Actus secundus, Scena prima.

If I were a Woman, now could I fall in love with my self: every body tells me I am the properest Gentleman in the Town, and I put it up, for the truth is, I dare not give any one the lie, a pox a fighting, I can look as big as another, but shall I be such an Ass, to venture my self with beasts? for they say, your Swords most commonly are Foxes, and have notable mettal in 'em; let me see, I am now at Rufaldo's my Father-in-law that must be, here he is.

Master Rufaldo, if you had been my own Father, as you are but like to be my Father-in-law, I should have prov'd my self a fool, by this hand I should not have known you, why, how brisk and neat, and youthful he is!

I am something altered I confess, since I saw you.

By this flesh that shines, a man would not take you to be above five or six and thirty at most, how came this?

Just as Gasparo told me, 'tis apparent, nay, nay, some, for­bear to be inqufitive, I confess I am abated of my age, the power of Love, and so forth, but I see your fire of love is not out too.

No, mine was but raked up in the embers.

Why, this Love does make us all ingenious too: come fit down, saving your tail sir, a Cushion, we may discourse with the more ease.

Pray, how does my Sweet-heart Mistress Hillaria.

She is very well, ha Son, I am in love too: Son I call you, I hope you will get my Daughters good-will, but you'r finde her peevish.

No matter, sir, for that, I would not have her easily, I would sweat for her, I'le warrant, make her love me.

Look you can you read, I made a ditty to send to my Mistress, and my Musician that I keep in my house, to teach my Daughter, hath set it to a very good aire, he tels me: you shall hear and judge of it, I hear him tuning his Instrument.

How do you relish it, ha?

I troth the Ditty is as pretty an aier as ere I saw, 'tis divi­ded into three Regions too, I warrant you, can make Ballads easily

Oh fie, they are barbarous and ignoble, that's beggarly.

But for all that, I have read good stuff sometimes, espe­cially in your fighting Ballads, When Cannons are roaring, and Bullets are flying, &c.

Fie, whipping post, tinkerly stuff; how did you like the aire?

As sweet an aire as a man would wish to live in, but 'tis somewhat backward.

Oh Musick, the life of the soul.

I should have learn'd Musick once too, but my Master had so many Crotchets, I could ne'r away with it: but where is your Daughter, fir? there is no Musick without her, she is the best In­strument to play upon.

And you shall have her between your legs presently.

I had as liefe be betwixt hers, for all that.

Hilaria, where is this Girl? I'le fetch her to you, and leave her with you, for I have a Love of mine own, to whom I mean in person to present this Ditty, I'le fetch her.

Still Antonio with you? you are a foolish Girl: do I take care to provide a Husband for you? and will you cast away your self upon a Prodigal? but that I would not discontent his sister, whom I hope to make my Wife, I would forbid him my house; therefore be wise, and take heed of him, he's giddy-headed, and [Page 12]loose-bodied. The Bee may buzze, but he will leave a sting: plant your love there: upon my blessing, he has many Lordships.

Pray heaven he have good manners.

I have set open the gate of opportunity; Cupid speed us both.

Let me alone to enter my man, now the point is open hum, stay, there's a man in her Tables more than I looked for: 's foot, he kisses her, Ile call Rufaldo back, he's out of sight, it were but a cowardly trick, for men to run away.

Be Buzzard now, the sting of conscience eat up his gut, fry his suet, and leave him at his death not able to weigh down a pound of Candle.

He talks of suet, I do melt already.

Look, do you see that man of cloths? upon my Fathers blessing he must be my Husband. What will you do?

Fight with him, his cloths are too big for him, Ile beat him till he swell to 'em.

No, as you love me, do not strike him.

I will set a good face whatsoever come. Hilaria, how does my Love, come kiss: why so: this comes of valor, we fall to, and he falls off, he's some coward, I hope, and how dost Hilaria? 'tis an age since I saw thee: what Springals is that? ha.

One that desires to be of your acquaintance, fir.

My acquaintance, who is he? none but Knights, and Knights fellows, are of my acquaintance, I scorn Gentlemen,

But for my sake pray be acquainted with him.

Thou shalt do much with me: sir, I am content for her sake whom I love, to be acquainted with you, wo't borrow any money? for so do all that begin their acquaintance with me, 'tis the fashion, he is a coward, is he not? here: nay, and you scorn my money, I scorn your acquaintance.

Pray for my sake.

Why, he will borrow no mo­ney of me, I had never such a trick put upon me, since I knew what acquaintance was: I'm sure there have been forty acquain­ted with me, since I came to Town, and not one had so little breeding, to let me ask 'em the question, we could no sooner shake hands, but the other was in my pocket: It may be 'tis his mode­sty. Sir, this is my Love Hilaria, and if you will not borrow mo­ney of me, by this hand, there lies my sword, he is a coward.

It appears.

Hilaria is my Mistress, and if any man dare be so ventu­rous, as to blast her Reputation with a foul breath, he shall breathe his last.

'Tis very sure, he shall not be immortal.

Or if you shall offer in my presence to desile her lip, or touch her hand, or kiss but the nether part of her vesture, you had better kiss her in another place; nay do but blow on her.

You forget your self, this is my friend.

Or wink at her, or speak to her, or make signs, or think on her to my face, and you had better keep your thoughts to your self: now to conclude, and if you be agriev'd, my name is Bubul­cus, and you lie.

And you lie there a'th ground: why should not I knock his brains out with his own hilts, or stake him to the ground, like a man that had hang'd himself? Sirra clothes, Rat of Nilus fiction, Monster, golden Calf, oh, I would kick thee till thou hast no more brains, than thy cousin Woodcock: I will not dishonor my self to kill thee, half a dozen kicks will be as good as a house of correction, out you Monkey.

Oh, that I could run thee thorow body and soul, I will challenge thee, a pox on your toes, would I had the paring of your nails, were you dumb so long for this?

Hence.

Who lookt for you? when will you be here agen? look for a challenge, the time may come, when I will beat thee.

Has thy father left a multitude of men, to make choice of this piece of folly to be thy husband? oh, the blindness of a cove­tous wretched father, that is led only by the ears, and in love with sounds! Nature had done well to have thrust him into the world without an eye, that like a Mole is so affected to base earth, and there means to dig for Paradise: but come, Hilaria.

I did not think, Rufaldo, pardon me, you could have so prevail'd, but if she can plant her affection on ye, Ile not be back­ward to call you Son.

He does appear with all the Charms of Love upon his eve, and not rough drawn, but polisht, he assumes a power 'bove all resistance.

An old mans Darling, is a petty Queen above all her de­sires.

Nay, she shall want nothing my wealth can purchase. O my sweet Selina.

Rufaldo, with your patience, I would have a word or two in private, you need not prejudicate me.

With all my heart.

Selina, thou knowest I am thy father.

My duty, sir, shall speak it.

And you know whom you have rejected.

Young Infortunio.

And you know what man he is, with whom you mean to tye that knot, nothing but Death is able to undo.

Rufaldo, sir, an old man.

Oh Selina, Felice thy poor sister thou recall'st to sad re­membrance, but heaven alas knows onely where she is.

Sir, I have often heard you talk of her, but never knew that sister well.

Thou with thy Uncles tenderness wast kept alwayes ith Countrey, not until her loss at home with me, her fate taught me to give a liberty to thee; her I restrained poor Wench in love with Gasparo, till betwixt obedience to a father, and the love to him, she left us both, father and friend: Now to avoid the like affliction, I vowed thy freedom, and thou seest I do not encoun­ter thy affection with the bonds a father might enforce upon his childe.

I humbly thank you.

But yet Selina, take heed, be not too rash, I have observ'd you want no common judgement, O do not precipitate thy self into a sorrow, shall waste thee with repentance, let me tell you, there is a method, when your passion's young to keep it in obedi­ence: you love Rufaldo, Art thou not young? How will the Rose agree with a dead Hyacinth? or the Honey Wood-binde, circling a withered Bryer? You can apply, can you submit your body to bed with Ice and Snow, your blood to mingle? Would you be deaf'd with Coughing, teach your eye how to be rheumatick? Breathes he not out his Body in diseases, and like dust falling all into pieces, as if Nature would make him his old grave: I say too much. O what are all the riches of the world to an oppressed minde? which then must be fed with despair of change, or will Gold buy off th'imprifonment? Nay, will it not compose the chains, that binde you to endure it? Well, I have said enough, keep still your freedom,

Dear father, low as earth I tender you the duty of a Daughter, I have heard you not with a careless ear, that liberty you have bestow'd on me, for which I ow all that I am, doth make me confident you will not be offended, if I tell you my love is ver­tuous, were it otherwise, I shoud elect as you premonish youth, and prodigal bloud: And Father, I think here I shew my felf your Daughter, nor am I without good president too: how many fine Young noble Ladies, in this Faiery Ile have matcht with reve­rend age? and live as they were born from Natures purity, free from stain of sensual imputation, by their Loves, deriving heaven­ly honors to themselves 'bove merit of equality.

No more, heavens blessing and mine light on thee, sha't have Rufaldo.

I would not leave Rufaldo for a world of rash untemperate youth, believe it sir.

Rufaldo, heard you that? she says she would no leave you for a world of other men.

Nor I for a thousand worlds forsake my Love. Come seal it with a kiss, another, another, ano­ther.

As close as Cockles.

Oh, that we were mar­ried! 'tis death to stay the Ceremonies, would we were a bed to­gether.

'Twere time I see we were at conference, to con­firm all things for the Marriage, you being agreed, I think we shall not differ in other circumstance, and 'twere sin to let that keep your joys asunder by delay: Please you we'l have some treaties.

Most willingly, O my Bird, my Chick, my Dove, my America, my new-found world, I shall shortly run back into one and twenty again.

With what agility he moves himself, as he were made of air? let weakness tax our inequality, I have a minde can easily contemn what the worlds malice out of its own first guiltiness can throw upon our loves, 't shall be enough for me thus to con­vince the world of so much baseness, lodg'd in luxrions thoughts, by my chaste thoughts. Rufaldo, thou art mine, all time me thinks is slow, till we be actually possest of mutual enjoying. Stay, who's this?

The Welshman that delivers his affection at second hand to me.

Look you Pages, where our Sweet-hearts and Pigs-nies be, and her could tell what to say to her now, know her heart ve­ry well, but pogs upon her, cannot aule her knowledge speak Rhetoricks, and Oratories, and fine words to her? look you kanow better to fight, and cut doublets with her Welsh glaves, mark you.

Sir, will you loose this opportunity, youl curse your self in Welsh, two or three days together for't.

Sentilwoman, if her knaw not her name, was Jenken, born in Wales, came of pig houses, and prittish blouds, was have great hils and mountains aule her own, when was get 'em again, any way her cousins, and our Country man was never conquered, but always have the victories pravely, have her Arms and Scush­rins, to know that say you, was give in her crests great deal of of Monsters, and Dragons, kill 'em with their hooks very valiant­ly, as any Sentelman in the whole world: pray you now was please you place her affections and good-wils upon her, in ways of make-money, mark you teal plainly, Jenkin was love her very honestly, else pox upon her, and her will fight in her cause, and quarrels, long as have any plood in her bellies and backs too, mark you.

Sir, I am bound to you for the affection you cast on me, 'tis far above my merit.

Merits say you? aw te merits are awl banished our Countrys and Nations, you know dat: pray you was her love Jenkin?

Love you, sir? I know not how to be so inhumane, not to love you, your parts deserve a no­bler object, I am not worthy so much opinion of your love, but wherein I may do you service sir, you shall command Selina.

Shall her, was make her means and satisfactions warrant her, or say Senkin was Sentleman of Wales, say you now Pages, was have her Matrimonies and Wedlocks very fast, look you, and when was get her awse her cousins, was make joys and gratulati­on for her good fortunes upon her walsh Harpes, know you dat very well Pages? her fear her shall be Knighted one days, and have great cumulations of urships, honors, and dignities too, a great while ago.

And great Castles ith' air.

Was give awl our lands, and craggy Tenements in Wales away to our cousin up John, and live her self here upon very good fashions, with our monies and mighty riches, when her can get 'em,

How now, whither so fast, man? thou maist get to hell by night, and thou goest but an Aldermans pace.

By Cats-ploud, her will go to the Devil and her list, what is that to her?

Cry you mercy, your name is Mr. Jenkin.

And what have her to say to Mr. Jenkin? Jenkin is as good names as her own, pray you was good Sentleman as her [Page 17]self, know very well, say you now?

Godboy, sir.

Boyes, does her call her boys? hark you her? her name is Jenkin, her be no boys, no shildren.

I will not be used so.

Her shall be us'd worse, and her call Jenkin boys, was knock as tall a man as herself, an Welsh plood be up, look you.

Can she love Rufaldo? 'tis impossible.

Piple pables, 'tis very possible.

His body has more diseases then an Hospital, an hunger-starv'd Rascal.

Raskals? sheshu! was never such name and appellations put upon her, awl her days. Becar her will make you eat up awl her words and ignominies, or her plade shall make holes in your bellies diggon.

A very puff, a weak Cannibal.

Hey, puff, and Cannibals, if the Devil be in your mouths, her will pick your teeths with her welsh plade, and pay you for all your puffs, and Cannibals, warrant her.

But 'tis her fault, alone impudent Woman. Oh, may you like Narcissus perish by your face, the fall of others, or unpityed of heaven and earth, die loathsome! I could curse.

Her can curse, and swear too, look you now.

Pardon divinest sex, passions do force my reason from me, I do submit, crave pardon, as your creature.

Nay, and her crave pardons, and make submissions, Jen­kin was put up awl her angers and indignations, farewel.

Oh, Selina! thou art too much an Adamant to draw my soul unto thee, either be softer, or less attractive: but Rufaldo, 'tis depth of witcheraft, oh, I could be mad, beyond all partience mad, it is some malice hath laid this poyson on her.

Here's Infortunio. Alas, poor Gentleman, little does he think what black and white is here, a bitter handful of commen­dations to him, my young Mistriss is mad of the old Cocks-combe, and will marry him almost without asking, I cannot tell, but if she do not Cuckold him, and make him cry corns on his toes ere he die, he has fools fortune, for a wise man would be out of hope to avoid it, he spies me.

Whither running, Gorgon?

Not out of my wit, Sir, I have a Letter from my young Mistriss Selina, must in all haste have cleanly conveyance to old Rufaldo.

Let me but see the directions. To my beloved friend Master Rufaldo: 'tis a lie, she was mistaken, it was I should owe this appellation, Ile not believe the superscription, 'tis a painted face, I'de see the heart on't.

I hope, sir, you will not throw open the sheet, and dis­cover my Mistriss secrets? How he stares!

If you love me, and wish me constant, be your own friend, and let our marriage day begin with the next morning: thine, mine. Oh Selina, she's mad. All womankind is mad; and I am mad: whom shall I rend in pieces for my wrongs, and as with Atoms fill this poysoned air, Rufaldo? Stay, is not she a creature rational? oh no, there is no spark of nature in her, all is sunk, lost for ever: stay, stay, see.

He has made a Taylors bill on't, torn't apieces ere it be discharg'd: What shall I do?

This is Medias brother torn in pieces, and this the way where she with Jason flies, Tom Colchos, come not near 'em, see, look, that's an arm rent off.

This?

And the hand beckens us to cry out murder.

Ile but hold it by the hand.

That's a leg o'th boy.

This sir a leg, it shall go with me then.

There, there 'tis, head and yellow curled locks, his eyes are full of tears, now they do stare, to see where all his other mem­bers lie.

So I have all his quarte [...]s, Ile presently, sir, get poles for 'em, and hang 'em upon the Gates in their postures for you.

But she and Jason are both slipt, and Argot is sailing home to Greece, see how the waves do toss the Vessel, and the winds con­spire to dash it 'gainst a Rock, it rides upon a watery mountain, and is hid in clouds, it cannot stay there, now, now, it tumbles, three fathom beneath Hell, let 'em go, here comes the Father of Medea now, calling in vain unto the gods, and spies his Sons limbs thrown about, in stead of flowers, to his Daughters nuptials, he does take 'em up, he knows the face, and now he tears his hair, and raves, and cries Medea, poor old man, command a Funeral pile for thy young Child, and lay the pretty limbs on, from whose ashes shalt have another Son i'th shape of Phaenix. Shall I? excellent! Prepare a fire all of sweet wood for my sweet boy, a fire, a fire.

Actus tertius, Scena prima.

'Tis now early day: fie, what a long night hath this been? the Sun went drunk to bed the last night, and could not see to rise this morning: I could hardly wink, I am sure, love kept me wa­king, and the expectation of this my wedding day did so caper in my brains, I thought of nothing but dancing the shaking of the sheets with my sweet-heart. It is certain, I am young every body now tells me, so it did appear by Selina's consenting so soon to love, for when I had but broke the Ice of my affection, she fell over head and ears in love with me; was ever man so happy as I am? I do feel, I do feel my years fall off, as the rain from a man that comes dropping in, I do feel my self every day grow youn­ger and younger: still let me see, an hundred years hence, if I live to't, I shall be new out of my teens, and running into years of diseretion agen: Well, I will now to Master Cornelios, and bid 'em good morrow with a noise of Musicians, and to see the very talking of musick, how my heart leaps and dances, at my wedding already! I have bespoke the Parson to marry us, and have promi­sed a double fee for expedition. O now I am so prond of my Joy, my feet do not know what ground they stand on.

Jenkin has risen very early this morning, and been in stu­dies and contemplations, to make Ditties and Ferses upon her Mistriss beauties and pulchritudes, but the Devil's sure in these Poetries, they call it Furies and Raptures, look you, but Jenkins pate is almost mad, and yet her cannot awl her inventions meet with these Furies and Raptures.

Thus far I have past without discovery: the morning is auspicious to my flight. Selina, what an alteration hath a day made in thee, that to prevent thy so desired marriage, thou art thus lost in a masculine habit, and dost fly him? thou didst so much love aged Rufalda, in what a Lethargy wert thou faln, Selina?

Jocarello, does her not name Selina? 'tis no very good manners to make interruptions, her will hear more, look you.

Pages, have her seen treams and apparitions: hark you, was Selina turn'd Shepheardess, pray you?

Either we dream, or this was Selina, your Mistriss, that is turn'd into Breeches, and become a Shepheard; the case is altered.

What a tevil is in the matters and businesses, pray you? cases never was known such cases and alterations in awl her life, womans never wear preeches in Wales, 'tis not possible, we are awl in treams and visions, very treams and visions.

Sure we are awl awak'd, sir, and it was Selina, did she not say she would obscure her self from her Fathers knowledge, and live among the Shepheards hard by?

It may be, but it is very impossible.

I am amaz'd, when was she seen?

Not to day, sir, I have searcht her Chamber, and almost, turn'd it out ath' window, but no Selina.

It is very strange, is not your man Gorgon come back?

What should this mean? it is a strange absence ath'wed­ding day too.

That angers me most, sir.

My heart misgives me, some fatal accident upon my life, is hapned to her.

Hast thou happy news?

I have travelled all the Town o're, and can meet no in­telligence of her.

Have I been young for this? if I finde her not, I will run, I will run, I will run mad, mad.

No more, I know where her clothes be: if it take, ap­plaud my invention: I have couzened my own Father before now, and I will try new conclusions, but I must have thy assistance and secresie: if my Sister have a conceit of mirth to put upon us, I may chance put her to prove her self Selina, or remove her with a Habeas corpus.

Jocarello's, awl is true, Selina is gone in Shepheards ve­stiments to the Woods and Forrests, but her will make travels and ambulations after her: never was Sentilman ith'hole world love as Jenkin now, to make journeys and peregrinations for a wo­mans, look you: but if her finde her, as know her very well, her will there make awl sure works and performances, warrant you Pages, here's moneys, pray you make provisions of breads and victuals too, know uds are very bare places, and Shenkin was al­ways have cud stomacks and appetites, look you, pray you, do, pray you, do.

Be the hangings up, Curculio, and all the Chairs and [Page 22]Stools put into method? the day is old, me thinks, time runs fast, me thinks, upon the minute, brings my disciples. Do my bills of Complement still relish, Curculio, do they please the pallate, ha?

My most ingenious and noble Criticotaster, bravely bills, pills you should say, not fac'd, but lin'd, with gold they swallow 'em greedily, and still flock to 'em, and conglomerate my son and heir of the Muses: a proclamation is as quiet as the poor mans box, no man looks after it, not a Ballad-monger has any audi­ence: but happy is the man that rides first poste to your papers, and cries admirable: your old men look upon 'em with their spe­ctacles, as they would eye an Obligation within a minute of forfeiture.

Thou hast eaten up the Furies already, and speakest all Buskins, but close walk in the clouds, yet I have not heard of any Mountebank of Wit durst ever attempt to set up shop o'th trade yet: but whist, Usher, take your place.

'Sfoot, 'tis Bubulcus.

This is the Complement-School.

Three Cuts and a half, hey. I give you, sir, generous salutation, and wish a fair morn descend upon you: thrice No­ble Spirit, welcome; does your Worship desire to be sprinkled with the drops of Hellicon, to gather the Pippins of Pernassus, and have your forehead fillitted with Apollinean Bays, or Laurel?

Troth sir, I do not know how to conster what you say, although I know it be in Latine, sir: the cause of my coming to you, is to let you understand, that here is a Complement-School, and I have great desire to be taught some of your Figaries and brave Words, I do mean to pay for't soundly too, sir: I thank my stars, as they say, I have ready money about me.

You shall be verberated, and reverberated, my exact piece of stollidity: please you draw near, there is the Star of Eloquence, under whom I am an Hypodidascal, in English, his Usher.

A Gentleman-Usher at least.

Approach without fear: here is a Pupil, sir, desires to suck the honey of your Eloquence, he is a Gentleman in Folio.

Your accession is grateful, my most gentile lump of insi­pience: what Complement doth arride the pallate of your ge­nerosity?

What says he pray, in English?

He asks what kinde of verbosity you would be practis'd in? Because I perceive you are raw, I will descend to your capa­city: he asks what Complement you would learn?

Why look you, sir, I would have two kindes of Comple­ments: for, sir, I am in love, and I am in hate.

How? in love, and hate too?

Yes, I am in love with a Wench, and would have a deli­cate speech for her; and I am in hate with a Gentleman, a young Animal, and I would kill him now without danger of the Law: to tell you true, he did abuse me in the presence of my sweet-heart and did (saving this good company) kiss my backside.

How?

But it was with his foot, sir: now in regard I have not the heart to kill him with my sword, I would cut him in pieces, and murther him with mouth-guns: look you, sir, here's money, please your self: but I pray you give me a powdring speech, for I would blow him up: I beseech you, if ever you put gall into your Ink, make it a bitter speech.

Sir, I will draw you a sublime speech shall conjure him.

Pray do, for he has a great spirit in him.

Usher, in the mean time entertain him with some copy of amorous Complement.

There is an Ushers fee belongs to my place.

Here's gold for your fee, I received it for good fee-simple, I am sure.

Admirable!

Goddess of Cyprus.

Stay, I do not like that word Cypres, for shee'l think I mean to make Hatbands on her: cannot you call her Taffata God­dess? or if you go to Stuff, Cloth of Gold were richer.

Oh, there's a conceit, Cyprus is the Emblem of mourn­ing, and here by Cyprus you declare how much you pine and mourn after her, sir.

Very good, pray you go on.

Goddess of Cyprus, Venus is a slut.

Stay, who do I call slut now? the Goddess of Cyprus, Ve­nus, or my Love?

You do tell the Goddess that Venus is a slut.

I do so.

For thou art Venus fair, and she is not.

How is she Venus fair, when then I call her slut to her face?

Suck?

Which side she please.

Worm?

By Worm you do insinuate and wriggle your self into her affection; and she by shooe will conceive you desire the length of her foot: how do you like it, sir?

I would not for forty pounds but I had come to comple­ment: why, I shall be able in a small time to put down a reason­able Gentlewoman.

Oh, any ordinary Lady, you must get it without book. Now to make your legs.

I have two made to my hands.

Oh, by no means, your legs are made to your feet.

Beauty and grace dwell upon the face of my disciple Delia.

Muses inspire you: what, at study?

Negotiating a little with the Muses.

See me salute her. As many happinesses wait on Delia, as beams shoot from the Sun this pleasant morn.

As many thanks requite you, as that Sun is old in minutes since the day begun.

What's she, Curculio?

Her Mistresses best moveable, a Chamber maid.

She is an early riser: at School so soon?

She is an early riser, and yet sometime as soon down as up, she cannot be quiet for Serving-men, 'tis her hour between eight a clock and her Mistriss rising, to come to discipline.

'Tis a pretty smug Wench, is her name Delia? she has a pretty name too.

Oh, sir, all her credit is in her good name: it was Dia­na's the Goddesse of chastity, and therefore when she marries, she may Cuckold her husband by priviledge, for Diana gave horns to Actaeon.

Where's Master Criticotaster?

Who's that?

Sir, my Master has sent you a little Gold, he desires you to send him the speech he should speak at Sessions in the Countrey, he's now riding down.

Sir Valentine Wantbrain, that has never a Clerk?

The same, Sir.

Newly put into Commission for the peace, being puisne, it falls to him to give the charge. I have drawn it, let me see in Comitatu, &c. here, read it, Curculio, he may the better instruct his Master, a touch, a touch.

Good men of the Jury for this Session, I will not impli­cate you with ambages and circumstances, I am unwilling to confound your little wits with affected divisions of my narration, into quis, quid, quomodo, and quandoes: I will neither utter by gross, nor part my speech into a doozen of long points, knotted often in the middle, and untag'd in the end; you are to present Malefactors, whereof you are the chief—Reformers, and see­ing you stand ready for your charge, I will give fire to this great piece of service, and send you all off with a powder, that in any case we may go to dinner betimes, &c.

So, 'tis enough: bear my respects to your Master, tell him, tis a speech will do him credit, bid him learn it perfectly without Book.

And do you hear, if he chance to be at a nonplus, he may help himself with his beard and handkercher, o [...] it will be a good posture for his hand now and then to be fumb­ling with his band-strings, Farewell.

Mistriss Medulla, the Sun of honor shine upon your hopes, till it sublime you to a Ladyship: I will attend you pre­sently.

Sirra, bid your fellow make ready the Caroch, and at­tend me here about an hour hence, I will ride home.

What Gentlemowan is that?

An old Country Gentlemoman, that hath buried her Husband lately, and comes up to be a Lady, for she swears she will not marry any more Gentlemen: she fallen out with a Ju­stice of Peaces wife in the Country, and she will have a Knight, though she pay for his Horse-hire, to spight her neighbors.

A word with you, sir.

Your friend and Master Bubulcus. Ha you done, sir?

The Cupidinaean fires burn in my brest, and like the O­ven Aetna, I am full of Squibs and Crackers.

This will powder him.

Lady, wounded by your beauty, I will acknowledge mercy if you kill me not, yet rather murther me, then vulnerate still your creature, unless you mean to medicine where you have hurt, and I implore no better remedy then I may derive from the instrument wherewith you pierce me, like Achillis Spear, your eye having shot lightning into my brest, hath power with a smile to fetch out the consuming fire, and yet leave my heart inflam'd.

Sir, although where I am not guilty of offence, I might deny justly, to descend to a satisfaction: yet rather then I would be counted a murtherer, I would study to preserve so sweet a model as your self; and since you desire my eye which enflamed you, should with the vertue of a gracious smile make you happy in your fire, it shall shine as you would have it, and disclaim that beam shall shine upon another object.

So, very well, this is your cunning lesson.

Some strangers, Curculio.

Sir, the Country comes in upon us.

Is not here a Complement-School?

A School of generous Education, sir?

I have brought my Son to be a Scholar, I do mean to make him a Courtier, I have an offer of five or six Offices for my money, and I would have him first taught to speak.

He is a great childe, cannot he speak yet?

In what kind of complement, please you, venerable Sir, to be edoctrinated? But we will withdraw.

Come, for another lesson, my brave Mars, now I am fit to quarrel with the Stars, and catch at Jove.

What's he?

Orlando Furioso.

By the bloud-stain'd fauchion of Mavors I will carbonado thee, keep off, or in my fury I will cut thee into Atoms, and blow thee about the world.

I hope he does but complement.

So, so, 'tis well, you shall take forth a new lesson, sit down and breathe.

'T was a devillish good speech.

Oh, why did nature make thee fair and cruel?

What spruce fellow's this?

He is an hundred and fifty pounds a yard in potentia, a Yeomans Son, and a Justice of Peaces Clerk, he is in love with a Farmers Daughter, and thus he speaks his passion in blank Verse.

O, heavenly Farmers Daughters!

Ile call him in; Ingeniolo!

Your servant, sir. Lady, I kiss your hand, and reverence the antiquity of your vestment, Delia. Fortune let fall her riches on thy head, that thou maist fill thy apron. I am your humble ob­server, and wish you all cumulations of prosperity.

Sir, I desire to suck below your waste.

I do evaculate my self to be your shadows, my generous condisciples.

This is Scholar-like.

He's one of the head form, I warrant.

Sir, I receive your Son, and will winde up his ingeny, fear it not, but first he must be under my Usher, who must teach him the postures of his body, how to make legs and cringes, and then he shall be advanced to a higher Classe. Curculio, lick him with your method into some proportion, take off the roughness of his behaviour, and then give him the principles of salutation.

Law you there, boy, he will teach you the principles of saltation. Well, good-morrow, sir, Ile leave my Jewel.

Your Jewel may have the grace to be hang'd one day.

Bless you Sentlemen awl, and your studies and contem­plations: is here School of Complements, pray you?

A place of generous breeding.

Generous preeding, hark you, her name was Jenkin, a good Sentleman, 'tis known, her take no pleasures and delecta­tions [Page 29]in urds and phrases of Rhetricks; Welsemen have awl hearts and fidelities, mark you, her was going along pout creat business, but casting her eyes and visions upon your skils and pro­fessions, look you, her come in, to see the fashions and manners of your exercises, and yet if your urships has any Madrigals and Pastoral Canticles, look you, for in truths and verities was going now to the Urds and Forrests, and mean to turn Shepheards goddillings, her will give you good payments of awl your inven­tions, and Muses, pray you now.

Amorous Pastorals? I can furnish you venerable sir.

How like you, sir?

Roundelays very good, here is moneys and considerati­ons, look you.

We acknowledge your bounty, my Tenth-worthy.

So Mistress, I have trespass'd on your patience, now I take occasion by the fore-lock. You can say your Lecture: have you your hand-kercher ready, that when a Sutor comes, you may put him off with wiping your eyes, as if tears stood in'em ever since your husband was buried: well, suppose I have had access to your chamber, I begin, Lady, think it strange, if Love which is active in my bosome, force me turn Petitioner, that I may be reckoned amongst your servants; all my ambition, sweetest, is to be made happy in your affection, which I will study to deserve in my ut­most possibilities.

Alas, alas, I had husband.

Very well counterfeited, nay weep not, those eyes were made to shine, not waste with dew: if it be for the remembrance of him you have lost, recover him again, by placing your opinion on a man shall sweat to do you services.

It doth not, sir, become our modesty to talke of love so soon, you will renew my passion for his loss, and draw down tears afresh upon his Hearse: you do not well t'oppress a widow thus, I pray sir, leave me, at least I will stay to speak no more of love, it is unwelcome. What 'em I perfect?

So, 'twas very well, at the next lesson you shall learn to be more cunning.

Wilt please you hear the Novice?

Good boy, speak out.

God save you, sir, felicities be accumulated upon you, sir, I thank you generous sir, you oblige me to be your servant, sir, in all my—p—o—s—possibility, sir, I honor your remembrance, fir, and shall be proud to do you my observance, sir, most noble sir.

Very hopeful now: a repetition all together, the more the merrie.

What, at Barley-break? which couple are in hell? are not you Hellen, whose insatiate lust ruin'd fair Illium? and you sir Pa­ris with a golden nose? hark you, Rufaldo is married to Selina.

Who? that's my Father-in-Iaw.

How, your father? look, he has cloven feet, I am glad I have found you, what are you in hell for?

Insinuate to 'em all for their own safeties, he's desperate mad, bid none stir hence.

Hey, how came you all thus damn'd?

Damn'd, who's damn'd? is Jenkin damn'd?

I beseech you, sir, to maintain the credit of my School, I shall be undone else, humor him a little.

Will you have her be danm'd? when hear you pray a Welshman was dam'd? of all things in the urld, her cannot abide to be damn'd.

See if you can roar him away.

Keep off, I am Hercules, Son of Alomena, compress'd by Jove, Ile carbonado thee.

How, art thou Hercules?

Lie there, usurper of Alcides name, bold Centaure: so he's dead, by this I prove I am Jove born.

Well, for your credits and reputations, her care not to to be damn'd for companions and fellow ships, look you, has he knock'd him down? would he had knock [...]d Jenkin down.

Now, on with your relations, and tell me all the stories of your fortunes. Tis I am Hercules, sent to free you all. What are you damn'd for? In this Club behold all your releasements. What are you?

Stand in order and be damn'd.

I am the conscience of an Usurer, who have been damn'd these two and twenty years, for lending money gratis.

How, a Usurer? why didst not corrupt the Devil to fetch thy soul away? he'l take a bribe for lending money gratis.

Yes, sir, for thanks: I took no interest, for at the lending of each hundred pound, they brought me home some twenty or thirty thanks, indeed 'twas paid in Gold.

Oh Golden thanks! well, go, go, Ile release you upon condition you shall build an Hospital, and die a beggar. What are you?

The soul of a Watchman.

How came you damn'd? could not you watch the Devil?

He took me napping on Midsummer Eve, and I never dream't on him.

Your wife had given you Opium over night.

No sir, I had watch'd three nights before, and because I would not wink at two or three drunkards as they went reeling home at twelve a clock at night, the Devil owed me a spight.

Well, you shall be Prentice to an Alcumist, and watch his Stills night, by night, nor sleep till he get the Philosophers­stone. What are you?

Sir, I am a Chamber-maid.

What are you damn'd for?

Not for revealing my Mistriss secrets, for I kept them bet­ter than mine own, but keeping my Maiden-head till it was stale, I am condemn'd to lead Apes in hell.

Alas poor wench, upon condition you will be wise here­after, and not refuse Gentlemens proffers, learn pride every day, and painting, bestow a courtesie now then upon the Apparitor to keep counsel, I release you, take you Apes, and Monkies away with you, and bestow them on Gentlewomen, and Ladies, that want play-fellows. What are you?

I am an Undersheriff, sir, damn'd because I told the Deb­tors, Writs were out against 'em, brought 'em to composition without arrests, favoured poor men for a whole year together, was very good in my Office, gave up a just account at the years end, and broke.

Oh, miracle! an honest man! thou shalt be Church-warden to a Parish, draw the presentments, and keep the poor mens box for seven years together, 'tis pitty, but thou shouldest have fifty wives, to propagate honest generation. What are you?

A Justices wise ith' Country, sir.

And who drew your mittimus hither? what are you damn'd for?

For refusing Sattin Gowns, and Velvet Petticoats, turn­ing back Capons at Christmas, and Sessions-times, and making much of one of my husbands servants, meerly for his honesty and good service towards me.

'Tis injustice, you shall bury your husband quickly, wear some blacks a while for fashion sake, [Page 32]and within a month be married to his Clerk, unless you will be divided among the Serving-men. What are you?

A younger Brother, sir, born at the latter end of the week, and wain of the Moon, put into the world to seek my own fortune, got a great Estate of Wealth by Gaming and Wenching, and so purchas'd unhappily this state of damnation you see me in.

Came you in't by purchase? then you do not claim it as your fathers interest as an heir: well, I will ease you of the estate, because it is litigious, and you shall make presently a bargain and sail of it to a Serivener, that shall buy it of you, and pay both his ears down upon the nail for it. What are you?

I am a horse-courser.

And couldst not thou out-ride the Devil?

I had not the grace to mend my pace, I was an honest Horse-courser, and suffered every fool to ride me, I knew not what belonged to horse-play, let the world kick at me, I never winch'd, all that I am damn'd for, is, that desiring to thrive in the world, and to have good luck to horse-flesh, I ambled to the bed of a Parsons wife that was coltish once, and gave her husband a Horse for't in good fashion, he never gave me Godamercy for't, indeed it prov'd afterwards to have the Yellows.

There was some colour for't: well, since your occupation is foundred, you shall trot every day a foot, and walk a knave in the Horse-fair. What are you?

Her have no minde at all to be damn'd, becar her will fight with her and kill awl the Devils in hell: diggon.

'Sfoot, here's more ado to get one Welshman damn'd, then a whole Nation. Sir, 'tis but in jest.

In jests, is it in jests? well, look you, her will be conten­ted to be damn'd in jests and merriments for you.

You will tell me what you are damn'd for?

And her be so hot, was get some bodies else to be damn'd for Jenkin, her will tell her in patiences, look you, her was damn'd for her valor, and riding the urld of Monsters, look you, Dragons with seven heads, and Serpents with tails a mile long, pray you.

Oh, let me embrace thee, worthy in my arms, Ile charm the Destinies for their bold attempt, for cutting off thy thred, thou shalt cut their throats, and be instal'd Lord in Elisium. Oh, let the hug thee, Owen Glandower.

Owen Glandower was her cousin pray you.

Go your ways all: stay, take hence Prometheus and bury him, if you come into hell again, there's no releasement.

So, farewell Sentlemen, now her mean to make travels and peregrinations, to the uds and plains, look you, very fast. Good speed to awl.

We thank thee Jovial Hercules.

Live long thou King of hell. So, so, well done of all sides, here our School breaks up, I might have run mad like, had I not taken off the edge of melancholy.

So, so, poor souls, how glad they are of liberty. This is a hot house, I do scorch and broil: Ile seek the Elisian fields out, and die there.

Actus quartus, Scena prima.

Have I not done my part, wench, with confidence to proceed thus far with thy father? either I am infinitely like my sister, or they are all mad with credulity: but our good fathers are blinded with their passions, and that helps me much: well, I do but think upon the nights work, there lies my Master-piece, I have it, 'tis for thy sake Hillaria, I have assum'd this habit, the end will speak it.

But what will you do? Antonio is lost now.

Well enough, is suppos'd to go after Selina, and is not return'd yet, out of my brotherly love, they will imagine I have ta­ken a journey in quest of a sister, time enough to return again, and he goes far, that never does wench by Story.

Here's Bubulcus.

Antonio is gone, no news of him: I am glad of that, I hope he will come no more.

How now? what means this? what! sword dawn?

And he is whetting it.

For heavens sake, what's the matter?

Nay, nothing, nothing, I do but—a—

By my virginity you make me afraid, what's the matter?

He means to fight with some body on my life.

Heaven defend it, good sir, tell me.

Be not afraid, Gentlewomen, for I do but, you see.

But what?

Whet my long knife, some body shall smart for't, but—

He does mean to challenge some body.

I charge you, if you love, tell me who's your enemy.

Nay, no body, I do not mean to fight, if I live.

What? Nay, nothing, sweet Ladies, be not troubled, I do but sharpen my sword.

Tell me the truth, why?

I was eating Oysters tother day, and I had never a knife, and so—

Come, come, there is some other matter in't, pray tell me.

Well, you are my friends, if you chance to hear of any mans death shortly, then say Bubulcus.

I hope you do not mean to kill any man i'th field, you do make me tremble, Ile assure you.

No, no, sweet-heart, do not tremble, I will but—

Lose my honour? Ile be carv'd first.

What a Capon's this? pray let me perswade you.

And me.

No, no, 'tis but in vain to perswade me, I'm resolv'd, if you love me, do not use any arguments: the Cupidinaean fires burn in my brest, and like the Oven Etna I am full of squibs and crackers. I had almost forgot—

The Oven Etna, Ile be baked then: what a fury are you in? he looks like the god of War.

The god of War? I think I have reason. Hillaria, I must, and I will, and all the world shall not hold me.

But you shall not go away thus, till you be calmer.

Is the fool mad?

He has something in his head, and it were out: but here comes our fathers.

Antonio not heard of yet?

This morning we wanted a Bride too, but she was found, marry I cryed for her first. Father, come, my Brother Antonio, is but gone to look his Sister: ha, my sweet wench, when shal's to bed.

I hope 'tis so, and yet he stays too long. Here's Gorgon: Sirra, where have you been all this day?

Indeed, sir, I have made inquisition, both my tongue and my feet have walked, but my Mistriss is not to be found or heard of, Ile assure you.

Gorgon, hast lost thy sences? here's Selina.

Mistriss! then we are all made.

But sirra, your Master Antonio's gone.

Gone in wine, sir, for joy of his sisters finding agen.

Go your ways, firra, and either bring me news of him, or look me in the face no more, you'l finde we jest not.

Pray' sir, let me take my journey in the morning, the wedding night is fatal: I hope your Worship does but jest, I may be drunk to night, and wake early enough to be gone afore day too, I beseech you sir.

Pray sir, let him stay to night.

By this hand there he is, where? did not I hear his voice?

Away sirra.

I have been mad all this while, and now am like to be my own man again: since there is no remedy, Gentiles all good night. Gorgon begins to be a wandring Knight.

I cannot be heartily merry,: well let's leave these two without any more ceremonies, 'ttis late, all joys be multiplied on my Son and Daughter: good night, I do comfort my self with hope of Antonio's return, and yet fears are great.

Lights there: so, so, welcome thou much expected night, I do salute thy black brows: come, my Selina, shalt find I have young bloud: Hillaria, do service to your Mother, make her unready.

'Tis time enough.

And why should we loose any? I pray thee let her come. I know 'tis your Virgin modesty, loath to part with a Maidenhead, but it must off: come prethee be not idle: why, thou knowest I married thee, Selina, as thou lovest me—

Sir, by that love I must entreat you one thing.

Any thing, sweet-heart.

To ratifie an ancient [Page 36]vow I made.

Any vows, what is't?

I vowed when ever I married, my husband should not lie with me the first night.

Should any body else?

Not any man.

Come, 'twas but a foolish vow, and must be broke. Not lie with me the first night? 'twere a sin beyond incontinency. I had rather loose half my estate, then miss thee but an hour out of mine arms this night.

'Tis but one night.

Oh, 'tis an age, a world of time to me: why I have fed of Oyster-pies, and rumps of Sparrows a whole moneth, in ex­pectation of the first night, and leave it for a vow?

Indeed you must.

How? must, come? I know you but jest, this is but your device to whet me on, and heighten me, as if old age hath soakt up all my marrow. Hark you, how old do ye think I am?

Some threescore and seventeen.

Out upon thy judgement: why I am not above, by all computation, six or seven and thirty: I am restored, renew'd, when first I lov'd thee, by this hand I was.

I see then you would tire me, by this beard you must not lie with me to night.

How? nay then I see you'l try my strength: thus I could force you.

She has thrown me down, I know not how to take it, nor well how to bear it, my bones ake, a pox a Gasparo, a my conscience I am an old fool: ha? I will see more, and set a good face on't, you know who I am?

Yes, old Rufaldo.

Ha, old? 'tis so, my spirits faint agen: what did you marry for?

To make an ass of you.

How?

Thou credulous fool, didst thou imagine I should ever love thee, or lie with thee? but when I have a child would shame the [Page 37]Father: Oh the Father of dotage, that like an inundation doth o'recome the little world of man, drown all his reason, and leave him spoild, even of his own common sence. Didst think I was a piece of stone sawn out by Carvers Art, so cold, so out of foul, so empty of all fire to warm my bloud, I'de lie with thee, worse then the frigid Zone, or Isicles that hang on beard of win­ter? Have I with wearied patience lookt to see, when thou'dst lay violent hands upon thy self; for being so mad, so impudent to love me, and wouldst thou bed me too? didst thou not tremble to dare the holy Rites and nuptial Tapers? Oh impi­ous sacriledge! hence, go waste thy self with sorrow, pine that half-starv'd body, until thy bones break thy skin, and fall to dust before thy face: nay, you shall endure me: for since y'ave tyed me to you, I will be thy constant Fury, worse then Hags or Night-mare, if thou doest talk of Love, or seek to be at reconcilement.

Selina, sweet Selina, hear me.

Sweet? oh villanous presumption!

What will you do?

First, you shall never solicite me to lie with you.

Never by this hand, and thank you too.

Stand bare in my presence.

Stark-naked.

Run of my errands.

To the worlds end.

And keep a whore under my nose, nay I will al­low it.

If you will have it so, I am content.

Swear, sirrah.

Flesh and bloud, I do swear.

So, rise. In hope of your conformity, I forbear to let the punishment be equal with your deserts.

Oh, I have married a Devil, I shall be utterly disgraced, if this be known: Pray sweet wife, let me beg one request of you, that you would not discredit me, I will be content to endure your pleasure, do not forsake my house, I beseech you that you would lie with my daughter.

Shall you appoint my lodging?

Oh no, I do but humbly intreat you will be pleased to lie with my daughter.

Well, since you submit so respectively, I will tender your credit in that point upon your good behaviour, are you not well?

I am the worse for you by forty marks. One thing more, vertuous wife, that you would not tell your father, nor any bo­dy else, how you have beaten me: Goodnight, sweet vertuous wife.

I had thought the woods and such wild groves as these, had been the house of rapine, and could not afford humanity, beasts, and men like them, are wont to make such places desolate: did Nature make you thus at first, and are we that have Cities, house, and Civil Laws more rude then you? or hath all vertue chose you as divine earth to dwell upon? Shepherdess, indeed I am in love with your wild kingdom here, and would not be a King abroad, if I might be jubject with such fair Nymphs as you.

No more, good Shepheards, you undoe a boy with the opinion of his happiness: if a few Jewels I have brought with me, may find acceptance here, I shall bestow them as freely as your loves have faln on me. Nay then, Ile force 'em on you, I have left to purchase a Flock with you.

But Shepheardess, or sister if thou wilt, oh would thou wert, I prethee call me brother, Hath Love a part among you, tell me pray, what punishment inflict you on false love? But sure you are exempt from such a misery: what then is her reward, that out of peevishness contemns the honest passion of her Lover, in­fults upon his vertue, and doth place unworthily her affection?

Prey, a prey! where did you get that face? that goddess face? it was Selina's once: how came you by it? did she on her death-bed bequeath her beauty as a legacy, not willing it should die, but live and be a lasting death to Infortunio? oh she was cruel, not to bury it with her! but I am a fool, 'tis Venus and her Son, where be your Bow and Arrows, little Cupid? didst thou malici­ously spend all thy Quiver upon my heart, and not reserve one shaft to make Selina love me? tell me, Venus, why did you use me so? you shall no more be Queen of Love. Stay, stay, Cupid was blind, how comes he now to see? yes, he did see, he never could have wounded me so right else. Why then let Fortune have her eyes again, and all things see how wretched I am made.

Oh, is there not within the power of Art, how to restore this Gentleman?

There is, and out of that experience we have in these woods, of simples, I doubt not, but to apply a re­medy.

He will be worthy of your care herein, and should he be, which I cannot imagine, ingrateful to your skill, I would reward it, and call you Mother and Sister for it.

It seems you have some relation to him.

Indeed he is the dearest friend I had: and if my bloud were powerful to restore him, i'de spend it like a prodigal. I know Selina. Inf. Ha, do you know Selina? she's married to Rufaldo, the old Usurer, that went to bed afore to his money, and begat forty ith' hundred: now he beds Selina, and lays his rude hand o're her sacred brest, embraceth her fair body, now he dares kiss her, and suck Ambrosia from her lip. Those eyes that grace the day, now shine on him, he her Endimion, she his silver Moon, the tongue that's able to rock Heaven asleep, and make the Mu­sick of the Spheres stand stil, to listen to the happier airs it makes, and mend their tunes by it: that voice is now devoted to his ears, those cheeks, those hands, would make gods proud to touch, are by his touch profaned every hour: oh, this makes me mad, but I will fit 'em for it, for Ile die, it may be then she'l weep, and let fall tears upon my Grave-stone, which shall be of Marble, and hard like her, that if she pour out floods, no drops shall sink [Page 41]thorow it to soften me, I will be wrapt in Lead to keep out pray­ers, for then I know, she'l beg I would be friends: But then I will be just, and hate her love, as she did mine, & laugh to see her grieve

Come, I will fetch Selina to you, if you will sleep.

Will you then? I will live, and you shall be my best boy.

But you said you would sleep: when slept you last?

I remember, before I lov'd, but that I knew not when I slept soundly, and dreamt of gathering Nosegays. 'Tis un­lucky to dream of herbs and flowers.

For Selina's sake Ile try my best skill on him, get him to sleep, your presence I see is powerful, yonder's a pleasant Arbor, procure him thither while I prepare the herbs, whose precious juice may with Heavens blessing make him well again.

A thousand blessings on you. Come, sir, go with me, and when you have slept, Ile fetch Selina to you.

Prethee do, I am very drowzy: come, Ile dream of some thing, my eyes are going to bed, and leaden sleep doth draw the curtains ore them.

Will you go with me?

Yes, and we will pick a dish of Strawberries.

Has almost lost her self in these woods and wildernesses, was very weary of these journeys and travels in foot-backs: have not since her comings beheld any reasonable creatures: bless us awl, Jocarello is lost too, cannot tell where, in these mazes and labyrinths. Jocarello, so ho.

So ho.

Ha, there's some bodies yet, hark you tere, here is a Sentil­man of Wales, look you, desires very much to have speeches and confabulations with you: where is her?

Here is her.

Here is her? knaw not which ways to come to her: pray you tell Jenkin where you be?

Booby.

Poobies? was her call her poobies? 'tis very saucy travels, her will teach her better manners and moralities, if her get her in [Page 42]reaches and circumferences of her Walsh blades truly.

You lie.

How, lies and poobies too? hark you, Jenkin was give you mawls and knocks, for your poobies, and lies, and indignities, look for your pates now.

Here is no bodies but bushes and bryers, look you, awl is very quiet: so ho, ho.

Her am very much deceiv'd, now comes into our minds if these voices be not Ecchoes, Eccho.

Eccho.

'Tis very true, but her marvel much, have her Ecchoes in these Countries, pray you?

Yes pray you.

Warrant her 'tis a Welsh Eccho, was follow Jenkin in loves out of Wales.

Out of Wales.

'Tis ve­ry true, bless us awl now, her call to remembrances and memo­ries, her had communications and talkings with this very Ecchoes in Clamorgan-shire, in de vallies and Talles there look you, her am very glad her hath met with Ecchoes, was born in her own Countries, hark you, Jenkin was travel hither out of loves and affections to Selina.

Nay.

Nay, yes very true, pray you tell her, be Selina in these woods, or no?

No.

No, where is her den, have her taken awl these labours and ambulations in vanities? say you, shall Jenkin then go back as he came?

Asse he came.

Gone? It is not possible, hit may be Selina was turn spirits and be invisible ra­ther, she is not gone verily.

There you lye.

Lye, very well, you have priviledges to give lies and awl things in the world, but her will not leave these woods for awl dat, her will be Pilgrims all tays of her lifes, ere her go without her.

Goe without her.

How, not love Jenkin? then there is a Devil in awl female sexes: know very well she pro­mise loves and good wills in times, great while ago, pray you now, her will talk no longer with you. Fare you well Ecchoe, pray if you meet her Pages, bid her make hasts and expeditions after her. Fare you well.

Fare you well.

I think Jupiter has snatch'd up my Master Antonio, to make a Ganimede on him, he is not to be found yet, I have searcht all the Taverns ith Town, I am sure, and that method my nose led me to hoping he had been a good fellow, but, non est inventus, well, [Page 43]my stock is spent, but with this terrible face a buff Jerkin, and a noaring basket-hilt, Gorgon will have a trick of wit to bear his own charges: but here comes a Gentleman, to my postures now.

I am resolv'd.

Good your worship bestow a small piece of silver upon a poor Soldier, new come out of the Low-Countries, that have been in many hot services, against the Spaniard, the French, and great Turk. I have been shot seven times through the body, my eyes blown up with gun-powder, half my skull seard off with a Canon, and had my throat cut twice in the open field: good your wor­ship take compassion upon the caterwaking fortunes of a forlorne Gentleman, that have lost the use of my veins, good your gene­rous nature take compassion upon me, I have but four fingers and a thumb upon one hand: can work, and woonnot, one small piece of grateful silver, to pay for my lodging, I beseech you venerable fir.

Canst not see?

Onely a little glimmering, sir, the beams of your gentility have radiated, and infused light into my poor lanterns, sir.

Can you feel then?

Oh sir, that faculty alone, fortune and nature have left inviolated.

Here's somewhat for thee. What, can you see now?

Gasparo, is it you? Pox on your benevolence.

Whence came this project of wit?

From the old predicament. Faith, necessity that has no Law, put me into this habit: my Master is turn'd coward, and ran away from me.

And thou art turn'd Soldier, to fight with him when you meet agen: then thou wantest a Master? hark sirra, what sayst thou to another project?

Oh, I could caper for't.

I am now leaving the world, and going into the Coun­trie, woot turn Gipsie, or Shepheard? I am for the woods, canst Madrigals yet?

Excellent! wee'l turn Shepheards presently, thou shalt be Phillis, and Ile be Coridon: let me alone to provide Russets, Crook, and Tarbox: they say there's good hospitality in the Woods, and Songs and pastimes upon Silvanus day.

But that were pretty, shall I be a woman?

By any means, thou hast a good face already, a little simpering will do it, Ile accom­modate thee early, keep thy own counsel, and Ile warrant thee [Page 44]for a Maid-marrian.

'Sfoot! shall I run into my coats agen? go to, put me into what shape you will, Ile play my part: me thinks I do feel an hundred rural Animals taking up my pet­ticoat already.

Pray' forward with your relation.

As I was saying, having challenged Antonio for the affront he did me before Hillaria, here by heaven, you must say nothing.

Not a syllable.

He did accept the Challenge, and the weapons were soon agreed upon, and we met: but not a word of fighting, if you love me.

You are not come to fighting yet your self: but by the way, what were your weapons?

A long sword.

'Twas long ere you could remember it, me thinks.

Soon as we came into the place appointed, we looked a­bout, and saw all clear.

As clear as day on your side.

We drew, but not a word of fighting, by this hand.

Not by that hand.

We threw our doublets off, to shew we had no Coat of Mail, or privy shirt upon us, against the Laws of Duelling: in fine, I bid him say his prayers.

'Twas well thought upon, and what did you?

I let 'em alone, for I knew I should kill him, and have time enough to say 'em afterwards at my leasure.

When he had prayed, what then?

When he had said his pray­ers, he thought upon it, and let fall words tending to reconcile­ment: A my conscience, he would have asked me forgiveness, but I stood upon my honor, and would fight with him, and so we stood upon our guard: but not a word of fighting, if you love me.

Oh, by no means, but when did you fight?

Ile tell you, Antonio when he saw no remedy, but that I would needs fight with him, and so consequently kill him, made a desperate blow at my head, which I warded with my dagger, bet­ter than he looked for, and in return, I cut off his left hand, whereat amazed and fainting, I nimbly seconded it, as you know I am very nimble, and run my Rapier into his right thigh, two yards.

Then you were on both sides of him?

Your Rapier, did you not say your weapons were long swords?

But mine was both a sword and Rapier, there's it, but not a word of fighting, as you love me: well, not to weary you with the narration of the innumerable wounds I gave him, I cut off [Page 45]every joynt from his toe upwards, to his middle, by these hilts: now you may believe me, there ended Antonio my rival, judge, judge now, whether Bubulcus be valiant or not, but not a word of fighting, as you love me, let it die.

'Twas very valiantly done.

Hark you, Sweet-heart, do you not remember who this is, that you have discovered this business too? this is Selina, his own fister.

What a Rogue was I, not to remember that?

Do not you know that she is my Mother-in-law? nay, nay, pluck up a good heart, what will you do? there's no running away.

Have you never an empty chest?

What, to hide your self? that I know you would not do for your credit: draw your sword, and stand upon your guard, we know you are valiant, that could kill Antonio so bravely.

Hillaria, if ever you lov'd me, oh, I have made a fair piece of work, would you not tell me it was his sister? oh, here they come.

He hath confest it, sir, your Daughter heard it, sir, I charge you lay hands upon that murtherer, he hath slain my Bro­ther Antonio.

Did you hear him confess it?

Here's right, confess and hang'd now.

I must con­fess I did.

Bubulcus kill Antonio?

By this hand I do not know how to deny it for my credit.

Nay then lay hands on him.

Yes Father, Rufaldo. Selina, oh, a plague of all coxcombes, what a Rogue was I?

I will have Justice, away with him.

I am a lying Rascal by this hand.

We must require Antonio from you, sir, or your blood an­swer his. Away with him, Hillaria.

Ile be hang'd then, father Hillaria, will you see me hang'd?

There is no remedy: would thou hadst kild his Sister; I am plagued with her, and dare not speak it for shame, Ile do what I can to get a Repriese for you; nay, and you kill folks, you you must eene take your fortune.

A curse of all ill fortune, I kil'd no body.

Away, I say, out villain, hence, for I Do hear my Brothers bloud for justice cry.

Actus quintus, Scena prima.

I do not know this place, nor who you are, nor know I yet my self.

Infortunio?

That name I once did answer to, but then I was not ba­nisht to a wilderness, nor slept on such a bed. Oh, if I be he, whom you call Infortunio, tell me how I came hither, dost thou weep? I prethee tell me, boy, why do those tears drown thy fair cheeks? but that they will not shew manly in me, I'de force my eyes to weep too, and we would sit upon a bank, and play drop­tear, till one were bankrout. You amaze me: I ask how I came hither? answer me with other language, if you do not mean I came by water, which you might express too in words as well, nay, better, for you now are cruel to your selves, and murder me: tell me, or I shall be mad.

Oh, stay: that brought Infortunio hither, you have now told your self, distraction brought you.

Ha distraction? now you increase my wonder: was I mad, or do not you by answering, study to make me so? why should I be mad, or being so, how came I well again? for if I dream not, I am well and calm.

You owe this Shepherdesse for your re­store, whose skill heaven made so happy.

Did you, fair Shepherdesse restore me then, and by your art recover natures loss? all my well-beings yours: but yet if you could so Physician-like cure the disease which is but the effect of some distemper, you then should know the cause: for else you are uncertain in your applications. Pray tell me then, why was I mad?

This Lad can tell you that, better then I, but if his sorrow will not let his tongue deliver it, Ile tell you sir; you were in love.

With whom, I pray.

One whom they call Selina.

Ha, Selina? in what a depth of black forgetfulness is Infortunio fallen into? Selina, could I forget Selina? oh Shepher­dess, I was not mad till now: for can I be my self, and forget her? oh, in this question I am undone: for I do hold my self and all my understanding by her name, I am a begger, she hath purchas'd all, nor am I master of one thought of comfort I borrow not from her: what curse was faln upon my memory, to forget Selina?

Sir, you remember her too well, unless she would deserve [Page 47]it better.

It is not in her power to deserve, boy, for she is now beholding for her self unto another. Oh, this tares my soul, you did not well to release me of my furies, and make me sensible again of that was my first corrosive, it was unfriendly: Oh, 'twas a happiness to be mad, stark mad, for she being lost, what have I else to lose? I was all hers, I gave my self away: and deeds of gift should hold.

Why should you be so passionate? let once reason so late recovered, teach you love your self, reserv'd for no­bler fortune.

It is true, I am a very fool in doing so, and will you be my Mistriss then, and teach me how to forget my self? what saist boy? shall I be Shepherd too? I will live here, and have thy company, thou art like my Love, shall we Shepherdess?

With all my heart.

Come let's sit down a while, nature hath spred her Carpets for us here, this is the lowest, and yet 'tis higher then a Palace: pray teach me your Shepherds life, now I do long to be a wood­man too, and you shall do a double cure upon me.

Stay, yonder are some Shepherds, lets on this bank sit down and prattle. And how long ist, since your Sweet-he art for­sook you?

It will be a quarter of a year next grass.

Alas, poor Mopsa, but come, put him out of thy minde, sing him away.

Laugh, and sing him to his grave, shall I?

And never love him more.

Oh no, his love like a canker hath eat such a great hole into my heart, I cannot for get him, but Ile sing a song of him.

Prethee do.

Here's innocence of all sides, who would live out this Common-wealth, where honest Swains with craft and falshood, all their souls are clad in true simplicity: I will take a truce with care a while, to talk with this poor wench.

I heard you nam'd, pray tell me, were you in love?

Yes forsooth.

With whom forsooth?

With a Gentleman that has prov'd unkinde, forsooth, broken his vows, and oathes, forsooth, he made much of me, time was, before his father dyed, forsooth, who was a good Yeoman, then he kist me, forsooth, and coll'd surreverence, but now he scorns Mopsa: I was his equal once, and have danced with him upon our Church green in a Morris ere now.

Alas, alas, has forsaken thee?

He is now about to commit makrimonial business with a young Girl I wiss.

Do you believe him, sir?

Believe him? nay, you may believe him, he's abomina­tion cunning man, he told me my fortune as right as if he had been in my belly.

Does thy fortune lie in thy belly then, Sweet-heart?

Partly, sir, as other womens fortunes do.

Felice, come again, do not believe me, I told thee false, I did but try to gain a knowledge of thee: thy stars owe thee more happi­ness, Felice, look up, see thy friend alive, I am Gasparo. 'Sfoot, I ha made fair work.

Ha, 'tis Gasparo.

Have I found thee, O wench, thou wert unjust, too much unjust, thus to absent thy self from Gasparo; thy cruel father since hath wept enough to wash away his error. Fates, I do thank you, for this blest direction But Infortunio, I am sorry now, I read the truth of thy unhappiness: it is too true, Selina is beyond your sphere of hope: pardon, worthy sir, the shape I took, was not to mock your fortunes, but try mine own. And have I found the wench?

Oh, no, no, your suit is in vain, hands off, Shep­herds.

I will make thee amends and marry, prethee sweet Mopsa, beautiful Mopsa.

Beauty! I do confess I have a reasonable beauty, for black and white, for all other colours are but compounded of them: but the truth is, I cannot forget my old Love; though he hath prov'd false unto me, Mopsa will prove true unto him: oh, and it were not for shame, now I could die for love.

Be not dejected, sir, you have a fate doth smile upon you, I have a little skill: in that this Gentleman seem'd to have some knowledge, I must needs cross his judgement, and pronounce you are more happy.

The Boy is mad.

Do not undo, sweet boy, the benefit thou hast already done me, thou dost utter impossibilities.

Then with one Argument I can easily take off your won­ders, look on thy Selina, that on the wedding morn, forsook Ru­faldo, touth'd with a sense of thy indignities, thus to obscure me from all curious search and inquisition, but not hoping ever to be made thine; now if true love maintain the opinion you pretend, thus in your arms I powre my self.

It is Selina. Oh, I am rent in pieces with joy and wonder.

Is not Selina married to Rufaldo? then am I Goose-giblet: I should have been at Church with 'em, but for a crotchet that I had in my pate all the morning: I spake with her father yesterday, and from his mouth I heard Selina was very well, I think I do not dream, indeed now I call to memory, he said Selina was mist two or three hours ath' wedding morn; some figary, I know not what: and Antonio, as I supposed, gone in quest of her, not heard of since: but Selina is sure Rufaldo's wife, or some devil in her likeness has abused them all with credulity. This is true, sir, therefore be not easie, do not deserve more pity, this boy is mad, a jugling boy.

Shall I not be believed then for my self? Am I refused now?

It cannot be she: troth boy, thy conceit took me at first with much credulity: but here's our natures weakness, apt to cre­dit what we affect: were there not too much against it, thou migh­test deceive me: oh no, Infortunio is given up, lost to all felicity.

Since then you put me, sir, to prove my self, let me not be lost, I will not call you what I desire, nor name you sister: give me leave to finde my self, I know not where I am yet: my brother Antonio gone? what fury hath assum'd Selina's shape?

Come, put on a mans spirit Mopsa.

Well sir, in regard you are so portunate, although I have forsworn Marriage, if you desist constant, you may chance to have a lick at my Maydenhead.

I have it, my Brother's lost: Ile send a shepherd in Antonio's name, to invite my Father hither, and that Incubus. I vow not to forsake these Plains, till I possess my self, or be rejected quite, sus­pend thy passions then awhile, Selina, to morrow is the Shepherds Holiday, which they solemnize with rutal pleasures, 'twill draw them sooner: ha, are they gone? I will not leave 'em, with this thread I shall tread o're the Labyrinth, and discover all.

Antonio slain! hapless Cornelio, my hopes were treasur'd up in him, the staff and comfort of my age, and is he gone?

Hast sent for Bubulcus?

I have, Father, let not too much passion soyl that temper hath been observ'd in old Cornelio.

Why, was not he thy Brother? canst thou think thou hast so little share in young Antonio, that thou darest speak of comfort?

Sir, on my life, Antonio is not dead.

No, no, 'tis impossible.

Bubulcus, on my soul's a very coward, and durst as well attempt to take a prey out of a Tygers jaws, as see a sword with patience bent against him.

But Cowards in despair prove desparate, and most un­happy.

A my conscience I could beat him into a mouse-hole.

Nay, I could beat him, and I am sure you can beat me, wu'd I were well rid of you: 'tis a double misery to be abus'd, and dare not speak out.

Here's Bubulcus.

Not guilty, not guilty, and please your Worships, let me not be hang'd for a lye of mine own making: 'tis well known I am a stinkingcoward: not guilty, I beseech you; I never drew sword in anger in my life: if you hang me, you undo me for ever.

Look you, sir, 'tis clear.

My conscience is a clear as Christal: not guilty, my Lord, I beseech you.

Didst not thou kill Antonio then?

Let me be hang'd if I did.

Stay, he'l confess.

I confess I told a lie, thinking to have got some credit: but if ever I saw Antonio, since he gave me two or three kicks, which I deserv'd well enough, broyl me ath' coals. Mercy, oh mercy: do not cast me away upon the Hangman now, in the pride of my youth: not guilty, my Lord.

Howsoever fear of death possess him so, I see the murther in his eyes.

My eyes? wu'd they were out then: do you see murther in my eyes? are my eyes blood-shot?

His very hand doth shew a guiltiness, look how it trembles.

The fear of hanging hath put my whole body into palsey: My hands guilty? I can wash my hands clean of it, I never kill'd a Fly. By this hand, not guilty.

Which is Cornelio?

This: what's the matter? what makes this Shepherd here?

I am Cornelio: is it with me thou wood'st?

Oh stay awhile.

He's gone, sir: did I not tell you, Antonio was not dead? but this is strange.

Do I not dream?

Antonio among the Shepherds? if he be there, I am drest 'Ifaith: By any means, go sir.

Is Antonio alive again?

Yes verily, alive again, let not the Hangman fright away your wits any longer.

I hope I shall choose my own Gallows then. Hillaria, you would not believe me: did I look as I had kild any body? now I hope you will hold me for an innocent hereafter.

Bubulcus, pray let us have your Company, it doth con­cern your freedom. Antonio living? Rufaldo, let us make a mer­ry day on't, if it be true. I do sin against Discretion to distrust it. O my stars, I do acquit you all your injuries, if you possesse me of Antonio. Never did man to bliss more willing go.

I am glad I am repriev'd: come Hillaria.

Never was Jenkin in such Wilderness, her have walked and travelled creat deal of miles in these Woods: but her can finde no end nor evasions, look you: her have read in Histories, and Relations, and Kernicles, very famous Knights, and prave Sentilmen of valors, and shivalries have been enchaunted, look you, in Castles and very strange dwellings, and Towers, and so­litary places, now was have great fears and suspicions, lest Jen­kin was fallen into some Wisheries and Conjurations, and was inchaunted, bless us awl in these Desarts and Wildernesses for her valors and magnanimities,

So ho, ho, Master Jenkin.

It is our Page agen. Jocarello, where have you been? you are very tilligent Poyes, to lose you Master thus.

I was lost my self, had not a Shepherd by chance found me, and carried me into his house under the ground, where with a great many of Shepherdesses we sate up all night in making Gar­lands for some shew and pastimes to be done this day, which they call their Festival: pray, sir, since we have run a wildegoose chase so long, let's stay one day to see these sports and dancings.

Sports and dances, say you? take pleasures and delecta­tions in dances? Very well, Jenkin was knaw how to dance her self, was pred in awl Sentilmans qualities, look you, her will make no peregrinations back till awl be done, and it may be, was shake her legs in capers too, look you now.

Master Jenkin, you are well met in these parts, I per­ceive you are early this morning, to partake the pastimes of our Shepherds.

Good tayes and salutations, and cret deal of felicities come to awl your urships.

Sir, my name is Master Bubulcus, and I am as good a Gen­tleman.

As who pray you? do you make comparisons?

I do embrace your familiarities, and remain your truest worm.

Not too much worms, nor familiarities pray you: ha Pages, here is Selina's in her own apparels and vestiments, awl was very true as our Countrey-woman Eccho's was make re­ports: Selina was gone back agen: very well: Mistriss Selina's was very full of joys and exhillarations, to see you in these places, you knaw how creatly and ardently Jenkin was taken with your peauties, and pulchritudes, cret while ago: pray, when did you [Page 54]make returns out of these woods? Jenkin had knowledge, and saw you in your Shepherd apparels, and was make ambulations after you hither, out of meer amors and affections as her was true Sentilman.

I make return out of these woods? I entred them but now.

Well, you desire not to have things declared, and pub­lished, her was keep awl silences.

Upon my life you are mistaken quite in this, Mr. Jenkin.

Oh, pray you make not Jenkin ridicles, and derisions, look you, shall hear no more of that matters, call you only to memories you promised loves to Jenkin, pray you in matrimonies creat while ago.

I deny not that, sir, but I know not why you have long neglected me, and I am now married to Rufaldo.

Rufaldo's? hit is not possible.

Father, he says it is impossible Selina should be your wife.

How, not my wife? I would fain see that.

Is Selina your wifes in truths and verities pray you?

Do you make question? My wife? I think there is some reason, she is my very dear wife, I will assure you sir.

He has got a boy by this time.

A boy? well, I have got something, a pox a your fingers. How saist? is not something done, Sweet-heart?

Yes, in my conscience something is done.

Jenkin was never awl his days have such injuries and contumelies put upon her: was ever Sentilman thus abused? have her made repetitions and genealogies of her plood, for no matri­monies? Jenkin has peat the pushes, and Rufaldo's has get the pirds. Hum! her love not to make quarrels and prabbles, but Jenkin could fight with any podies in the urld, awl weapons, from the long Pikes to the Welsh-hooks, look you now, no matrimo­nies? her Welsh-plood is up, look you.

Master Bubulcus.

Master Blew-pottles, have you any stomacks or appetites to have any plows or knogs upon your costards, look you?

No great stomack at this time, sir, I thank you: alas, I have 'em every day, they are no novelties with me.

Come, Master Jenkin, I now perceive you lov'd my daugh­ter, if you had acquainted me in time, I should not have been nu­willing to have cal'd you son, but since 'tis too late, let your wise­dome [Page 55]check impatience: I know you are of a noble remper, how­soever passion may a little cloud your vertues, lets be all friends I pray.

Here is very cood honest words, yes, look you, Jen­kin is in aw I amities and friendships, but—

Oh, no more shooting at that butt: hark, I hear the Shep­herds Musick, and voice too, lets fit down I pray, Antonio keep thy word.

Fair Nymph, vouchsafe the honor to dance with me.

Troth, sir, I cannot dance.

We know you are Se­lina.

Your hand, fairest.

Disdain not, gentle sir.

Pible pables, with awl her hearts, look you.

Noble sir.

Fair Lady, at your service.

I will not change.

Nor I.

Which is Antonio?

It will break out anon.

You are a thief.

Ha.

You have rob'd Selina

Then Ile make restitution, what are you?

Antonio.

The Devil you are! faith, deal honestly with me, and Ile be true to thee: who art?

I am Selina by my hopes of hea­ven.

Ha, sister then!

I have no brother but Anto­nio.

And I am he. Oh happiness!

If thou beest Antonie, what made thee assume my habit?

Of that anon. Lives Infortunio?

He's here, and with him Gasparo and my sister the lost Felice.

I am ravisht with this wonder.

Keep your face constant: the Musick calls.

Ha, what means this?

Your blessing, sir, we are your Children.

Who's this?

I am Selina, sir.

And I am Antonio.

Amazement! thou Antonio? he Selina?

Ha, how's this, my wife become a man? I confess she plaid the man with me.

But who is this?

As I to be possest by Infortunio here.

Stay children, stay: take heed, you do not know what strength of joy my fainting age can bear: you fall in too full showres, like swelling Nile, these comforts will exceed the nar­row banks of my poor frailty: Rise, enjoy your wishes, and my blessings be multiplyed upon you. Ha! Rufaldo, here's Felice my lost Girl, take her, take her, Gasparo. Selina, art not thou Rufal­do's Wife?

No sir, I ventured that, he knows me well, Hil­aria and I were bed-fellows, at his request.

How? Hillaria and you bedfellows? I'de laugh at that.

I am abus'd, disgrac'd, undone.

Nay, Rufaldo.

Why then it seems you were Antonio, that I killd so, and you have, as a man should say, lain with Hillaria beforehand.

I am not behind hand.

Nay, and you have tickled her before and behind, tickle her all over for Bubulcus.

Hark you, is there another Selina's? bless us awl, here is very prave love-tricks, look you.

Blessing on him: why he hath made Stockfish on me, he has beaten away all my incli­nation to give my blessing.

Come, upon recollection, you must make it a bargain: they have, it seems, bought and sold already, 'tis past recovery, he shall be worthy of her.

Sir, that you may with more alacrity let fall your blessings: know, our blouds are pure, Antonio and your Daughter are as chaste from any sinful act, as when we were first mantled after birth.

Ha, saist so?

'Twas none of my fault, I am sure.

Then my blessings to you: come, y'are both my Chil­dren.

How?

Amen, and mine: Why I am rapt beyond my self with joys. Infortunio, Fate hath effected that I beg'd of Heaven in many prayers for you, oh my blisses.

So, so, I am guld, my house taken o're my head.

Sir, you know who I am, I am yet walking Terra incog­nita, I have a great mind to Bubulcus, you know what I have suf­fered for him, and so forth.

Let me alone, so, so: then pleasures run with a stream upon us, but if we shall make a full day on't, here's one more to meet with her match, this poor Vir­gin hath been long in love with Bubulcus: troth, sir, look upon her at length pitifully complaining: alas good soul, be honest at length: prethee do, and marry her, you know what has past between you, 'tis a hansom Wench.

Umh, I do remem­ber she was in love with me, and so was twenty more: what's that to me? Alas, would you have me descend so low?

Oh, sir, you sung another song in my mothers Dairy, when we sat up all night together, and had a Sack posset.

I do remember such a thing, but what's that? Ile tak' t upon me.

I beseech you, Gentlemen, speak for me, for I will have him, I am asham'd to shew my reasons.

Very small ones: away you durty quean.

What, has he got thee with child?

More then that, sir,

Has he had any Bastards?

Indeed Mistriss, Ile tell you; he hath begot [Page 58]three children of my body.

Fie upon't, no less then three Bastards.

How? nay, she lies fasly, I got but two, so many I will acknowledge, because they shall not doubt my sufficiency, had I any more then two, speak you lying whore.

Sir, I tender your credit, there is but two ways, either you must mar­ry her, or give her a piece of money, that's the easiest way, she is poor: for your reputation—

What do you think will content the Whore?

Hark you, best for you, make some satisfactions to this Sentilwoman, or Senkin was learn you more honesties and behaviours towards these umans, warrant you Master blew pottles.

A matter of twenty or thirty pieces, you can spare them.

You Strumpet, here's twen­ty pieces for you: do you hear? keep well the boys then: but you shall swear, before these Gentlemen, you will never claim marriage: then, be an honest woman hereafter.

Yes, bear witness, Gentlemen, I do accept his wise benevolence, and will never trouble him with marriage— whilst Gorgon lives.

Gorgon.

Your servant, and your pardons: nay, Gorgon has had his devices and vagabunduloes as well as the best on ye: give you all joy, I wish you wit, sir.

I am fool'd of all sides, was I a born fool?

Ha, ha.

Stay you, Master double colours, there be more fools in the business as your self: well Jenkin, were even best make shur­neys back into her own Countreys, and never put credits or con­ferences in any womans in the whole urld: they all lie and coo­zen, and make derisions out awl measures.

Stay a little, and Ile along with you. Since I have mist my Wench, I le ask these Gentlemens good wils to a second match, in stead of an Epilogue.

Courteous Spectators, and kinde Gentlemen. —

Why, how now? what, are you mad? will you speak the Epilogue? though you have plaid a fool in the Play, you will not shew your self an Asse before all this company. The Epilogue? I hope I am the wiser ath' two, and the better read in Complement.

Judicious Gentlemen—

Hark you, Master double-colours, and you goody Gor­gons, here is one wiser, Asses you both, to pronounce the Epi­logues, warrant you, and one, that knaws—to speak in as good English, Gentlemen, now sans Complement.