A comedy called The marriage broaker, or, The pander written by M.W., M.A.

The Marriage-Broaker.

Actus primus.

Scaena prima. Enter Crab the young Heir, Goodwit, and Dick the Fa • coner. Goodw. COme Mr. Crab, tell me how you do like The glory of the City, and the States Adorn her. Say, is ſhe bely'd by Fame, Above the truth of wonder and delight. Cr • b.

• a • ch tis a brave place; what doſt thou ſay Dick?

Dick▪ You ko • w the rich complexion of my no • e Could n •• e abuſe the ſent of Countrey aire; It doth 〈…〉 Reaſon, and inſpire Br ••••• 〈◊〉 ear ••• ſpirits: but tell us now, Where 〈…〉 gentle girles, thoſe coming 〈…〉〈…〉〈…〉 of my ſelf; yfaith I'le ſee Then 〈…〉 Sir, you are yet to learn 〈…〉 on earth; 〈…〉 moyet unknown To thoſe who want the skill to ſhew where they Do riſe and ſet, and where appear at noon; Which wander, which are fixt the wandring ſtar Keeps not one ſign ever, but what is now In Virgo, or the ſign of maiden-head, May before long be ſeen in Gemini. Dick Faith I do think the maiden-head a ſigne To all • all'd Shees, before that they have dwelt Three years i'th tender • eenes; a ſigne I mean▪ Barely without the thing Y • Go. How old I pray Was your dear mother then, when you were got; If ſhe call'd you her heir. Di k. Sir, I am call'd Her heir apparent, though I'me not my fathers: He was a Knight they ſay, my mother was A circumſtance of my good Ladies chamber, Who at fifteen, for better and for worſe, Was to the Falc'ner put for to be mann'd; When his good Maſter did it to his hand. 'Twas ſaid I came • ▪ months before my time, Yet had I Dad's n'own noſe, n'owo eyes, and forehead too; Though 'twas too narrow for his fair a • iring. But I am counted of the Falc'ner's • i • y, Who train'd me up in his own learned skill. Y. Goodw.

That is to lure and ly.

Crab

What's this toth' Wenches?

Y. Goodw. Sir, I was ſhewing they were wandring ſtatrea. Alwayes in motion; but their Caterer Will ſoon direct me, whom I'me ſure to find At an old countreyman's of his, who ſells Pierce aguardienty and tobac • o. Dick.

Pray ſir whats he you call their Caterer?

Goodw. He's one who makes proviſion for the belly • Squire of the Placket, he who in elder times Was free of this deep ſecret myſterie. By the black Character on's Pagan face; And his unchriſtned ſword was eaſily known. But now — Crab. No more Sir, of theſe dreadfull ſights, Their ſhadows will affright me in my dreames. Goodw. For your ſweet comfort Sir, the thin I mean Is a tame beaſt, yelep'd Captain H g; One that's ſo gentle, you may boldly ſtroke him The courteous kick to him's a friendly greeting The whip a pleaſing titillation; The baſtin • do is his dear delight. The grand diſguſt adort, and the aggravio, He ſuffers with a Captain's grand couragio. Crab. Yfaith I love this Captain horribly; I long to greer him with my courteous heel, To bore his noſe, and thankfully require His noble kindneſſe with his dear delight. O bravely rythm'd yfaith! now do I think How the Gallants will hugg me all, and call me The noble ſpark of Suſſex: in the countrey The people there will point at me, and ſay. That's he that beat the Captain Sirrah, you Remember to report my brave archievements. Dick O, fear not Sir; I warrant you I'le ſing Your praiſes moſt Poetically; ſwear You worſted Captain Peek at 15. weapons. Goodw.

What wilt thou ſay thy Maſter fought a prize?

Dick. I mean that to the field he challeng'd him At twenty weapons, came off clear at all, Without a ſcratch or ſear; then I will ſhew, How drinking with another Captain, you Did tweak him by th'noſe about the room, And make him hold your moſt victorious ſtirrup Goodw.

What muſt his horſe then keep him company?

Dick. Sir, I do now omit, how ſearehing then His Captainſhip, faces about, he did Eject him with diſgrace into the ſtreet; Where 'twas my luck to hold my Maſter's ſteed, That the Soldado might perform my task. Crab. Gramercy Dick yfaith; this ſhall be worth A copie-hold to thee, yfa • th la Dick. Thanks, good Sir, but will the Captain Caterer Take the battoon ſo kindly; I ne're thought Patience a Souldier's virtue untill now. Running away and patientneſſe did come I do believe, in faſhion both together. Goodw. Troth Falconer thou haſt flown the truth toth' mark. But this procurer is indeed no Captain, Onely he ſerv'd one, rob'd of his outſide; And where he was not known, uſurpt't the name. Crab. Though I came hither for to ſee the Wenches, Yet I will bea • this Captain firſt; you ſhall Intreat me hold my hands, and beg my pardon; Make us both friends in • ack, and ever after We'le love like children and be bed-fellows. Dick. This is his life at home, kiſſing his m • ids, Bearing his men, which muſt not ſtrike again. Come ſhew's ſome Girles, for I do know my Maſter Fain would give his cod piece-poin • s to be at her. Good Come follow me I warrant you I'le ſhew You game enough but do not you turn taile Crab. How 〈◊〉 turn tail? • hy wherefore 〈◊〉 me we h ••••… ; But let's alone, I warrant you Il'e towze And mowze them too. Goodw.

So ſo then, come away.

Exeunt.

Act 1. Scaen. 2. Enter Derrick and Shift. Der. Make me beholding to you, Sir I pray, To let me know who did direct you to me: Shift. Let my thanks wait upon your pardon, Sir; He's one that's in your debt, and happily Would not be known to ſend a ſecond debtor. Der. Faith if you come to borrow, you miſtake; And I am richer then I thought my ſelf, If any man be in my debt. Shift I mean, no debt of money, but of happineſſe, And rich content in the unvalued bleſſing Of a ſweet, loving, beauteous, virtuous wife. Der. 'Tis poſſible, though I think our trade Is laden more with curſes then with prayers. Shift Of what occupation then do you Style your ſelf free. Der. Faith of the dealing trade, We are call'd Merchants of the Maidenhead: Though often I confeſſe we do put off Frail ware inſtead of whole, that's nought to us: Cavea • empror; we do promiſe onely, For the outwards, do you mark me, for the Outwards alone; as if ſome youthfull Gallant, (Suppoſe your ſelf) ſhould now deſire my grave Experience to direct him to a W fe That's fair and rich • and young, I am reſolv'd It I preſent him w ••• theſe properties; I do profeſſe no • kill in med'cine Sir; And • is above my skill to know who at Fifteen do make maid's water, and who not; Who have a worm breeding i'th' tongue, who eat Musk comfits when they kiſſe whom ſecret Ills Moleſt, which none but mother midnight knowes. Shift. Leave theſe to my diſcovery, if ſhe Be young and fair, and rich, (but chiefly rich,) That drug ſhall cure her other Ills beyond The ſkill of charming Grandam Water-witch. Der. He who profe •• himſelf ſo much in debt To my direction, might have made you know The clime where my Intelligence doth reign Which Kents- • ike bounds upon the Eaſt, the Weſt Is by the river Arun limited; The North by an imaginary line, The South is by the Sea confin'd; within This round what beauties ſhine, my skil can ſhew Their number and degrees, now I do breathe Within a fo • rain air. Shift. He gave me then To know as much, nor is it my deſire To have my bliſſe thrown in n • y armes: I'le travail For it meet it, or purſue it flying; Only lend me your aid. Der. Sir, what I • lend I nere exact agen, onely I take My Intereſt before-hand; but yet firſt Beſides your goodly perſon which I'le make Your Miſtreſs doat upon before ſhe ſees, Let me know how I ſhall report you elſe, Your name wealth, countrey, birth and parentage, What Joyn • ure? Shift. I have that will pleaſe a woman; Send me to one has power to diſpoſe Of her own ourwards, as you uſe to call um; I have my ſelf that ſhall deſerve her, and An active brain to boot • ſhall win her too. Der.

Pray give me leave to tell your fortune, Sir.

Shift.

Read me a good one then.

Der. Good as the ſtarres Will yeild; in whoſe decrees you are inrol'd, An Engliſh younger brother, whoſe Eſtate Conſiſts in his annuity and wit: The ſtarres do • ell me your annuity Is ſold, and that your wits are roming after. Shift.

After what romes my wit?

Der. After your tongue. Which romes before your wit; would any man Whoſe words were uſher'd in with knowledge ſay, He'd win a wife by his good parts alone? Shift. Rich men like crafty knaves do need no bro • kers; Had I but land and gold, I'de never ſeek To your grave wiſdome for direction: But to be ſhort, enrich me with a wife, And claim an equall ſhare in all my fortunes. Der.

I think that face would tempt a luſtie widow

Shift He that doth woo a widow hunts the winde, They are too oft gone over to be caught By younger Brothers, they have learnt a trick To cheat the elder now; beſides I would Not go a beaten road Der. Laſt night I heard Newes from my Dioceſſe, that the great Heir Of Sir Iohn Crab lately deceas'd, is ſtraid Wi • h one who calls himſelf a traveller, I'th' abſence of a carefull uncle, whom, His brother left a Guardian to his Child. Shift. The traveller hath married her by this I warrant you Der

What married the Heir male

Shift.

What's the Heir male to me?

Der We ſhew you Sir. He has a ſiſter. Shift.

I let's hear of her.

Der. Her Father living fear'd that ſhe did love A Gentleman, whoſe Father's land he bought; He being ſick, with tears beſought his brother He would not this ſlip of fruitleſſe race Ingrafted in his ſtock, and by his prayers Doth with a promiſe of his faithfull care; This uncle (ſayes my news) intends a queſt Of his loſt Ward, arriv'd as he doth hear Out of the countrey in this little world Of London Shift. I do apprehend the reſt; That as the traveller enric'd away The Nephew, his Guardian being abſent; So I ſhould ſteal away the Neece, while he Seeks for the Nephew. Der▪ Still your tongue prevents Your wit. His truſty Huntſman he hath ſent before To purchaſe fair & ſpecious lodgings, meaning To ſhew his Neece the City Shift. Heard you not My noſe crack Sir, I feel it out of joint Already: for if ſhe do ſee the City, Musk-millions of rich gallants will beſiege Her Fort, and my cake's dowe. Der. Rye dowe to make Your Image on, to be the Ident's Idol. What does your active brain, your worthy ſelf Deſpair? fear not, ſhe ſhall not dwell ſo long I'th • town, nor her acquaintance be ſo cheap To every cringer, but believe me I Am poor in leiſure now, ſee me again Twixt twelve and one, till then adieu,

'Farewel.

Exit Derick Shift. This fellow though he be no Doctor, yet 〈◊〉 a Fee, the ſilver key, if my 〈◊〉 friend belyes him not, 〈◊〉 onely his intelligence but makes him •• ar no • hing by the year to thouſands well •• pe will pleaſe him, ſo, he gets no hire 〈◊〉 he deſerve it; the old fox may cheat, 〈◊〉 tis a ſcience in Ordinaries preacht. ••• al to lending to be over-reacht. Exit.

Act I. Scaen 3. Enter young Friendly and Phyllis. Friend Siſter we are not poor, my bare annuity ••• l keep's alive, and had we leſs, content • ll make us rich, if our confin'd deſires •• ſh only to be what we are, they want 〈◊〉 wealth, who diſregard it, thoſe who ask 〈◊〉 daily almes do ſhew that we are rich, 〈◊〉 we could think ſo, and compare our ſtate ••• h theirs, who have to give, cannot be poor. Phil. Not poor? what's a bare hundred pound a year? • ot half the tithe of what my father ſold. Friend. He who deſires no more then what's enough, •• rrows from ſmaller, and from greater ſumms •• th equal joy; he who doth drink no more •• en will extinguiſh thirſt, is pleas'd as well •• th a ſmall ſpring as with a ſwelling ſtream. •• d were we ſtript of all, of all forlorn; •• re's none can be ſo poor as he was born. Phil. Our want with this Philoſophy doth well • gree; but yet I hope your conſtancie ••• l yield it a far leſſe uneaſie task 〈◊〉 commend poverty, then ſuffer 〈◊〉 Friend Not ſo, for Wit is heaven's gift to thoſe Are ſhapt of purer clay; but patience Each noble mind beſtowes upon it ſelf. Phil Brother, I muſt confeſſe my miſerie The leſſe, by your example of a j • ſt And worthy ſcorn of F •• une's injuries. But the rich bleſſing of Eliſa's love Doth ſwe • ten your calamitie • ; while I Wanting inviting Dowrie, may receive Unwe come pra • ſes for my Chaſtity: A virtue now clean worn out of faſhion, Though few commend their abſtinence from meat, Who fall becauſe they have not what to eat. Friend. The hopes of my Eliſa did expire, When for a legacie her dying rather Doom'd my evilement from her bleſſed ſight: But he can ne're divorce our ſoules, laſt night Her heavenly ſhape in a moſt lively dream Shadow'd my fancie; I then ſaw, or thought I ſaw, but ſure I ſ • w the Queen of Love Give her a milky Dove, fellow to that She ſold to her Anacreon for a hymne, From which ſhe borrow'd inſtantly a quill, With which ſhe writ ſuch lines of love, the words Diſtilling loy, as if they ſtowed from A pen that's ſnatcht from Cupid's wing; ſhe folds, And ſeales the • etter with a bleeding heart. The witneſſe of the truth She writ, and then Firſt ſuperſcribing it. To her beſt friend Friendly; ſhe gav't her winged meſſenger To bear, when ſwelling joy lab'ring for room, Diſſolv'd my ſleep, and (as the Poet ſings) I wak't, and ſo all this was but a dream. Phil. Thus the Idea of the Saint which loves • id honours you, preſents it ſelf both day • nd night to baniſh carefull thoughts: but I — Friend. Complain not ſiſter that you are forſaken; You told me fortune bleſt you with the ſight, Where you laſt ſumme • d, of • he wealthy Heir Who lords it • ow in my inheritance. Who ſwort by's Grandſire's and his Grandam's Saint, He lov'd you dearly Phil. He did ſwear indeed, But ſo ruſtically. Friend I never heard Of a Court faſhion yet in Swear •• g. And beſides the Proclamation forbids it: Unleſſe he'le beſtow his Charity on the poor a new way. But you muſt give me leave to tell you ſiſter, Your carriage tow'rds him, ill became your fortune, That when the land your father ſold was thrown Into your lappe, ſo proudly you refuſe it; Nor was Eliſa's brother worthy ſcorn. Phil.

What would you have me marrie with a fool?

Friend. Great ladies now keep things with baubles ſiſter, And you may teach him wit and manners too; And win a fame for bringing up a husband. Phil. 'Tis ſin againſt a woman's modeſtie, To appear yeilding at the firſt aſſault: But if young Crab do woo again, although Of an Ill name, he ſhall not want a glance. Enter Dove. Dove. My old young Maſter, and my ſweet young Miſtreſs. Give me your golls — theſe are the ſweeteſt kiſſes I had ſince I did ſee you laſt. Friend.

Tom Dove welcome to th'town.

Phil. This may be Venus Dove, And then the dream is out. Dove. You do not dream, I am indeed Tom Dove, your father's Huntſman; Who with his land for an appurtenance Bequea • h'd me to the next new Maſter, I Am now of counſel to the fair Eliſa, Who in his letter ſends you newes and comfort. Friend. O my preſaging thoughts, do I now w • ke? Or did I th • n but dream? the ſeale agrees Kiſſes the Seal. On which I thus and thus do taſte, and ſeal My loy, e're I can mask my happineſſe. Dove O Miſtreſs, my young Maſter ſings your praiſes Moſt melodiouſly, he holds the fiſh, Your beauty did make water in his mouth. Phyl

Fie Thomas, don't bely you Miſtreſſe manners.

Dove. I mean that you did make his mouth to wa • er. And when he can clare home, he did nothing But ſing and cap • r and caper and ſing I'le give away my lam • es, and ſell away my dammes To • uppe with an Ewe ſo bonny. Phyl. Well, let him keep his ſheep's head to himſelf, And I will keep my maiden head. But what Are the effectual Ingredients Of your amazing Letter, which do work So ſtrangely with my brother. Dove. There is that, Will moiſten his mouth too, ſomething to purge His melancholy, and make the heart dance. Friend. Eliſa and her uncle coming up So ſuddenly! Dove. I do believe they are Arriv'd by this, two dayes are ſince expir'd He receiv'd news, his lodgings were provided; Which time my idle care hath burnt away In buying knacks and toyes for your ſweet Miſtreſſe And her appendix, though my firſt charge was To viſit you, but I do hope.— Friend. Your pardon Timely prevents your ſuit, but yet the loſſe Of her wiſe brother doth amaze me, how Think you to hunt him out? my advice is To winde thy Horn about the town, he knowes The ſummons. Dove. Therefore he'l • not appear. Beſides, The Citizens may take it to themſelves; And I may pull the heard about my eares. Phyl. Indeed I think him creeping in the horn Already; if he be not ſoon reclaimed, The Gallant hath a moſt becoming face To grace the leſſer end. Friend. Come leave your flouting. Tom, when your newes hath received thanks within. Then take your leave to wait your Maſter's coming. Exeunt.

Act. I. Scaen. 4. Enter Old Goodwit, Eliſa, and Winifred. Old Goodw. Neece, your are welcome to the Theatre Of fond delights, the ſchoole of vanitie; Where various ſights ſeduce the gazer's eye: There to be good where nothing tempts to ill, Is a faint virtue of the weakeſt mindes, This is a place will try your Conſtancie; Where if it ſtand unſhaken being aſſail'd, As it ſtood firm where there was nought to ſhake it; Though you do not increaſe your ſtore of virtue. Yet you ſhall purchaſe glorie in reſerving Thoſe graces which were lov'd, admir'd at home. Eliſa. Sir, paying firſt the thanks which my dutie owes Your loving care, my promiſe ſhall ſecure Your fear, who am the Miſtreſs of a heart Shall ſtand unſhaken as a rock, againſt The furie of the waves, amidſt that Sea Of which (they ſay) Venus her ſelf was born. Old Goodw. I will not ſinne againſt the ſoul of goodneſſe, In doubting yours. Daughter you have a fair Example, let your imitation Wait on her virtues. Win. Sir, I took her for My guide, ſince I firſt follow'd her, and am A ſervant to her worth, and your commands. Old Goodw. You ſhall do well, my man hath taken fair And ſpacious lodgings for us. I do wonder They could not hold him to expect our coming. If he flie out, and my came Dove prove wilde, I'le clip his wings; my neece and daughter, I Muſt provide queſters to retrive the ſtray. If in my abſence Dove return, let him Know who's diſpleas'd, and why. Eliſa.

Uncle he ſhall.

Old Goodw.

And heare you, Win? forget not you your charge.

Exit. Win.

My care is ever ſervant to your will.

Eliſa.

Come Couſin, let me hear this ſecret charge.

Win.

You do not long I hope.

Eliſa. Not for ripe cherries In winter, or for oyſters in the dog daies: But I muſt taſt this ſecret. Win. I believe The reliſh will diſpleaſe, but now I think on't. Laſt night I had the ſweeteſt dream, me thought — Eliſa. I will not give a farthing for your thought; What task was that my uncle charg'd you with? Win Then I'le diſcloſe what I did mean to keep Cloſe as my maidenhead; a ſweet young gallant Catching my work, did feel his wantonneſſe Reveng'd with my ſharp needle, on which chance He writ ſuch piteous verſes in the bloud Which my Steeletto drew; t'wod grieve your heart To hear his ſad laments, he finely ſwore My little Inſtrument was Cupid's dart. And though the god were blind, his darts could ſee, Therefore he ſaid my needle had an eye: Then he proteſted the bloud wherewith he writ Came from his heart, which he did call the ſpring Of Love and Sorrow. Eliſa. Couſin you are unkinde, To cheat me with delayes; your father did Appoint me your example: when I pray Did you finde me a niggard of my thoughts? Are you not conſcious of all my ſecrets, As if you dwelt within me; I love not This niceneſſe, but if needs we muſt be ſtrangers. Win. Pray heaven I have not gotten you with childe. I'me ſure you have no other bed-fellow. Eliſ. Yes Win, I have; whom might I once embrace▪ A man of rich deſert. Win. Benedicite! a man lie with us, and I feel him not? Eliſ. You oft have known me name my ſervant Friendly, 'Tis he I mean, his virtues dwell with me: And the bleſt ſhape enſhrines them to my thoughts Is ever preſent; you have ſeen his tokens, Heard our loves firſt beginning, but now you— Win. No more, if you'l be ignorant of nothing, Prepare your eares to hear unwelcome newes; My charge is to preſerve you from the ſight Of him you daily ſee, who nightly lies With you, your Filendly; whom my father hears To be in town, and ſears you'l find a way To let him know of yours; my office is To intercept his viſit. Eliſ. Will you then Prove traitor unto love? Couſin beware, His godhead will revenge your treacherie; But yet you know him not: if he ſhould act Our tailor's man, or bring us women's knack • To ſell, how would your skill diſcover him? Win. My father told me of a mole he had By his right eye, that ſigne will betray him. Eliſ. That mole was given by the god of love; Who lighting once a taper at his eye, The baſhfull Lad putting it by, receiv'd That ornament which Cupid cauteriz'd; Who unto thoſe who wear his livery Will be propitious in their worthy Loves▪ Win. May he have fortune equal to his wiſh; And if you can deviſe a way to ſee him, And I not forfeit my obedience, My aid ſhall not be wanting. Eliſ. Now I am Reſtor'd▪ I will go ſtudie, he ſhall act Some new adventure to advance our hope Shall ſhame times paſt, inſtruct the time to come. Fxcunt.

Act. II.

Scaen. 1. Enter Derrick. Der. I do ſuſpect that I do wait at home For ſome poor needy Gallant, whoſe eſtate Conſiſts in his good clothes, a handſome face, And a clean leg to boot; I did forget To ask his name, but I do ſwear it is Unworthy of my knowledge; if he paſſe His hour, he ſhall finde my word is cancell'd. Enter Shift. Shift.

I've juſtly kept my time Sir.

Der. Then time cannot Say you have kept her ill. Shift. And time keeps me as well. For I do live extempore. Der. I have been looking o're my liſt, to fit Your turn; which doth contain of maids fourſcore, Between 15. and five and twenty, three From thence to 30. after which time, they Are counted maides of the Religion. Shift.

Pray Sir let's ſee this map of Maidenheads.

Der. For my own memorie I'le produce it; I did deſcribe my contemplations For my own uſe, and not for others ſtudy. puts on his ſpectach • I muſt put on my ſeeing inſtruments, For to ſurvey this land of Amazons. Shift. I fear you do ſee double with thoſe eyes, And may miſtake 2. thouſand pound for one. Pray look for me the moſt alluring outwards. Der. I ſhall, the firſt Region comprehends The maiden beautie, call'd Virginia: And this is thought to be a fertile land, New onely wanting the good husband's tillage. Sh ft.

That ſhould not want, were I it's Governour.

Der. To each my ſure experience hath affixt Their portion, feature, age, their birth and breeding. This other ſide I have deſign'd for Widows, Called by ſome the Iſland of Japan, A rich and open countrey; though ſome think 'Tis not the ſweeteſt air; this is divided. 'Mongſt Widows of the firſt, ſecond and third head, The portion of which laſt is counted barren. Sh ft

But there are Widows of more heads then three.

Der. True, but my page doth fill with none but thoſe Which are in danger, Sir, of Matrimony. Thoſe of the fourth head ſolace may themſelves In what is paſt, and with their toothleſs gumms Chew on the pleaſures of their youth, but few Can grace 5. fingers with five wedding-rings. And the example of the wife of Bath Is in my reading ſingular. Shift. I ſee That your inquiſitive experience Hath left a blank for more diſcoveries. D • r. A wight did come to me for help, As you do now, did finde my other map, and writ Terra incognita in the emptie ſpace. Shift.

What's that I pray?

Der. That's land undiſcovered, Which doth invite us unto farther ſearch. Shift. But there are ſome unmarried, neither maids Nor widows, are all ſuch Utopians In your Geographie? Der. If you deſire One that's ſo qualifi'd, I'le fit you too. Shift. No Sir, I onely did deſire to know Their place and order in your table. Der. Theſe Are regiſtred alone in my black book; Of theſe m • Dioceſſe doth yeild but few, And thoſe tranſpla •• •• d to the city firſt, Thence ſent unto the place from whence they came. Shift. Pray Sir inſtruct me fully in your table; What mean thoſe lines are drawn hither from thence? Right and oblique, to and again, much like The picture of a ſhip. Der Where I am known, They call't my ſhip; for on the welcom Eve Of Valentine, once every year, I draw My Table new; then I expunge thoſe names Belong not to my office, and adopt new. When unto thoſe complain of want of wives, They uſe to ſay that Derrick's ſhip's come home. Shift.

But for the lines.

Der. Theſe I may rightly call Lines of proportion, which do point you out The equal matches in the ods of portion. Shift.

I underſtand you not.

Der. As for example, This oblique line drawn from the letter I Annext unto a maid that's fair and young, Whoſe whole eſtate is but an hundred pound; And ending in the letter O prefixt Unto a widow of the ſecond head That's valu'd at a thouſand, doth demonſtrate Theſe matches Geometrically even. Shift. Truſt me your Schemes moſt mathematically Exact and curious: but I pray demonſtrate A true proportion in the difference Of Dowrie 'twixt the maids. Der. This doth appear In theſe lines which are perpendicular; As thus, the line which falls from the ſame I, Upon the letter T, annext unto A maid that wants an ey •• and Elder by Ten years, though ſhe exceed 9 • hundred pound, Doth ſhew the Matches moſt exactly equal. Sh. Give me old one ey'd I with her full weight, Then young I with two eyes, ſo much too light; Let's hear a reaſon of your confident Aſſertion. Der. Suppoſe their age were equal, Y five years younger, and I five years elder; Divide nine hundred into equal parts, Fiftie, beſides four hundred in a part. T is the worſe two hundred for the want Of her one eye, adde hereunto five years You did ſubſtract, and ſhe is worth two hundred And fiftie more, there you have half the ſumme; From I deduce five years, and count her eye Into the match, and the whole ſumm's abated. Shift. Somewhat obſcure, but yet I apprehend. Five years Increaſe can make a wife the cheaper By one in five, then an eye wanting can. Der. Moſt righteous truth, O age, age, age in women; 'Tis their chief fear, becauſe the ſcorn of men. Shift.

And which in all your Liſt wiſh you me to

Der. Faith here is one, if you could like her noſe; She's rich enough. Shift. What ailes her noſe? Der. There growes A mole upon't ſo like a bunch of grapes. That if you love um you can ſcarce forbear The taſting, when her mother was with child With her, long'd for grapes, at the firſt minute Some ſmell diſliking her; ſhe ſtopt her noſe; And this they ſay's the cauſe: but 'tis time I Put up my pipes • This Gentleman is needy. Shift. Good Sir, before you eaſe, let's ſee the place Of her you ſaid was coming to the City. Der. She with her uncle, as I hear's arriv'd; She's my Inprimi • , nineteen years her age, Her Dowrie full 500. pounds a year. Beſides her plate and jewels. Shift. Good Sir inform me, Where's her lodging; Der. In my pocket now. Make me beholding to you for your name, Before we part. Shift.

My name doth call me Shift.

Der. It truly calls you then, a cleanly Gentleman, I ſhall report you ſo. Farewell. Shift. Nay Sir, We'le greet in Sack before we part, I • we A greater debt to your diſcourſe • that wine Vnlocks his breaſt, but ſhall my wits refine. Ex.

Act. II. Scaen. 2. Enter Goodwit, Hog, Crab, Falconer. Goodw. Captain, how fare the Ladies of the Lake? Your Miſtreſſes by the Thames ſide, thoſe Syrens, Whoſe beautie and enchanting voice invite The heedleſſe paſſenger, do they reſide At their old ſhade? or have they chang'd their ſhore? Hog. To ſhame the devil, their dilapidation Hath made them ſtand in need of reparation: They are now in reedifying Sir. Goodw. What new ware have you then come in, you dare Command to an old friend or a new: will give The higheſt price. Hog. Sir I have freſh and new, Was never yet broke up to ſee the Sun, My good old Miſtreſs Neece, one newly wean'd From milking, and who hath not yet forgot To riſe betimes i'th' morning, ſhe is now Learning to ſwear and talk bawdy, poor fool; I never ſaw a worſe proficient: But ſhe is dear, ſhe muſt not yet fall down Vnto the hackney price. Goodw. Let thy old Miſtreſs Know, I have ſeen the Indies ſince I ſaw her, And brought home gold untry'd, ſurvey that Gallant, He is a man of gold. Hog.

Of gold untry'd, You mean.

Falcon. The Captain doth abuſe you Sir, You hear him ſay, your mettal is untry'd: Let his eares feel the valour he ſuſpects. Crab. His looks are too Captainical for me, They kill at leaſt a mile before he's ſeen; Thou know'ſt that I am mercifull, for once I'le pardon him, tell him my clemencie. Fale. Yes, with a witneſs; Captain, or Captain not, Know that my Maſter's of approved might; He ſl • w the Suſſex dragon in the field. Good.

Put in, without an Allegorie too.

Fale. I know not what your Allegories mean, But I am ſure he ſlew him; yet I ſee Him couch his conquering lance againſt the beaſt, Which now with many doublings doth advance His ſpeckled belly 'gainſt the hardy Knight; I'le leave the reſt unto a Poet's quill. Hog.

A Poet's fiction merits no belief.

Fal. This is a ſtorie, and you muſt believ't; The skin of the foul fiend is to be ſeen In his great hall, would make the bloud recoil Out of your meazeled face, think you I lye? Crab. O do not anger him; indeed 'tis true, I dare not in the dark paſs through my hall, For fear of ſeeing it. Good. The Captain ſhall, Believe the wonder, and report it too. Fale. 'Tis his beſt way; this is his eleventh labour, And this wild boar ſhall be the twelfth, if he Injure his valour with the leaſt ſuſpition. Hog. Il'e not believe upon compulſion neither; But for the Senior Don Franciſco's ſake, I will embrace his worth. Crab. O by no means, My worth loves no embracing, I ſhall ne're Abide that look, Dick. Fale. Then't ſhall not offend you, Hogs face about. Hog. Dog's face come out▪ I will Not turn my back for thee not He • cules. Good. Nay then I ſee we muſt arreſt his armes, Captains ſhould teach their ſouldiers to obey By their example. Crab. Good Senior hold him faſt, Awake my ſleeping courage, now I come, My courteous valour greets the Captain's bum. He kicks him. Good.

I fear you'l beat a hole into his drum.

Falc. 'Tis good to remove the cold theums from's ſtomack; But I believe the phyſick doth not work; He ſpits for't, give him tother dram. Hog. My ſtomack's not ſo cold, but this foul wrong Hath ſoon inflam'd it; ſhall the noble race Of Boca di la porca be diſgraced, And ſuffer with an aſſes patience? Falc. Divorce your hand▪ good Captain, from your hilt, Or with his breath he'l blow you into Atomes. Hog. I care not for his ſtrongeſt blaſts, he'l find The Hog foreſeeing can prevent the wind. Crab. For once I'le buy your patience with a Fee, Nay keep your diſtance, for this price you ſhall Report that I ſubdu'd your ſtubbornneſs To my ſubjection, and did make you yeild Your ſlaviſh neck to my inſulting heel. Hog. I will proclaim your bounty, equal to Your valour Sir, and both ſuperlative. This ſhall buy ſacrifice for good S. Criſpin, St. Martin's play-fellow, this day is his; The night to Criſpianus is deſign'd. Crab. Is this day Criſpin's▪ and I not know it? Frolick my hearts, this day is my birth day; I do remember't very well, between The houres of twelve and one i'th' afternoon, That's about this time, I'me about one & twenty: Here's think for to buy ſacrifice, we'le make A merry night for Criſpianus ſake. Good. You now like a new Officer ſhould ſhew Your power, this one and twenty'th Criſpin ſhould. Heighten your thoughts, & infuſe new deſigns, To make your ſervants and your tenants know They now are ſubject to a new Lord & Maſter. Crab. And well remembred: Dick, you ſaid you ſpi'd My uncle here in town, no matter what His buſineſs is, but you ſhall take my horſe and Ride to my Farm i'th' wild, command my Baily To ſell a hundred weathers, but be ſure You bring the money inſtantly. Falc. Before that he hath fold ena, he will never do't. Beſides, he feares your uncle. Crab. I will ſend My uncle and him both packing, if they Diſpleaſe me, here's my Father's ſeal, go write And I'le ſubſcribe, make haſte, the moon doth ſhine; I do not mean to ſleep 'till thy return. F • l. L • t not my ſlowneſs make you looſe your ſleep •• But if I fall, blame ſunne, or the knave baily. F ••• . Gord.

When you are ready you know where to find us.

Crab Captain, you ſhall not ſee the gentle croft This night; I'le be your Saint, and bun •• h Criſpin And Criſpinnus from the Calender. Hog. Sir by your leave, a Crab muſt firſt be boyl'd. Before he can be written in red letters. Good. He's written in red letters there already. St. So • • n Cancer is his holiday. Crab. Well, leave your ſcoſſing; when we have diſpatch't This Embaſie, we'l burn away the day. And night to boot, in wenching, drink, & play. Goodw. The thought of one and twenty hath tranſhap't him; This humour doth become you, let it not cool; Who's chaſte and ſober now, is thought a ſool. Ex • unt. Eliſa.

How? you a lawyer, that is very ſtrange.

Dove. Truer then ſtrange, • 'me ſure ••• ve ſpent my Fee, Before that I have made my motion, Eliſa. What motion mean you? Dove. That's a ſtrange thing, You muſt be Judge too. Eliſ. That is nothing ſtrange, 'Tis long agoe ſince I knew how to judge 'Twixt one that weighs his worde and he which ſpeaks▪ What others not himſelf doth underſtand. Dove.

My meaning's that my motion's unto you.

Eliſ. 'Tis very likely then that you ſhall ſpeed. Dove

Nay but I ſhall not, and beſides I will not.

El.

You are an honeſt Lawyer to your Client.

D • ve.

Honeſt as any Lawyer of them all.

Elſ.

But what's the motion?

Dove.

'Tis for a ſufer.

Eliſ

And what's his ſure?

D • ve. Your humble Orator De •• es a he ••• ng in the Chancery of Cupid. Bleſ. He's a fool, for love doth keep No court of conſcience, but for your ſake His ſu • e ſhall be no ſooner heard then ended; But now in earneſt ſay who is this ſuter? Dove 'Tis not an hour ſince the old Placket-broaker Our neighbour Derrick ſends for me to a tavern. Commends the worth of a young Callant to me: Who worthily beſtow'd the pains to lay Him faſt aſleep; this Gallant is my Client; If Detrick lyes not, he can eaſily ſpend Two hundred pound a month. Eliſ. 'Tis no great skill. To ſpend a thouſand. e're ſince I was 13. This knave hath talk't of ſending ſutors to me, But when's this day of hearing? Dove. Inſtantly, Soon as his Barber can waſh in ſope, And wring him, ſirk up his forehead, Hight him And dight him, point his beard, excite his wit; Have at you then yfaith. Eliſ. I am prepar'd; O • he myſterious arts, and wayes of love? While others with unmanly care do plume Their ſtarched looks, to bait the heedieſs eye; My Friendly to a • chieve his hopes, muſt take. A-ſhape that's loath'd and fearfull in their eyes, Who know not what's conceal'd in the diſguiſe. Dov

How Miſtreſ • l theſe are miſeries indeed.

Biiſ. Thomas, you know Venus hath ſign'd my love With her own ſeal, to know him if he ſtray. Dove.

His mole you mean.

Eliſ. You gueſſe aright, my uncle Diſcover'd to my couſin Win this mark, Which muſt exelude him from my ſight, or ſhe Forfeits a father's bleſſing; therefore he Shall ſerve me in a Blackamoor's diſguiſe. Dove. I apprehend the reſt, that be my care; This is my Client knocks, I will retire. knocks within. El. Be within hearing you may take him. If that the ſiege be hot, or laſt too long. Enter Shift. Dove.

Sir you are welcome, Venus proſper you.

Shift. Ladie, I have brought a ſervant to you, ſent By one whoſe wiſhes gladly wait on yours. Eliſ. Sir, let me beg your pains, to carry back His gift with thanks, which do attend his care. Shift. Sweet do not ſlain your beauty with a ſinne. To ſcorn the offer'd preſence of a friend. Eliſ. If you do think me haughty or ingrate, I'le not unlade you Sir of your opinion; You have free leave to carry hence that burden. Shift. I would not, fair one, carry hence your ſcorn, Which doth oppreſſe me with a heavy load; Rather let it afflict me here, the ſlave Your friend did ſend will ſadly bear your yoak, Though I dare ſay he may deſerve your favour. Eliſe. Pray Sir let's hear his worthy properties, Dances he on the rope, or tumbles, weares He a fool's coat to make his miſtreſs merrie? Shift. All theſe, 'tis his deſire to be a fool; That's to be fortunate: and now he's like One dancing on the ropes, ready to fall; And onely ballaſt with the pole of Hope; But if you'le ſee him tumble, you ſhall finde Him active in his vaulting, and he'le runne Through a ſmall hoop with great agility. Eliſ. I may take money to ſhew him Sir, Will pay his hire, and keep his Miſtreſs too. Shift. He'l keep her like a Queen; the envious Sun Shall not with Rayes (which yeild to her's) impair Her guarded beauties; the earth, air and ſea Shall pay their tribute to her taſte, her bed Shall be as ſoft as air, as Phoenix neſt Perfum'd; and as the ſun breaks from the Eaſt, So ſhall ſhe riſe, and where ſhe ſhines, the day Shall be more bright by her peculiar ray. Eliſ. He muſt have richer qualities can do Theſe fea • s, can he not ſing and fiddle too? Shift. He'le ſing his Miſtreſs worth, and he will play Such muſick, ſhe will laugh incontinent, If ſhe'le vouchſafe to be his inſtrument: But the beſt quality my truth can boaſt, Is my ſervice, love, and loyalty. Eliſ. Why do you name your ſelf? are you that ſervant? Pray ſpeak the name of my good friend that ſent you. Shift. I am that he, that ſent and brought my ſelf. Know deareſt Lady, 'tis the property, And the reward of worth, that 'twill not be Conceal'd▪ your fame invited me to ſee, To love and honour you, and to preſent My perſon and my fortunes for a gift. Eliſ. They need no fortunes who are ſo l • dow'd: Nature and art have ſo enriched you, That you ſhould injure them, to throw you merits On any that's unable to deſerve, Or to require them; and let me beg of you To adde this more unto your rich deſerts, My pardon of their too unequal welcome. Shift. She's taken, taken by the art of man; My pretty ſweetneſſe, taſt my elemency In this abſolving kiſs; this ſeals thy pardon; Musk, civet, ne • t • r, marrow of them all, And all that's ſweet do in her kiſſes meet, Theſe kiſſes are dry ſweet-moats, pretty mouſe, They'l not extinguiſh thirſt, nor cool the heat Of panting love, let us in private feaſt Our mutual deſires with liquid cates. And juicy gawdles of unvalued rates. Eliſ. This fellow ſure is ti • vall'd from himſelf; Friend if you are at home, I'de ſpeak with you. Think not a taviſht le • ſſe a pattern of love; It is a favour which I'le not deny To the bare outſide of a Gentleman, Which you do ſeem to wear; but know, • ude ſit, That your ungentleneſs denies your ſelf That cur • e • ie is owing to your ſhape. For my ſake practiſe manners, or elſe chuſe A Miſtreſs who will ſuffer your abuſe. Enter Dove. Dove

Did you call; Eli I ••• ant ſo; wait me in.

Exeunt; manet Shift. Shift. She's gon, fled, vaniſht, ſo are all my hopes; Shame ghoſt the counſel of this broaking fool; Whoſe ſober thoughts were ſo preciſely nice, They conceal'd where this wealthy beauty ſhin'd, But when the ſpirit of the Sack had thaw'd His frozen tongue, in hope to ſhare the pray, He ſpeedily unfolds her whole condition, And counſels me to look; my ſon, ſayes he, This is a name of proſperous preſage With me, which I vouchſafe to give to thoſe Are by my care promoted to a Bride. My Son, firſt know that Love a warfare is, Where the Commander fights with ſtratagems And courage, he doth bribe the Officers For to betray their charge; if this not take, He ſprings the wall, that valour may prevail In thoſe deſigns, where ſubtilty did fail: So when thou woo'ſt, ſee thoſe are near thy Miſtreſs; The Chamber Secretary, or the man Carries her private errands, (then he ſent For th' •… oman of the dogs to practiſe on) But if this fail, • ſſay to make a breach, Women are brittle Clay, and made to yeild▪ Where manhood ſhews his ſtandard in the field. This he call'd counſel of War May he thrive, Like to the ſage advice he did contrive. Enter Dove. Dove

What, at your afternoon's devotion ſir?

Shift Yes, I was praying, Sir, for the adverſity Of the old knave that made us two acquainted. Dove Believe me, prayer is now out of faſhion; But let not that poor fool afflict your brain; Shift. But I may ſend my wiſhes after him; Caſſandra's miſerie ſtill wait on him; May truth he ſpeaks, wander, and never finde Any believing eat to entertain it, That when he preaches youth wi • h vowes And ſinowy ſucculent to wealthie widows, They may be infidels to all his doctrines; Be he the mark't Owle, hooted and cry'd Into contempt by all the countrey youth That is unwiv'de, and may all maids that ſee This cheating vizor vow virginitie. Dove. Suffer this ſhadow viniſh from your thoughts. And be advis'd by me; let not your hopes Cool in a ſaint diſcouragement, becauſe Your Miſtreſſe gave no adieu at parting; 'Twas onely a maid's niceneſs, not to ſeem Too ſoon o'recome; invade her with ſome gift May ſpeak your love to him, win her's to you. Shift. I did invade her, and that fiercely too; But that's the miſcrie, ſhe doth not love Invading; and if gifts could take her, freely I made a tender of my ſelf and fortunes. Dove Coureſhip exactly needy, let her know The richneſſe of your love; dear Sir your bounty To me makes me your friend and ſervi • our; I know a Blackamoor whoſe properties. Your knowledge will confeſſe, deſerve promotion, He ſings well, dances, fences, and to grace Theſe qualities, he can va • icinate Your Fortunes, and the dark events of Fate, Unhappily. Shift. Yet happily his skill May fail; but why ſuch pains to paint This ſmootie piece, with beauteous praiſe? if you Can paint the Devil white, what's that to me? Dove. I'le tell you what, he now doth mourn his want Of ſervice, in the loſs of an old Maſter. Shift. He's of the mourning colour, right indeed, And d • de in grain; but truly I need none, That tells ſtrange fortunes, or laments his own. Dove. Nay if you are ſo wiſe, at once to ſpell And ſcoffe my purpoſe, good Sir farewell. Shift. Be not offended friend, if my deſpair Make me inquiſitively ſuſpitious Of any powerfull means, for to advance me In the high favour of the bleſt Eliſa. But what for Loves ſake of this Blackamoor? Dove. Advance him in the ſervice of your Miſtreſs, His honeſt thanks will twenty ways requite you; He will bely your Fortunes, ſwear what lordſhips Do call you Maſter, and what goodly houſes Do mourn your abſence, what delightfull gardens Will freſhly ſpring upon your wedding day, Being quickned with your Bride's deſired ray; Then he will ſhew how you beſtow your time; How you do number minutes by your ſighes, And that your tongue each quarter ſtrikes Iliſa. Shift. Thanks honeſt friend; but doſt thou think ſhe will Accept him from me? Dov. If his proper worth Did not commend him, yet her manners can Not well refuſe what curteſie beſtowes. Shift.

I prethee ſend him to me ſpeedille.

Dove.

Within this hour we'le wait you at your lodging.

Shift. 'Till then adieu; this is good husbandrie. To give what's dear to keep, and cheap to buy. Exeunt.

Act III. Scaen. 1. Enter Crab, Lydia, Goodwit, Mrs. Cunnimeng • r, Hog. Crab. Cheer up my little melancholie mouſe, This is the hour which bleſt the fatal world With my auſpicious birth, cheer up I ſay; I will reward this joy, here's gold to buy Thee pins, here's more to purchaſe busks▪ and laces; And for thy Aunt, here woman hold thy hand, Here's price for ſuppage; you noble Frank, and you Captain, with this and this, carouſe a health Vnto your Soveraign, that's I; this day I'le be your King. Goodw. Marrie and ſhall, great Sir, For Neptune in his regions cannot ſhew A fairer King Hog. Then your Highneſs is. Mrs. Cun. May happineſs be my fellow handmaid Vnto your worth, which crowns you King of bountie. Hog. Fond woman, leave thy timorous devotion, Awake my drowſie blade, and boldly dare Blind Fortune to forſake this royal wight, That is to be her ſelf unfortunate. Crab. Treaſon againſt my royal Majeſtie, Good ſubjects all arreſt the treacherous fleet. Lyd F • e Michael, are not you aſham'd to draw 〈◊〉 naked ſword in ſo great a preſence? Hog.

If I thought any treacherie, may you,

Hog. If I thought any treacherie, may you, Your Aunt, and all the women of the Citie Prove honeſt; that is, may I be quite undon. Crab. For once I'le pardon you my own mistake, But for the honour of the day; this ſword Shall not be wak't in vain, come kneel you all, Your loyal tie becomes you, which I'le honour By dubbing you all Knights and Ladies riſe Sir Francis Curtis, and Sir Captain Hog, Knights of the noble order of the Crab: Riſe you a toothleſs Ladie of the ſame. Goodw. Vnder your pardon, leige Lord, you might In more decotum dub Sir Michael Hog With ſword of Baeon, then with Knightly arms. Crab. Your pardon graciouſly prevents your chiding. Becauſe you beg'd it e're you did offend. You are too bold to interrupt my courſe, And I do make my Queen to kneel too long. Ariſe my Empreſs, for a day, My love, my dove, for ever and aye. Goodw. Now Mrs. Cunnimonger, thy dull faith may ſee What I oft told thee, that I was thy better Genius, to guide good fortune to thy home; Whoſe blindneſſe elſe could never find the way; In gratefulneſſe let thy devotion then Build Altars to my bountie, and enſhrine Your great protecting power in beds of down; On which your humbleneſſe muſt ſacrifice The firſt fruits of mature beauties, and their Sweet maiden honours to my juſt deſires. Which merits more then naked thanks can pay. Mrs. Con.

Sir I am wholly yours, what would you more?

Good. What would you more? is thy cold putrid corps An equal recompence, to my rich deſert? You ſhould have wrack't your ingrate fanſie, to Deviſe a thouſand waies for my delight. You ſhould incontinently ſend this meazled page To cater for my taſte, untaſted beauties; But now you'r wholly mine, what ſhould I more • Mrs. Cun. My meaning was, that my endeavours ſweat For your content, and all I can call mine I freely proſtitute to your command. Hog. And fear not Sir, I will preſent you fruits In full maturitie, readle to fall; But never yet did ſuffer bruiſe by falling; Yet ſtirred with your gentle breath, their fall Shall (as your ſervant) lowly wait your call. Goodw. Then I will gild thy fangs, officious ſwine, And thou ſhalt wear my cloth of richeſt bice, Shall make thee known by the right famous name Of the blue Boar of the Bank-ſide; but while We talk away the day, our Sovereign Is ſtill as night; awake, moſt mighty Sir, And bleſſe us with the ſtorie of your dream. Crab. Why I was thinking how unkinde, and moſt Vnnatural fool, my wretched father was. And that which grieves my Highneſs moſt, they ſay, I am ſo like him. Mrs. Cun. Let not untimely grief Eclipſe the birth-day of your Majeſtie; 'Tis in your power to be like whom you pleaſe, Now then be like your ſelf, that is a King. Crab. I wi l be like to any man, before Such an old, doting, and penurious drivel. Lyd. Now by my truly it doth ill beſeem Your ſon-ſhip to revile your father thus. Crab. Peace Chicken; I may call him any thing Now he's dead, and would that I had known Him ſuch a coxcombe while he was alive. I would have better tutour'd him, yfaith l • . Goodw. Though Princes need not ſhow a reaſon of Their ſayings▪ yet, dread Sir, give us to know The cauſe of this opinion of your father. Crab.

Firſt then you ſhall ſwear I am not like him.

Hog. What e're ill manner'd tongue dares to affirm, Our royal Prince is like the Clown his father; This often well approved ſteel defies him, Whoſe righteous point ſhall ſtop the mouth of ſlander. Good. Sir, by your worth and virtues I doe ſwear, This confirmes you moſt unlike your father, Who never was guiltie of worth or virtue. Mrs. Cun. Sir, I do ſwear you are moſt like to him Whom moſt you ever lov'd, your lovely ſelf. Crab. Whom beſt I ever lov'd, is naught to thee; • me ſure 'twas not my father: but whom now I love and ever ſhall, is my ſweet Queen, Who now muſt kiſſe the book before ſhe ſwear. Lyd. Then by my maidenhead I ſwear, for I Have learn't to ſwear by nothing elſe, that you Are ſo unlike unto your worthleſs Sire, That loving you I hate his memorie. Crab. Then liſten Knights and Ladies to my tale, My doating daddie (moſt unworthie he Of ſuch a hopefull ſon) when he lay ſick, (Moſt worthie he for to be ever ſick, But that he was more worthie to be dead:) Fearing his death was nigh, in fooliſh ſpight. Depriv'd his heir the bleſſing of his life. Mrs. Cun.

O cruel man, O moſt unnatur •• father!

Crab. Firſt, on that bleſſing which he then di • fear Would be his laſt, he charg'd me I ſhould ne're (Vnleſſe I were perplext with ſuites in Law.) Behold this glorious and delightfull Citie, Which he then call'd expenſive, proud and vale Hog. O moſt ignoble ſlander! and the foule That ever ſtain'd the mouth of Gentleman. Crab. But that he is deſcended from my ſelf, My roial ſelf, he were no Gentleman; But that's not all; next this, my ſon, ſaid he, Abſtain from ſtranger women, that's as I Interpret it, taſt not fair Lydia's ſweetneſſe. Good. I rather think he meant that you ſhould feaſt Vpon no other dainties, ſhe muſt be No ſtranger to you; is ſhe not your Queen? Crab Faith I could give thee leave to beat 〈◊〉 Frank, If I did love it; what a dolt was I, To think my Lydia was a ſtranger to me? Goodw. Your royaltie has power to abſolve It ſelf, great Sir, from a far greater crime. Mrs. Cun. Well, if your father's cruelty did lay Any more ſuch commands upon your Youth, It will become your age and noble virtue, With ſpeed to diſobey his crueltie. Crab. Thy words perſwade me: if they do not come Vnder the name of counſel, I'le not be Counſell'd by any ſhe in Chriſtendome. Mrs Cun. The heavens bleſs thee from all other counſel But what thy own diſcretion ſhall ſuggeſt. Crab Well ſaid, this night we'le ſup with thee, here's gold To buy engendring meats. I like my Father? My Lydia adieu until the evening. Lyd.

May mirth ſtill wait on you till your return.

Mrs. Cun. Farewell till then, ſweet man, and I'le take care That then, than thee there's none ſhall better fare. Exeunt Cun. & Lydia. Crab, Come noble Frank, how ſhall we overcome, Or (as ſome ſay) beguile theſe tedious houres? Goodw. Nay as you pleaſe, this day your Kingdome laſts; You may command theſe winged poſts to flie With greater ſpeed, or ſlowly for to wait Your will; but if you pleaſe, we'le hear a Play. Crab.

Content yfaith, they ſay they are brave things.

Good. They are the trueſt Image of all Humors, Manners, Conditions; there you may behold The many winding arts of ſubtile ſlaves, Who • ike a Cu • tle do conceal their fraud In th ir own Ink, while they exonerate The old ſuſpicious Father's purſe, to ſtore The thriftleſſe Sons; here may you ſee the vain And boaſting Souldiers, talking wounds & ſcars, To comfort his long faſting ſteel with Of ſome enſuing bloudie feaſt, and here Is ſeen preſented the penurious Heir. The lively image of his Father's manners, As the Comoedian is of his; but you Are made of purer clay, ſifted and ſtrain'd From all your Father's dregs; whoſe tender age Did nere own Folly for to feed the Stage. Crab. Thou know'ſt I am no Niggard, and my Father Was wont to ſay I had a Courtly humour, To which he often did profeſſe ſuch hate, As now▪ me thinks, I long to be a Courtier. Goodw. Sir, the firſt Element of a Courtier is To be in Debt, the Cris croſs is the laſt. Crab. Let me alone, Il'e learn that leſſon quickly If that thy care will purchaſe me a Book, I mean a man of legible belief. Goodw. Doubt not of ſtore of Horn-books in the Citie; But know, that my preſaging care prevents Your wiſhes; I appointed to obſerve This road and hour a Draper, whom I meant To practiſe Courtſhip on my ſelf, and if Enter Whittington You pleaſe, he is your Book, & you may read Faith in his looks; & timely here he coms, Mr. Whittington, a good and happy day Shine fair ſucceſſe unto your Buſie thoughts. Whit. They meet with good ſucceſs in meeting you, And I will that daies happineſs commend, Which bleſſeth us with the ſight of an old friend Good. I now pronounce you happy in a new, That is, I will enrich you with the knowledge Of this deſerving Gentleman, whom when You have read throughly, you'l maintain, that all Are Dunces which are ignorant of h • m. Whit. Grant me your favour, noble Sir, to ſtudy you, That I may thrive in goodneſſe by the great Example of your moſt amazing worth. Crab. I am no Conjuring book, to be lockt up From publick view; you have fair leave and free, Lo I un • laſp my ſelf unto your reading Good To grace you Sir, his outward worth alone Shall fill large pages in your Common-place Book; Where at your leiſure, you with joy may read Your ſelf inroll'd in number of the Faithfull. Whit.

He'le highly grace me; would he try my Faith?

Crab Gramercie honeſtie; when I am Sheriff, I'le prove thy Faith for half a hundred Liveries. Goodw. Mean while make trial of his Faith for one, You ſee my upper garment's courſe and thin, Make me in this your ſervant, and by th' Faith Of Mr. Whittington I'le ever call you Maſter. Crab. Thou injur'ſt much thy ſelf, to take upon thee This dear condition, and thy friend to boot, That doſt prevent his bounty by thy ſuite; For that which he ſhould pray thee to accept, Command my word, for as my word commands Good. Let it be of the fineſt black I pray Sir, And, for you know I am no Hypocrite, D poſe for an equality of Pluſh; I love to have my garments like my ſelf, Though plain without, yet richly lin'd within. Whit. It ſhall be done Sir, and upon my credit, The outſide ſhall be like your ſelf, that is, A traveller from Spain; although I dare Say, that the nappe ſhall not be worn ſo bare. Crab. I pray you Sir acquaint me with ſome time Of leiſure you can grace me at my lodging; Some urgent buſineſſe now calls loudly on us, Or elſe this afternoon ſhould not divorce us. Good. That was well ſpoken Sir & gracefully. Whit. To wait on you, each minute yeilds me leiſure, Who now am more your ſervant then the times. Good. Each morning doth confine him to his ſtudies. You cannot miſs him then within, ſince you Have made him now more bookiſh then he was. Whit. His nobleneſs commands my often viſits; But at this time my buſineſs equals yours, Though I in all things elſe am moſt unequal; Therefore I'le beg your leave to take my leave. Crab. Farewel till next we meet, my faithfull Friend. Good. Adieu kind Sir; come Maſter lets away, 'Tis almoſt time we now were at the Play. Exeunt. Enter Dove and Eliſa. Dove Prepare your eyes and ears, the Scaene is ready; Your ſervant acts the Blackamore ſo well, You cannot eaſily know him for your Friendly. Eliſ. Not know him? 'tis a ſlanderous untruth, To ſay a ſlight diſguiſe can hide his graces: Were he involv'd within a cloudie miſt By ſome myſterious charm, a lover's eye Can chaſe away thoſe miſts, and make them ſlie Like to a veilding vapour 'fore the Sun. Dove. Well I am ſure, if that he had not bin Of mine own making, I ſhould nere have known him; And, but we Pain • ers by our trade do fear No colours, ſure his l • oks had ſcar'd me, So they will you, if that you not conſider The inſide of the Gipſie is your Friendly. Eliſ. 'Tis not his out ſide that I lov'd him for, Though he be moſt beyond expreſſion lovely; For were he truly ſo as he is painted, Love ſhould ſhake hands with Ioy for to embrace him: But truly ſay, how this diſguiſe becomes him. Dove. When I had finiſht half my ſmooty piece, I did preſent him with a Glaſs, wherein He might behold, and wonder at my skill; Me ſeem'd that I had learnt the art to frame In one ſpace various ſhapes, for ſuch was he; Half white and red, and half a Blackamore: But lo, in him bluſhing uſurpt the place Of Wonder; 'twas a pleaſant ſight, to ſee On the one ſide a gracefull modeſtie Repoſe her ſelf upon a bed of roſes; When on the other, the pure ſanguine ſtreaming Striving to overcome the Injurie The Painter did him, made him appear to be Iuſt like a Negro blowing of a coal. Eliſ. For love's ſake make no ſport of our misfortunes; What is all this unto my queſtion? Dove. I'me ſhewing how he becomes his vizor; When I had fully finiſht all my work, He then begins to practiſe ſervile geſtures, He ſeem'd to me to have forgot himſelf, It 〈◊〉 no wonder then if you not know him. Eliſ. Pray ſtrike no more on this ill ſounding ſtring; Thy ſelf haſt ſeen his modeſtie to ſhine Through his benighted looks, & doſt thou think His o her graces are leſs eminent? Think'ſt thou an envious cloud can quite eclipſe Or darken the bright glory of the Sun? They only yeild a ſhade, ſo does this die Of my beſt Friendly like a ſhadow, make This outward glory greater to appear. Knockwithin. Dove. I ſay no more— theſe are your ſervants knock. Exit Dove. El. Well, let them in; O heaven, how ſhall I keep My countenance, when Friendly is ſo chang'd; But when my Love's diſguiſed look's unknown, Love pardon me, if I not keep my own. Enter Shift, Friendly, Dove. Shift. Lady vouchſafe a ſervant from me, whoſe deſert Doth lay juſt claim unto ſo high preſerment. Eli. I dare not truſt your commendations Sir, You did deceive me in the laſt you brought me. Shift. Therefore my care hath ſought out one, whoſe worth Will expiate my former Injurie. Eliſ. Where is this man of men you ſo extol? Shift. Lo this is he, whoſe waiting humbleneſs Doth ſpeak both his condition and deſire. Eliſ. What do you mock me: have you brought this Glaſs To ſhew my feature. I confeſs not fair; Yet not ſo foul as you would make my ſoul. Shift Fair, do not overthrow me with your ſcorn, Now overthrown with ſorrow, for my fault. Giving this ſervant for a taſt to ſhew Your rich perfections by compariſon, Though judging proof will find his ſervice can Deſerve, if nothing elſe, at leaſt to ſerve you. Eliſa. What ſtrange device is this? or what new way, That ſonnes of night ſhould ſerve us in the day? Friend. Think Ladie, that with vigilant delight, My care ſhall act your pleaſure day and night. Dove. Vouchſafe his ſervice Miſtreſs, let him be Your black Poſtillion, and a lively Embleme Of darkſome night that uſhers in the day. Eliſ. Firſt let me know his properties kind Sir. Pray you what name doth ſign your Blackamore? Shift. His name was once thuano hence he is What your ſweet goodneſs now ſhall pleaſe to call him. Eliſ. Thuano, canſt thou croſs thy armes and ſigh: Or haſt thou learnt to perſonate a ſorrow, To darken more thy darkned countenance? Haſt taught thy eyes to weep, as if thy tears Did ſtrive to waſh thee into red and white? Canſt thou exclaim on cruel Beauty; crie Ay me! with a moſt ſad dejected grace? Shift. What have I done? ſure ſhe would fain perſwade This ſmooty Blackamore to be my rival. Eliſ. Canſt change with art the tenour of thy looks? Now caſting up thy wretched eyes to heaven, As if from thence thou mean'ſt to beg for pity; Now fixing them on earth, as if thou had'ſt Seen Mercie drop, but loſt it in the fall; Canſt thou profoundly now be perjur'd too? For know Thuano, all this thou muſt doe, And ſwear that ſo does he who did preſent thee: Yet none can perſonate theſe graces truly, But he who feels the paſſion which he acts. Shift. She doth abuſe me, evidently mock me; Ladie, the Page I praiſe hath worthier gifts Then thoſe you name his skill holds in his hand The little Statute-book of heaven can read The Starres decrees, and ſhew what they intend Of weal or woe. Friend. Pardon me, noble goodneſſe, That I am dumb ſo long unto your quaeries, Which do ſo feelingly deſcribe my ſtate, That in them I may read the lively picture Of the commanding paſſion in my breaſt; For know, (if you will others fortunes know Before your own) that once it was my lot For to be lov'd; O moſt unworthy I, For to be lov'd by one ſo good, ſo fair! Whom yet my youthfull careleſneſſe or pride Did ſo neglect, that love did in revenge Blaſt me with this deſerv'd deformitie. But ſeeing in my puniſhment, my fault, And looking back upon the happineſſe I had ſo wretchedly forſook, I then Too late began to love, though yet (they ſay) Her love continues ſtill; but ſooner ſhall The night and day be one e're I'le beſtow This foul Thuano on ſo ſweet ſo fair, Eliſ. Loves penance is but ſhort, if you repent; Sir I accept your gift, whoſe worth doth leſſe Meaſure my thanks then your more worthy love, I now will take my leave, to ſtudy how I may require — Exit. Shift. The thanks you leave behind, Are far above the gift you carrie hence. Courage, my heart; ſhe cannot be unkind, If that her words be image of her mind. Exe •• t Enter Crab, Goodwit, Cunnimonger, Lydia. Crab. My prettie Lydis, I have ſeen to day The cruel'ſt ſight, it grieves my heart to ſpeak't. Lyd. And I to hear't; I pray you talk of mirth, I can't endure theſe tales of crueltie. Crab. But I muſt tell it too; a handſom woman, 'Cauſe the King's ſon in love would ly with her Againſt her will, would needs go kill her ſelf. Lyd.

What did ſhe kill her ſelf againſt her will •

Crab. I ſay againſt her will he ſay with her: I have forgot the fooliſh woman's name. Goodw. It was Lucrece the chaſt, a primitive Roman, who in the humor of the time, Did in vain-glory kill her ſelf for Fame; But know, out ſoil breeds none ſo deſperate. Cun

'Faith and the Romans too are now more wiſe.

Good. And thou ſaiſt true, for they who read her ſtorie, And in their antick Arras ſee her bleed, Pitie her Folly, and not praiſe her deed. Crab. Well I am ſure ſhe was a handſom wench, And but for ſhame, I could have found my heart. Good. A wench Sir, 'twas a boy did perſonate Unto thoſe times, a well becoming fate. But then was then, and women now are women. Cun. And you ſay true; for is it not think you A moſt unnatural thing, for any woman To ſtab her ſelf 〈◊〉 well, had my Lydia bin That Lucrece, you ſweet ſir, that ſweet King's ſon— Ent. Falconer. I'le ſay no more, but truly you ſhall ſinde Her neither to her ſelf, nor you unkinde. Crab. I hope ſo, elſe I muſt with ſorrow ſi • g, Why ſhould paſſion lead the blinde? 'Cauſe my Lydia proves unkind. Falc. This is vile muſick, not to be compar'd With the melodious bleating of my ſheep. Good. What means the man? I hear no ſheep but one. Falc. 'Tis true, while you now ſpoke, but one did bleat; But if you heard a hundred chime together, You'd ſwear it were moſt admirably ſweet. Shakis his bag. How like you this my hearts? doſt not exceed The Quire of pauls, or all t •• holy bells Which moſt devoutly ſing the time o'th' day? Crab. 'Faith Dick this ſheepiſh harmonie is ſweeteſt, When they are pen'd up in theſe norrow folds; But where's my Ring, the token that I ſent? Falc. The ſtubborn Ballie ſwears that he will keep it To ſhew your uncle for his own diſcharge; But who regards the bait, that has the fiſh? Cun. 'Tis a wiſe ſentence Richard, and a true; But this is now no time for ſentences, 'Tis eight a clock, and ſupper ſtayes for you. Fal • . And let it ſtay; I know you long to ſup Upon my mutton: but where's all my thanks For my good ſpeed? does it deſerve no more, That by a trick I chang'd my tired • ade, To haſten my return, that by my wits I took the prey out of the Harpies foot, Who ſtrongly gript it, 'till I boldly ſwore, You would undoe him and his Family; And ſhew'd his bag and wallet in the ſtarres; Does not all this deſerve a welcom home? Cun.

Sir you are welcome home moſt heartily.

Falc. That's not enough: you now ought all do penance For your neglect; you Mrs. Cunnimonger, And Mr. Goodwit too, ſhall wait on me This night at Supper; Lydia I pardon For my good Maſters ſake, him for his own: So Lydia, ſeal this pardon with a kiſs. Crab.

O traitor, villain, ſacrilegious villain!

Falc. Nay 'tis decreed, and ſhe muſt offer't too. Or elſe farewell, this purchaſe is my own. Cun. Ala • ſir what's a kiſs? what would you do If his deſert ſhould ask a greater thing? Crab. If it muſt needs be ſo, I prethee ſweet Lydia, diſpatch me quickly from my pain. Lyd Sir I obey your praiers, not his commands. Falc.

Here, take the price of my felicitie.

Crab. And be thou honour'd with our order more, Thy carefull ſpeed dubs thee a knight o'th' poſt: Thy office be, for to begin the way, While I behind do wipe thy kiſs away. Extunt. Enter old Goodwit (vvith a letter and the ring,) Dove. Old Good. Cheated by fools and villains? this is fine; And my wiſe Baily thinks he has done well, Becauſe he kept this token, when he ſhould Arteſt the ſlave which brought it, and now here He writes the threats which overcame him well, I will go down to prevent further ills, Be it your care for to retrive the ſtray. Dove. I warrant you, if ſenſe and skill can do't. This afternoon a little buſineſſe called me Into a Draper's ſhop, whom I did find, Booking a debt, to which was ſuperſcrib'd My ſtragling maſter's name, though he indeed Was but a ſurety (as the Draper told me) For the poor ſneak which did intice him hithe • , Who now it ſeems is caſting of his skin, O. Good. Imploy your time and ſtudy to reinde This ſuake from his Caduceus, the main ſtaff, Which doth ſupport him, and unſinuace Him from that breaſt that gives him lively heat. Dove. Sir, I have won upon this Citizen To know their lodging and their daily haunt, And for ſome future curteſies of hope, He will arreſt this Snake, in's cloak of credit As ſoon as it can warm him, and will free My Maſter, whom I mean for to ſecure From the enquirie of this noiſome viper. O. Good. Be ſpeedie in your courſe; I hope you ſee Your charge alreadie, to inſafe my neece And daughter in my abſence, from the buſie Courtſhip of idle ſuits, and to finde My nephew in this peopled wilderneſſe. Dove. This is my ta • k alone, your Neece and Daughter Will finde ſuſſicient guard in their own virtues. O. Goodw. Well, now the night invites to bed, betimes I'th' morn, my jorney, and your charge begins. Exeunt.

Act. IV. Scaen. 1. Enter Dove & Falconer. Dove. Fortune and Love befriend me; my old Maſter By this hath left half of his way behind him; And though I am ſtil doing, my ſucceſſe Doth call me idle, my young wandring Squire Lay not at home to night, and hereabours Should be the place they ſupt at, if my draper Be not deceiv'd in his intelligence; Ent. Falc. But ſoft • who have we here? the Falcner, nay Slink not away good Richard, here are none But friends and fellow ſervants; why doſt look About thee ſo, doth any man purſue thee? Falc.

No, no, but who had thought to meet thee here?

Dove. Not thee I dare to ſwear, but tell me how Our Maſter does, and his refinde ſeducer; Does his new upper weed become him trimly • Falc. Does he ſpeak out of knowledge, or by chance? 'Faith. Tom my Maſter's well, exceeding well, Looks and lives like himſelf, that's like an heir Deliver'd from • nition, but what means Your riddle of new weeds, and trim ſeducers? Dove. Would neither thou nor I knew what it meant. But I will poſe you with more riddles yet; Are there not certain femal ghoſts do walk This quarter, ſilken ſome, and ſome of ſtuſſe; Some ſingle, ſome in couples, and ſome ſquir'd, But above all, is not the houſe you ſupt at Feat ſully haunted? are theſe riddles too? Falc. 'Tis well we left the Countrey; ſure they do Begin to ſtudie witcheraft here of late: Art thou awake? or doſt thou dream of ghoſts? I dare to ſwear here's greater ſtore of fleſh Then ſpirit, but if any ſuch there be; Thou art a huntſman, take but a little pains If that they croſſe this quarter, thou maiſt prick um. Dove. I do not mean to hunt them to the buttock; But tell me truly, what ſevere necaſions Calls thee abroad out of thy neſt ſo ear y? Falc. I had as good confeſſe, he knows already: The truth is, Tom, my Maſter's to be married, I now go for a Prieſt to do the feat. Dove. How? married? and you go for the Vicar Of hel to join em for there the match was made: If thou waſt one bore witneſſe to the contract, Now in the name of all the Fu •• e • , tell me What's ſhe muſt be my Maſters Succuba. Falc. I was not much miſtaken, I did think He was a Witch, he proves a • on • urer. I'le ſhew thee what ſhe is, by ſhewing what We are, that is to ſay, her ſervant's ſervants; There's a Court riddle Sir for you to pick; She's one that's taken with my Maſter's wit, As he is taken with her chaſtitie: A ſine young thing, that newly puts out tewen, Such excellent game, that mighty love would change Himſelf into Merlin to enjoy her. Dove. Do not thou talk of game, when I'me in earneſt, And be thou honeſt, elſe the gallows ſhall Make a ſhort end of all thy knaverie, For ſtealing of the Farmer's nag • by whom (Speak truth upon thy peril) was my Maſter So ſuddenly inveigled to his ruine Falc. Fear prompts me to ſpeak truth againſt my nature: Now as I live Tom, I'le not lye; there dwells Within that houſe, a prettie handſome Tit, Whom out wiſe Maſter fain would he withall; He's very hot upon the ſpur, but ſhe Being inſtructed by her cunning Aunt, Thanks him, and takes him up again at pleaſure. Somthing ſhe gives him leave to do, but not What moſt he would; and ſo at once ſhe does Inflame his ſharp deſires and tame them, briefly, She vows he nere ſhall ly with her, before He marries her, which he reſolves to do. Dove. But I do mean to croſſe his reſolution; Your task muſt be for to forget your errand, See him no more till noon, at your return Any excuſe will ſerve, and ſo farewell Exit Falc. I ſhall not need your aid to my deſigns, I never ſhall be able to redeem him By my own power, I muſt require my maſter And fellow ſervant Friendly to aſſiſt me. Nor dare I truſt this villain, here's a toy In town to ſeek him, with a barn to boot; I will direct her to him, ſhe ſhall call His arrant togueſhip 'fore a man of worſhip, And there with open mouth cry out for marriage; Where he ſhall take his choice, whether he'le go To Church or Priſon, for he'le nere be able To purchaſe bayle for keeping of the child. So there is one impediment diſpatcht; Yet I forget the aid • promis'd to The Draper in his ſuit unto Eliſa, Who with his painted mole by this is acting Her ſervant Friendly, whom I ſaid was •• avail'd. In which diſguiſe he thinks to win her too▪ But 〈◊〉 muſt now deprive the Black a more Of all this much, in ſeeing of his ſhape Uſu p' • ; while he ſtands mu • e to hear another Courting his deareſt M ſtreſs in his name. But why do I thus talk away the day, When I ſhould do • leſt time be vainly ſpent, To redreſſe ills which care might once prevent. Exit. Enter Crab, Lydia, Cunnimonger, Goodwis, and Hog. Crab. Come Lydia, now the time draws nigh, when we With worthies male and female ſhall enrich The needy world; this morn I ſent unto A cunning man to learn the fitteſt time For to engender W •• s in, he replyes, This night 'twixt twelve and one, do not omit Thy nuptial duties, the ſtarres counſel it; If that thou wilt beget a wit tranſcendent, This night is Hermes lord of the Aſcendent; Well ſoon I mean for to invite the wits, Or as thou call'ſt them Frank, Deipnoſophiſts, Unto my bridal ſupper; where I will Have nothing but braines diverſly cook't Of birds, beaſts, fiſhes, tith-pigs, and woodcocks; Our drink ſhall be brisk c •• iet, for to refine The Infant's ſparkling • ngenie! but now Where ſhall we finde a cook of w ••• that has Not had his education in the kitchin, Whoſe brain's not overeaſt, with miſtie clouds Ariſing from the ſteam of groſſer meats. Cun. I'lt be your cook Sir, and though I do ſay't, I have as good a wit of a groſſe body, As any woman ever need to boaſt of. Good. Never take care for chooſing of your cook. The very dreſſing of the braines will make him w ••• i • . Hog. Take you no thought for cook, or cheer, leave theſe To mine and my old Maſter's care; you now Muſt feaſt upon your ſweet delicious wife, • he will be meat and med'cine to you, for her ſight Alone, the ſhaking ague will affright; And ſoon at night, if you do not awry go, She'le eaſe you ſuddenly of th • • entigo, Yea before Galen, ſhe will cure the feaver With her down belly, and her thighes of bever. Crab. How 〈◊〉 bever doſt thou call them: I am ſure That they were Felt laſt night; but do you hear▪ Do not you call my Lydis my wife, It is a name, the countrey people uſe. No • ſhall ſhe call me husband, therefore Frank, P • ethee deviſe ſome fine Poetick names, To dart at one another before ſtrangers. Good. What do you think, if you were call'd the Seal. And ſhe your wax? on whom in every kiſſe You thus may ſeal the Image of your love. kiſ. her Lyd. Pray heaven I may wax worthy of his love But truſt me Sir, you do me injurie, To think his love hath made ſo ſlight impreſſion Within my breaſt, that it may be defac'r, Like to a fading image made in wax. Goodw. How think you Ladie then, if you were called His Cynoſure, the ſay'ers ſtarres by which They finde their way thorough the pathleſs ſeas; By this they frame their courſe, you Sir muſt be The Pilot, which does ſteer by her bleſt light Alone, unto • he haven of your bliſſe: Or if you will be an Aſtronomer, In every kiſs thus you may take her height. Kiſſes her. Crab

Me thinks this Cynoſure's a pretty name, I pret •• ce tell me what it ſignifies.

Goodw.

It ſignifies properly the dogs taile.

Crab.

Ha, ha, ha; 'tis the beſt jeſt was ever heard or read of.

Good. 'Tis a good jeſt indeed can raiſe ſuch mirth; But my wit's hood winkt, for I cannot finde it: I pray Sir tell us where the jeſt does lye. Crab. Where it doesly? is it not evident, That thou didſt kiſs the dog's tail. I ſhall ne • e Love her again 'till thou haſt chang'd her name. Good. You lik't this well untill you underſtood it; That you may learn from hence how happy 'tis Sometimes for to be ignorant; what then If ſhe were call'd your Touchſtone you her ſtraw, For as •• e Touchſtone doth examine metals, So will ſhe prove what metal you are made of; And as the ſtraw doth to the Touchſtone skip, So hu • muſt you skip nimbly to her lip; Kiſſes her Thus muſt you cling in every kiſſe you give her: B • t a •• ve all the name of Lydia move me, 'Cauſe Lapis Lydius ſignifies a Touchſtone. Crab. I like your reaſons well, but not ſo well Your often kiſſing, therefore hence, forbear. Good.

Touchſtones the of • ner rub'd, do draw the better.

Crab. Fairly put off, well, ſo it is decreed; A Parliament of wits could not deviſe More fitting names confirm'd with greater reaſons. Sings. To day the Prieſt ſhall make't a law, That I ſhall be thy onely ſtraw, The virtue of whoſe Kiſs ſhall draw, Beſides my ſelf no other ſtraw. Lyd. Sings The Touchſtone's black and ſo am I▪ The Touchſtone's hard, and ſo not I; The Touchſtone doth the metal try, And as the Touchſtone ſo will I. Hog Sings. As ſoon in ſtraw is kindled fire, So you in flamed with deſire; Yellow's the ſtraw, yet I ſuppoſe, That you will ne're wear yellow hoſe. Cun. I have no voice to ſing, yet I will ſay That this is Straw's and Touchſtone's bridal day. Goodw. Sure Hermes now is climbing to his height, Who doth inſpire your wits to verſifie; I would the Prieſt were come, for any time This day will ſerve to do the trick you talk't on! Crab. I, to get Wits, and I do mean to call All my boyes Strawes, and all my wenches Touchſtones. Enter Dove and Friendly. Dove. Maſter, heaven give you joy, fame ſings that you Are towards a wife, and I have brought a Prieſt • Good.

Your office bids you welcome, ſo are you.

Fr. I thank my office then, let him thank you. But know Sir, that I am no Prieſt, but ſervant Vnto a ſiſter of this Gentleman's; She's now in town, and doth by me invite him This day to dine with her at her own lo • ging. Crab. I prethee tell her ſhe ſhall dine with me; She ſhall have gloves to boot, and you, and you▪ And now I think on't, ſhe and my couſin Win Shall be my bride maids, prethee tell um ſo. Fr. Firſt I muſt tell you, that I do not mean To make a fruitleſſe errand; my adventure Is to redeem you from theſe Harpies clawes. Good Prethee how many Harpies are there here▪ Friend.

E'ne a full meſs, of every ſex a pair.

Good.

Peace, or I'le teach your Gipſie-ſhip ſome manners.

Dove. Would you would teach your ſelf ſome honeſty; Vncloud your brow Sir, for 'tis not a frown Can fright us from our purpoſe; therefore Sir, Reſolve to leave this ſhop of ſin and ſhame, This furniſht ware houſe of Iniquity. Crab. Honeſt Tom Huntſman, have but patience. Lyd. Is this a Huntſman Sir? now out upon him. He ſmells moſt vilely of the kennel; ſuch a one As this ſame fellow is, and ſixteen couple, Did eat my father quite out of the countrey. Dov. 'Tis cheaper keeping a whole hoaſt of dogs, Then one ſuch coſtly fizling hound as you. Cun.

Now out upon thee naughty man, prophane

Dog.

driver, call heaven's creatures fizling hounds?

Dov.

And ſal • Bitch too, for ſuch are ſhe & thou.

Good.

This idle rogue would fain be beaten ſure.

Enter two Serjeants. Dov.

I would indeed, 'tis one part of my buſineſs.

Hog.

You ſhall not go without your e • rand then.

1. Ser • . Hold friend • , as you are men, this open houſe Promiſt the ending of ſome feaſt, but weo Are come to the beginning of a fray. Dov. About your buſineſs friend, that is the man. 2. Serj.

Sir, the King greets you well.

Good.

I'me glad he's well.

Cun. Ye are two paltry knaves, thus to intrude Into a private houſe; good Gentlemen, Free a poor widows houſe from theſe vile catch-poles. Dove. Away Sir, we will free't from honeſt men. Execunt Dove, Friendly, Crab. Good▪

Vnhand me Sirs, I mean to put in bail.

1. Serj.

Diſcharge the debt Sir, that's your only bail.

Cun. Why what's the debt? here's one will ſee you paid; Oh me! he's gon, but I will follow him. Exit. Good.

I prethee Hog aſſiſt me 'gainſt theſe villains.

Hog.

Looſe him, or elſe by Termagaunt I will.

2. Serj Will ye be pork or bacon, I'le provide A feaſt for Pluto; hence, unleſſe you mean The Furies ſhall make Puddings of your guts. Lyd.

Good friends do not abuſe the Gentleman.

1 Serj. We'le not abuſe him chicken, for thy ſake We'le ſee him where he ſhall be ſafe enough. Hog. Come Mrs. Lyddi, let us in, you ſee It is not in our power for to help him. Good. Let your unmanner'd gripe unſeize my ſhoulder, Or I will time your heads into a nooze, As Hipponax did Bupalus, or buskin'd Archilocus Lycambe, I will rogues. 2 Serj. That's a good jeſt I ſwear, I'de fain ſee that; This fellow's ſure in a Poetick rage. Good Or if your fears make you decline the rope, I'le brand your name with profound infamie. 1. Serj. Profound infamie? what a fine word's that; Go D'ye grin ye dog? would I were looſe again. 2. Serj. No ſir, the dog's name's holdfaſt, that you'le finde. Ent. Cunnimonger. Cun Kickt, beaten, cheated of my gueſt? was ere Poor woman thus abus'd; but which is worſe, My ſilly Neece fondly reſtor'd the bag Of which ſhe once was Lady Treaſurer. Good. This is ill newes, my hopes lay in that bag; Sweet Miſtreſs lend me for an hour or two The ſeaſonable price of my releaſement, You know my friend will faithfully repay't. Cun. Alas good Sir, what would you have me do? You know how poor and nakedly we live, All I can lend's my pity and my prayers. Good. Thy pity proves me wretched, and thy prayers Do make me hopeleſs, for they'l nere be heard. Keep your devotion till your Carting, Madam, And leave me to the mercy of theſe fiends. Cun.

Sweet man, I have no power to part from him.

Goo.

Then ſtay there ſtill, my kind affliction.

1. Serj.

Come Sir, you ſee your hopes, pleaſe you walk?

Good. Yes, lead me on unto my Purgatory; Yet ſtay a while and hear a word of reaſon. 2. Serj.

Let it be brief reaſon then, very brief.

Good. 'Tis only this, I know by circumſtance, You are employ'd by draper Whittington. 1. Serj.

'Tis very true, if this be all, let's walk.

Good. The debt which you arreſt me for is owing • or this ſame cloak I wear, the debt is young, This the firſt day of wearing; give you him His cloak again, and me my liberty. 2. Serj. He did give us no ſuch commiſſion ſir, Yet what lyes in our power we will befriend you, We'le place you where he ſhall be ſure to finde you; That if his pleaſure be to viſit you, You may your ſelf deliver the condition. Good. If this be all your kindneſs, march away; Farewell old noble true-penny, farewell. Cun.

Farewell ſweet man, I cannot chuſe but weep.

Good. Now I am yours, yet ſtill my mind is free, To triumph over Fortunes injury. Exeunt. Enter Friendly, Eliſa, Dove. Friend.

Believ't, 'twas no ſmall task to get him off.

Eliſ.

Where have you diſpos'd of him in love's name?

Friend.

Where he muſt learn loves leſſon, with my ſiſter.

Eliſ. I hope that he will learn by her example: But what's the reaſon Dove, you did warn me Of my new ſuiter, whom you ſent, who does With confidence uſurp my Friendly's name; And why did you direct him to a Painter, Who trimly made his mole on the wrong ſide? Dov.

Only ſweet Miſtreſs, for to make you merry.

Eliſ. Thou didſt not miſs thy ayme, for I did laugh To ſee my fruitleſſe labours. When I could By no mean • make him think he was not Friendly, But when I call'd for water, for to prove Whether he would endure the teſt; Lord how The Gallant chaſ' • . But yet my Couſin Win Thought all this while I did but counterfelt, Untill ſhe ſaw a juſt diſdain poſſeſſ • My brow. Then ſhe indeed began to blame My unkind entertainment of a ſtranger. To her I left him then to make amends, For that wherein my rudeneſſe did offend; And if I am not in loves art miſtaken. (As ſure I am not) my ſweet Coze is taken. Dove. May heaven ſay amen unto your gueſs, Then am I maſter of my ends▪ for he I • rich and thrifty, and I yet may live To ſee my Mrs. Win my Lady M • yoreſſe. Friend.

Faith I do long to ſee how much he's like me.

Eliſ. Indeed 'tis pity ſor • o interrupt em. Did you not ſay you knew my other ſu • er▪ Friend. Hang him a ſlave, which rents his hackney chin To city falling-ſtars, and toothleſſe madams. But I will ſowee him for his ſ • welneſſe. Eliſ. He is more ſawcy yet then you doe think; Now I receiv'd this Letter, pray you read it. Friend. reads it. Fr. I am not ignorant how well you love me▪ And Lovers know what Lovers moſt deſire. I hear your Vncle's not in town. I leav't Vnto your wit for to beguile your Couſin, And meet me ſoon a • Mrs. Cunnimongers. Il'e read no more! mouſter of goatiſh boldneſs; May he firſt twine with Scorpions. • or love's ſake Tell me of what complexion are my hoſe? Eliſ •• me jealous of my ſelf, although not guilty Of word or look, which cattled leſſe then ſcorn. Dove. Il'e ſolve this riddle. But this very morning I met him here, enquir'd how well you liked H •• Blac • a • ore. I did reply the truth, And added this which I did think wa • true, (And which no doubt' • the cauſe of his preſumption) That you did love him better for his gift. Eliſ. You ſhould have ſaid that I did hate him leſſe. But now I hate him moſt, who thinks me falſe. Dove. The carriage of this buſineſſe leave to me, Il'e ſit him with another bed fellow, Onely lend me your name to bring him on. Eliſ. Be ſure my honour do not ſuffer in't. Dove. 'Tis in your power to ſecure your honour. What ſitter time then this to tie that knot, Which onely fate is able to untie? Your Vncle's abſent, and your Nee • e employ'd; Let this hour execute the heavens decree, And the Prieſt joyn their hands whoſe hearts agree. Friend. I dare not to diſſent from his advice, Seeing time it ſelf doth ſeem to counſell us. Eliſ. Thy goodneſſe (Friendly) won me, let thy virtues Guide me, for them I ever will obey. Dove

he ſpeedy then, for time makes no delay.

Exeunt. Enter Phillis and Crab. Crab.

Hard hearted Tigre, unkind Adamant.

Phil.

You are miſtaken ſir, my name is Phillis.

Crab.

O thou haſt kill'd me with thy cruelty.

Phil. Have dead men learn't to walk and talk again? Truſt me, I nere ſaw ghoſt yet better ſed. Crab.

'Tis true, I live, but yet a dying life.

Phil. Leave your book-wooing ſir, you doe not doe It handſomly, If you will love by art, Your careleſs habit muſt proclaim your paſſion; Your hat without a band, Garters unti'd, Your trayling Cloke, dejected look, croſs armes, Should be dumb arguments of your affection. Crab. If this be all, I'le quickly prove I love. Hat be no more acquainted with a band, Garters be never ti'd again, and thou My careleſſe Cloke be witneſſe of my woe, While thus I look, and thus I croſſe my armes. Phil. Next you ſhould ſing loves power, and your misfortune, Which lord it o're you in a diſmal ditty. Crab. I'le ſing no ſong but this. Phillid • flouts me: Yet now I think on't, ſummer laſt, when firſt I ſaw you. I compil'd this ſugred ſonnet Phillid • was a fair maid, He Sings. As freſh as any flower; Whom Harpatus the Heardſman pr • y'd Might be his Paramour. Phil. But Philliday was all to coy Ph ſings For Harpatus to win, For Corin was her onely joy. Crab.

Prethe ſweet heart, let me be Corin then.

Phil. Sir, I will not require your love with ſcorn. Your love ha • h purchas'd mine, on this condition, I muſt command your houſe. Welcome my friends, Keep ſhocks, and monkeys, para • s, parakitot •• , And all things elſe I like for my delight. Wear clothes befitting your eſtate, my birth, You ſhall keep what retinue I think fit. What horſes, coaches, litters; and what not▪ And when I pleaſe you muſt be lorded too. Crab.

I will be any thing which thou wilt have me.

Phil. You ſhall be nothing then, which not becomes you▪ I know lords not ſo rich, nor half ſo wiſe. Crab.

Touchſtone farewel, thy Straw bids the • adieu.

Ent. Dove ſinging. Dove ſings. Come, come away, to the Temple I ſay, And celebrate this Wedding day. Your ſiſter, maſter, and your brother, miſtreſs This day are to be married, and expect Your company to grace the Nuptials. Crab. To morrow I do mean they ſhall grace ours. Tom, ſhe's mine own, my Wit at laſt hath won her. Dov. Make it one buſineſs then, let's haſt & get A Licence, though 'tis late i'th' afternoon; I have procur'd a Prieſt apochtyphal, Who not regards the houres Canonical. Crab.

A men ſay I.

Phil. In troth ſo do not I. Did you not ſay that you were dead? I will Not dance the ſhaking of the winding-ſheet. Crab. I am reviv'd again, my pretty duck; But I do wonder where my Falener is. Dov. I met him and his doxy marching now With Mr. Conſtable, before a Juſtice; When he's at leiſure, doubtleſs he'l find you out. Mean while your own occaſions beg your haſt. Crab.

Come then away, god Cupid be our ſpeed.

Exeunt Enter Iuſtice Budge, Falconer, Grace, Conſtable. Budg.

Sirra▪ how durſt you get this maid with child?

Falc. May't pleaſe you ſir, it is a native valour▪ Deriv'd upon me from my anceſtors. Budge. Well ſirra, well, I'le teach you not to have The fear of grace before your eyes, I will. Falc. That leſſon I have learnt already ſir; And practis'd too, and to ſay truth, with us We uſe to fall to without ſaying grace. Budge. The truth is, thou art an ungracious varlet; 'Tis well for thee my wife is not at home, She'd ring thee a peal ſhould make thy eares to tingle; Mr. Conſtable knowes ſhe can ſpeak well. Conſt. For wit ſhe is the glorie of herſex, And fame doth ſing her worthy to be wed To one alone, who ſits in juſtice ſeat; Her tongue is tipt with Eloquence, for this And for her other gifts, the city rings on her. Bud. And well it may, you know ſhe is a Bell, That is, you know her name is I ſabell. Conſt.

Now by my Ioan▪ a witty Apophthegm.

Bud. And fellow what ſaiſt thou? this 'tis to ſhed My wit amongſt unletter'd Animals. Falc. Blame rather ſir the height of your conceits, Which are exalted far 'bove humane ſenſe. Conſt

What doſt thou call his worſhip non-ſenſe?

Budg. Let that alone, and go we to the purpoſe; Fellow, wilt have this woman to thy wife? Falc. My name is Richard ſir, & I will have her, With the ſame will I did appear before you. Budg. Well, if thou wilt not have her to thy bride, I mean to have thee married to Bridewell. Conſt. 'Tis good again, incomparably good! Fal Good do you call' til' me ſure tis bad for me. Budg.

Woman, how doſt thou uſe to call thy name?

Orac. My name is Grace, an it ſhall like your Worſhip. Budg. It likes my worſhip well, but this vile fellow Wants grace, and yet rejects it when tis offer'd. Conſt. This is ſtill good, better and better ſtill; Si • ra, how doſt thou like his Worſhip's wit? Falc. I think his brain is like a lottery, Where blanks and prizes moſt unequally Are mixt; his common talk I call the blanks, His jeſts the prizes, of which alſo are Twenty of little worth, for one of value; Of which firſt ſort when now there were drawn three, Your tongue was trumpet to the lottery. Conſt.

Sir, this is open Scandalum magnatum.

Budg. See where my Clark and's Miſtris are come home. That he may quickly write his Mittimu • . Falc. Pray ſtay your Iourney friend, rather then ſo, Il'e marry this ſame ſmall impediment. Budg. That might have ſerv'd your turn, but now you are To be committed for a pettie Treaſon, Falc.

Will you your ſelf be judge in your own cauſe?

Budg. And who ſo ſit as I? for who will do Sir Roger Budge more right then Iuſtice Budge? Falc. Then here upon my knee I humbly beg, That you'l be mercifull as you are wiſe. Grace. And I, that you'l be Iuſt as mercifull; That is, that you will make him marry me. Budg. He has his pardon upon this condition. Come riſe my friend, I'me pleas'd with thy ſubmiſſion: And Grace I thus will grace in greeting her. kiſ. This night you all ſhal ſup with me, where we'l ſet Confirm the match, and I believe 'tis time, For now me thinks my ſtomach 'gins to chime. Exeunt.

Act. V. Scaen. 1. Ent. Shift & Hog. Shift. Shame and perdition fall upon this gipſie. His falſe predictions are like oracles, Deceiving with their Ambiguity. Hog. What alles the man? ſir, have unquiet dreams Troubled your reſt to night, that you thus talk Wildly of gypſies, and predictions; Of oracles and ambiguities. Shift. I'le tell thee Hog, I had a fortune lately Told me, which did imply I ſhould Injoy Her, unto whom I oft had ſu'd in vain, Hog. Your Fortunes true for you have often ſu'd Unto my Miſtris Lydia in vain. Becauſe her nights were at too dear a rate, Yet you have found her threwn into your arm's. Shift. I do confes't, and therefore I complain Upon my Fortunes ambiguity, Which I applyed unto a wealthy heir, Whoſe maiden zone I hop't for to untie. Hog.

I hope that Lydia made you ſport enough,

Shift. I'le not deny't, yet the miſtake doth vex me, Though 'tis my Ioy I am not gull'd alone Hog. If to Injoy fair Lydia alone, You call a gull, then you are gull'd alone, Shift I mean this gipſie hath deceived others, (If it be lawfull to believe a Huntſman) For tolling this ſweet Ladies fortune, whom But now I nam'd, before a Cityzen Who did uſurp the name of her olde ſervant, He ſaid within three nights ſhe ſhould Embrace The man whom ſhe would honour with the ſtile Of Husband, whom ſhe preſent did behold Though his diſguiſe did then conceal his perſon, Which the vain gull apply'd unto himſelf, When I more juſtly may the Fortune claim, Becauſe I am not what my outſide ſpeaks me. Hog.

How can that be, ſeeing you were not preſent?

Shift. She might behold me preſent to her fancy. This meaning only my thoughts look't upon. Hog. For ſhame leave talking of theſe galleries, The truth is this, the Huntſman whom you nam'd Did purchaſe you the pleaſure of this night, Remember now you told me in the Evening When you were drunk with wine and Ioy, you meant To Wed this beauty, which you came to meet, But found contriv'd in bed before you came, S • y then ſir, will you marry Lydia? Shift. Thou know'ſt ſhe has a fooliſh property Might make me pardon my ſelf this miſtake, Yet I regard not that which nicer men Do blame; the thing I might diſlike in her Is, that ſhe's poor, but yet to ſhew, that I Am a Philoſopher, I'le marry her. Hog. Nobly and wiſely ſpoke, and chear your heart Though ſhe be poor, ſhe cannot make you poorer Shift. This conſolation my Philoſophie Doth likewiſe teach me, but I'le tell thee news, I have a husband in the pickle too For thy old Miſtris, one of her own trade, For both of them do live by coupling ſexes, He in olde Saxon's call'd a march-maker. Hog. Good ſir for once do you uſurp his office To make this decent match, and I'le aſſiſt you. Shift. I do arreſt thy promiſe, yeſterday I hear his worſhip ſought me at my lodging, But firſt I'le give him a preparative. Hog. I'le give him that ſhall work I warrant you; Firſt I'le advance my Mrs. wealth and vertues, Then ſweat the greatneſs of my own revenew's, Which I gain only by the Fees of ſuiters. Shift I do not doubt thy art, go and prepare Thy Mrs too, within this hour or two I'le ſend him, untill then adieu. Hog. Farewell. Exeunt Enter Falconer and Grace. Falc.

And why wilt thou needs have me marry thee?

Grace

'Cauſe I would have you make me an honeſt woman.

Falc.

Why doſt thou think all married women honeſt?

Grace. I cannot tell, but ſurely I am one If I am brought a-bed in matrimony. Falc. Is that the point? but tell me when y'are married. How think you to maintain your honeſty? Gra. You know the Iuſtice promis'd us laſt night His worſhips licence to ſell ale i'th city. Falc. Now you have hit it; was't ere heard that women Maintain'd her honeſty by ſelling ale? Gra.

Surely I hear it is a thriving trade.

Falc. Surely but not to thrive in honeſty; For if ſhe be not open as her tub, My Hoſteſs takings will be very ſmall, Although her lanted ale be nere ſo ſtrong. Gra.

I will do any thing which you will have me.

Falc. Then firſt I'le have you to releaſe our contract, Then I will have thee travel into Ireland, There thou mai'ſt make a nurſe, 'tis better far Then live by'th muddy trade of ſelling ale, And thank my bounty, which hath qualified Thy Inabilities for this Imployment. Gra.

Did not you ſwear that you would marry me?

Falc. I have done better chick, far better, for I've layn with thee, which I had rather do Twice twenty times, then marry the but once. Gra Ay me, & ſhall my love be thus requited? Yet know it is not in your power to leave me, The Iuſtice now is witneſs of the contract, Who I am ſure will ſee it executed. Falc. Now thou haſt truly ſaid, what marriage is, That is, an execution, well, then ſince It will no better be, lets quickly ſet All things in order, and be executed. Gra. As nimbly as you can good Richard, for My time draws near, and I deſire to be An honeſt woman e're I am deliver'd. Falc. Lets find my Mr. firſt, I do not mean To leave him and his ſervice to ſell ale, Where I laſt left him, thence, they ſay the devil Fetcht him away, and ſure he hath been there For they look all as if they had been frighted, And ſtill he may be there, for they do talk As if they were poſſeſt, come, let us go, And when my Maſter's found, appoint the day When thoul't be married and I will obey. Gra. Then this ſhall be the day, I'le be thy guide To find thy Mr. and more gueſſe beſide. Exeunt Enter Shift and Derrick. Shift. The haſt of your return, I fear hath made You leave more weighty buſineſs unperformed Der. Care of your good makes me forget my own, Yet in one day, (for know my clients do Obſerve my day) I have directed ten To their preferment, two to reputed maids Which I do rank alone in my black book, Three unto widows of the ſecond head, And five to maids of juſt maturity. Shift.

Pray Mr. Detrick are not you allied. unto the famous headſman of your name.

Der.

Somewhat I am, but whats the cauſe you ask?

Shift. Becauſe by you there is contriv'd the loſs Of many maiden heads. Der. You'r merry ſir, For know our trades do differ much, as much As the extreams of torment and delight, My office is not ſtaind with bloud, and thoſe Who ſuffer by my means do live to thank me, I beg no pardon for my fault, before The maid's depriv'd of her virginity. Shift. Yet you may ask forgiveneſs afterwards Of thoſe who curſe your pains, and find the hell Of marriage worſe then a decollation. Der. You ſhall want cauſe I hope for to comeplain, When you ſhall ſee your flying love return To meet you, that you freely may enjoy her. Shift. Thanks unto both our pains, that I have done Already, our cloſe kiſſes have been warm'd With the ſoft flame of love, and I have ſeal'd The match ſo ſure, that it doth need no witneſs. Der.

Forget not him then that procured your bliſſe.

Shift. I am ſo full of joy, that you ſhall make Your own conditions, and beſides I will (Be you not wanting to your ſelf) in your Own way require you with a wealthy widow. Der. I am not yet ſo frozen, but my blood Will heat without a fever, be then pleas'd To give me a full knowledge of my hopes. Shift. She hath a ſervant, who was ſometimes mine, And ſtill deſires to be ſo, for the love I paid to his deſerts, which he requires In promiſing his aid to win his Miſtris. But you have happily prevented him, And therefore no man fitter then your ſelf T'enjoy the benefit was meant to me. Der. I cannot but confeſs my ſelf moſt fit, And therefore I'le aſſent unto your offer. Shi You ſhall take letters of my commendation To my old ſervitour, his name is Hog, One whom his Miſtris juſtly doth regard. Der. Let me alone for to commend my ſelf; I'le onely take your letters for to purchaſe My free admittance, then condemn my cunning If my own courtſhip do not win the widow. Shift.

Well may you ſpeed, I'le preſently go write.

Der.

Though 'tis no need, I'le help you to indite.

Enter Goodwit. Exeunt Good. How ſtrangely fortune guides my deſtinies? It is not yet five moons ſince I liv'd fice, Yet in a forrain haven, now I breath My native aire, but want my liberty, Which method of my fate, yet lets me ſee Some likeneſſe in this contrariety. For Spain to me was but a wider priſon, From whence there was no way unto my freedome, But in a hazardous capativity, Glad in a floting priſon to be in immur'd, Since 'twas my ſafety to be ſo confin'd Where I did fear more dangers, then I now Do ſuffer, and ſo the bounteous heavens became My School-Maſters while they my mind prepar'd For future ſorrow, by foregoing its; And taught me, that my later ſufferings Are little bleſſings by compariſon: But that which leſſens not my miſery In this conſtraint, is the ſociety Of a good old man my fellow priſoner, The Rhe • orick of whoſe love, would needs perſwade I have no cauſe of ſadneſs, and I think I have the leſſe, becauſe I think he loves me, And why I know not, but lo here he comes. Enter Freeman. Free.

Come I muſt chide you, 'cauſe you'l be alone.

Good •• I take this place to be a monaſtery, And we are all monaſticks by our order. Free. This is a fain'd deriſion of your fortune, I ſee your thraldome makes you melancholy. Good. Sir, I have learn't that there is nothing free But what is infinite. Captivity Is the inheritance of all things finite; Nor can we boaſt our liberty, though we Are not reſtrained by ſtrong holds, when as The neighbouring aire confines us, & each man Is thraldom's perfect emblem, for in all The ſoul is captive, and the bodi's thrall. Free. Well can I ſee, that this Philoſophy Is not the argument of true content, But conſtrained patience, which ſeeks reaſons why We ought to ſuffer, what we cannot flye: But give me now to know my pardon firſt Being granted for my curioſity. Did fate or choice acquaint you with this gallant, Who now unworthily doth ſee you want? Good. I cannot without thanks recount the love Of that good man, with whom I travelled, he Was the ſole guide and guardian of my youth, I was his onely care, his pupill, ſon, So he, ſo all call'd and accounted me, And I were moſt ingrate did I deny My ſelf his ſon, whoſe love made me his heir. Free. This anſwer's ſtrangely wide from what I askt. Now I am ſhewing how this good old man Being very ſick, and ready for to pay The debt he owed to nature, call'd me to him And councell'd me for Eng • and, to receive Some moneys owing him, but above all To find a father: fate only lent him leave To name his dwelling, and that done, he dyed. Free.

Still you ſeem forgetfull of my queſtion.

Good. I now was coming too't? when I had ſpent Thoſe ſums, my forward'ſt creditours would pay, Then I began to ſeek a father, where My Father did direct me, there I found You Mr. of the houſe, but this young gallant (As I then learned) his Fathers onely ſon Who late had purchaſt both the houſe and land, I thinking then my Father was the ſeller Meant with a ſweet revenge to pray upon The buyers heir, and therefore I entice't His folly to the City, but now I Do juſtly ſuffer for my foul intents. Free. However then you miſt him, you ſhall find A Father in that houſe, half uncle to This vain expenſive gallant, now your cozen. Good.

But how can you aſſure me in this truth.

Free. My ſelf is witneſs of the time, when you Were firſt committed to the carefull truſt Of him who ſince adopted you his ſon, My old friend Curtiſe, to confirm your faith, Know. I am priſoner for a debt is owing Unto your uncle this young gallants Father, Which I was ſurety for, his rigour made Me obſtinate, but dying, he beſtowed This debt upon your Father, who is willing To grant my freedome at an eaſier rate, And I of him to purchas't at a greater. Good Thanks unto heaven and you, who thus have lightned My ſorrows by the knowledge of a Father, I have debts owing, which would ſet me free, That I may now go ſee him, for if I Am ſon unto the Guardian of this heir, He's now in town with his fair neece & daughter. Free. I can command the price of both our freedomes. And be you rul'd by me, you ſhall enjoy A greater happineſs then liberty, By a new bonda e but a ſweeter, Good.

If our thoughts agree, your promiſe crowns my wiſhes.

Free. When we are free. I will unfold the riddle Before your Father, therefore my firſt care Shall be we may enjoy an open aire. Exeunt. Enter Hog and Derrick. Hog. Sir, for my good old maſters ſake, I will Do what I can, but this our little fort I • ſo beſieg'd with ſuiters, that I fear The Governneſs will be conſtrained to yield By open force, if ſhe be not enſnared By ſome ſtrange ſtratagem of Poetry. Der. I care not this for all their ribaldry, I never read of widow, won by ryming. Hog. This and another thing will do the feat Infallibly, but you ſhall hear a coppy Sent her this morning, which you will confeſſe Is very dangerous, thus it begins, Even as the heedleſs flye, ſeeking to taſte The liquor glutinous, is taken faſt Within the galli-pot, ſo wretched I Am caught, alas! by my viſcoſity, Labouring for life in love-lime, ſuch is my lot For to be drown'd in Cupids galli-pot, Then call me as I am, 'tis all I crave, Sweet widow, thy intangled gally-ſlave, Who prayes to heaven, that by the ſtars direction We of two ſimples may make one confection. Der.

This raſcal talks like an Apothecary.

Hog. He talks ſir as he is and 'tis more likely He will be worth his words, though he do promiſe Miracles in theſe verſes following. I am no common ſuiter, thou ſhalt ſee I can do wonders by my facultie; My d • ugs thy you h and beauty ſh • ll reſſore, Level thoſ • wrinckles, which age'gins to ſcore Vpon thy furrowed brow, thy fading hue, Cold bloud, decaying limb • , I will renew; Ceruſs of aſſes milk and Mercury, Lac Virginis, but pedling trifles be To what I uſe; I give not by my art Colour alone, but ſtrength to every part, Which work when I have finiſh't in thee, then I'le Idolize thy beauty with my pen. Der. And when this Idoll's ſet up by the Noddy I'le be the man ſhall worſhip her with my body. You ſee ſir, I can time too for a need. Hog. Sir I am glad of your abilities. Which may prevail, if that his threatning lines Writ in poetick rage, do not o're come her, When you have heard them with a judging ear, You cannot blame her if ſhe love for fear: Thus he goes on. Yet know he begs who may command; my skill Can temper for thy ſcorn a draught ſhall fill Thy veins with rage, till thou haſt ſpent a night In my Embrace, and dull'd it with delight, I ove-ſalle's cropt by Circe and Medea Which Sagana with bold Canidia Gathered by moon-light in mount Eſquiline Are but weak Philters, if compar'd with mine? Then think upon my power, and yield thy heart Rather toth' prayers of love, then ſtrength of art, Your humble friend and ſervitour▪ Iohn Peſtle. Der. This Peſtle ſhall ne're pound i'th widows mortar. I care not for his ſorc'ry, he conjures beſt Can raiſe an active ſpirit in her circle. Hog. 'Tis that his verſes threaten, had ſhe ſeen um I know not what effect they might have taken. Der. Has ſhe not ſeen um then? nor ever ſhall; Thus ought ſeditious lines, haretical, Snatches um, And Magical doctrine to be aboliſht. & tears um, Hog But for you friend, your ears ſhall feel. that they Are guilty too, of hearing of this doctrine, Der. Nay, prethee honeſty be not offended, Here is a quarter Iacobin to buy Thee cooling Iulips to allay thy choler. Hog. I am appeas'd, now liſten to the way How to obtain my Mrs. firſt you muſt Take no denyall, women often yield Sooner to importunity then reaſon. Der. Like to the warlike Ram I will aſſail her So fiercely, that ſhe ſhall not dare reſiſt. Hog. The very name of Ram is ominous, aſide May you prove none of thoſe whoſe tongues are ſtout And threaten much before the onſet, when They come to fight, their noſes fall a bleeding; Now know my Mrs. chiefly in her match Regards delight, promiſe enough of that; 'Tis the beſt widow lime, you apprehend me. Der. I warrant thee I'le pay her debt is due By rev'rend Solons law, thats thrice a month. Hog. Wiſe Solon was a fool, I do perceive You know not the commandements of love; If you could do no more then Cybels Prieſts, Talk like a Satyr, or you'l never win her, Promiſe enough, but if your Impotence Fall in performance, be it at your peril. Der. Thou art too young to teach me how to woo, I have prevailing Canons of my own, Prethee begin the way unto thy Mrs. Hog

So you might prove a warlike Ram indeed.

Der. To her I mean, not into her, that is Go thou before, and I will follow thee. Hog.

My apprehenſion doth obey you ſir.

Exeunt Ent. old Good. Crab. Eliſa. Friendly. Phillis. W • ittington. young Good. Frema • . Dove. Old Good. Cozens, heaven ſend you joy of your own choice, As much as Mr. Friendly and his ſiſter, He hath deſerv'd my Neece by freeing of My Nephew from the hands of bawds & villains, And cover'd this with a new benefit In giving him his fair and vertuous ſiſter. Friend. Thanks unto heaven and you, I do enjoy My hopes, my ſiſter more then ſhe could wiſh. old Good Thank heaven alone, you know my brothers will Did bind my care to hinder you, next I Confirm my daughters choice, joy to you all As much as I conceive for the return Of my long abſent ſon, by thee no grief Shall trouble the juſt gladneſs of this day which is augmented by your liberty. Kinde Mr Freeman, unto whom I owe Next heavens bleſſing, that I ſee my ſon. Free. And I do owe to him that I am free, 'Tis for that goodneſs I ſaw ſhine in him, I pay to you what rigour can exact. Goodw. Good Sir when your bag's unſealed, we will divide Were I extream to you I were ingrate. Free. I need no ſuch requital, I have wealth Enough, I only beg to be all • 'd To both your vertues, by the marriage Of your beſt ſon unto my onely daughter, Vris & modis, I will make her worth Five thouſand pounds, this is my ſum to both. young Good. Sir, let me beg your favour for to ſeal Your bleſſing with this grant, mine eyes have ſeen, While ſhe did daily viſit her old Father, More excellence united in her breaſt Then there is ſcatter'd in all woman kind, I never ſaw her but me ſeem'd, an Angell Did come to comfort us, in our conſtraint, ſhe is all good, vertue it ſelf Incarnate. old Good. But how are you aſſur'd, that ſhe who is The Mrs. of ſuch noble worth, doth love you? yo Good Such ſweetneſs can't want mercy, and her face Silently tells me, ſhe is full of grace. A thouſand graces on her poliſht brow The throne of love, do lead their ſtately meaſures And lower millions dance in either eye, Their active rounds, with nimble majeſty, And if my love to her do not deceive me, I ſaw love lighten from thoſe eyes on me. old Good.

May your ſucceſs, prove your love doth not erre.

Free. My prom ſe ſhall ſecure him, for I know Her love of him, ſhe thinks her only vertue. Enter Falcner and Grace. Falc. Lordings and Ladies ſave you ſave you all My good old Mr you are welcome firſt Vnto the City, and I beg my pardon For the late cheat I pratis'd on the Farmer, Next, I invite you all unto my wedding. Cr. Faith Richard as your manners gave me leave To marry firſt, ſo they might wiſh me joy too. Falc. To explate my fault I wiſh you double Ioy. Ioy and Ioy; that is, Ioy upon Ioy: For I confeſs I heard it by your neighbours And that my ſometimes Fellow Francis is My good old Mrs. ſon, and my young Maſter. For which I Ioy, and wiſh him alſo Ioy. Yo Good.

I thank you Richard, but is this your Bride?

Grace

For want ſir of a better I am ſhe.

Fal. Peace my Incarnate frailty am not I Thy head, then give me leave to ſpeak ſir this Is ſhe, that frivolous thing I muſt call wife. Ent. Hog (in a ſtrange diſguiſe, a Torch in his hand) Shife, Lydia, Derrick, and Cunnimonger, (following hand in hand.) Elder. Good.

But ſoft, what have we here, a mask!

Hog. Leaſt any here, who has been muſled up In ignorance, and never yet did ſup Of the Poetick Fountain, ſhould miſtake me, Who ever thinks thus from the mark is wide all, For I am he is gueſt at every bridall: Welcome god Hymen, I am he doth lead With my directing torch, the Bride to bed, Where ſhe with trembling joy doth long to taſte Thoſe cares from which ſhe hitherto did faſt Shift Now Mr. Hymen you are out, my Bride Doth know the relliſh of the thing you wait on. Hog. I was not out till you did put me out, But by my god-head • e begin again. The news of joyning of more loving hands (Ioy bleſſe the time) in matrimonial bands, Hath fill'd the mouth of fame, and therefore hither I bring theſe paires that with you altogether I may be preſent, ſuffer thein to be here, And they ſhall recompence with mirth your cheer. Old Good. God Hymen's welcome and the gueſts he brings. You ſir, I am inform'd have been a ſuiter Vnto my Neece, and that regard will claim An invitation, my old neighbour Derrick Hath as much right as your divinity For to be preſent at theſe nuptial's. For beſides him we know no other Hymen; Then mix your ſelves with us, and let us all Contend who ſhall exceed in mirth, and may The Brides ſweet brows preſage a glorious day. Hymen waves over his couples to the other ſide with his Torch.

Hymen's EPILOGUE. Joy and content to all that fill The round, we beg not to our skill A ſolemn clap, but onely hope We have arrived at our ſcope, That's your unfain'd delight, this we Do ſtill account our chiefeſt Fee; And that we wiſh to every gueſt As great as at our bridall feast, That the reflection of your mirth May bread in us a ſecond birth Of equallity, while gladly we Exeunt Do give your ſmiles a plaudite. omnes. FINIS.