?

No, but I am pleas'd, and that's all one, very much pleas'd let me tell you, but that I am only to Sup with my Lord-Mayor, that's all, nothing else in the World, only the business of the Nation calls upon me, that's all, therefore once more I say don't be troublesome, but stand off.

You always think my company troublesome, you never stay at home to comfort me, what think you I shall do alone by my self all this Evening? mopeing in my Chamber, pray my Joy stay with me for once; I hope he won't take me at my word.

I say again and again, Tempter stand off, I will not lose my preferment for my pleasure, Honour is towards me, and slesh and blood are my Averllon.

But how long will you stay then?

I don't know, may be not an hour, may be all night, as his Lordship and I think fit, what's that to any body.

You are very cruel to me▪

I can't help it, go get you in and pass away the time with your Neighbour, I'l be back again before I die, in the mean time be humble and conformable, go: is the Coach ready?

Yes Sir.

Well, your Servant, what nothing to my Lady Mayoress! you have a great deal of Breeding indeed, a great deal, nothing to my Lady Mayoress?

My service to her, if you please.

Well, Da, da, the poor fool cries o' my conscience! A­dieu, do you hear, farewell.

As well as what I love can make me.

Madam, is he gone.

In post haste I assure.

In troth and joy go with him.

Do you then, Sir Iolly, conduct the Captain hither, whilst I go and dispose of the Family that we may be private.

Troth I had forgot my Medal and Chain, quite and clean, forgot my Relique, I was forced to come up these back stairs, for fear of meeting my Wife again, it is the troublesom'st loving Fool, I must into my [...]loset and write a short Letter too, 'tis Post night, I had forg [...]t that▪ well, I would not have my Wife catch me for a Guinny.

Are you very certain, Madam, no body is this way? I fan­ [...]y as we [...]nter'd I saw the glimpse of something more than ordi­nary.

Is it your care of me? or your personal fears, that make you so supsitious, whereabouts was the Apparition?

There, there, just at the very door.

Fie for shame, that's Sir Davy's Closet, and he I am satisfi'd is far enough off by this time, I'm sure I heard the Coach drive him away. But to convince you, you shall see now; Sir Davy, Sir Davy, Sir Davy,

look you there, you a Captain and afraid of a shadow, come Sir, shall we call for the Gards?

And what shall we play for pretty One!

Ee'n what you think best, Sir.

Silver Kisses or Golden Joyes! come let us make Stakes a little.

Ah Rogue, ah Rogue! are you there? have I caught you in Faith now, now, now!

And who shall keep them?

You, till Sir Davy, returns from Supper.

That may be long enough, for our Engine Fourbin has Orders not to give him over suddenly I assure you.

And is't to your self then I'm oblig'd for this blest opportu­nity? Let us improve it to Love's best advantage.

Ah, h, h, h! Ah, h, h, h!

Let's vow eternal, and raise our thoughts, to 'expectation of immortal pleasures, in one anothers eyes let's read our joyes till we've no longer power o're our desires, drunk with this dissolving, oh!—

Ah!

By this light the Cuckold, Presto. nay then Hallo.

Oh Lord, a Man! a Man in my Wife's Chamber; Mur­der, Murder, Thieves, Thieves, shut up my Doors! Madam! Madam! Madam!

Ay, Ay, Theives, Thieves, urder, Murder, where Neigh­bour, where, where?

Pierce, pierce this wretched Heart hard to the Hilts, dye this in deep­est crimson of my Blood, spare not a mi­serable Womans life, whom Heav'n de­sign'd to be the unhappy object of the most horrid usage Man e'r acted.

What in the name of Satan does she mean now?

Curse on my fatal beauty! blasted ever be these two baneful eyes, that could inspire a barbarous Villain to attempt such crimes as all my blood's too little to attone for: Nay, you shall hear me.—

Hear you, Madam? No, I have seen too much I thank you heartily, hear you Quotha!—

Yes, and before I die too I'l be justified.

Justifi'd, oh Lord, justifi'd!—

Notice being given me of your return, I came with speed to this unhappy place, where I have oft been blest with your Embra­ces, when from behind the Arras out starts Beaugard; how he came there heav'n knows.

I'l have him hang'd for Burglary, he has broken my House, and broke the Peace upon my Wife, very good!

Straigh [...] in his Arms he graspt me fast, with much ado I, plung'd and got my freedom, ran to your Closet door, knock [...] and implor'd your aid, call'd on your name, but all in vain—

Hah!

Soon again he seiz'd me, stopt my mouth, and with a Conquerors fury—

Oh Lord! oh Lord! no more, no more, I beseech thee, I shall grow mad, I will grow mad, and very mad, I'l plough up Rocks and Adamantine Iron bars, I'l crack the frame of nature, sally out like Tamberlain upon the Trojan Horse, and drive the Pigmies all like Geese before me; Oh Lord stop her mouth! well▪ and how? and what then I stopt thy mouth! well! hah!

No, though unfortunate I still am innocent, his oursed purpose could not be accomplisht, but who will live so injur'd? No I'l die to be reveng'd on my self, I ne'r can hope that I may see his streaming

gore: and thus I let out my own—

Ha! what wouldst thou do my love, prithy don't break my heart,? If thou wilt kill, kill me; I know thou art innocent, I see thou art; though I had rather be a Cuckold a thousand times than loose thee, poor Love, poor Dearee, poor Baby.

Ala [...]k a day—

Ah me!—

Ah, prithee be comforted now, prithee do, why I'l love thee the better for this, for all this Mun, why shouldst he troubled for anothers Ill doings! I know it was no fault of thine.

No, no more it was not I dare swear.

See, see, my Neighbour weeps too, he's troubled to see thee thus.

Oh, but revenge!

Why thou shalt have revenge, I'l have him murderd, I'l have his throat cut before to morrow morning Child, rise now, pri­thee rise.

Ay do Madam, and smile upon Sir Davy.

But will you love me then as well as e're you did?

Ay, and the longest day I live too.

And shall I have Justice done me on that prodigious Monster?

Why, he shall be Crows meat by to morrow night, I tell thee he shall be Crows meat by midnight Chicken.

Then I will live, since so 'tis something pleasant. When I in Peace may lead a happy Life, With such a Husband—

I with such a Wife.

WElcome Gentlemen, very welcome Sir: will you please to walk up one pair of stairs.

Get the great Room ready presently, carry up too a good stock of Bottles before hand, with Ice to cool our Wine, and Wa­ter to refresh our Glasses.

It shall be done Sir; Coming, coming there, Coming: speak up in the Dolphin some body.

Ah Courtine, must we be always idle I must we never see our glorious days again? when shall we be rowling in the Lands of Milk and Honey▪ incampt in large luxuriant Vineyards, where the load­ded Vines Cluster about our Tents, drink the rich Juice, just prest from the plump Grape, feeding on all the fragrant golden Fruit that grow in fertile Climes, and ripen'd by the earliest vigour of the Sun.

Ah Beaugard! those days have been, but now we must re­solve to content our selves at an humble rate: methinks it is not un­pleasant to consider how I have seen thee in a large Pavillion; drowning the heat of the day in Campagne Wines, sparkling sweet as those charming Beauties, whose dear remembrance every glass recorded, with half a dozen honest Fellows more, Friends Beaugard, faithful hearty Friends, things as hard to meet with as preferment here: Fellows that would speak truth boldly, and were proud on't, that scorn'd flattery, love'd honesty; for 'twas their portion, and never yet learn'd the Trade of case and lying, but now.—

Ay, now we are at home in our natural Hives, and sleep like Drones; but there's a Gentleman on the other side the Water, that may make work for us all one day.

But in the mean while—

In the mean while patience, Courtine, that is the English mans Vertue: Go to the man that ows you money, and tell him your are necessitated, his answer shall be, a little patience I beseech you, Sir: Ask a Cowardly Rascal satisfaction for a sordid injury done you, he shall cry, alas a day, Sir, you are the strangest Man living, you won't have patience to hear one speak: Co [...] [...] to a great Man that you want preferment, that you have forsa [...] [...]side­rable advantages abroad, in obedience to publick [...] all you shall get of him is this, you must have patience, Sir.

But will patience feed me, or cloath me, or kee [...] [...]

Prithee no more hints of Poverty: 'tis scandalous,'s Death I wou'd as soon chuse to hear a Souldier brag as complain, dost thou want any Money?

True indeed I want no necessaries to keep me alive; but I do not enjoy my self with that freedom I wou'd do, there is no more pleasure in living at stint, then there is in living alone. I wou'd have it in my power (when he needed me) to serve and assist my Friend, I would to my Ability deal handsomely too be the VVoman that pleased me.

Oh [...]fy for shame! you wou'd be a VVhoremaster, Friend, go, go, I'l have no more to do with you.

I wou'd not be forced neither at any time to avoid a Gen­tleman that had obliged me, for want of Money to pay him a debt contracted in our old acquaintance, it turns my Stomach to wheadle with the Rogue I scorn when he uses me Scurvily, because he has my Name in his Shop-Book.

As for example, to indure the familiaritys of a Rogue, that shall cock his greasy Hat in my Face, when he duns me, and at the same time vail it to an overgrown Deputy of the VVard, though a [...]rowzy Fellmonger.

To be forced to concurr with his Non-sence too, and laugh at his Parish Jests.

To use respects and ceremonies to the Milch-Cow his Wife, and praise her pretty Children, though they stink of their Mother, and are uglier than the issue of a Baboon, yet all this must be endured.

Must it Beaugard.

And since 'tis so let's think of a Bottle.

With all my Heart, for rayling and drinking do much better together then by themselves; a private room, a trusty Friend or two, good Wine and bold Truths, are my happiness; but where's our dear Friend and intimate, Sir Iolly, this Evening.

To deal like a friend Courtine, I parted with him but just now, he's gone to contrive me a meeting is possible this [...]ight with the Woman my Soul is most fond of: I was this Evening just enter­ing upon the Pallace of all Joy, when I met with so damnably a dis­appointment— in short, that Plague to all Well meaning Women, the Husband came unseasonably and sorc't a poor Lover to this Heels that was fairly making his progress another way Courtine, the Story thou shalt here more at large hereafter.

A Plague on him, why didst thou not Murder the presumpti­ous Cuckold? saucy intruding Clown? to dare to disturb a Gentleman's privacies, I would have beaten him into Sence of his trangression; injoy'd his Wife before his Face, and a taught the Dog his Duty.

Look you Courtine, you think you are dealing with the Landlord of your Winter Quarters in Alsatia now? friend, friend, [Page 42] there is a difference between a freeborn English Cuckold, and a sheaking Wittal of a Conquered Province.

Oh by all means! there ought to be a difference observed between your arbitr [...]ry Whoring and your limited Fornication.

And but reason: for though we may make bold with ano­ther mans Wife in a friendly way: yet nothing upon compulsion Dear­heart.

And now Sir Iolly, I hope is to be the instrument of some immortal Plot, some contrivance for the good of thy body, and the old fellows soul Beaugard, for all Cuckolds go to Heaven, that's most certain.

Sir Iolly! Why on my Conscience he thinks it as much his un­doubted Right to be Pimp Master-General to London and Middlesex, as the Estate he possesses is, by my consent his worship should, e'en have a Pattent for it.

He is certainly the fittest for the imployment in Christen­dome; he knows more Families by their Names and Titles, than all the Bellmen within and without the walls.

Nay he keeps a Catalogue of the choicest Beauties about Town, illustrated with a particular account of their Age, Shape, pro­portion, colour of Hair and Eyes, degrees of Complexion, Gunpow­der Spots and Moles.

I wish the old Pander were bound to satisfy my experience; what marks of good nature my Sylvia has about her.

My Captains! my Sons of Mars, and Imps of Venus! well encountred, what shall we have a sparkling Bottle or two, and use Fortune like a Jade? Beaugard you are a Rogue, you are a Dog, I hate you, get you gon, go.

But Sir Iolly, what news from Paradise Sir Iolly? Is there any hopes I shall come there too Night!

May be there is, may be there is not; I say let us have a Bottle, and I will say nothing else without a Bottle, after a Glass or two my Heart may open.

VVhy then we will have a Bottle Sir Iolly.

VVill? we'l have dozens▪ and drink till we'r wise, and speak well of no body, till we are lewder than midnight-whores, and out-rail disbanded Officers.

Only one thing more my noble Knight, and then we are entirely at thy disposal.

Well and what's that? what's the business?

This Friend of mine here stands in need of thy Assistance, he's damnably in Love Sir Iolly.

In love is h [...] so! in Love! 'ods my Life! is she! what's her Name? where does she live? I warrant you I know her, she's in my Table-Book I'l warrant you: Virgin, Wise, or Widdow!

In troth Sir Iolly, that's something a difficult question, but as Virgins go now, she may pass for one of them.

Virgin very good: let me see; Virgin: Virgin, Virgin, oh here are the Virgins, truly I meet with the sewest of this sort of any, well and the first Letter of her Name now! for a wager I guess her.

Then you must know Sir Iolly, that I love my Love with an S.

S. S. S. Oh here are the Esses, let me consider now— Sappho.

No sir.

Selinda.

Neither.

Sophronia.

You must guess again I assure you.

Silvia.

Ay, Ay, Sir Iolly, that's the fatal Name, Silvia the fair, the witty, the ill-natured, do you know her my Friend?

Know her? Why she is my Daughter, and I have adopt­ed her these seven years: Silvia, let me look; Light Brown Hair, her Face Oval and Roman, quick sparkling Eyes, plump pregnant Ruby Lips, with a Mole on her Breast, and the perfect likeness of a Heart-Cherry on her left Knee; Ah Villain! Ah sly Cap! have I caught you; are you there i'faith? well and what says she? is she coming? do her Eyes betray her? does her Heart beat, and her Bubbies rise, when you talk to her, hah?—

Look you sir Iolly, all things considered, it may make a shift to come to a Marriage in time.—

I'l have nothing to do in it, I won't be seen in the business of Matrimony; make me a Match-maker? a filthy Marriage Bro­ker, Sir I scorn, I know better things; look you Friend, to carry her a Letter from you or so, upon good Terms, though it be in a Church I'l deliver it, or when the business is come to an issue, if I may bring you handsomely together, and so forth; I'l serve thee with all my Soul; and thank thee into the bargain: thank thee heartily dear Rogue, I will you little Cock-sparrow, faith and troth I will; but no Matrimony Friend, I'l have nothing to do with Matrimony; 'tis damn'd invention worse than a Monopoly, and a destroyer of civil correspondence.

Gentlemen your room is ready, your VVine and I [...]e up­on the Table, will your Ho [...]ours please to walk in?

Ay wine, wine, give us wine, a pox on Matrimony, Ma­trimony in the Devils name.

But if an honest Harlot or two chance to enquire for us Friend.

Right Sirrah, if Whores come never so many, give 'em re­verence, and reception, but nothing else, let nothing but Whores and Bottles come near us, as you tender your Ears.

Why there's, there's the land of Canaan now in little, hark you, Drawer, Dog, shut, shut the Door Syrrah, do you hear, shut it so close, that neither cares, nor necessitys may peep in upon us.

Bloody-bones be you sure to behave your self handsomely and like your profession, shew your self a Cut-Throat of parts, and wee'l fleece him.

My Lady says, We must be expeditious, Sir Iolly has giv'n notice to the Capt. by this time, so that nothing is wanting but the management of this oven-grown Gull to make us Hectors at large, and keep the Whore Fortune under.

Welcome Gentlemen, very welcome Sir, wil't please you to walk into a Room? or shall I wait upon your Honours pleasure here.

Sweet heart let us be private, and bring us Wine hither, so—

From this moment, War, war; and mortal dudgeon against that e­nemy of my Honour, and Theif of my good Name called Beaugard. you can cut a Throat upon occasion you say Freind.

Sir cutting of Throats is my Hereditary vocation, my Fa­ther was hang'd for cutting of Throats before me, and my Mother for cutting of Purses.

No▪ more to be said, my Courage is mounted like a little French-man upon a great Horse; and I'l have him murder'd.

Sir, Murder'd you say Sir?

Ay Murder'd I say Sir, his Face slay'd off, and nayl'd to a post in my great Hall in the Countrey, amongst all the other Tro­phies of wild Beasts slain by our Family since the Conquest: there's never a Whore-Masters head there yet.

Sir for that let me recommend this worthy Friend of mine to your Service, he's an industrious Gentleman and one that will deserve your Favour.

He looks but somthing ruggedly though methinks.

But Sir his Parts will attone for his Person: forms and fashions are the least of his study: he affects a sort of Phylosophical negligence indeed, but Sir make trial of him, and you'l find him a Person fit for the work of this World.

What trade are you Freind?

No trade at all Freind, I profess Murder: Rascally Butchers make a trade on't, tis a Gentlemans Divertisement.

Do you profess Murder.

Yes sir, 'tis my Livelyhood: I keep a Wife and six Chil­dren by it.

Then Sir here's to you withal my Heart; wou'd I had done with these Fellows.

Well Sir if you have any Service for us; I desire we may re­ceive your Gold and your instructions so soon as is possible.

Soft and fair Sweetheart, I love to see a little how I lay out my Money: have you very good trading now a days in your way Freind?

In peaceable times a man may eat and drink comfortably upon't, a private Murder done handsomely is worth Money: but now that the Nation's unsettled there are so many general undertakers▪ that 'tis grown almost a Monopoly, you may have a man Murder'd almost for little or nothing and no Lady e'r know who did it nei­ther.

Pray what Country man are you? where were you born most Noble Sir?

Indeed my Country is Forreign, I was Born in Argier; my Mother was an Apostate Greek my Father a Ranegado English Man, who by oppressing of Chistian Slaves grew Rich; for which when he lay sick, I Murder'd him one day in his Bed: made my escape to Maltha, where imbracing the Faith I had the Honour given me to command a thousand Horse aboard the Gallies of that State.

Oh Lord Sir! my humble Service to you again.

He tells you Sir but the naked Truth.

I doubt it not in the least most worthy Sir: these are de­vilish [...]ellows I'l warrant 'em

War Friend, and shining Honour has bin our Province, till rusty peace▪ reduced us to this base obscurity, Ah Bloody Bones! Ah when thou and I commanded that party as the Seige of Philipsburgh! where in the Face of the Army wee took the impenetrable half Moon.

Half Moon Sir! by your Favour 'twas a whole Moon.

Brother thou art in the right, 'twas a full Moon, and such a Moon Sir!—

I doubt it not in the least Gentlemen, but in the mean­while to our business.

With all my Heart so soon as you please.

Do you know this Beaugard, he's a devlish fellow I can tell you but that, he's a Captain.

Has he a Heart think you Sir?

Oh like a Lion! he fears neither God, Man, nor Devil.

I'l bring it you for your Breakfast to Morrow, did you ne­ver eat a Mans Heart Sir?

Eat a Mans Heart Friend!

Ah, Ay, a Mans Heart Sir, it makes absolutely the best Raggoust in the World: I have eaten forty of 'em in my time with­out Bread.

Oh Lord! a Mans Heart! my humble service to you Both Gentlemen.

Why your Algerine Pirates eat nothing else at sea, they have them always potted up like Venison, your well-grown Dutch­mans Heart makes an excellent Dish with Oyl and Pepper.

Oh Lord! oh Lord! Friend, Friend, a word with you: how much must you and your Companion have to do this business?

What and bring you the Heart home to your house?

No, no, keeping the Heart for your own eating, I'l be rid of 'em as soon as possible I can.

You say Sir he's a Gentleman?—

Ay such a sort of Gentleman as are about this Town: the Fellow has a pretty handsome outside, but I believe little or no money in his Pockets.

Therefore we are like to have the honour to receive the more from your Worships bounty.

For my part I care for no mans bounty: I expect to have my bargain perform'ed, and I'l make as good a one as I can.

Look you Friend,: don't you be angry Friend, don't be angry Friend before you have occasion: you say you'l have— let's see how much will you have now—I warrant the Devil and all by your good will.

Truely Sir David if as you say, the Man must be well mur­der'd without any remorse or mercy, betwixt Turk and Jew it is honestly worth two hundred pounds.

Two hundred pounds! Why I'l have a Physitian shall kill a whole Family for half the money.

Damme Sir, how do yemean?

Damme Sir how do I mean? Damme Sir not to part with my mony.

Not part Brother!

Brother the Wight is improveable, and this must not be born withal.

Have I for this dissolu'd Cir [...]ean Charms? broke Iron du­rance: whilst from these firm Legs the well fil'd useless Fetters dropt away, and left me Master of my native freedom.

What, what does he mean now?

Truely Sir I am sorry to see it with all my heart, 'tis a di­straction that frequently seizes him, though I am sorry it should hap­pen so unluckily at this time.

Distracted say you! is he so apt to be distracted?

Oh Sir rageing mad: we that live by Murder are all so: Guilt will never let us sleep. I beseech you Sir stand clear of him, he's apt to be very mischievous at these unfortunate hours.

Have I been drunk with tender Infants blood? and ript up teeming Wombs? Have these bold hands ransackt the Temples of the Gods, and stab'd the Priests before their Altars? Have I done this? hah!

No Sir, not that I know Sir, I would not say any such thing for all the World Sir, worthy Gentleman, I beseech you Sir, you seem to be a civil person: I beseech you Sir to mitigate his passion, I'l do any thing in the World, you shall command my whole Estate.

Nay after all Sir, if you have not a ming to have him quite murder'd, if a swinging drubbing to bed-rid him or, so, will serve your turn, you may have it at a cheaper rate a great deal.

Truly Sir, with all my heart, for methinks now I con­sider matters better, I would not by any means be guilty of another mans blood.

Why then let me consider—to have him beaten substan­tially, a beating that will stick by him, will cost you—half the money.

What one hundred pounds! Sure the Devil's in you, or you would not be so unconscionable.

The Devil! where? where is the Devil? shew me; I'l tell thee Belz [...]bub thou hast broke thy Covenant, didst thou not promise me eternal plenty, when I resign'd my Soul to thy allure­ments'

Ah Lord!

Touch me not yet: I've yet ten thousand Murders to Act before I'm thine: with all those sins I'l come with full damnation to thy Caverns of endless pain and houl with thee for ever.

Bless us! what will become of this mortal Body of mine? Where am I? Is this a house? do I live? am I Flesh and Blood?

There, there's the Feind again! don't chatter so, and grin at me, if thou must needs have prey, take here, take him, this Tempter that would bribe me with shining Gold, to stain my hands with new iniquity.

Stand off I charge thee Stain, wheresoe'r thou art, thou hast no right nor claim to me, I'l have thee bound in Necromantick Charms. Heark you Friend, has the Gentleman gi­ven Soul to the Devil?

Only pawn'd it a little: that's all.

Let me beseech you Sir to dispatch, and get rid of him as soon as you can. I would gladly drink a Bottle with you Sir, but I hate the Devils Company mortally, as for the hundred pound here, here it is ready, no more words, I'l submit to your good nature and d [...]scretion.

Then Wretch take this and make thy peace with the in­fernal King, he loves Riches, sacrifice and be at rest.

'Tis done: I'l follow thee, lead on, nay if thou smile, I more defy thee▪ Eee, Fa, Fum.

'Tis very odd this.

Very odd indeed I'm glad he's gone though.

Now Sir, if you please we'l refresh our selves with a chear­ful glass, and so Chaque un chez lui—I would fain make the Gull drunk a little to put a little mettle into him▪

With all my heart Sir, but no more words of the Devil, if you love me.

The Devil's an Ass Sir, and here's a Health to all those that defy the Devil

With all my heart, and all his works too.

Nay Sir, you must do me right I assure you.

Not so full, I not so full, that's too much of all Con­science: in [...] Friend these are sad times, very sad times: but here's to you.

Po [...] o' the times, the times are well enough so long as a man has money in his Pocket.

'Tis true, here I have been bargaining with you about a Murder, but never consider that Idolatry is coming in full speed up­on the Nation, pray what Religion are you of Friend?

What Religion am I of sir? Sir your humble Servant.

Truly a good Conscience is a great happiness; and so I'l pledg you, hemph, hemph, but shan't the Dog be Murdered this Night.

My Brother Rogue is gon by this time to set him, and the business shall be done effectually I'l warrant you, here's rest his soul.

With all my Heart Faith, I hate to be uncharitable.

Look you 'tis a very impudent thing not to be drunk by this time, shall Rogues stay in Taverns to sip Pints, and be Sober, when honest Gentlemen are drunk by Gallons, I'll have none on't.

Oh Lord, whose's there?

I beseech your Honour, our house will be utterly ruin'd by this means.

Damne your house, your Wife and Children, and all your Family, you Dog!

Sir, who are you.

Who am I Sir? what's that to you, Sir? will you tickle my Foot you Rouge!

I'll tickle your Guts you Paultroon presently.

Tickle my guts you Mad-Cap, I'll tickle your Toby if you do.

What with that circumsis'd Band? That grave hypocryti­tal Beard of the reformation Cut? Old Fellow, I believe your a Rogue.

Sirrah you are a Whore, an errant Bitch-Whore, I'll use you like a Whore, I'll kiss you, you Jade, I'll Ravish you, you Buttuck, I am a Justice of the Peace, Sirrah, and that's worse.

Dam you, Sir, I care not if you were a Constable and all his Watch; what, such a Rogue as you send honest Fellows to pri­son, and countenance Whores in your Jurisdiction for bribery, you Mongrel, I'll beat you, Sirrah, I'll brain you, I'll murder you, you Moon-Calf.

Sir, Sir, Sir, Constable, Watch, stokes, stokes, stokes, murder—

Huzza, Beaugard!

Well, Sir, the busiuefs is done, we have bargain'd to Mur­der you.

Murder'd! whose to be murder'd? ha, Fourbin!

You are to be murder'd, Friend, you shall be murder'd, Friend.

But how am I to be murder'd? Who's to murder me, I be­seech you?

Your humble Servant, Fourbin, I am the man with your wor­ships leave, Sir David, has given me this gold to do it handsomely.

Sir David! uncharitable Cur, what Murder an honest Fel­low for being Civil to his Family? What can this mean Gentlemen?

No 'tis for not being Civil to his Family, that it means Gentleman, therefore are yo [...] to be murder'd to Night, and buri­ed a Bed with my Lady, you Jack Straw, you.

I understand you Friends, the old Gentleman has design'd to have me butcher'd and you have kindly contriv'd to turn it to my advantage in the affair of Love, I am to be murder'd but as it were Gentlemen, hah!

Your Honour has a piercing Judgment: Sir, Captain Courtines gone.

No matter let him go, he has a design to put in practice this Night too, and would perhaps but spoil ours; but when, Sir Iolly, is this business to be brought about.

Presently, 'tis more then time 'twere done already, go, get you gone I say▪ hold, hold, let's see your left Ear first, hum— ha—you are a Rogue, y'are a Rogue, get you gone, get you gone, go.

But why Madam, will you use him so inhumanly? I'm confident he loves you.

Oh! a true Lover is to be found out like a true Saint, by the Trial of his patience; have you the Cords ready.

Here they are, Madam.

Letv 'em down, and be sure what it comes to Trial, to pull lustily; is Will. the Footman ready.

At your Ladiships command, Madam.

I wonder he should stay so long, the Clock has struck twelve.

This must be he: Ay 'tis he, and as I am a Virgin roaring drunk; but if I find not a way to make him sober—

Here, here's the Window: Ay, that's Hell-door, and my damnation's in the inside: Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia: Dear Imp of Sa­tan appear to thy Servant.

Who calls on Sylvia in this dead of night, when rest is wan­ting to her longing eyes.

'Tis a poor wretch can hardly stand upright drunk with thy Love, and if he falls he lies.

Courtine, is't you?

Yes, Sweet-Heart 'tis I, art thou ready for me?

Fasten your self to that Cord there; there, there it is.

Cord! where? Oh, oh, here, here, so now to Heav'n in a string.

Have you done.

Yes, I have done Child, and wou'd sain be doing too Hussy.

Then pull away, hoa up, hoa up, hoa up, so avast there, Sir.

Madam.

Are you very much in Love, Sir?

Oh damnably Child, damnably.

I'm sorry for't with all my heart, good Night Captain.

Ha gone, what left in Erasinus Paradice between Heav'n and Hell? If the Constable should take me now for a stragling Mon­key hung by the Loins, and hunt me with his cry of Watchmen! Ah Woman, Woman, Woman, well a merry Life, and a short, that's all.

Murder, Murder, Murder! help, help, Murder.

Nay, if there be murder stirring, 'tis high time to shift formy self.

A h h h h!

Yonder, yonder he comes murder, murder, murder.

'Tis very Late; but Murder is a melancholly business, and Night is fit for't, I'll go home.

Who's there?

Whose there? open the door you Whelp of Babylon.

Oh Sir, y'are Welcome home; but here is the saddest news! here has been murder committed, Sir.

Hold your Tongue you Fool, and go to sleep, get you in do you hear, you talk of Murder you Rogue? you meddle with State-Affairs? Get you in.

Ly still, ly still you Knave, close, close when I bid you, you had best quest, and spoil the sport, you had!

But pray how long must I lye thus?

I'll warrant you, you'll think the time mighty tedious.

Sweet Creature, who can counterfeit Death when you are near him?

You shall Sirrah, if a body desires you a little, so you shall, we shall spoil all else, all will be spoil'd else Man, if you do not: Stretch out longer, longer yet, as long as ever you can, so so, hold your breath, hold your breath, very well.

Madam, here comes Sir David.

Odds so, now close again as I told you, close you Divel, now stir if you dare; stir but any part about you if you dare now; odd I hit you such a rap if you do, lye still, lye you still.

My Dear, how dost thou do, my Dear? I am come.

Ah Sir! what is't y'ave done? Y'ave ruin'd me, your Fa­mily, your Fortune, all is ruin'd, where shall we go, or whither shall we flye?

Where shall we go, why we'll go to bed you little Jack­adandy, why you are not a Wench you Rogue, you are a Bo [...], a very Boy, and I love you the bet [...]er for't, Sirrah hei!—

Ah Sir, see there.

Bless us, a man! and bloody! what upon my Hall Table!

Two Ruffians brought him in just now pronouncing the inhumane deed, was done by your command, Sir Iolly came in the distracting Minu [...]e, or sure I had dy'd with my distracting Fears, how could you think on a revenge so horrid?

As I hope to be sav'd Neighbour I only bargain'd with 'em [...]o Bastinado him in a way, or so, as one Friend might do another, but do you say that he is dead?

Dead, dead as Clay; stark stiff and useless all, nothing a­bout him stirring, but all's cold and still, I knew him a lusty Fellow once, a very metteled Fellow, 'tis a thousand pitties.

What shall I do? I'll throw my self upon him, kiss his wide wounds and weep till blind as Buzzard.

Oh come not near him, there's such horrid Antipathy follows all murders, his wounds would stream afresh shou'd you but touch him.

Dear Neighbour, Dearest Neighbour, Friend, Sir Iolly as you love Charity pity my wretched Case, and give me Counsell, [Page 53] I'l give my Wife and all my Estate to have him live again, or shall I bury him in the Arbour at the upper end of the Garden.

Alas a day Neighbour, never think on't, never think on't, the dogs will find him there, as they scrape holes to bury bones in, there is but one way that I know of.

What is it dear Neighbour, what is it? you see I am up­on my knees to you, take all I have and ease me of my fears.

Truly the best thing that I can think of, is putting of him to bed, putting him into a warm bed, and try to fetch him to life again, a warm bed is the best thing in the World, my Lady may do much too, she's a good Woman, and as Iv'e been told, understands a green wound well.

My dear, my dear, my dear!

Bear me away, oh send me hence far off, where my un­happy name may be a stranger; and this sad accident no more re­member'd to my dishonour.

Ah but my Love! my Joy! are there no bowels in thee.

What would you have me do?

Prithee do so much as try thy skill, there may be one drachm of life left in him yet, take him up to thy Chamber, put him into thy own bed, and try what thou canst do with him; prithee do, if thou canst but find motion in him, all may be well yet, I'l go up to my Closet in the Garret, and say my prayers in the mean while.

Will ye then leave this ruine on my hands.

Pray, pray my Dear, I beseech you Neighbour help to perswade her if it be possible.

Faith Madam do, try what you can do, I have a great fansie you may do him good: who can tell but you may have the gift of stroaking; pray Madam be perswaded.

I'l do what e'r's your pleasure.

That's my best Dea [...]: I'l go to my Closet and pray for thee heartily, Alas, alas, that ever this should happen—

So, is he gone, Madam my Angel!

What no thanks, no reward for old Iolly now? Come hither Hussie, you little Canary -bird, you little Hop o' my thumb come hither: make me a Court'sie, and give me a kiss now, hah! give me a kiss I say, odd I will have a kiss, so I will, I will have a kiss if I set on't; shoogh, shoogh, shoogh, get you into a corner when I bid you, shoogh, shoogh, shoogh, what there already?

Well, I ha' done, I ha' done, this 'tis to be an old Fellow now.

And will you save the life of him y'ave wounded?

Dare you trust your self to my skill for a cure?

Hist! hist! close, close, I say again, yonder's Sir Davy, odds so!

My dear, my dear! my dear!—

Whose that calls? my Love, is't you.

Ah some comfort, or my heart's broke▪ is there any hopes yet? I've try'd to say my Prayers and cannot: if he be quite dead▪ I shall never pray again; Neighbour, no hopes?

Truly little or none, some small pulse I think there is left, very little, there's nothing to be done if you don't pray, get you to prayers, what ever you do, get you gone, nay don't stay now, shut the Window I tell you.

Well this is a great trouble to me, but good night.

Good night to you dear Neighbour. Get ye up

get ye up and be gone into the next room, presently, make haste: but don't steal away till I come to you, be sure ye remember, don't ye stir till I come; Pish, none of this bowing and fooling, it but loses time, I'l only bolt the door that belongs to Sir Davy's Lodgings, that he may be safe, and he with you in a twinkle, Ah, h, h, h! so now for the door, very well, Friend you are fast.

HEigho! heigho! ha! where am I? was I drunk or no last night? something leaning that way. But where the De­vil am I? sincerely in a Bawdy-House: Fogh! what a smell of sin is here! let me look about; if there be ever a G [...]neva Bible or a Pra­ctice of Piety in the room. I am sure I have guest right, what's the matter now! ty'd fast! bound too! what tricks have I play'd to come into this condition! I have lighted into the Territories of some merrily dispos'd Chamber maid or other, and she in a witty sit for­sooth hath trust me up thus, has she pinn'd no rags to my tail, or chalkt me upon the back trow? would I had her Mistress here at a venture:

What would you do with her my enchanted Knight if you had her, you are too sober for her by this time, next time you get drunk you may perhaps venture to scale her Balcany like a valiant Captain as you are.

Hast thou done this my dear destruction [...] and am I in thy limbo? I must confess when I am in my Beer, my Courage does [...] away with me now and then: but let me loose and thou shalt see what a gentle humble Animal thou hast made me. Fie upon't, what tie me up like an ungovernable curr to the frame of a table, let, let thy poor dog loose that he may fawn and make much of thee a lit­tle.

What with those Paws which you have been ferreting Moor­fields withal, and are very dirty still? after you have been daggling your self abroad for prey, and can meet with none, you come sneak­ing hither for a crust, do you?

Shall I fetch the Whip and the Bell, Madam? and flash him for his roguery soundly?

Indeed, indeed! do you long to be forking of man's flesh, Madam Flea-trap? does the Chaplain of the Family use you to the exercise, that you are so ready for it?

If you should be let loose and taken into favour now; you would be for rambling again so soon as you had got your liberty?

Do but try me, and if ever I prove recreant more, let me be beaten and us'd like a dog in good earnest.

Promise to grant me but one request, and it shall be done

Hear me but Swear.

That any body may do ten thousand times a day.

Upon the word of a Gentleman, nay as I hope to get Mony in my Pocket.

There I believe him l [...]lye, you'l keep your Word you say.

If I don't, hang me up in that Wenches old Garters.

See Sir, you have your freedom.

Well now name the price; what must I pay for't?

You know Sir, considering our small acquaintance, you have been pleased to talk to me very freely of love matters.

I must confess, I have been something to blame that way, but if ever thou hearest more of it from my mouth after this nights adventure, would I were well out of the House!

Have a care of swearing, I beseech you, for you must un­derstand, that spight of my teeth, I am at last fallen in love most un­mercifully.

And dost thou imagine I am so hard-hearted a Villain as to have no compassion of thee.

No, for I hope he's a man you can have no exceptions a­gainst.

Yes, yes, the man is a man, I'l assure you, that's one com­fort

Who do you think it may be now? try if you can guess him.

Whoever he is, he's an honest fellow I'l warrant him, and I believe will not think himself very unhappy neither.

If a Fortune of 5000 pounds, pleasant nights, and quiet days can make him happy, I assure you he may be so, but try once to guess at him.

But if I should be mistaken.

Why who is it you would wish me to?

You have 5000 pound you say?

Yes.

Faith Child to deal honestly I know well enough who tis I wish for, but Sweet-heart, before I tell you my inclinations, it were but reasonable that I knew yours.

Well Sir, because I am confident you will stand my friend in the business, I'l make a discovery, and to hold you in suspence no longer, you must know I have a months-mind to an Arm full of your dearly beloved friend and brother Captain, what say you to't?

Madam your humble Servant, good buy, that's all.

What thus cruelly leave a Lady that so kindly took you in in your last nights pickle into her Lodging, whither would you rove now, my Wanderer?

Faith Madam, you have dealt so gallantly in trusting me with your passion, that I cannot stay here without telling you, that I am three times as much in love with an acquaintance of yours, as you can be with any friend of mine.

Not with my waiting Woman I hope, Sir.

No, but it is with a certain Kinswoman of thine Child, they call her my Lady Dunce, and I think this is her House too, they say she will be civil upon a good occasion, therefore prithee be charita­ble, and shew me the way to her Chamber a little.

What commit Adultery Captain, fie upon't! What hazard your soul!

No, no, only venture my body a little, that's all; look you, you know the secret, and may imagine my desires, therefore as you would have me assist your inclinations, pray be civil and help me to mine, look you, no demurring upon the matter, no qualms, but shew me the way, or you Hussie, you shall do't, any [...]awd will serve at present, for I will go.

But you shan't go, Sir.

Shan't go, Lady?

No, shan't go, Sir▪ did I not tell you when once you had got your liberty, that you would be rambling again.

Why Child, would'st thou be so uncharitable to tie up a poor Jade to an empty Rack in thy Stable, when he knows where to go elsewhere and get Provender enough.

Any musty Provender, I find, will serve your turn, so you have it but cheap, or at another mans charges.

No Child, I had rather my Ox should graze in a Field of my own, than live hide-bound upon the Common, or run the haz­zard of being Pounded every day for [...]respasse [...].

Truly all things consider'd, 'tis great pity so good a Hus­band man as you should want a Farm to cultivate.

Would'st thou be but kind, and let me have a [...]argain in a Tenement of thine, to try how it would agree with me.

And would you be contented to take a Lease for your Life.

So pretty a Lady of the Mannour and a moderate Rent.

Which you'l be sure to pay very punctually.

If thou doubtest my honesty, faith e'en take a little earnest before hand.

Not so hasty neither, good Tenant; Imprimis, You shall oblige your self to a constant residence, and not by leaving the House uninhabited, let it run to repairs.

Agreed.

Item, For your own sake you shall promise to keep the Estate wel [...] [...], and enclos'd least sometime or other your Neighbours Cattle break in and spoil the crop on the Ground Friend.

Very just and reasonable, provided I don't find it lie too much to Common already.

Item, You shall enter into strict Covenant, not to take any other Farm upon your hands, without my consent and approbati­on, or if you do, that then it shall be lawful for me to get me ano­ther Tenant, how and where I think sit.

Faith that's something hard though, let me tell you but that Landlady.

Upon these terms we'l draw Articles.

And when shall we Sign 'em.

Why this morning as soon as the ten a Clock Office in Co­vent-garden is open.

A bargain, but how will you answer your entertainment of a drunken Red-coat in your Lodgings at these unseasonable hours.

That's a secret you will be hereafter obliged to keep for your own sake, and for the Family, your Friend Beaugard shall an­swer for us there.

Indeed I fancy'd the Rogue had mischief in his head, he behav'd himself so soberly last night, has he taken a Farm lately too.

A trespasser, I believe, if the truth were known upon the Provender you would fain have been biting at just now.

Madam, Madam, have a care of your self; I see Lights in the great Hall, whatever is the matter, Sir Davy and all the Family are up.

I hope they'l come and catch me here: Well, now you have brought me into this condition, what will you do with me, hah!

You won't be contented for a while to be ty'd up like a [...]ade to an empty Rack without Hay, will you?

Faith e'en take me, and put my mark upon me quickly, that if I light into strange hands they may know me for a Sheep of thine.

What by your wanting a Fleece do you mean? If it must be so come follow your Sheperdess B a a a.

I cannot sleep, I shall never sleep again, I have pray'd too so long, that were I to be hang'd presently, I have never a prayer left to help my self, I was no sooner lay'n down upon the Bed just now, and faln into a slumber, but methought the Devil was carrying me down Ludgate-hill a Gallop, six puny Fiends with flaming Fire-forks running before him like Link boys, to throw me headlong into Fleet­ [...]ch, which seemed to be turned into a lake of Fire and Brimstone; would it were Morning.

Truly, Sir, it has been a very dismal night.

But did'st thou meet never a white thing upon the stairs.

No, Sir, not I, but methoughts I saw our great Dog Touzer, with his brass Collar on, stand at the Cellar-door as I came along the old Entry.

It cou'd never be, Touzer has a Chain, had this thing a Chain on?

No Sir, no Chain but it had Touzers eyes for all the World.

What ugly great frightful eyes?

Ay, Ay, huge sauser eyes, but mightily like Touzers.

Oh Lord! oh Lord! heark! heark!

What! what I beseech you Sir!

What's that upon the stairs? didst thou hear nothing? hist, heark, pat, pat, pat, heark, heih!

Hear nothing! where Sir.

Look! look! what's that! what's that! in the corner there?

Where?

There.

What upon the Iron [...]h [...]st?

No, the long black thing up by the old Clock-case, see! see! now it stirs, and is coming this way.

Alas, Sir, speak to it, you are a Justice 'o peace, I beseech you, I dare not stay in the House: I'l call the Watch and tell' em Hell's broke loose, what shall I do? oh!

Oh Vermin, if thou art a true Servant have pity on thy Ma­ster, and do not forsake me in this distressed condition, Satan [...]e gone, I defie thee, I'l repent and be sav'd, I'l say my prayers, I'l go to Church; help! help! help! was there any thing, or no, in what hole shall I hide my self.

That shou'd be Sir Davy's voice, the waiting Woman in­deed told me he was afraid and could not sleep, pretty Fellows, pretty Fellows both y'ave done your business handsomly, what I'l warrant you have been a Whoring together now hah! You do well, you do dwell, I like you the better for't, what's a Clock?

Near four, Sir, 'twill not be day yet these two hours.

Very well, but how got ye into the House?

A ragged retainer of the Family, Vermin I think they call him, let us in as Physitians sent for by your Order.

Excellent Rogues! and then I hope all things are ready as I gave Directions.

To a tittle, Sir, there shall not be a more critical Obser­ver of your Worships pleasure than your humble Servant the Che­valier Fourbin.

Get you gone you Rogue, You have a sharp Nose, and are a nimble Fellow; I have no more to say to you, stand aside▪ and be ready when I call, here he comes, hist, hem, hem, hem.

Hah! what art thou? approach thou like the rugged Bank-side Bear, the Eastcheap-bull, or Monster shewn in Fair, take any shape but that, and I'l confront thee.

Alas unhappy Man! I am thy Friend.

Thou caust not be my Friend for I defy thee, Sir Iolly! Neighbour! hah! is it you? are you sure it is you, are you? Your self? if you be give me your hand, Alas a day I ha' seen the Devil.

The Devil Neighbour!

Ay, Ay, there's no help for't, at first I fancy'd it was a young white Bears Cub danceing in the shadow of my Candle, then [...] was turn'd to a pair of blew Breaches with wooden leggs on, stampt about the room as if all the Cripples in Town had kept their Rendezvouze there, when all of a sudden it appeard like a leathern Serpent, and with a dreadful clap of Thunder flew out of the Win­dow.

Thunder! Why I heard no Thunder.

That may be too, what were you asleep?

A sleep quotha, no, no, no sleeping this Night for me I as­sure you.

Well what's the best news then? How does the Man?

E'en as he did before he was born, nothing at all, he's Dead.

Dead! what quite dead!

As good as dead, if not quite dead, 'twas a horrid Mur­der, and then the terrour of Conscience, Neighbour.

And truly I have a very terrifi'd one, Friend, though I never found I had any Conscience at all till now, pray where about was his death's wound?

Just here, just under his left Pap, a dreadful gash.

So very wide!

Oh, as wide as my Hat, you might have seen his Lungs, Liver and Heart, as perfectly, as if you had been in his Belly.

Is there no way to have him privately Buried and con­ceal this Murder, must I needs be hang'd by the neck like a Dog, Neighbour; do I look as if I would be hang'd?

Truly, Sir Davy, I must deal faithfully with you, you do look a little suspitiously at present; but have you seen the Devil, say you?

Ay surely, it was the Devil, nothing else could have frighted me so.

Bless us and guard us all the Angels, what's that?

Potestati sempiternaec ujus benevo­lentiâ servantur gentes, & cujus m [...]sericordia.

Neighbour, where are you, Friend, Sir Davy.

Ah, what ever you do, be sure to stand close to me, where, where is it?

Just, just there, in the shape of a Coach and six Horses a­gainst the wall.

Deliver us all, he won't carry me away in that Coach and six will he?

Do you see it?

See it! plain, plain, dear Friend advise me what I shall do? Sir Iolly, Sir Iolly, do you hear nothing? Sir Iolly, Hah! has he left me alone! Vermin.

Sir.

Am I alive? dost thou know me again? Am I thy Quon­dam Master, Sir Davy Dunce?

I hope I shall never forget you, Sir.

Didst thou see nothing?

Yes, Sir, methought the House was all o' fire as it were.

Did'st thou not see how the Devils grinn'd and gnasht their teeth at me Vermin?

Alas, Sir, I was afraid one of 'em would have bit off my Nose, as he vanisht out of the door.

Lead me away, I'l go to my Wise, I'l die by my own dear Wife; run away to the Temple and call Councellor my Lawyer, I'l make over my Estate presently, I shan't live till noon, I'l give all I have to my Wife, Hah Vermin!

Truly, Sir, she's a very good Lady.

Ah much, much too good for me Vermin, thou can'st not imagine what she has done for me Man, she would break her heart if I should give any thing away from her, she loves me so dearly: Yet if I do die, thou shalt have all my old Shoes.

I hope to see you live Many a fair day yet though.

Ah, my Wife, my poor Wife, lead me to my poor Wife.

What think you now of a cold wet March over the Mountains, Your men tir'd, your Baggage not come up, but at night a dirty watry Plain to Encamp upon, and nothing to shel­ter you, but an old Leager Cloak as tatter'd as your Colours? is not this much better now than lying wet and getting the Sciatica?

The hopes of this made all Fatigue easie to me, the thoughts of Clarinda have a thousand times [...] me in my soli­tude, when e're I Marcht, I fancy'd still it was to my Clarinda! when I fought, I imagin'd it was for my Clarinda! but when I came home, and found Clarinda lost!—how could you think of wasting but a night in the rank surfeiting arms of this foul feed­ing Monster? this rotten trunck of a Man▪ that lays claim to you.

The perswasion of Friends and the Authority of Pa­rents!

And had you no more Grace, than to be rul'd by a Father and Mother?

When you were gone, that should have given me better Counsel, how could I help my self?

Methinks then you might have found out some cleanlier shift to have thrown away your self upon, than nauseous old age and unwholsome deformity.

What upon some overgrown full fed Country Fool, with a Horse Face, a great ugly Head, and a great fine Estate, one that should have been drain'd and squeez'd, and jolted up and down the Town in [...] with Cheats and Hectors, and so sent home at three o' Clock every Morning like a lolling Booby stinking, with a belly full of s [...]mm'd Wine, and nothing in's Pockets.

You might have made a tractable Beast of such a one, he would have been young [...]nough for Training.

Is youth then so gentle if age be stubborn? Young men like Springs wrought by a subttle work man, easily ply to what their wishes press 'em, but the desire once gone that kept 'em down, they soon start streight again, and no signs left which way they bent be­fore.

So, so, who says I see any thing now? I see nothing not I, I don't see, I don't see, I don't look, not so much as look not I.

I will have my Wife, carry me to my Wife, let me go to my Wife, I'l live and die with my Wife, let the Devil do his worst; Ah, my Wife, my Wife, my Wife!—

Alas, alas, we are ruin'd, shift for your self, counter­feit the dead [...] more, or any thing.

Hah! what foe're thou art, thou canst not eat me, speak to me, who has done this? thou can'st not say I did it.

Did it, did what? here's no body says you did any thing that I know, Neighbour, what's the matter with you? what ailes you? whither do you go? whither do you [...]? I tell you here's no [...]ody says a word to you.

Did you not see the Ghost just now?

Ghost! prithee now here's no Ghost, whither▪ would you go? I tell you, you shall not stir one foot farther Man, the De­vil take me if you do; Ghost, prithee here's no Ghost at all, a lit­tle flesh and blood indeed there is, some old, some young, some a­live, some dead, and so forth, but Ghost! Pish, here's no Ghost.

But, Sir, If I say I did see a Ghost, I did see a Ghost, and you go to that, why sure I know a Ghost when I see one: Ah my Dear, if thou hadst but seen the Divel half so often as I have seen him.

Alas, Sir Davy, if you ever lov'd me, come not, oh come not near me▪ I have resolv'd to waste the short remainder of my Life in Penitence, and taste of Joys no more.

Alas my poor Child, but do you think then there was no Ghost indeed.

Ghost! Alas a day, what should a Ghost do here?

And is the man dead?

Dead, Ay, ay, stark dead, he's stiff by this time.

Here you may see the horrid ghastly Speetacle the sad effects of my too rigid Vertue, and your too [...]ierce resentment—

Do you see there?

Ay, ay, I do see, would I had never seen him, wou [...]ld he had lain with my Wife in every House between Charen-Cross and Ald-Gate, so this had never happen'd.

In Troth, and would he had, but we are all mortal Neigh­bour, all mortal, to day we are here, to morrow gone, like the shadow that vanisheth, like the Grass that withereth, or like the Flower that [...]adeth, or indeed like any thing, or rather like nothing: but we are all mortal.

Heigh!—

Down, down that trap door, it goes into a bathing-Room, for the rest, leave it to my Conduct.

'Tis very unfortunate that you should run your self into this premunire, Sir David.

Indeed, and so it is.

For a Gentleman, a man in Authority, a person in years, one that used to go to Church with his Neighbours.

Every Sundy, truly, Sir Iolly.

Pay Scot and Lot to the Parish.

Six pounds a year to the very Poor without abatement or deduction, 'tis very hard, if so good a common-Wealths-man should be brought to ride in a Cart at last, and be hang'd in a Sun-shiny morning, to make Butchers and suburd Apprentices a Holy­day; I'll e'en run away.

Run away! why then your estate will be forseited, you'l loose your Estate man.

Truly, you say right, Friend, and a Man had better be half hang'd then loose his Estate, you know.

Hang'd! no, no, I think there's no great fear of Hanging neither; what, the Fellow was but a sort of an unaccountable Fellow as I heard you say.

Ay, ay, a [...] on him, he was a Souldierly sort of a Va­gabond, he had little or nothing but his sins to live upon▪ If I could have had but Patience, he would have been hang'd within these two Months, and all this mischief sav'd.

Ah Lord! the Devil, the Devil, the Devil.

Why, Sir Davy, Sir Davy, what ailes you? What's the matter with you?

Let me alone, let me lie still, I will not look up to see an Angel, O h h h.

My Dear, why do you do these cruel things to affright me? Pray rise and speak to me.

I dare dot stir, I saw the Ghost again just now.

Ghost again! what Ghost? Where?

Why, there, there.

Here has been no Ghost.

Why did you see nothing then?

See nothing! no, nothing but one another.

Then I am enchanted, or my end near at hand, Neighbour, for Heavens sake Neighbour advise me what I shall do to be at rest.

Do! why what think you if the Body were removed?

Remov'd! I'd give a hundred pound the Body were out of my House; may be then the Divel wou'd not be so impudeut.

I have discover'd a door place in the Wall, betwixt my Ladies Chamber and one that belongs to me, if you think fit, we'll beat it down and remove this trouble some lump of Earth to my House.

But will ye be so kind!

If you think it may by any means be serviceable to you.

Truly if the Body were remov'd, and dispos'd of private­ly that no more might be heard of the matter—I hope he'll be as good as his word.

Fear nothing I'll warrant you, but in troth, I had ut­terly forgot one thing, utterly forgot it.

What's that's?

Why it will be absolutely necessary that my Lady staid with me at my House for one day till things were better set­telled.

Ah, Sir Iolly! whatever you think fit: any thing of mine that you have a mind to; pray take [...]er, pray take her, you shall be very welcome; hear you my dearest, there is but one way for us to get rid of this untoward business, and Sir Iolly has found it out, there­fore by all means go along with him, and be rul'd by him, and whatev [...]r Sir Iolly would have thee do, e'en do it, so heav'n prosper ye, good b'w'y, good b'w'y till I see you again.

This is certainly, the civillest Cuckold in City, Town or Country.

Is he gone?

Yes, and has left poor me here.

In troth, Madam, 'tis barbarously done of him, to commi a horrid murder on the Body of an innocent poor Fellow, and then leave you to stem the danger of it.

Odd an I were as thee Sweetheart I'd be reveng'd on him for it, so I would: Go get ye together, steal out of the house as softly as you can, I'll meet ye in the Piazza presently, go, be sure ye steal out of the House, and don't let Sir Davy see you.

Bloody-bones.

I am here, Sir.

Go you and Fourbine to my House presently, bid Mon­sieur Fourbin remember that all things be ordered according to my directions, tell my Maids too I am coming home in a trice, bid 'em get the great Chamber, and the Banquet I spoke for ready presently, and d'ye hear carry the minstrells with ye too, for I'm resolv'd to rejoyce this morning, let me see—Sir Davy.

Ay Neighbour, 'tis I; is the business done? I cannot be satisfi'd till I am sure, have you remov'd the body, is it gone?

Yes, yes, my Servants convey'd it out of the House just now; well Sir Davy, a good morning to you: I wish you your health with all my Heart Sir Davy, the first thing you do though, I'd have you say your prayers by all means if you can.

If I can possibly, I will.

Well God b'w'y.

God b'w'y heartily good Neighbour—Vermine, Vermine.

Did your Honour call?

Go, run, run, presently over the square, and call the Constable presently, tell him here's murder committed, and that I must speak with him instantly—I'l e'en carry him to my Neighbours, that he may find the dead body there, and so let my Neighbour be very fairly hang'd in my stead, hah! a very good jest as I hope to live, ha, ha, ha▪ hey, what's that?

Almost 4 a Clock and a dark cloudy morning, good morrow my Masters all, good morrow.

How's this! a door open, come in Gentlemen,—ah, Sir Davy, your honours humble servant! I and my Watch going my morning Rounds, and finding your door open made bold to enter to see there were no danger, your Worship will excuse our care, a good morning to you, Sir.

Oh Mr. Constable, I'm glad you're here, I sent my man just now to call you, I have sad news to tell you, Mr. Constable.

I am sorry for that, Sir, sad news!

Oh ay, sad news, very sad news truly: here has been mur­der committed.

Murder; if that's all we are your humble servants, Sir, we'll bid you good morrow, murders nothing at this time o' night in Co­vent-Garden.

Oh but this is a horrid bloody murder, done under my Nose, I cannot bu [...] take notice of it; though I am sorry to tell you the Authors of it, very sorry truly.

Was it committed here near hand?

Oh at the very next door, a sad murder indeed; after they had done they carried the body privately into my Neighbour Iollies House here, I am sorry to tell it you Mr. Constable, for I am affraid it will look but scurvily on his side; though I am a Justice o'Peace Gentle­men, and am bound by my Oath to take notice of it, I can't help it.

I never lik'd that Sir Iolly.

He threatned me t'other day, for carrying a little dirty drag­gle-tail'd Whore to Bridewell, and said she was his Cousin, Sir if your Worship thinks sit, we'll go search his house.

Oh by all means, Gentlemen it must be so, Justice must have it's course, the Kings leige subjects must not be destroy'd, Ver­min, carry Mr. Constable and his Dragons into the Cellar, and make [...] drink, I'll but step into my study, put on my Face of Authority, and call upon ye instantly.

We thank your honour.

So, are ye come? I am glad on't, odd y'are welcome, ve­ry welcome, odd ye are, here's a small Banquet, but I hope 'twill please you, sit ye down, sit ye down, both together, nay, both to­gether: A Pox o'him that parts ye, I say.

Sir Iolly, this might be an entertainment for Anthony and Cleopatra, were they living.

Pish! A Pox of Anthony and Cleopatra, they are dead and rotten long ago, come, come, time's but short, time's but short, and must be made the best use of; for

Why now we can be bold, and make merry, and frisk, and be brisk, rejoice and make a noise, and—odd, I am pleas'd, mightily pleas'd, odd I am.

Really, Sir Iolly, you are more a Philosopher then I thought you were.

Philosopher, Madam! Yes, Madam, I have read Books in my times; odd Aristotle, in some things, had very pretty notions, he was an understanding Fellow. Why don't ye eat odd an' ye don't eat,—here Child, here's some Ringoes, help, help your Neigh­bour a little, odd they are very good, very comfortable, very cordial.

Sir Iolly, your Health.

With all my heart, old Boy.

Dear Sir Iolly what are these? I never tasted of these be­fore.

That! eat it, eat it, eat it when I bid you; odd 'tis the root Satyrion, a very pretious plant, I gather 'em every May my self, odd they'l make an old Fellow of sixty-five cut a Caper like a Dancing Master; give me some Wine: Madam, here's a health, here's a health Madam, here's a health to honest Sir Davy, faith and troth, ha, ha, ha.

Sir, Sir, Sir! What will you do? yonder's the Constable and all his Watch at the Door, and threatens demollishment, if not admitted presently.

Odds so! odds so! the Constable and his Watch! what's to be done now? get ye both into the Alcove there, get ye gone quickly, quickly, no noise, no noise, d'ye hear the Constable and his Watch! A Pox on the Constable and his Watch, what the Devil have the Constable and his Watch to do here?

This way, this way, Gentlemen, stay one of ye at the door, and let no body pass, do you hear? Sir Iolly, your servant.

What this outrage, this disturbance committed upon my House and Family; Sir, Sir, Sir▪ What do you mean by these do­ings sweet Sir? h [...]h!—

Sir having received information that the body of a mur­der'd Man is conceal'd in your House, I am come, according to my duty, to make search and discover the truth,—stand to my assist­ance, Gentlem [...]n.

A murder'd man, Sir▪

Yes a murder'd Man Sir, Sir Iolly, Sir Iolly, I am sorry to see a person of your Character and Figure in the Parish concern'd in Murder I say.

Here's a Dog! here's a Rogue for you, here's a Villain, here's a Cockoldly Son of his Mother, I never knew a Cuckold in my life, that was not a false Rogue in his heart, there are no honest Fellows living but Whore-masters; heark you, Sir, what a Pox do you mean▪ you had best play the fool and spoil all, you had, what's all this for▪

When your Worship's come to be hang'd you'l find the meaning on't, Sir▪ I say once more, search the House.

It shall be done, Sir, come-a-long Friends.

Search my House, oh Lord, search my House, what will become of me? I shall lose my reputation with Man and Woman, and no body will ever trust me again: Oh Lord, search my House, all will be discover'd do what I can; I'l sing a Song like a dying Swan, and try to give 'em warning.

Oh Lord, search my House!

Break down that door, I'l have that Door broke open, break down that door, I say.

Very well done, break down my doors! break down my walls, Gentlemen! plunder my House! ravish my Maids! Ah curst be Cuckolds, Cuckolds, Constables and Cockolds.

Stand off, by heav'n the first that comes here comes upon his death.

Sir, your humble servant, I am glad to see you are alive again with all my heart; Gentlemen, here's no harm done Gentle­men, here's no body murder'd Gentlemen, the Man's alive again Gentlemen, but here's my Wife Gentlemen, and a fine Gentleman with her, Gentlemen and Mr. Constable, I hope you'l bear me wit­ness Mr. Constable.

That he's a Cuckold, Mr. Constable.

Heark ye, ye Currs, keep off from snapping at my heels, or I shall so feague ye.

Get ye gone ye Dogs, ye Rogues, ye night Toads of the Parish Dungeon, disturb my House at these unseasonable hours, get ye out of my doors, get ye gone, or I'l brain ye, Dogs, Rogues, Villains.

And next, for you Sir Coxcomb, you see I am not mur­der'd though you paid well for the performance; what think you of bribing my own Man to Butcher me.

Look ye Sir, he can cut a Throat upon occasion, and here's another dresses a man's heart with Oyl and Pepper, better than any Cook in Christendome.

Will your Worship please to have one for your Breakfast this morning?

with all my heart, Sweet-heart, any thing in the World faith and troth, ha, ha, ha, this is the purest sport, ha ha ha.

Oh, Sir, the most unhappy and most unfortunate news! [Page 70] There has been a Gentleman in Madam Sylvia's Chamber all this night, who just as you went out of doors, carry'd her away, and whither they are gone, no body knows.

With all my heart, I am glad on't Child, I would not care if he had carry'd away my House and all, Man; unhappy news quotha! poor Fool, he does not know I am a Cuckold, and that any body may make bold with what belongs to me, ha, ha, ha; I am so pleas'd, ha, ha, ha. I think I was never so pleas'd in all my life be­fore, ha, ha, ha.

Nay, Sir, I have a hanck upon you, there are Laws for Cut-throats, Sir, and as you tender your future credit, take this wrong'd Lady home, and use her handsomly, use her like my Mistress, Sir, do you mark me, that when we think fit to meet again, I hear no complaint of you, this must be done Friend.

In troth, and it is but reasonable, very reasonable in troth.

Can you, my Dear, forgive me one misfortune.

Madam, in one word, I am thy Lady-ships most humble Servant and Cuckold, Sir Davy Dunce Kt. Living in Covent-Garden, ha, ha, ha, well this is mighty pretty, ha, ha, ha.

Sir Iolly, ah, Sir Iolly, protect me or I'm ruin'd.

My little Minikin, is it thy squeek?

My dear Courtine, welcome.

Well Child, and what would that wicked Fellow do to thee Child? hah Child, Child, what would he do to thee?

Oh, Sir, he has most inhumanely seduc'd me out of my Un­cle's House, and threatens to marry me.

Nay, Sir, and she having no more Grace before her eyes neither, has e'en taken me at my word.

In troth, and that's very uncivilly done▪ I don't like these Marriages, I'll have no Marriages in my House, and there's an end on't.

And do you intend to marry my Niece, Friend?

Yes, Sir, and never ask your consent neither.

In troth, and that's very well said, I am glad on't with all my heart, Man, because she has five thousand pound to her Por­tion, and my Estate's bound to pay it; well, this is the happiest day, ha, ha, ha.

Courtine, I wish thee Joy, thou art come opportunely to be a Witness of a perfect Reconcilement between me and that wor­thy Knight, Sir Davy Dunce, which to preserve inviolate, you must, Sir, before we part enter into such Covenants for performance as I shall think sit.

No more to be said, it shall be done Sweet-heart, but don't be too hard upon me, use me Gently as thou did'st my Wife, Gently, ha, ha, ha; a very good Jeast, I 'faith, ha, ha, ha, or if he should be cruel to me, Gentlemen, and take this advantage over a poor Cornuto, to lay me in a Prison, or throw me in a Dungeon, at least